Isle of Dragons

by J H G Foss

  Arrin and Tankle came forwards to stab their spears through the hearts of the other trolls to make sure they were dead. The troll charge was in confusion, but they were not retreating. A group of them bore down on Roztov and he rammed his blunt head right into the chest of one of the trolls mounts, sending them flying down the hillside. An axe bit into his side, making him roar in pain. He turned and clawed at the troll, ripping half its head off.

  Now that he saw them close up, Roztov realised the mounts were yales after all. He had never fought any before, but he knew their horns were dangerous. Two trolls nearby had dismounted, and came at him cautiously, clubs raised. He ran towards them, beating one aside as the other landed a blow on his back. While he stood with one back foot on the chest of the first troll he fended off the second.

  The second troll was cunning, keeping back from the slashing claws, feinting and blocking, looking for an opening. As the first troll breathed its last Roztov was about to charge when a yale caught him completely by surprise and speared him in the rear end with one of its long spiralled horns.

  Roztov roared in pain once more and tried to turn, but the horn had changed shape inside him and was buried in his flesh like a hook. As he did so, the cunning troll chose this moment to leap in with an attack, but the druid was too fast and batted the troll to the ground with a back-handed swipe. The troll that was mounted on the yale hit him a glancing blow on the side of the head that made his ears ring. He roared again and swiped at the troll, but he was pinned by the horn and as he tried to turn the yale turned with him, its head down and pushing.

  Trapped as he was, he was a tempting target for other enemies, and two more trolls on foot came towards him, holding axes. Roztov glanced round, he could only see Ghene, fighting furiously some distance off. There were trolls at the fortress, but he could not see any of his friends.

  Ignoring the yale in his backside and the troll that rode it for a moment, he turned to the two advancing trolls and concentrating his magic, opened the ground up beneath them. They fell into deep pits, and then cried in terror as the earth fell back on top of them.

  While he had being doing that the troll behind him had leaned over the neck of its mount and struck him twice on the back. It was raising its weapon for a third blow when it was blasted out of the saddle by an ice lance. As it landed on a rock with a heavy crunch the yale straitened its horn and pulled back. Its head red with Roztov's blood it ran off, back up the hillside.

  It looked like the battle was over; all the trolls that remained were either dead or dying. As the two that Roztov had buried alive tried to claw their way out of the earth Broddor, Tankle and Arrin stabbed them in the heads.

  Finally, they all walked back to the fortress. Roztov and Ghene turned back into their normal forms and did their best to heal their own injuries while Meggelaine healed everyone else. Everyone had been hurt, but the little fressle's magic was powerful and none of them suffered long.

  'Those were yales,' said Roztov as he lay on his stomach, watching over the parapet, between two rocks. 'About the same size as the ones I met in Ertia. The Ertian ones were gentle though. One of these ones got me right in the arse.'

  'They have the strangest horns,' remarked Ghene. 'I've never known anything like it. They turn and swivel and change shape.'

  'Take your trousers down,' said Meggelaine to Roztov.

  He wiggled his britches down over his thighs so she could see his wound.

  'It bit deep, but into the flesh only. You should be glad that you have such a fat bum.'

  She put her small hands on his buttock.

  'That's nice,' sighed Roztov, laying his head down into his arms and shutting his eyes.

  Broddor limped over and sat down beside him. The dwarf had been injured too, but not badly.

  'Do you think there will be more of them lad?'

  'How should I know?' replied Roztov. 'Listen, you have to do more than just yell "Defence in Depth" as you charge in, Broddor. What is the point of me coming up with a plan if you just pile in all the time?'

  'Right, right,' apologised the dwarf. 'Next time. Defence in Depth.'

  'Well, we are going to have to wait here a while, to let everyone recover, Broddor. So we'll just have to see if any more come, or if that was all of them. If we'd stuck to the plan then maybe we would not have been so badly beaten up and we could have moved on.'

  'Sorry lad.'

  'It's solved the mystery of what happened to Salveri anyway,' said Roztov laying his head back down.

  The dwarf patted him on the shoulder, rose and left silently. He then went and sat with some of the others. When Arrin gave him a worried look, he winked at him. 'Don't worry, he's always grumpy when he's been a bear. And there is nothing more grumpy than a bear with a sore arse.'

  Chapter 14

  The Dragon Teeth Mountains

  Heavy snow began to fall, covering the surrounding grass and heather with its whiteness, and starkly highlighting the crimson red of the blood from the battle as it melted through.

  ‘We’re not going on in this are we?’ asked Meggelaine holding her hand out to catch the snowflakes.

  ‘I’ve got nothing left after all the battle,’ admitted Ghene. ‘I can’t change again until I’ve rested, even if I tried.’

  Roztov wiped the snow from his face and beard, as he looked up at the sky. ‘I’ll put a roof on this thing then, and we’ll call it a day for now,’ he said. He then swept his arms slowly up and around his body. The surrounding rocks of the rampart cracked and groaned as they flowed upwards and flattened out to make a roof. The hedge that Meggelaine had created grew thick and deep, rustling aggressively as it cut out all the light, while the central mound grew tall enough to meet the ceiling and act as a pillar to hold up the roof. He then pointed at the hedge on the leeward side of the shelter and poked two windows at eye-level out and a very low, narrow door.

  Roztov then sat down against the central pillar and wrapped his cloak around his body.

  ‘That’s it, I’m spent.’

  The others busied around, setting up camp, lighting a fire and heating up water for tea.

  Once things were more settled, they discussed the way ahead.

  ‘Should we go back down into the valleys do you think?’ wondered Meggelaine sipping her tea.

  ‘I think the best thing to do is forge ahead,’ replied Roztov wearily as he watched the snow through the door. ‘If what we understand of the land ahead is correct, we are only about twenty-five miles away from Stovologard as the crow flies. We could do it in a day.’

  ‘Yes, but we’ll need to turn west at some point,’ put in Ghene. ‘Going up and down rather than along the ridges will add more time onto our journey.’

  ‘Right, two days at the most then,’ agreed Roztov. ‘We’ll have to camp one more night in the mountains. I think if we meet those trolls again we can just push straight through them. I should be attuned enough to summon some creatures too. Not sure what though, maybe eagles...’

  ‘Against trolls and yales?’ asked Meggelaine.

  ‘Hmm, I’ll give it some thought,’ said Roztov as he shut his eyes and drifted off to sleep. Meggelaine caught his half-finished tea cup as it fell from his hand.

  They spent all of the remainder of that day in the shelter and were not disturbed. The next morning the snow had stopped, but lay thick on the ground and they had to dig their way out of the shelter. The going was slow, but people that travelled with druids moved swifter than those that didn’t, and took longer to tire, even in the wind swept ridges and snow filled hollows of the mountains of north Tanud.

  After three hours of trudging through the snow, they stopped and took their bearings.

  Ghene pointed at a peak to their north west. ‘I think we should go straight over that mountain. We’ll be able to see Stovologard from the top of it.’

  Roztov rubbed the ice from his beard. ‘The weather is closing in again. We might end up camping on top of it.’

  Ghene shrugg
ed.

  ‘You’re right,’ admitted Roztov. ‘That’s not a big problem I suppose.’

  The saw the occasional dragon flying overhead, and as a precaution they hid in the snow when they did so, but truthfully they did not know if the dragons cared if they were there or not. As evening wore on the snow started falling again and they stopped to camp on the southern face of the mountain as Roztov had predicted.

  A hole was burrowed out of the mountain side and they all crowded into it.

  ‘We’ve not made good time,’ admitted Ghene. ‘The climb was steeper than I thought, but even so we are not far away now. Once on the other side of the mountain I think it will all be down hill to the city.’

  The others nodded and warmed their hands by the fire.

  They began their climb again in the morning. Thick cloud had descended down onto the mountains and they could see no further than ten yards. Ghene could find his way well enough though and they reached the flat top of the mountain before lunch. If the city lay before them, they could not see it. They could see little of anything until Ghene lead them down out of the snow into a flat bottomed valley full of marshy grass and heather. Dank and cold as it was, it was pleasant to see a colour other than white. The clouds hung over them like a blanket, and to the north their view was blocked by a wall of thick fog.

  ‘Were the bloody hell are we, elf?’ asked Broddor.

  ‘We can’t be far away,’ replied Ghene. ‘If we just follow this valley, then...’

  ‘This place is deserted. If we were so close to the city I’d expect a road here,’ mused the dwarf.

  Roztov, who had been bringing up the rear, came and joined them. ‘We are still very high up, don’t forget that Broddor. This valley may not be inhabited because it is troll territory.’

  ‘You had to say it, didn’t you?’ hissed Meggelaine.

  She then looked around, expecting to be attacked from all directions at that exact moment, but nothing happened. Roztov looked around. Nothing continued to happen.

  ‘Right, let’s keep going,’ said Roztov, mussing up Meggelaine’s hair as he walked past her.

  She was right though, as they were attacked two hours later. The valley had turned east, much to Ghene’s irritation and they were forced to correct their course by climbing back up into the mountains. As they trekked through a shallow snow-choked valley the clouds cleared to reveal a rich blue spring sky and a great deal of dragon activity was displayed above them.

  It soon became apparent that the dragons were not in the slightest bit interested in them, so they continued on their way regardless of the danger overhead.

  ‘What do you think is going on?’ asked Broddor.

  ‘They look like Chasm dragons. Mainly going north,’ said Roztov. ‘They must be on the offensive.’

  Perhaps because they were too focused on keeping an eye on the dragons, a fresh band of trolls were able close in from the south and surprise them. The first of them came riding over the top of the ridge to their left, the yales bounding through the snow, sending great clumps of it down before them.

  ‘Trolls!’ yelled Broddor, charging towards them. ‘Defence in depth!’

  He made slow going of it though, up to his chest in snow as he was. Roztov shielded his eyes to look up at the ridge. More were coming up from behind, following the tracks of the yales leading the attack. As Broddor slowly made his lonely way towards the approaching troll war band the others waited until the last of them had come over the ridge. After a few more moments, Roztov was the first to speak.

  ‘Well, here we go again,’ he sighed as he counted the enemy. ‘I don’t think even Broddor’s “Defence in Depth” can win this one. There are at least a hundred of them.’

  Arrin stood beside him, his teeth chattering in fear. ‘You said we could push through them my lord. Or shall we take to the sky?’

  Roztov could see the young man was desperate to escape. The mounted trolls were twenty feet tall from hoof to head, brandishing clubs and axes that could finish a man in a single blow. Their howls echoed around the mountains, and they swung their lethal weapons over their heads as they came.

  Roztov looked up. High above them there was a dragon battle going on, dozens of dragons were wheeling around in combat. Jets of flame tore across the deep blue sky as it filled up with smoke.

  ‘I’m not sure we want to get tangled up in that,’ said Roztov calmly.

  Arrin had been using his spear as a walking staff and he now levelled it nervously towards the charging trolls.

  ‘We’ll see how we get on. If we have to run for it, we will. Keep to the same plan as last time,’ said Roztov. ‘Stay beside Tuppence, make sure no trolls sneak up on him. Good luck.’

  The druid nodded to the terrified young man, then turned into a massive grizzly bear and joined the other two druids who had already shape-shifted into similar creatures and were bounding forward, using the path that Broddor had already ploughed through the snow.

  The dwarf was already exhausted. He plunged his sword into the snow and rested on the pommel while he got his breath back. The three bears loped past him.

  ‘I’ll just...’ he panted. ‘I’ll just wait here for them.’

  He watched as Roztov met the first of the riders, leaping high out of the snow to claw the troll from the saddle and savage it to death in a flurry of red and white. The yale reared and a smaller bear went for its throat, snarling loudly. The bear that was Ghene met the next rider, their bodies running into each other with a bone-shuddering thud. The yale fell, the troll plunging from its saddle and landing in the snow. Ghene turned and clawed at the troll’s back as it tried to rise.

  Most of the rest of the trolls rode around the bears and carried on towards the remainder of the group. One came charging towards Broddor, wielding a long heavy tree branch as a club. Broddor easily avoided the blow as it came crashing down and chopped the arm off the troll. There was snow flying everywhere, so he didn’t see the next rider that came at him and the yale hit him with its chest at full speed, sending him flying backwards. As he tried to pull himself out of the snow and stand up the yale’s horns scraped across the back plate of his armour. He rolled in the snow and using his sword one-handed plunged the point into its right eye. The beast reared up in pain and the troll on its back leapt down from the saddle. It came at Broddor with a heavy bit of metal that looked like a park railing.

  Broddor was already back on his feet though and calling out a battle cry he ducked under the railing as it was swung and stabbed the troll in the belly. It stepped back with a growl, clutching its stomach. Two more trolls joined the first one and Broddor now had a proper fight on his hands.

  Meanwhile, the remainder of the riders that were not fighting bears or Broddor, the bulk of the war band, continued on towards were Floran, Tankle and Arrin were standing.

  ‘Right,’ said Floran as he raised his staff. He then pointed it at the ground before him and drew a circle around their position. A wall of fire sprung up, three yards wide, that turned the snow into scalding steam. From side the side the circle was ten yards wide and the three of them stood in its centre to be as far away from the flames as possible. The flames were tall too, thirty feet high, but they caught glimpses of the trolls riding around its circumference, as if looking for an opening.

  When they discerned that there were none, the first of them jumped through the fire. The trolls could not persuade their mounts to leap through the flames so they came through on foot. The first one that came was hit by an ice lance that shot from Floran’s outstretched hand, which sent it flying back screaming into the flames. Another one came charging through, swinging a flaming club, but Floran shot it in the head with a blast of magical acid that made it fall to its knees clutching at its face. Arrin and Tankle advanced and stabbed it in the chest with their spears.

  Three more leapt through at the same time and Floran aimed a fireball at them which sent one of them flying backwards. The others was knocked to their knees, but pulled t
hemselves back up again and came on.

  Arrin realised that no one was watching their back and glanced over his shoulder. Just as he did so a yale, crazed by the flames, crashed into the snow behind them as if it had been bodily thrown there by trolls on the other side of the wall. It picked itself up and shook its head.

  ‘Yale!’ cried Arrin in warning.

  Floran shot another fireball at the two advancing trolls, turned then shot an ice lance at the yale, killing it instantly in a shower of ice and blood. Arrin was hit in the chest by a lump of fur-covered flesh. Tankle screamed and Arrin turned, there seemed to be so much going on that he couldn’t take it all in. The roar of the flames, the stench of the dead and burning trolls, the howling of the trolls on the other side of the wall. He felt overwhelmed.

  Another trolls stumbled through the flames, almost fully on fire and barely alive. Seeing its enemies in the centre of the circle, it charged quickly and although Floran raised his hands again to cast a spell he was too slow and the troll, with a swing of its club, hit the wizard squarely on the side of the head, knocking him into the melting snow in a crumpled heap.

  Arrin screamed and stabbed the troll in the groin with his spear. The creature crumpled over the weapon, the weight of its body breaking the shaft. Another troll leapt through the flames, but slipped on the melting snow and fell with its head and shoulders in the wall of fire. It rolled and screamed, thrashing around to put out the flames. Arrin and Tankle backed off, towards the body of Floran.

  Arrin was shaking with terror. He glanced at Tankle. She seemed terrified too, but held her spear firmly. The blow that had sent Floran flying must have surely killed him. Neither of them could move though, and they watched as the troll put out the flames and pick itself up.

  It then hunted around on the ground, in the melted snow and blood, until it found its club.