Island of Dragons - DARFT - Chapter 4 - Welcome to Tanud (9358)

Chapter 4 - Welcome to Tanud (9358)

They set off in the morning. Nac, one of the scouts, initially came with them, but when he saw how proficient the druids were at finding their way through the forest he realised his presence was not required. After a couple of hours they stopped to say their farewells and he had a long conversation with Floran before waving and turning round to walk back to Vine Street.

‘What did he say?’ Meggelaine asked Floran.

As they walked Floran said, ‘He says there are a few more runaway settlements around here, he was trying to tell me where they are, but I tried to make him understand it was useless giving me directions in a forest. I get lost in my own library. I told him that you druids have magical ways of finding places like that, once you start attuning to the place anyway, he was having none of it at first, but when Roz turned into a fox and ran off ahead I think he understood. Well, if we keep going this direction we’ll come to another settlement, that’s what he says. It’s well hidden. He says there are more places north of the gorge.’

‘Oh,’ said Meggelaine, ‘He knows the route? He came from Stovologard?’

‘Interestingly he was born free,’ replied Floran. ‘His mother and father left Stovologard before he was born. He has a great desire to come with us and see the world, but his wife is pregnant.’

‘Oh right. I suppose they must feel really isolated where they are, poor things. Something should be done. People shouldn’t live like this. Perhaps we could set up a ring and start sneaking them out somehow.’

‘Such things are possible?’

Meggelaine had to stop and look up at her friend.

‘Floran. How many times have you travelled through a druidic stone circle?’

‘Many many times, yes, as I recall.’

‘Who do you think built them?’

Roztov was coming up behind them and moved them along, ‘Come on guys, keep up with the others.’

‘I’m just explaining to Tup here, that despite what he may think, the stone circles don’t just sprout out of the ground. Druids build them.’

‘Well they did. A long time ago, Meg.’

Floran, as was often the case, felt that he was now in the middle of the start of an argument between druids.

‘We can build them again. Did you read my letters I sent last year?’

‘Yes. You know I did. I replied to them. I agree. If we have the power to use the circles to travel all across Nillamandor, then we should be able to build our own.’

Meggelaine was trotting along beside the men, trying to look at their faces for their reaction and getting a little out of breath.

‘It’s simple really, I’ve read all the Dynaric literature I can find. In theory we could build a circle wherever we want. Imagine the possibilities!’

‘I completely agree with you Meg.’

She was momentarily confused by Roztov’s immediateconcurrence.

‘Oh, well. Well, why don’t we then?’

‘You are in the council, Meg, you tell me.’

‘Huh well, I’ve not asked Lilly about it, but, well… You need at least eighteen stones that each weigh twenty-five tons…’

‘In that case I see your problem. I seem to remember it took the GFC a year to decide where to build a new outhouse.’

‘Yes yes, very funny,’ grumbled Meggelaine. ‘It’s possible though. The Dynar built circles all over Nillamandor. Why not have one in Borland or Elbonia? It would save so much time.’

‘It would put people like Salveri, Arrin and Tankle out of business.’

‘Oh come on.’

‘Well, if you think about it. A druid ring out in the Diamond Sea would completely upset the current economic...’

‘Druid rings are not meant for every fat merchant that comes along with a cart load of turnips. Would you be willing to be a... a muleskinner all day?’

‘Perhaps if they paid me enough.’

‘Oh, please, you’re richer than King Woad.’

‘And the political aspects of having a connection to a new kingdom...’

‘Roztov!’, cried Meggelaine, ‘Why must you... Why must you always...’

‘I’m just thinking about it, you know, not trying to...’

‘Uch!’ groaned Meggelaine. ‘I hate druids!’

Floran looked like he wanted to say something but didn’t want to interrupt. Roztov nodded at him to go ahead.

‘Could we build a circle here? On this island, in order to get home?’

Roztov was smiling, he liked the idea, but was aware of the practicalities, ‘In theory maybe. If we could cut and move eighteen twenty-five ton stones and if Meg could remember all her years of research. It would be less effort to build another ship.’

‘Well, why don’t we build a ship then?’

‘Do you know how to build a ship Floran?’

‘No,’ admitted the wizard. ‘Perhaps Salveri knows.’

‘Have you asked him?’

‘No.’

‘Me neither, but I doubt it. I live in a house, but I couldn’t build one. We could have considered repairing what was left of the Red Maiden, but well… repairing or building a ship… It would draw the dragons and manhunters down on us.’

‘Yet druids have power over wood, no?’

Floran was never one to take a strong side in any discussion and historically always went along with the groups decisions, but sometimes it was almost as if he woke up from whatever was going on in his head and would engage with what was going on in the real world.

‘We do. We can shape wood with our magic. I can, and have in the past, repaired holes in the sides of ships using magic. The Red Maiden was broken in two though.’

‘So…’

‘So, Tup?’

‘So, we are going to this Stovologard place? It is decided?’

‘Unless you have any better ideas.’

‘Roztov!’ chided Meggelaine, ‘Stop teasing the poor fellow. Yes, Tuppence, we are going to Stovologard. To, probably, steal a ship. In the dead of night. Using magic to hide ourselves. Where were you when we talked about all this?’ said Meggelaine in exasperation, changing from being his defender to being his accuser in a breath.

‘Oh, I was…’

‘Just don’t worry about it Tuppence dear,’ she sounded cross. ‘We’ll wake you up when something big needs blasting.’

With that she stormed back up the line. Roztov gave Floran a wink.

‘One day she’ll see through that dopey act of yours.’

‘I don’t know what you mean, Roz.’

‘It’s not a bad idea. Well, that’s maybe a bit too much. It’s an idea, at least. Druids have a certain amount of power over rock as well as wood. Build a circle and use it to funnel people to the mainland.Do you think the dragons would notice?’

Floran did a passable impression of a confused dragon. ‘I’m sure there used to be people around here to do my biding, where did they all go?’

‘Maybe those dingbats in the GFC can put that on their to-do list right after discovering Hanna and defeating Old Bones.’

As the day wore on, the druids took turns scouting ahead, sometimes turning into birds and taking to the sky. After two hours of travel generally north, Ghene landed and told the others, ‘There are manhunters up there. They seem to be searching. We should hide.’

When you keep the company of three druids you will always find a good hiding place in a forest and it was not long before they were all sitting down together in one of the thickest parts of it. Nothing bigger than a man could have got near them due to the density of the trees and brambles. Ghene cast a spell that formed the bushes and brambles into a shelter. The rustling of the leaves and branches creaked and groaned as they intertwined, a sound that was most eerie to the others as they crouched underneath.

‘I’m going to cover our trail and take a wee look around,’ said Roztov who then turned into a fox and trotted off into the gloomy forest.

As he did so, Ghene cocked an ear and then held a finger to his lips. Everyone was quiet. After a while Broddor started to snore. Meggelaine dug her elbow into the sleeping dwarf and hissed at him.

Above them they could hear the beating of wings and the roars of the dragons as they called to each other. Meggelaine pointed upwards and the dwarf mouthed ‘oh right’ before settling back into a more comfortable position. For about the next hour they listened in silence to the noises of the hunt. Roars, the crashing of dragons through trees and sometimes the shouts of men.

Things seemed to go quiet as it got dark and eventually Roztov returned.

‘All good here?’ he asked.

‘All good. Where were you?’ asked Meggelaine.

‘Watching them,’ Roztov crept into the shelter of the hide and sat down. ‘They’ve gone, but give it half an hour I think before we set up camp.’

‘What did you see?’

‘I saw how they hunt. The dragons land and let the men off. The men then act like beaters, trying to flush things out. Sometimes the dragons dive through the trees like a fox hunting a mouse in a field of grass. They come crashing down, tree branches flying everywhere, and clutch their prey in their jaws. I don’t know if they were after us or just hunting game. The dragons ate a few vegetains and deer.’

‘If they had men with them, then they were hunting men,’ put in Floran, anxious to not cause offence at interrupting. ‘Manhunters… ahem… the clue is in the name. Dragons hunt game by themselves.’

‘Right,’ agreed Roztov. ‘That makes sense. What it looks like, well, the dragons are in charge of the hunting. It’s not like a man riding a horse. The dragon goes where the dragon wants to go. They drop off the men when they want them to chase out their prey. It’s like when men hunt with hounds.’

‘But in this case, the men are the hounds,’ said Meggelaine.

They camped where they had stopped that night. Druids can make anywhere in the forest comfortable and this area was no exception. They were kept warm by a fire and the walls of the hide and well fed by the plentiful game and winter forage that the druids brought back.

The next day went in much the same way. The druids scouted ahead and they did their best to avoid the manhunters. In the evening they made camp by a stream, on the slope of a hill. The druids used their magic to pull in the undergrowth to form a roof over them again. Above them snow was falling but it barely got past the trees and only a little fell on their shelter. Occasionally a drop of snow fell into the fire. The shelter was large enough to hold all of them, but some left the camp to attend to their own business after they had eaten their evening meal.

Those that remained in the camp sat quietly with their own thoughts. Salveri and Arrin looked into the fire, while Meggelaine and Ophess talked.

Initially it was quiet conversation, but without warning Ophess started crying and screaming.

‘Where is my father! Are they even looking for my father?’

Meggelaine jumped up and tried to sooth the girl.

‘Yes, yes, but please be quiet. There could be dragons about.’

‘You just said that there were no dragons for miles! You’re a liar!’

‘Please darling, have a care. It is better to be quiet. Roztov and Ghene are out looking for him now.’

‘You said he was safe! You said we would find him!’

‘Yes, yes, but shush. Please shush.’

Salveri and Arrin stood and went to the entrance of the hide. It was pitch dark, but they were nervous of being found by the manhunters.

‘If she doesn’t stop screaming someone should slit her throat,’ growled Salveri.

‘Salveri!’ gasped Arrin in genuine shock.

‘Well. Or knock her over the head at least.’

‘I can hear you!’ yelled Ophess at them. ‘Why are we moving around so much? If he was easy to find why have we travelled so much? I want to go back to the runaway’s town! We should go back there and wait.’

Two birds suddenly swooped into the camp, landed and turned into Roztov and Ghene.

‘What’s all the noise?’ hissed Roztov.

‘I hate you!’ she screamed at him.

‘What did I do?’ grumbled the druid. ‘Meg, you have to keep her quiet.’

‘I know, I know,’ said the fressle in despair. ‘What can I do though?’

‘What’s all the fuss?’

‘Where is my father!’ screamed Ophess.

‘The captain? Why, he is...’

Meggelaine held up her hands and said, ‘Roztov, a word...’

They went outside then walked down to the river. Roztov sat down at the bank so that he was at eye level with the fressle.

‘What’s going on Meg?’

‘I’ve been telling her that her father is alive and that we are looking for him.’

‘Oh dear, Meg,’ sighed Roztov. ‘He’s dead. We buried him.’

‘I know that. I didn’t know how else to keep her quiet. I know it’s my fault.’

‘Well, she was pretty highly strung to begin with, as I recall.’

‘Don’t blame her,’ said Meggelaine with an angry tone. ‘It’s been me that’s been telling lies to keep her quiet. It’s holding back the inevitable meltdown. And you men are no good, you are only interested in keeping her alive, not her mental wellbeing.’

‘Meg...’ Roztov started, but stopped when he didn’t know how to finish the sentence without getting his head bitten off.

‘She must have been on those rocks for a full day and night, don’t you see?’ said Meggelaine. ‘A full day and night, barely alive, with her skin all burnt up and up to her neck in salt water. I don’t know how she lived through that but she did. She must be a real fighter. Can you imagine the suffering Roz? And now all she clings on to is getting her father back. What do we do? You’re a father for Etruna’s sake! Oh you are all hopeless.’

Roztov remained silent. He knew Meggelaine well enough not to interrupt.

‘Well. You go pretend and look for him then. Fly back out and come back in an hour or so.’

He rolled his eyes, turned into an owl and flew off. Meggelaine turned back to the hide and saw that Ophess was watching from the entrance.

‘Come on. Get back to bed,’ chided Meggelaine.

‘Where did he go?’

‘To look for your father.’

‘Will he find him tonight?’

Meggelaine motioned the girl inside, then got her to lie down and then covered her with blankets.

‘I hate him.’

‘But why?’

‘He thinks he’s clever. Always bossing people around.’

Meggelaine tucked the girl in and patted her hair.

‘That’s my best friend you are talking about.’

Ophess sat up, suddenly forgetting her tears and said, ‘You are friends?’

‘Of course. We’ve known each for years. Us druids have to stick together you know.’

Ophess settle back again, ‘How did you become a druid?’

‘Oh I don’t know, I was just a girl really. It seems like a long time ago now. I worked in a bakery, and then later a tavern. My grannie, on my dad’s side had been a druid, my family made a huge thing about it. She’d gone east though, years before I was born and we all thought she was dead. Torms do things differently from humans and elves. They have their own methods, but in Tormwood the druids act as custodians of the woods and protectors of the forest folk. This is probably really boring for you...’

‘Just keep talking.’

‘Well, ahem,’ said Meggelaine, more used to addressing aging Great Forest Council members than children, ‘Tormwood has a human border run right through it, between Styke and Tomsk, so there is a lot of work for torm druids there making sure our people’s rights are respected. It’s a lot of work.

Well anyway, everyone thought my big brother was going to be a druid, but he became a merchant instead. He has a barge on the Duchy canals. I started showing some aptitude and interest, so well, my parents sent me off to the elders and well...’

‘Is it a big secret?’

‘Some of it is secret yes. Well, anyway, if you want to know how me and Roztov met, it was like this. It’s common for all druids to wander, since I’m also a citizen of Styke I thought I’d have a travel around and see what it was like. Not all torms become citizens, even if they are born in Styke, but it is granted to all torm druids. I ended up at Kardane, I liked the dwarves there and got friendly with Broddor. When he formed his company, I joined it a few weeks later. They needed someone to help scout the forest. Those goblins were really… naughty at that time.’

‘Just a bunch of dwarves?’

‘Don’t be like that. Well, after a while they took on more scouts. Dwarves are good fighters, but hopeless in the wilds. Ghene came along next. Then, I think, Tuppence came along too after that, I mean Floran. Then Roztov. When Roztov joined, more humans joined too. He’s the son of a baron you know.’

‘I don’t like him.’

‘You keep saying that. I don’t understand why.’

‘How come he is your best friend then, and not Broddor and Ghene? You knew them before him.’

‘Just by a few months.’

‘But how come?’ insisted the girl.

‘Hmm, well,’ replied Meggelaine, giving it some genuine thought. ‘Well, I think because out of all of them he likes me the most. The others like me well enough I suppose, but me and Roztov have always been very close. Maybe because we are both from Styke, but I think because he has never treated me like a lesser being. Most other people treat fressles poorly. Roztov, well, I think he prefers us to his own people to be honest.’

‘You sound like you love him.’

Meggelaine almost blushed, ‘Haha, well, yes I do, but like a brother maybe. You should sleep.’

Ophess didn’t argue and moments later she was asleep.

Meggelaine sat for a while, imagining what other questions Ophess might have asked and how she would have answered them. When she and Roztov had first met it was to fight the goblins. Styke was in dire straits. From the caverns below the Askbakar and Spidertooth Mountains hordes of them had come up, from the god’s knew where. Hungry and desperate they ravaged the kingdom. Would she have told Ophess about the bloody battles? The ethnic cleansing on both sides? Initially her sympathy was for the goblins, they were, after all, another pygmy race coming into conflict with humans, just like the torms. But goblins were irredeemably horrible. Torms have their own culture, they valued peace and the good things of life that came with it. The goblins seemed to only value destruction. In the end the goblins had been beaten back, but no one had come out of it well. It had been a hard few years in Styke, before King Woad claimed the throne, and it had not got much better after that. The Company had left by then though. How long had it been? They’d left Styke about ten years ago and Woad was crowned about three years after that. It felt like an age, so much had happened...

Meggelaine lay back beside the girl and let thoughts of the past drift away and was soon asleep herself.

In the morning Arrin was the first to wake. He had been having a nightmare about the sinking of the Red Maiden. He had no desire to go back to sleep so went outside to pee. Ghene was on watch, it was just before dawn.

‘Good morning,’ said the elf.

‘Good morning, my lord,’ said the young man as he stifled a yawn. ‘Is Roztov still out there?’

‘Yes, he is tracking Dreggen.’

‘You druids can go without sleep, my lord?’

‘No more than anyone else.’

It wasn’t long before it was time to break camp. The leftovers from last night’s dinner was quickly eaten for breakfast then all the blankets, pots, cups, knives and spoons got packed up into bags. The fire was put out and water for the day was drawn from the stream into the water skins. Arrin joined in willingly with the work. Salveri grumbled that cleaning pots and pans was women’s work, but made sure that none of the women actually heard him.

Arrin didn’t mind, he had helped his mother in the house. The atmosphere was clear and crisp, but their breath hung around them like a fog, making the air damp. He shouldered one of the heavier bags and joined Ghene who was getting ready to set off. Not far from them, Broddor who had washed in the river was now strapping on the last of his plate armour, to Arrin it looked like a complicated business, but the dwarf did it with the practices ease of someone how had done it hundreds of times, like a man lacing up his boots.

Salveri was next to join those who were ready to go, his face dark with fear and anger, then Tankle was next out of the hide, her hair tied back under a woollen hat. Her arm was still in a sling, but it seemed to be healing fast.

Arrin could hear Meggelaine talking to Ophess as she tried to persuade her to get dressed. Off to the left of the hide, Floran appeared from the trees, buttoning up his britches then letting his robe fall down to his calves. Finally Meggelaine and Ophess emerged from the hide, but then there was some delay over which cloak she wanted to wear, which meant that Broddor was next to join those that were ready.

Arrin wondered how long they would be in the forest, travelling like this. Days, weeks, even months? Would every morning be the same? Broddor putting on his armour, Ophess the last one to be ready? The others standing still, more or less patiently, with their bags dropped at their feet, waiting for the start of that day’s trek?

Arrin had never told anyone onboard the Red Maiden, but his family were quite well off. He had been better educated than any of the other sailors and he was sure that wasn’t just him being big headed. Salveri seemed to be full of prejudices, racism and stupidity, Arrin judged this to be pretty standard for sailors, even the younger ones. It didn’t mean he didn’t like them, he was aware of the advantages he had had in life. His parent’s house had a large garden with a small gazebo at the back. Sometimes he and his brother had camped there, in beds that had been made up by the maid. They had only ever done it in the summer of course, but the last couple of nights in the relatively comfortable druidic hides had reminded him of his younger days.

It had been his decision to join the crew of the Red Maiden. Arrin was a young man of eighteen years. He had worked in the tops, where Salveri had worked too, but he had not talked to him much. On his off time he socialised with the others of his own age, some of the deck hands, one or two of the stewards and the cook’s assistant. That had been his gang. The older sailors had their own cliques, they tended to play cards or throw dice in the evenings, drink rum and sing songs. The younger ones often swapped stories about Tankle and the other women on board the Red Maiden. They had all wanted to bed her, but had no idea how to approach the subject.

All his friends were dead now, he tried not to think about it. It was sheer luck that he had been up the main mast when the fire struck. Like many of the others outside on the deck or up the masts he had jumped into the sea. He couldn’t swim, neither could any of his friends. Roztov had pulled him from the water.Once more that was down to nothing but luck. Why him? He was afraid to ask, he didn’t want to talk about that day, but sometimes he wondered why the druid picked him out of the sea and not one of the others. He guessed it was because he had been the nearest. Later, when the druid had buried some of the recovered bodies using his magic and a swipe of his arms, Arrin had seen two of his friends down there in the pit and had said nothing.

He was still young, and could not put into words how he felt. He wasstill in shock, just surviving hour by hour, following the others and hoping for the best.

He had worked with Salveri, but in truth he had not liked him much. He had seen Salveri as a pretty grumpy and unapproachable fellow. He was always complaining and always lawyering about some fairly trivial rule or regulation of the captain’s.

Now, here they were, Arrin, Salveri and Tankle, the last of the Red Maiden. He didn’t count Dreggen or Ophess. Well, Ophess maybe. She had not been part of the crew and she was pretty horrible really, but he felt sorry for her.

He still found Salveri grumpy and complaining, but saw the wisdom of sticking with the older man. He knew lots of things and seemed to have the measure of the mercenaries they had been taking west. What had the captain been thinking? What had he, Arrin, been thinking come to that?

His father and older brother were both sailors, but they just went up and down the west coast. When the captain had said they were going to go further west than anyone had gone before and that they were all going to come back rich, Arrin had been all for it. What a fool.

How he wished he was back home now, with his mother, helping around the house and running errands as he had when he’d been a boy. His father was a first mate, their family was well to do. It wasn’t as if they had really needed him to bring back a fortune. He’d give all the diamonds in Fiarka to be home right now.

‘Sal, where are we going?’

‘North. Stovologard. Haven’t you been paying attention?’

‘My mind keeps wandering. You know, wandering back to the Red Maiden…’

‘Don’t let it. Don’t dwell on it, just concentrate on staying alive. If we survive we’ll have plenty of time to relive all that horror.’

‘I know, but...’

‘Just keep it together,’ Salveri seemed in a foul mood this morning. ‘She’s ready now, let’s go.’

Ophess marched past them in a sulk. Meggelaine rolled her eyes at Ghene as she went past.

The elf then said, ‘Looks like we are ready then. Broddor, bring up the rear please.’

The dwarf nodded.

Arrin suddenly realised they were missing one of their party and blurted out, ‘Oh, my lord! What about Roztov?’

‘Do not worry, man,’ said Ghene. ‘He has already had his breakfast and gone on ahead. I dare say that we will see him at lunch.’

Arrin nodded, then feeling rather stupid, he shouldered his bag and fell in behind Salveri as they began their march.

They did indeed meet Roztov for lunch. He walked into the camp and sat down at the fire where some rotrok was being roasted. There was enough room for them all to sit by the fire and there was only one conversation. It had turned to the variates of dragons.

‘Are the coloured ones evil and the metallic ones good?’ asked Floran.

‘I’ve heard that,’ said Roztov, the nearest they had to a dragon expert. ‘But I’ve never seen any evidence of it.’

Floran reached for the spoon that sat in the cooking pot and put more meat onto his plate while he said, ‘What, then, are the colour of the ones in Styke?’

Roztov, who had already finished eating, leaned back on his elbow and smoothed down his beard.

‘Hmm, let’s see. There are a few young ones in Tanglewood, I think they are all green. Then there is Caladrak, well he’s just a heap of bones. And the Usurper, well I’ve never seen him, but I think he’s a sort of yellowy-brown. Kresh-ember once flew over Timu when I was young, he was black. Oh, and some grey thing once crept out Gnarlwold when I was even younger, just a baby, but I remember my father told me it was grey or maybe silver.’

‘I see,’ said Floran with interest. ‘And which of those were good and which were evil?’

‘They are all pretty nasty.’

Meggelaine, who could never stay out of any conversation for long said, ‘I heard that too though, the colours, red, blue, green, you know, they are all evil. The metallic ones, gold, silver, copper and things. They are the good ones.’

Roztov tried to pat her on the head, but she flinched away with a look of irritation.

‘I think that’s just in books, Meg. I’ve no idea to be honest. All I know is that in Styke, whatever colour they are, they are all horrible bastards.’

‘What was the name of that thing we came up against in Pechanga?’ asked Broddor.

‘Oh, the Sleeper. Ice Dragon, his name was Hydrefin.’

‘Huh.’

Meggelaine clapped her hands. ‘Yes yes. What an adventure that was! We had trekked all the way up from Ixnay. Knowing what we know now, it was obviously a bad idea. We had no guide or anything. What was the name of those people that we met? Oh, they had a chief, ugly fellow. What was his name, Roz? No, Anyone?...’

Roztov shrugged and smiled, the succeeded in tussling her hair.

‘Oh get off,’ she said.

After a pause Arrin said, ‘What about Old Bones?’

‘What about him?’ asked Roztov.

‘I mean, is he real? My mum always used to use him to scare us into doing what he was told.’

‘You’re mum and everyone else’s mum.’

Arrin was shy speaking to the druids, but continued, ‘I’ve never seen a dragon, but I’ve heard of Old Bones. The great undead dragon that lives east of Norob. Well, that’s what they said.’

‘Ghene is the expert on that subject,’ said Roztov with an almost inaudible sigh. He then gestured with his free hand as if to give the elf the stage.

Ghene looked up from his plate where he had been picking at the remains of his dinner.

‘Oh, ahem,’ he said clearing his throat. ‘He is real alright. He’s a very big problem in the Great Forest. Not only is he undead, he is a necromancer. This voyage, well it was not a secret, was to find the ancient Dynarians because it had been them that had stopped him back in the year 25. They didn’t kill him, or even defeat him, but the pushed him back. True, it cost them their civilisation, but they did it.’

Arrin listened on, trying to take in things that sounded very alien to him. Roztov lay back and shut his eyes. He had had similar conversations with Ghene every evening on the Red Maiden.

Ghene continued. ‘It’s… well, you know, most of the people don’t realise just how strong his influence is all over the world. Look at what’s happening in Gnarlwold. That’s the work of Garamuda. That’s his more proper name by the way. You can see his influence in the eastern kingdoms. Vampires, witches, all sorts of terrible things. If it wasn’t for the GFC the whole continent would be over run. It’s most of our work holding it all in check.’

Roztov knew most of this, and did think that Ghene was overstating things a bit. Garamuda tended to get the blame for everything that happened in Nillamandor, whether he was involved or not.

‘I had no idea,’ gulped Arrin.

‘The history of my people is the history of our fight against Garamuda. If he’d not tried to conquer everything west of Norob the Dynar would still be here. There would have been no Marawan empire and, I dare say, there would have been no kingdoms of men.’

Roztov leaned up and said, ‘You always say that. I’d just like to state for the record, who can say what might have been? I’ve always said this, never underestimate the goblins. They have shaped the whole continent more than anyone else and yet they are always forgotten in history.’

‘Because they record no history.’

Broddor laughed. ‘Don’t start this line of argument again Roztov, you daft old goblin-lover.’

‘Yes, yes, old news I know,’ said Roztov good-naturedly. ‘I can agree that Garamuda has contributed to the shaping of the world today, that’s true. But what would have happened had he not been around is just speculation.’

‘Roztov,’ said Ghene patiently.‘I’ve spend more than your span of years studying this subject. All this has led up to this ill-fated journey and our presence on this island. We are searching for the last of the Dynar. They were a mighty race, who sacrificed themselves to save the world from Garamuda. If not for that wretched dragon they would still be here.’

‘Perhaps,’ Roztov conceded. ‘I know you don’t agree with this, but in Styke we don’t see any difference between the Dynar and the Empire. The Dynar never left, they just became the Marawan.’

Roztov knew that Ghene knew all this, but continued for the benefit of the rest of the listeners.

‘In Styke the ruins of the Marawan Empire are everywhere. In the north of the country are hundreds of miles of canal that they built. They were hardly a remnant. Half the cities of man are built on the ruins of Marawan settlements. Garamuda had nothing to do with that. It was the endless goblin wars, picking away. You know there is way more goblins in Styke than all the other races put together?’

Meggelaine realised that this could be the start of another heated argument between Roztov and Ghene and that Roztov was not above name calling, something that she couldn’t abide the notion of in front of the non-druids.

She coughed and said, ‘We can all agree that Old Bones is bad anyway. While Ghene looks east, I look west and take it from me, Old Bones has his claws in everything. Half the plots against the rulers of the kingdoms of men are funded by gold that has come from the Norob Forest. He is too old to conquer the continent with force and fire so now he uses intrigue and guile. And his armies of undead. Who wants the last of this meat? Anyone?’

The conversation moved on, and after a while meandered into the oft travelled territory of the druids explaining to Floran what was going on.

‘I noticed that you did not summon wolves to aid Broddor, Salveri and Arrin in the fight against the manhunters. I thought it odd at the time, was there a reason? Is it because there are no wolves in this forest?’ asked the wizard.

‘That’s a good guess, Tup.’

‘I remember you used to summon dire wolves in Styke and snow leopards in the Moon Marshes. There would not be much point in summoning a herd of vegetains to fight dragons I suppose.’

‘That’s right, Tup. Druid magic is a bit more, what’s the word, uh, sympathetic maybe than you and your lot. You learn a spell, you cast a spell. Seems simple.’

Floran choked back a laugh. Roztov gave him a wink and continued.

‘For us, we need to attune to an area for a while. The longer we are in the forest the more power we can draw from it. It’s a decent size, not the Great Forest, but decent. I think I’ve been here long enough to summon wolves, even if the nearest one is hundreds of miles away.’

Roztov knew that Floran knew the rest, but continued for the sake of Arrin and Tankle who were listening intently.

‘Well, we summon aspects of creatures, not the creatures themselves. If I summon a bunch of wolves they are a manifestation of the power of the forest, not actual wolves you understand. The longer we are here, the more can be summoned.’

‘Can Ghene and Meggelaine do it too, my lord?’ asked Arrin.

‘Oh, of course. All druids learn this.’

‘I could just about summon a squirrel,’ said Meggelaine as she sorted out the leftovers. ‘Roztov is the master of it, probably better than any druid in the GFC.’

Roztov coughed, ‘Come now, don’t compare me to Lilly and the rest.’

‘Oh, she says you’re obsessed with it,’ chortled Meggelaine. ‘You should hear her. “Roztov and those bloody animals, he should be helping us here in the council, not surrounding himself with beasts”.’

Roztov laughed but explained to the bemused sailors, ‘She jests. Lilly would never talk like that. She is an ancient elf elder of the Forest Council. Not a side show act.’

‘Well, I bet she thinks it though,’ said Meggelaine. Roztov nodded agreement at that.

‘You could summon wolves now, my lord?’ asked Tankle looking around at the shadows anxiously.

‘I probably could yes. I feel attuned enough with this forest now I think. If the need arises. There are no wolves or bears within hundreds of miles of here though, no predators of any kind, unless you count sharks I suppose. Or dragons of course. It makes it harder, but not impossible.’

Meggelaine had put away the uneaten food and lunch was over. They would eat the remainder in the evening. Camp was broken and they moved on again. The line was the same as always, with Ghene at the front and Roztov at the back. Occasionally one of the druids would scout ahead for a while and then they would continue.

Ghene was an expert woodsman, a druid attuned to the forest, with all of abilities channelled into known the land and what lay ahead. As a result he saw the hunter before the hunter saw him. It was a short, oldish man, perhaps in his fifties, but who had had a rough outdoor life. He was dressed in deerskins and carried a bow and a boar piglet carcass strung on a stick.

Ghene stopped the others then went forward to make contact. The hunter was nervous at first, but was curious of the small figure that stood before him and gave him a friendly wave. When the hunter didn’t bolt, Ghene called up Floran who tried to strike up a conversation in draconic.

The hunter smiled, revealing crooked teeth and talked to the wizard in the rough local dialect.

‘He is hunting food for his wife. He says she is sick,’ reported the wizard. ‘He speaks draconic really badly. I can hardly make out what he says. I think his name is, well, it sound like Ball. Mr Ball I suppose is his name.’

‘I see. How far away is his wife?’ asked Ghene.

After another exchange Floran said, ‘He says about half a mile away.’

Ghene wave Meggelaine up to where the hunter was.

‘This gentleman is Mr Ball, Meg. He has a sick wife. You are the least threatening looking out of all of us. Would you like to go take a look at her?’

Mr Ball took some persuading. Having never seen a torm before,hewas convinced that Meggelainewas a small child. When Ophess grew impatient and came up to see what was going on, she demanded that she not be separated from Meggelaine. This seemed to appease the hunter somewhat as Ophess was nearly as tall as him. In the end he shrugged and led them off into the forest.

After a few dozen yards and when they were alone with Ball, Ophess suddenly got worried and said, ‘It this safe? He could be anyone.’

‘No need to whisper my dear. He doesn’t understand us,’ said Meggelaine as she took the girl’s hand. ‘If he causes any trouble I’ll turn into a griffon and flatten him.’

Ophess continued to fret and complain all the way to where the hunter’s hut was. It was a well hidden lean-to that had been built up beside a low overhanging cliff. There wasn’t much room, but inside on a narrow bed there indeed lay a small lady all covered up in homespun blankets.

She was amazed to see visitors in her small house, but Ball talked to her for a while and she settled down. Two small girls were not very threatening after all.

‘Now then, let’s take a look at you,’ said Meggelaine in a business-like manner. Mrs Ball was perplexed to be administered to by what she took to be a five year old child, but Meggelaine was so deft and her movements so practiced that all the old woman could do was let it happen. Meggelaine spent a few minutes examining the old lady then said to Ophess, because no one else could understand her after all, ‘She has the blue death. From drinking dirty water. I can cure her, but I’ll also have to explain to them how to stop it from happening again. Hmm.’

Meggelaine rubbed her hands together then shut her eyes and started chanting under her breath. After a full five minutes of this, long enough for Ophess to grow bored, Meggelaine laid her hands on Mrs Ball’s chest. Her chanting changed in tempo as her small childlike fingers began to glow at the tips. The light fromMeggelaine’s fingers spread all over the old ladies body, until she was bathed in it. Meggelaine kept chanting, just audibly, as the magic did its work. Both the Balls gasped in wonder as they witnessed the druidic magic draw the disease from her and destroy it.

In a few more minutes it was all over, Meggelaine stood back and smiled. Mrs Ball sat up in her bed and threw off the covers, evidently now as fit as a flea. She laughed and walked over to where a bucket of water was placed on the floor. She took a cup and raised it to her dry lips.

‘No no, Mrs Ball!’ Meggelaine said in alarm. She mimed throwing the water away, ‘It’s dirty water you silly old woman. It will make you sick again. Puh! Puh!’

The sturdy little torm then picked up the bucket, took it outside and threw the water on ground.

‘Clean water from a stream!’ she said making hand motions. ‘Or boil it on the fire. Can’t you understand me?’

Meggelainepointed at the camp fire that the Balls evidently used to cook with and mimed boiling water. ‘Bubble bubble. Bubble bubble, Mrs Ball. I don’t know if she gets it.’

‘I want to go back now,’ said Ophess.

‘Just a little longer, sweetie.’

Meggelaine took a further ten minutes attempting to explain to the old couple the dangers of drinking dirty water and she wasn’t content until she was sure they understood. They nodded and smiled, then nodded and smiled again, then patted her head. Mrs Ball suddenly leapt up, ran into the house and brought out a saucer of milk. She put it next to the torm on the ground and stood back.

‘They think you are some sort of fairy, Meg. They think you are a silly little pixie.’

‘Don’t be rude, some of my best friends are pixies.’

Meggelaine picked up the saucer and sniffed the milk.

‘Hmm, fresh. Goat’s milk,’ she then drank it all and smacker her lips then smiled. ‘Delicious!’

Ophess looked around, ‘I wonder where they keep it?’

Mrs Ball ducked back in to her meagre dwelling then returned with a stoppered jug of milk. Meggelaine tried to refuse it, but in the end Ophess offered to carry it back. In return Meggelaine fumbled about in her pocket and pulled out an acorn.

‘This is an acorn from the Great Forest. Do you understand? It has magical properties, ahhhh!’

The Balls smiled and nodded.

‘If you feel sick. Sick. Sick, do you see? If you feel sick, sleep with it in your hand. See? In your hand? Sleeping, sleeping,’ said Meggelaine, reinforcing her words with mime. ‘You wake up feeling better. Do you see? Oh that will do. Also, plant it if you like. In a hundred years you’ll have a magic acorn tree of your very own.’

After more smiles, nods and farewells they left the Balls. Turning to wave one last time, Ophess asked, ‘Is the acorn truly magical?’

‘Yes,’ confirmed Meggelaine. ‘It won’t cure a disease like the blue death, but it will help them fight it off, if they are strong enough. It’s better for stopping infections and healing wounds.’

‘How many do you have?’

Meggelaine checked her pockets.

‘Ah, nine.’

‘Can I have one?’

‘Well, oh, very well,’ Meggelaine grumbled as she handed one over. ‘Don’t lose it though. And if you feel sick come and see me first. An acorn is not a substitute for a druid.’

‘I won’t. I will.’

They followed the path back to the others, all the while Ophess looking over her acorn from all angles.

Once they were back with the others, the whole group set off once more. Roztov left Broddor to bring up the rear for a while so he could talk to Meggelaine.

‘How were they set for winter?’

‘I don’t know,’ shrugged the fressle. ‘I didn’t ask.’

‘But did you look?’ continued Roztov. ‘Did they have food, cured meat, preserves?’

‘I think I saw a ham hanging up. Come to think of it no, I smelt it. I smelt cured meat.’

‘Any pots? Jars? Jugs?’

‘Um, some clay pots,’ said Meggelaine, biting her top lip.

‘No jars?’

‘Look, I'm sorry Roz,’ said Meggelaine getting impatient. ‘I was concentrating on making his wife better.’

Roztov continued pestering his friend for a while longer, and as the group strung out a bit, Salveri asked Floran. ‘Why is he so interested in pots and pans?’

The wizard glanced over at the sailor as they walked along, then smiled and said,‘Well, if I know my friend, he is already thinking about his next paper to the Royal Society of Timu. If they had potsthen they have access to clay, or trade for it. If jars, then they either made their own glass, orindeed trade for it. Either way, Roztov is trying to work out the scale of the runaway human society, its economics, things like that. He has done it every other time we have been far from home like this.’

‘Huh. He must be confident we’ll make it back. The other druids don't write?’

‘No, it's a human thing. I too write, I mean, we ugari. If I survive this I will probably write a book about it. My peopleare greatly interested in dragons and suchlike.’

‘You are not human, er, my lord?’ asked Arrin who was listening in to the conversation.

‘Well. No. We ugari are different from your kind in many ways, not just the colour of our skin.’

‘Oh?’ said Salveri and winked at Arin behind the wizard’s back.

‘Well,’ Floran seemed rather embarrassed. ‘We live longer, ahem, are more in tune with magic. Ahem, well, perhaps you should get Roztov to tell you what he thinks and get a human perspective on this.’

By the time it was dark and the druids were setting up camp Floran was relieved to see that the sailors had forgotten they had talked to him or at least had decided not to ask Roztov about what made ugari different from other men.

The sacks that they all carried were dumped in the centre of the camp site, then a fire was lit and water was boiled for tea. As this was done, Meggelaine began to prepare the dinner while the others carried out such chores as gathering firewood, unpacking the cooking gear and other mundane tasks. Floran sat with a book open on his knees, only half taking in what was going on around him. Everyone left him alone to his studies, it was part of the life of a Hyadnian Vizard to spend a lot of your day deep in study.

He barely noticed as Roztov told the other druids that he was going to scout about for a while, just to be sure there were no dangers nearby. If Floran had bothered to pay attention he might have noticed a slight note of tension between the druids, as if they were not quite sure of their safety.

There was a flutter of feathers as Roztov turned into an owl, then took to the sky.

The campsite had settled in for the evening when Roztov returned. This time he was on foot, running as fast as he could. As he arrived at the camp he yelled, ‘Run! Run! Run for it!’

Everyone froze for a split second, then reacted in various ways. Meggelaine went to start packing up the equipment, Ghene turned to find his pack, the others picked up weapons or readied themselves for action.

‘No time to save anything, just run!’ repeated Roztov.

He then turned into a griffin, took Ophess, who was standing stock still in confusion, into his claws and flew up into the sky.

Ophess screamed as they gained altitude. The griffin tossed her into the air and caught her on its back. She scrambled desperately, but then managed to grab handfuls of feathers and clamp her legs around its ribs. The griffin screeched, shrugged its burden into a more comfortableposition then flapping furiously headed almost directly upwards.

Ophess screamed again as dragon-fire lit the sky. They were below them though, shooting upwards, and the flames fell short. Higher and higher they went and Ophess lost her breath. She could no longer scream, she just held on to the griffin as firmly as she could. The higher they went, the colder the air got and she felt her hands and face going numb. Just when she thought she was about to lose her grip and fall the griffin screeched again then plunged into an angled dive. Ophess could hear dragons around them, roaring and breathing fire, but she buried her face into the griffin’s feathers, not wanting to look and expecting to be burnt to a crisp at any second.

The griffin screeched and cried in pain and she smelt burnt feathers. They swooped upwards again, in a steep angled glide. She felt herself pressed into the griffin’s back for several seconds, then it was climbing again, once more leaving the dragons below, breathing fire and angrily trying to keep up.

Ophess chanced to look down over her leg and saw dozens of dark winged shapes silhouetted in the flames of their breath. The griffin climbed ever higher, seemingly heading for the stars. Ophess wondered if they could fly to the moon, she had no idea if that was possible, but it certainly seemed as if they could not go down to the forest again, what with all the dragons between them and the ground.

Suddenly she was holding nothing.

She screamed hoarsely as her arms and legs frantically waved around in the air. Then Roztov, the man, grabbed her, and she just about clawed the skin off his neck as she took hold of him.

‘Yes that’s right,’ gasped Roztov as he tried to stop her from choking him. ‘Hold on tight. When I change back I will hold you in my claws.’

She had no breath left to scream with as they plunged back down to the forest. She looked down over the druid’s shoulder as the dragons below got closer and closer. One moment the dragons were all around them, then in an instant they were above them. They breathed their flames, but were far too late, just lighting up the sky harmlessly.

At the last moment Roztov turned back into a griffin and braked hard with his wings for the remaining twenty yards. As they crashed through the trees he shielded Ophess with his wings.

They landed in a heap of feathers that rolled along the forest floor before crashing into a tree and coming to a halt. Nothing moved for a few seconds, until finally the griffin let out a long low groan. It then delicately unfurled its wings and using its claws lifted up Ophess and placed her on her feet.

She was shaking violently and hiccupping.

The griffon rolled onto its legs, stood and shook its wings. It then lifted its head up, reared and called out in a deep rumbling screech.

In the next heartbeat there were lights in the forest, flickering for a second or two then disappearing. Then wolves began to arrive, skulking through the trees. One, then two, then two more, then three and more, until there were dozens of them. They were huge, the size of horses, with thick shaggy black pelts and teeth as long as a man’s finger. Ophess pressed up against the griffin in fear. It sat down and motioned with its beak for her to get on its back and she did so.

It then reared up and called again. This time bears appeared in bright lights, with feint popping sounds, all around them. Theyglowed for a moment or two, and then did not. They were massive brown creatures, like nothing Ophess had ever seen before, with claws the size of steak knives.

Dragons began to crash through the trees, and were immediately set upon by the wolves and bears. Ophess watched as a dragon was pulled down by a gang of the druid’s creatures. It breathed fire and immolated a bear, but the bear kept coming, with its fur on fire it raked at the dragon’s wings, ripping them to shreds.  The griffin she was mounted on shuddered and changed, the feathers turning to fur and she ascending about three feet as the griffin turned into a bear. It then loped off into the forest, flanked by wolves and other bears. Ophess kept low on its back to avoid branches, holding onto the thick fur as tightly as she could and digging her feet into its broad back. She chanced a look over her shoulder and saw wolves, bears and dragons locked in battle in a burning forest, behind her.

More dragons landed and tried to pursue them, but then several wolves and bears would peel off from the main group and meet the attack. A dragon could kill a wolf or a bear, or maybe more, but was always overcome by the weight of animals that hurled themselves against them. Trees were thrown aside in the brutal battles that broke out around them. The bear she was riding kept going though, seeming to be able to find its way through the forest with ease, despite its size.

They kept going for some time, until the sounds of fighting was left behind and all she heard was the sweep of the trees going past and the panting of the bear.

Her arms and legs were stiff now, but she dared not let go. Eventually the bear stopped and sat down and she slid off its back and lay down on the cold forest floor.

The bear turned back into a man and sat down beside her, crossing his legs.

‘That was a close one,’ he said. ‘I expect you are terrified after all that, but look at it this way, you are still alive. Well, anyway, once we’ve got our breath back we’ll go look for the others, right?’

Ophess found that she could not move or speak.