Isle of Dragons

by J H G Foss

  ‘What is he doing anyway? He looks like he’s sleeping.’

  ‘Oh, he’s awake all right,’ said Broddor as he fastened his armour back up. ‘He’s been over there nursing his wounds for the last three hours. I’ve shredded his wings enough that he can’t fly, so if you just heal me up a bit I can go over and finish him off.’

  ‘No. Let’s go talk to him instead.’

  Roztov walked towards the dragon and Broddor took off after him.

  ‘He speaks his own language lad. I doubt we could persuade him to turn into a man so we can have a chat.’

  ‘I’ve learned a new trick since I saw you last. I can talk to him.’

  Broddor removed his helmet and brushed his beard out as best he could. He noticed that a fair chunk of it had been frozen off. He raised his eyebrows as Roztov turned into some sort of fat lizard and then climbed up onto a shattered tree trunk to address the dragon.

  ‘Come no closer,’ said Mordran in Draconic. ‘I underestimated the dwarf, I admit that, but I could still kill you both in an instant if I wished it. Or turn you into frogs.’

  ‘You talk bravely for a dragon with its wings in tatters,’ replied the druid.

  ‘Don’t taunt me, soft skinned wretch.’

  ‘What’s this all about anyway?’

  ‘It’s beyond your comprehension, the dealings of dragons. Besides, it matters not. This futile combat has attracted the attention of a large group of manhunters. They have crossed the border and will soon be here. Who will they be more interested in? A down, but still dangerous Spire dragon whom they have no quarrel with, or a group of upstart men? Manhunters. The clue is in the name.’

  Broddor looked up at Roztov, squinting into the sun. ‘Roz? What is he saying?’

  Roztov turned back into a man so he could speak to his friend.

  ‘Manhunters are coming. We should probably go warn the others.’

  ‘How does he know?’

  ‘I’m not sure, some dragon magic or something. Even if they are not, we should get out of here.’

  ‘What about him? Together we could slay him, don’t you think?’

  The dragon snarled and said something in Draconic.

  ‘What did he say now?’

  Roztov sighed, ‘Well, now that I’m not a rock crawler I don’t know what he’s saying, but seeing as he can understand us it was probably something like “You know I can hear what you are saying, don’t you?” I think he’ll be no more danger anyway, now that he knows how tough we are, come on.’

  They began to walk back towards where the others were camped.

  ‘Would it not be quicker to turn into a hippogriff and carry me lad?’

  ‘One second,’ said Roztov and turned into a sparrowhawk. Broddor watched as the small bird fluttered up into the air. He shielded his eyes so he could follow its progress.

  ‘What does he see?’ the dwarf wondered to himself as the sparrowhawk wheeled above.

  Broddor arrived at the campsite riding a bear. The others stood up from where they had been variously arranged by the fire.

  ‘What news?’ asked Ghene as the dwarf leapt from the bear’s back.

  ‘Manhunters are on their way.’

  ‘Here?’

  ‘In truth I know not,’ he replied and looked around as Roztov turned back into a man.

  ‘Etruna, I’m tired from all this changing,’ said Roztov as he shock himself. He rubbed his eyes and slapped his cheeks, then continued. ‘Dozens of them, too many to fight. Possibly they were drawn down to see what all the commotion was with Broddor and Mordran, or maybe they were on their way anyway.’

  ‘Could they be in league with Mordran?’

  ‘I don’t know. Either way, we better pack up and get out of here.’

  ‘You can’t do another one of those land womb things my lord?’ asked Arrin.

  ‘I think we are better off just vacating the area. We use those things as a last resort generally.’

  They talked as the packed up their meagre possessions, the things that they had taken with them from Moletown.

  They headed north for a while, towards the chasm, hoping to find refuge in the Greenway, but after a few miles Ghene halted them, and then came down the line to confer with the others.

  ‘We are surrounded, there are men and dragons everywhere, up ahead and also behind us, closing in.’

  ‘Right,’ said Roztov. ‘We should make a land womb then. One of us should stay on the surface to hide it. They can then turn into a deer or whatever and hide in a bush.’

  ‘Who?’ asked Meggelaine nervously.

  ‘It should be me,’ said Ghene. ‘I’m the best at that sort of thing. Get digging, Roz.’

  An hour later a group of dragonriders, men dressed in black plate armour with beast-mask helmets passed through the area. Ghene, in the form of a small forest deer, watched from inside a bush. He had hidden the land womb well, where the earth had been disturbed was indistinguishable from any other part of the forest floor. The men passed over where the others were hiding without noticing and continued on their way. A few minutes later a dragon wove its way through the trees, twisting its body like a snake, with its wings held close.

  Ghene watched as it walked over the land womb and then stopped. It sniffed the air. Ghene held his breath and stood motionless, watching the dragon as it turned its head left and right. Finally it looked down at the ground then thumped the forest floor with its front feet, reminding Ghene rather of a dog going after a mouse.

  It then looked up and roared. A few minutes later some of the armour men jogged into the area, not long after followed by another dragon. Ghene found he was racked with indecision, should he try and draw them off or wait to see what his friends did? It was not impossible that they would burrow deeper after all and since the men carried nothing other than swords and shields he wondered if the dragons would have the energy or inclination to dig up to thirty feet of earth out with their claws.

  The dragons talked in Draconic. The original dragon clawed at the ground, the other one did the same, then they talked some more.

  Suddenly, much to the amazement of everyone, including Ghene, the ground seemed to erupt, throwing earth and tree roots everywhere. One of the dragons got tangled up in a falling tree while the other fell over on its back.

  From the resulting hole in the ground a giant bee emerged, carrying Floran and Tankle. Buzzing loudly it flew straight up into the sky. Next came a small gryphon, carrying Ophess who was screaming her head off. Finally out of the hole emerged a long green dragon, carrying Broddor on its back. The dragon roared, unfolded its wings and beating up the earth into eye-clogging flurries, headed for the sky. As its rear legs cleared the hole, Ghene saw that it held Salveri and Arrin in its back claws. Neither of them looked particularly happy.

  Gathering his wits, Ghene turned into a hippogriff and followed them.

  Once above the trees, Roztov transferred the terrified sailors onto Ghene’s broad back. They now flew north, a giant bee, a dragon, a hippogriff and a small gryphon, all with their riders, pursued by over twenty manhunters.

  Floran drew his bee up beside the dragon and shouted over to it. ‘What’s the plan? Do we have a plan?’

  ‘Well, I have half an idea. Might be risky,’ Roztov answered in Draconic.

  ‘I like the sound of it already!’ laughed Floran.

  ‘What did he say?’ gasped Tankle into Floran’s ear. She had her hands around his waist in a vice like grip.

  ‘Perhaps not so tight my dear,’ answered Floran with a strangled cough. ‘For now we just follow him.’

  It was evening now, the sun was setting to their east, the clouds glowed blood red. The mountainous landscape, covered in snow as it was, took on a pinkish pallor. The wind was bitterly cold as it swept down off the peaks to the north.

  Bringing up the rear, Meggelaine was terrified, almost driven insane with fear. She beat her wings as fast as she could and followed the others. As her veil of terror slowly lifted, it
began to dawn on her that Roztov was heading directly towards the chasm. She cried out, shrieking the shrill call of a youngling gryphon, but no one understood her. On her back Ophess was now silent, her eyes shut and her face buried into Meggelaine’s feathered neck.

  Ahead of them was the hippogriff. Salveri held onto its mane and Arrin held onto Salveri. The hippogriff’s wings were wide and even with two men on its back it merely had to hold them out in the strong easterly wind to match the speed of the others.

  ‘At first I was scared,’ said Arrin, 'but this is amazing.’

  ‘Well enjoy it then, because this might be the last thing we experience,’ grumbled Salveri. ‘There’s nowhere to go. They are going to get us eventually.’

  ‘Well, we seem to be heading for that big canyon over there.’

  Salveri looked down over the hippogriff’s shoulder. ‘I see it. Isn’t that the place with all the dragons in it?’

  ‘I think so, I think...’

  Arrin cut short what he was saying when they saw the dragon that was Roztov angled its wings into a steep downward glide, heading into the canyon. The bee, buzzing furiously, performed a less elegant manoeuvre and followed.

  ‘Hold on,’ gasped Salveri as the air was snatched from his lungs. The hippogriff folded its wings and plunged downwards, leaving them both with their stomach in their mouths.

  Behind them, screeching and shrieking in protest, the gryphon angled its wings and followed.

  Down in the canyon the Chasm dragon’s day was coming to an end. Most of them were inside, but those that were still out on their porches or on the various ledges that acted as meeting places and thoroughfares saw an unfamiliar green dragon fly past at high speed, carrying a small armoured person on its back. This small person was wielding a sword above its head while yelling a very enthusiastic war cry. Behind it came a huge bee carrying two more people, just as swiftly as the dragon, closely followed by a winged horse and a winged lion, both also bearing riders.

  Roughly half of the dragons that watched this high speed procession down the middle of the chasm did nothing, while the other half took to the air to give chase, only to meet the manhunters as they pursued the mounted humans. Chaos ensued.

  Roztov looked under his wing, and then over the wind said to Floran, ‘The manhunters are still behind us. I had rather hoped they would not dare to follow us into the chasm.’

  Floran turned as far as he could, his cheek up against the side of Tankle’s head. After a moment he turned back and called to Roztov. ‘Oh well, never mind!’

  Tankle risked a glance over her shoulder but could only see a tangled chaos of dragons.

  ‘I can’t see. How many dragons are chasing us, my lord?’

  Floran glanced over his shoulder again. ‘All of them, I think.’

  The manhunters were ignoring the Chasm dragons as best they could, and with the men on their backs blowing on hunting horns or whooping as loudly as they could, they redoubled their efforts to gain ground on their quarry.

  For some time they continued along the chasm, dodging and weaving as more dragons joined the chase, heading north-east, until they got to the fork that they had already scouted. Roztov took the right hand side, the eastern one.

  It began to narrow, there were no Chasm dragons living here, but they were still followed, by the manhunters and those of the Chasm dragons that could still be bothered.

  It was getting darker now, but the Spire could still be seen, black against the sun as it dipped below the horizon.

  Roztov flew on, and finding an air current that blew up out of the chasm, he extended his wings and gained a thousand feet in a matter of moments. Broddor gasped and sheathed his sword so he could hold on tighter. The others followed, over the edge of the canyon and down across the snow covered forests on the other side.

  They flew on, directly towards the Spire. Roztov turned to Floran and said, ‘do they follow us?’

  Floran, his teeth chattering in the frigid wind managed to turn his head enough to check and then replied. ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘I wondered if they would or not,’ said Roztov in the rumbling language of the dragons. ‘This is the Spire dragon hunting range and the manhunters use it to cross, but perhaps they dare not enter the territory so openly.’

  ‘And yet we dare.’

  ‘And yet we dare,’ repeated Roztov. ‘It’s too dark to fly now. I think I see a good place to camp down there. Pass the word to the others, we are landing.’

  Chapter 10

  To the Spire

  Meggelaine awoke as the sun was rising through the trees, its frigid rays filtering through the snow laden branches. Roztov had found them a good place to camp where the ground was clear and the trees had wide crown spreads that sheltered them from view completely. It was also situated at the bottom of a valley and so was sheltered from the wind, to a certain extend.

  When they had arrived, the druids were exhausted, Roztov most of all. He curled around the fire in a big green arc, still in the form of a dragon, and was asleep instantly. Meggelaine had changed back and lain in the thin lair of autumn leaves that was the ground of their camp and panted for a full half hour until she got her breath back.

  Ghene had been quicker to recover, but even so he let Broddor and Floran take charge of setting up camp. A fire was lit and the last of their rations was eaten.

  Meggelaine awoke to find she was still snuggled in beside a dragon.

  ‘Roztov,’ she said as she rubbed her eyes. ‘You have to change back!’

  The dragon’s head snaked round to look at her. It then spoke, a deep murmuring mutter, its chin on the ground.

  ‘I can’t understand you, sweetie.’

  The dragon cleared its throat and lifted its head a little, then said something that sounded a bit like, I’m not sure I can.

  ‘I warned you this would happen,’ Meggelaine said as she stood up. ‘This is what happens if you show off.’

  I know, grumbled the dragon.

  ‘The longer you leave it the worse it will get.’

  Ghene was awake now too. ‘We are right here, Roz. We can help you.’

  The dragon growled and stood up, throwing aside Broddor who had been resting against its tail.

  It flapped its wings then refolded them. It shook its head. There was a yellow glow and its form seemed to shift a little, but after a few seconds, Roztov gave up the attempt.

  The dragon growled and clawed at the ground. By now everyone was awake and standing back to give him room.

  ‘What are you waiting for?’ chided Meggelaine. ‘Try again.’

  The dragon gave her a look, then sniffed. It seemed lost in thought for a moment. It coiled around itself, twisting around, bringing its tail in and folding its wings until it was almost a ball. It then leapt into the air, flapping and twisting as if having a fit. It flapped and rolled and twisted until it was about ten feet off the ground and knocking branches off the trees. Everyone stood further back. It briefly landed, then leapt into the air again in one last mighty spasm and suddenly turned into a bear.

  The bear crashed to the ground and lay in a heap, panting, but otherwise motionless.

  It let out a long sigh and then stood up. After a few more breaths it reared up onto its hind legs, pawed at the air and roared before finally turning back into a man.

  Roztov stumbled and then sat heavily down at the fire.

  ‘That hurt.’

  Meggelaine was immediately in about him, fussing. ‘Good idea to transition to a bear first. Now, let me check you over.’

  Her healing hands poked and prodded him, looking for anything that looked broken or out of place. She then went through her usual routine, such as checking his heart, vision, breathing and such.

  ‘You’ll live,’ she said eventually. ‘Just rest and no more nonsense.’

  Roztov lay resting for the remainder of the day and for a while seemed to get worse, his complexion turned deathly pale and blood flecking at his lips.

&
nbsp; Meggelaine fussed around him, keeping the shelter warm with a large cheery fire. She went as far as to make him a bed from freshly cut pine tree branches covered in two cloaks.

  ‘I’m honestly fine,’ said Roztov as he lay watching the fire.

  ‘You are coughing up blood, you idiot. What did I tell you? Your insides are all tangled up.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ he insisted, but rumbled about on his bed, trying to find the best position for his aches and pains.

  ‘Missing your bed back in Angor?’ Meggelaine said.

  ‘Oh yes, well, very much so, since the start of this whole escapade. I got it made by a carpenter in Ulrim, solid oak, with a whey-husk mattress. It’s like sleeping on a cloud. You know, you should come over and see us, after all this is over. The girls aren’t babies any longer.’

  ‘I will, I’ll come and see you. When we get back in Nillamandor I’ll do it even before going to the Council.’

  ‘Do it,’ said Roztov sleepily. ‘Bring Assynt with you.’

  ‘Shush you!’

  ‘What does it matter here?’ said Roztov with a laugh. ‘What does anything matter?’

  ‘Oh get some rest you stupid old man.’

  They spent two nights camping in this secluded area and sleeping in a shelter made by the druids. On the first evening they got Broddor to re-tell the story of his battle with Mordran.

  ‘So,’ asked Roztov, once it had concluded. ‘Besides his claws, teeth and icy breath, he had magic too?’

  ‘Oh, he had all sorts of magic,’ confirmed the dwarf. ‘He fired off all sorts of stuff at me, most of which hurt. My armour stopped him from killing me though, thanks be to Aerekrig. A fireball or two, I think he tried to turn me into a frog, but it didn’t land. He went invisible, but my helmet, as you know laddie, is magical and allows me to see invisible things. He tried to turn into a mist as well and float away, but my sword is blessed by dwarven runes and could cut him even more easily than when he was in a material form, so he changed back. I annoyed him greatly.’