Isle of Dragons

by J H G Foss

  ‘This is new to us too,’ he replied. ‘Blood magic. Necromancy. We’ve heard of it, but never seen it.’

  They flew on, gliding on the wind, wing tip to wing tip.

  ‘This could be the end of Stovologard,’ cried Lorkuvan. ‘The end of Tanud! What can you do to help?’

  Ghene, the only one currently looking down and watching the battle interrupted them. ‘The Spire dragons attack the portal!’

  They watched as Mordran and the other white dragons started their attack with fireballs and lightning bolts, slaying hundreds of undead and clearing the tower top.

  More undead were coming through the portal, but one of the dragons held them at bay with a magical barrier while the others attempted to close the Dead Gate. Arcs of magic flew between the dragons and the portal, but other than that nothing seemed to happen.

  A skeletal dragon, crashing down from above, landed and breathed a jet of darkness at them. One of the white dragons died, its flesh stripped from its bones before the others destroyed the skeleton with fireballs, its remains blasted high into the sky. More skeletons flew in, attacking, overwhelming the white dragons and killing them one by one until all were slain. Mordran was the last to fall, smothered by hundreds of undead creatures as they once again poured out of the Gate.

  Roztov let out a long low sigh. Lorkuvan roared in fear and frustration.

  ‘Roztov,’ said Ghene, tapping at Roztov’s scaly neck. ‘You are always the one with the plan. What do we do?’

  ‘We have to close the portal, it’s the only way. If Old Bones conquers Tanud, then he has east and west. Nillamandor will be next. We have to defeat him here.’

  Ghene rested his head against Roztov’s neck and closed his eyes. He thought for a few minutes.

  ‘I think I might have a plan,’ he said eventually.

  ‘Let’s hear it then,’ said Roztov.

  ‘Well, back on Nillamandor, we druids know how to work the ancient stone circles. We have an understanding of them. Also we have an understanding of how the Hyadnian pyramids function, although we cannot work them.’

  ‘Right. Right.’

  ‘Mordran tried to close the portal, but he was trying to close it from this side. Our druid stones work very differently from the pyramids, but the pyramids - well I’ve never seen them, you have - but it’s my understanding they can send the traveller to any destination as long as it has been marked by a wizard’s spell.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘The power is in the pyramid then and not where it sends its user to. The Dead Gate could be the same.’

  ‘Yes, I get you, it’s being held open from the other side.’

  ‘Get me to the portal then Roz, I’ll go through and close it from the other side.’

  ‘That’s suicide,’ groaned Roztov. ‘Even if I get you there, how do we know you can pass through it? And on the other side, how will you know what to do to close the portal?’

  ‘I admit it’s not the best plan.’

  ‘We both go then.’

  ‘No, Roztov,’ said Ghene. ‘I can turn into a bird and sneak through. You can’t change back from a dragon. Even if you could change into something less conspicuous, your aspect is all wrong, you’d just hold me back with all your human blundering. Besides, someone has to go and tell the others.’

  ‘You’ll die on your own though!’ cried Roztov.

  ‘I hope not,’ replied Ghene calmly, ‘but I cannot deny the visions Etruna has sent to me Roztov. It is for this moment, for that I am sure.’

  ‘You and your visions!’ yelled Roztov. ‘You sound like Meg. You’ve been drinking too much mushroom beer before bed, that’s all!’

  Ghene was in no mood for any kind of jests. ‘Be that as it may, if I can sneak through the Spire undetected, don’t you think I can sneak about on the other side of the portal? And think of it, a scout right in the heart of Garumuda's territory. Think of the knowledge I’ll bring back with me.’

  ‘It’s madness.’

  ‘Madness?’ said Ghene with a hint of anger in his voice. ‘This is all madness Roztov. This time last year I was part of a Great Forest Council meeting to decide where to plant this year’s parsnip crop. Now I’m riding around the sky on your back while the hordes of Garumuda invade the city of dragons. The fate of the world hangs in the balance Roztov, just get me to the portal!’

  ‘Right, keep your wig on. Right!’ yelled Roztov. He looked over at Lorkuvan. ‘You hear any of that?’

  ‘Most of it, I got the gist of it. How do you plan to get to the portal?’

  ‘I’ll manage that, don’t worry. Let’s gain some height first, we’ll need it for when...’

  He stopped talking when Lorkuvan turned her head. ‘A Chasm dragon approaches.’

  Roztov turned to look also. ‘Oh, its fine. It’s Shumakkak, she’s a... friend.’

  ‘I scented you, Roztov,’ said the green dragon as she glided in beside them.

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘Blavius attacks the city dragons. He goes too far. If Stovologard falls then the Chasm will also fall. This seems clear to me.’

  Part of Roztov enjoyed, for a second or two, the sensation of flying in formation, with a dragon on either side of him, as they circled the tower.

  ‘We are going to try to close the portal,’ Roztov said to Shumakkak. ‘Can you help us?’

  Shumakkak sniffed the air, then looked around.

  ‘Just the three of us?’ she asked. ‘The Spire dragons tried and failed.’

  Roztov looked down. It seemed that the undead fully controlled the square on top of the tower now. There was still a lot of fighting going on in the air above, but the attackers were being pushed back by dozens and dozens of skeletal dragons.

  It was impossible to see what was going on in the streets below from this great height, but Roztov realised it would probably not be long before the undead had cleared out the tower and then moved into the greater portion of the city.

  ‘I see my king,’ said Lorkuvan gesturing with her head. ‘He organises the forces that remain to him.’

  ‘Will he attack?’ asked Roztov.

  ‘Undoubtedly. At this moment he must realise he is all that stands between the city and destruction.’

  ‘Very well,’ he replied. ‘We’ll wait and see what he does.’

  The completed another full circle of the tower, assessing the top of the tower as best as they could while also watching as Primus gathered more dragons into a force that now numbered over a hundred.

  ‘Even if you do get through, how will you ever get back?’ asked Roztov while they waited.

  ‘Just head west I suppose,’ replied Ghene. ‘Listen, let’s just go. Let’s do it now.’

  Roztov looked down. This mass of dragons was directly below them now and Roztov was keeping station above them as they looped around the tower.

  ‘A little patience,’ said Roztov. ‘King Primus has mustered as big a force as he can now. I think they are going to attack. When they dive, we dive.’

  Lorkuvan was positioned to Roztov’s left, Shumakkak to his right. King Primus roared and the formation he was leading swooped down directly towards the tower top, beating the clouds of smoke up into zephyrs as they descended. They dove together, with him and his war-dragons as the tip of the spear.

  ‘Hold on tight!’ said Roztov before angling into a dive.

  Below them, ahead of them, the Stovologard dragons met the squadrons of undead circling the top in a clash of fire and bones. Skeletal dragons exploded in flames, while swarms of black bats swooped and weaved between the debris of broken bones and cinders. As the two sides met in mid-air, living dragons began to fall too, either clawed by the skeletons or hit by jets of darkness, or set upon by hordes of bats and pulled away, falling down to the city below.

  The three dragons above the main attack dove down through the clouds, the cinders and the falling bones and it wasn’t long before they entered the melee, ducking and diving between the fighting, avoiding e
verything, aiming only for the portal.

  As they plunged through the aerial battle, Lorkuvan was hit in the side by a skeleton that grabbed her around the neck with its claws. She spread her wings and checked her fall so that she could get her head round to bite at her foe. Roztov only glimpsed this as she was swept up and away from sight amongst the smoke.

  Roztov and Shumakkak continued to dive, until they were finally so close to the tower top that they had to spread their wings or slam into it. The main battle continued over their head, showers of bones and dead dragons falling all around them.

  There were skeletal dragons flying everywhere, dozens of them still and Shumakkak did her best to fight them, but she too was pulled away by one and together they fell down over the side of tower in a burst of flames. There was an explosion of bones as she destroyed the dragon that had grasped her, but three more fell on her from above and they all fell down past the side of the tower and out of sight.

  Through clouds of bats and past the grasping claws of the skeletons, Roztov found he could get no closer to the portal. He flew up again, to escape the enemies below, gaining some height as he used the speed from his dive to circle the square as fast he could. Looking around he could see that the king’s attack was over. As he flew along the edge of the tower he saw the king himself, dead, lying with a wing missing, his body hanging off the crenulations. The attack may have ended in failure, but had bought Roztov a few valuable seconds of respite.

  ‘I’m going to try something Ghene!’ he shouted over the noise of the undead. ‘If it works then that’s the only chance you’ll get!’

  The air around Roztov began to glow blue, then yellow. After a few moments, as he flew through a cloud of smoke, two dozen dragons appeared; green like Roztov but somewhat smaller.

  These new foes took the undead by surprise, springing as they did from nowhere. They surrounded Roztov, protecting him as he dove the last hundred yards to the slates of the tower top. Whenever one of the summoned dragons was killed by the skeletons it merely popped out of existence and when all the other dragons were gone, with Roztov as close as he could get to the portal, Ghene turned into a hawk and flew at incredible speed towards it.

  A skeletal dragon blocked his way, but he flew straight through its rib cage and out the other side. He spiralled over a cloud of bats, angled himself to swoop along the ground for the last twenty yards and then as fast as an arrow he shot through the portal and was gone.

  With no more magic left and the portal still producing undead, Roztov tried to flee. Avoiding a skeletal dragon he flew straight into a cloud of bats that nipped and clawed at him. He rolled, but his wing clipped a skeleton and he fell towards the square.

  Two dragon skeletons dug their claws into him and together they fell onto the slates. Roztov managed to twist around to land on one of the skeletons and it disintegrated underneath him. He pushed the other one aside and breathed fire, rearing up and roaring, bathing the monster in flames and it exploded in a shower of bones. Roztov was far from safe though, as the smaller, earthbound undead moved in on him. He reared again, ready to bathe the area in fire, but just as he did another skeletal dragon crashed into him from above. Stunned, Roztov fell backwards into a pile of bones and dragon bodies. He scrambled and fell again, behind one of the burnt and half-collapsed pavilions. As he tried to rise an undead giant swung a ten foot long club at him and battered him to the ground.

  The giant raised its club again, but was distracted by something that was happening in the centre of the tower top. Roztov raised his head with what little strength he had left and saw that the portal was imploding. It was giving off a low droning sound as it shrunk and no more undead where coming out of it. With a sudden pop and an inrush of air it vanished completely.

  The giant lowered its club and looked up at the sky. Dragons, too cautious or cowardly to join any of the previous attacks, seeing that the portal was gone, were diving back down towards the tower.

  Roztov was exhausted and badly injured, he could barely move. He watched as the dragons, with new found courage, swept the undead from the sky and the square with fire and claw. When the fighting was over, a squadron of Stovologard dragons landed on the tower top. One of them, moving through the wreckage of bones and dead bodies spotted Roztov.

  ‘Traitorous scum!’ snarled the dragon, judging Roztov to be from the Chasm. ‘It’s execution or the mines for you, a fate you’ll richly deserve.’

  The dragon walked past though, otherwise ignoring him, and Roztov waited. Half an hour passed, but it seemed that, without their king, the Stovologard dragons were leaderless and confused. Some other black dragons came and picked through the wreckage, finding and helping any city dragons they found alive. Men began to cautiously appear at the top of the stairs, but they were in no hurry to do anything other than stare at the destruction in astonishment. Roztov, exhausted and beaten, closed his eyes.

  When he opened them, it was getting dark. He could hear the sound of seagulls. There were a few handfuls in the sky and some were even landing amongst the carnage. The few dragons that were on the square, picking through the battlefield, ignored them. One of the seagulls hopped over to where Roztov lay and stretched out a wing to touch him on the head. He felt healing magic begin to course through his body.

  After a few minutes he was strong enough to fly again, and when no one was looking in his direction, he stood and made his way to the side of the tower as quietly as he could. He then flopped over the crenulations and fell for a while, before opening his wings and gliding out over the city, heading north.

  It was too dark and there was too much smoke for him to see how much damage had been done down in the streets of Stovologard. The sun was setting behind him, turning the clouds above him red.

  The seagull that had healed him swooped down beside him, calling angrily. It jerked its head, clearly trying to indicate that Roztov follow it. Together they flew over the city, over the harbour and towards the fog barrier. There was a ship anchored there on the wine dark sea. The seagull flew towards it and Roztov followed.

  Chapter 23

  The Red Lady

  The caravel, if it ever had a name, it was long forgotten. Arrin had named her the Red Lady after their last ship, the poor wrecked Red Maiden that presumably still lay in pieces amongst the rocks of the southern shore of Tanud. Despite the enclosing darkness of the evening she still sailed on, keeping as close to a northerly direction as she could.

  It was poor going. Arrin and Tankle knew enough about sailing to know that you could not sail directly into the wind and that with the sails aligned in the correct positions the ship could be tacked from side to side. Knowing this and putting it into practice was another matter. The timbers of the Red Lady were old and patched. The sails were equally shabby and try as they might to sail close to the wind, every attempt ending in luffing, with the wind spilling out of the sails and the caravel coming to a slow, clumsy stop.

  There had been no small amount of confusion and panic when Roztov the dragon had first been spotted, but Meggelaine had landed first to smooth the way and clear the deck for his landing. He then lay down in the middle of the ship, on top of the cargo hold hatch between the fore and aft masts. The crew had been greatly anxious at his arrival, not understanding what Meggelaine said, but Floran explained to them that this was a shape-shifter and a friend, which did little to calm them, but at least prevented them from all jumping overboard.

  ‘Where is Ghene?’ asked Meggelaine once she had turned back into her normal form and got her breath back.

  Roztov, with no energy left to attempt transforming back into his own form or even to speak Enttish, answered in Draconic. Floran translated. ‘He says that Ghene flew through the portal.’

  ‘What is he talking about, Tup? What portal?’

  Roztov gestured back towards the island, lost now in the fog and darkness, with his jaw and rumbled a longer sentence.

  ‘Well,’ translated Floran. ‘He said something about ho
w the “ungrateful arses back there will probably never know that an elf saved them all”. He needs to tell us what happened Meg.’

  ‘Oh, this is hopeless!’ cried Meggelaine in exasperation. ‘You went and did it again, didn’t you? Well, you’re stuck like that now. I hope you’re happy!’

  Roztov grunted and turned away.

  Floran took the dragon spurn-magic rune from his pocked and held it up for the others to see. ‘We could try this.’

  Meggelaine considered it for a moment. ‘To risky, Tup. We don’t know how that thing works. If it strips away all the magic, he could just as easily turn into a pile of meat as a man. We have no way of knowing.’

  They argued a while longer, but in the end there didn’t seem much choice and when Roztov told Floran, ‘just do it,’ Meggelaine responded, ‘I’ll get a bucket of water to wash you out the scuppers them, when it all goes wrong.’

  The rune did work though, and when Roztov the man slumped to the deck they took him to the captain’s cabin. There was some crudely made furniture in here, shaped by druid magic and the placed him gently down on a bed that was piled with cloaks. They then pulled a blanket over him. Meggelaine put her hands on his chest and druid healing magic coursed through him.

  ‘Without me here, you’d be dead, you know that right?’ she chided him.

  ‘Thanks Meg,’ he groaned.

  ‘So what happened? There were piles of bones and dead dragons everywhere.’

  Floran and Tankle leaned in so that they could listen in as Roztov told his story to Meggelaine. He told the whole tale, of the dragon kings, Dreggen, the portal and the battle. For a moment there was silence, just the creaking of the ship.

  ‘He’s as good as dead,’ sobbed Meggelaine, breaking the silence. ‘Why didn’t you stop him?’

  ‘I nearly went with him,’ said Roztov. ‘Besides, I couldn’t stop him. He closed the portal. Somehow, he did it. I take that as a good sign. If anyone could escape the clutches of Old Bones, it’s Ghene.’