Island of Dragons - DRAFT - Chapter 7 – Moletown Again (7111)

Chapter 7 – Moletown Again (7111)

Broddor was telling a story of his younger days, back when he was the leader of the Kardane Company. The sailors were there listening, in the main hall of Moletown, and Floran translated as best he could for the many people of the settlement who had drifted in to hear the tale.

‘…by then it felt like we were a long way from home. Luxor neighbours Joppa, it’s all mountains, you understand, and behind them is this place called the Moon Marshes. It’s cursed by evil magic, the sun never really goes there. It’s so high up on the plateaux that the air feels different, thinner, it felt odd breathing it, ye know? It’s colder than hell too. The whole place, it feels wrong. You can live with it, but you never lose that feeling of difference, a sense of wrongness. Like a toothache maybe, sometimes you don’t notice it, but it’s always there. The air feels oily and washed out.

Aye anyway, and not just that, the landscape is all wrong, it’s a network of valleys and marshes, all topsy-turvy and piled up on itself, caves and tunnels, leading from one valley to the next. Some ancient race had lived there at some point and that was how they got about. Going over those near vertical jagged mountains was impossible, you had to descend into the tunnels and just see where you popped up. If you think that sounds tricky to navigate, you’d be right.

Aye well anyway, they are called the Moon Marshes because it never sees the sun and because the valleys are all full of stinking freezing swamps. They are about a hundred miles wide north to south, and east to west, it’s at least five hundred, maybe even more as it descends down into the Norob Forest and no one I know has been daft enough to go that far.

No one that ever went up onto the Marshes had ever came back alive either, come to that, but the King of Joppa was at war with Julgia, and what with all his army fighting them on his border he needed people to cover his flank, if you see what I mean, and paid for mercenary companies to go up onto the Marshes and deal with what was up there.

Well, only the west part had anybody living in it, most of it was overrun with undead. The further east you went, the more undead it got. Great and terrible evil lurked in every cave, in every burnt out village and every valley. Nowhere was safe, tribes of huge red monsters camped out in the open plains and ye could hear their dark chanting come drifting across the hillsides at night as they carried out their terrible blood sacrifices.Not that there was a proper night time, mind you, or a day time, just a perpetual moonlight, the whole area, like I said, being under some dreadful curse.

Well, being a strong and independent company, we were sent deep in to the marshes on a scouting mission, well in advance of the main force.

We reached this valley via an underground tunnel, constructed by some long forgotten and I daresay ancient civilisation. It’s tall and vaulted ceiling provided a welcome shelter for us from the harsh cold of the open marshes. When we had first arrived we set up a simple barricade built from tree trunks at the tunnel entrance. It providedus with a good defendable point.

I was the leader then, you know, and we’d done this sort of thing before, so we had a wee sally port at one corner to allow egress and a raised step for people to look over the parapet. Despite the preparations though, we had lost a scout in the very first hour of getting there.

It wasn’t a good start.Well, you know, it was my company right enough, but back in those days the tactical stuff sort of rotated between Roztov and a few of the others and for what was going on in this valley Roztov was the raid leader. He was pretty much in charge of everything at the sharp end, the combat end. Ye had other leaders for supplies, healing, that sort of thing. There was a couple of hundred people in the company back then, I couldn’t manage it all by meself, and well, Floran will tell you, I tended to prefer to lead from the front, be in the thick of battle, showing those that followed me I didn’t mind getting my axe bloody. So Roz was in charge of those manning the barricade and all the tactical stuff.

Well, this day I’m talking about was the third day camped at the tunnel entrance. We’d already been attacked on the first and second days, but nothing too big, just testing our defences. We all knew a big attack would come soon and none of us had slept a wink.

In the morning I saw Roztov had already checked the barricade and was out about a hundred yards look over the land before us, stood there, biting his fingernails and spitting them out into the swamp. He was a much younger fellow back then, but experienced, he’d already seen plenty of battles and knew what he was doing and what he was looking for.

I daresay he was thinking about what had led us to this place. The druids, you see, are like us dwarves that serve Aerekrig, they want to see good triumph over evil. And great evil lurked here, right enough, although lurk probably wasn't the right word. Parading around in full view, more like. Evil gripped the entire region and what dared only to skulk around the forests of Angor and hide in the valleys of the Spidertooths, was free to wander in these lands.

We’d already spoken about it the day before. Roztov had said, “This is evil, Broddor, but very distant evil.  Mother Etruna would approve of our actions here, but what about the Council back in the Great Forest? To say that they don’t get out much is a gross understatement. Will they care about a war being fought in a land so far away that it’s notshown on any map east of Lodz?”

“I doubt it lad,” I replied. “But that’s not what led us here. We came for adventure and glory, but now we stay because we desire to see good triumph in the world overrun with wickedness and wrong-doing.”

I was just stood there thinking over that conversation when Roz waved his hand and called back to us, “Incoming!” I looked out past him and could just make out our ranger Shile on the brow of the hill.  The elf held up his hand and splayed out his fingers. Fifty. Then a fist. Redskins.

That’s what we called them anyway, Floran can tell you more about them, but for now imagine a race of people about eight or nine feet tall, with wet rubbery red skin, tangled black manes and bestial faces. A bit like a nog if you shaved him.

Well, the lads at the barricade knew what to do. Like clockwork, the forward combat element of the Company leapt into life. You had Mantos, decked head to foot in his famous red armour givingme a wink as he leapt over the barricade, closely followed by the other warriors and paladins, like Edehhag and Belovar the huge Vegan barbarians.

I followed after then, I was meant to be back at the command centre, but you know, as I said, if there was going to be a battle I wanted to be there.

Roz returned to the barricade and stepped up to the parapet, signalling to the other healers. Druids like himself were by his side, Meggelaine and Festos. And our clerics, dressed in platemail, hammers in hand were there, Illandria and Leedory.

We had all fought side by side since back in the Lead Hills. Some of them had been in the Company since back in Styke. Well, let me tell you, those huge savage red skinned warriors,  in single combat they could easily defeat any of our fighters, but they were too dumb to realise the help being provided from the healers behind them. They had all their magic hocus-pocus-whatever’s going on, aiding our guys in every fight. Don’t ask me to explain it, but the druids and clerics all together could make us stronger and our wounds less serious and when a fighter in the Company was badly injured he could limp back to the healers and be back in battle in as little time as an hour.

Well, we met the initial redskin charge outside the barricade then fell back, the heavily armoured warriors of the Company holding the centre of the line while the lighter troops with long spears moved around the flanks.

When the enemy seemed suitably pinned down Roztov, who was now up on the barricade co-ordinating everything cried out.

“Now! Give them everything!”

This was the signal to the others on the barricade to attack. Enttland wizards lead by Ellerina and our friend Floran the Hyadnian. Luxorian mages lead by Gothor. Assynt, the only Borland enchanter we had with ushad already been involved in battle, his magic causing confusion in the enemy ranks as one redskin would suddenly turn on another for no reason.

Well they all stepped up to the parapet and began to use their magic. Picture it if you can, great gouts of flame rocking the enemy ranks. Ice lances tearing though them, then exploding, sending even their big bodies flying. The swamp water being flung everywhere by the blasts, covering everyone in mud.

Those that lived turned to flee, but it was too late for them. Me and my fellows at the front line had nothing more to do, as the flankers hurled their spears and the archers sent volleys of arrows over their heads. None survived that I saw, their bodies lay everywhere, littering the area before the barricade. Blood and singed body parts were strewn everywhere. Ghastly enough to see someone slain by sword or axe, but fireballs blow people to bits. Seeing it was all over, I trotted up to the line and called up to Roz.

“We are all fine down here!”

Roz nodded. I suppose he could only take me word for that though as my beard was matted with dirt and blood and my armour would have been just as bad. Right enough, the unmistakable smell of the aftermath of a battle wafted up to my nostrils. Blood, sweat, fear and the sweet,and the terrible smell of roasting flesh. You know, when I smelt it, my traitorous stomach grumbled with hunger. I couldn’t remember my last hot meal and cooked flesh… well, ye get the idea.

We dragged the bodies over to a charnel pit that had been dug a hundred or so yards away. These were not the first bone harvestswe had made since our arrival, but it was the biggest. The druids have a way of moving the earth with their magic and whenever they had time they would bury the dead this way.

We didn’t have time this day though as we were hit again and again by wave after wave of redskins. It didn’t end until night time. Well, if you see what I mean, it was always dark there, but in any normal land it would have been about midnight. We were exhausted. The evil that had befallen this land seemed to be drawn to us like a moth to a flame. We were hated and the inhabitants wanted us dead.

There had been a lull for a while, and just as we were thinking of standing our guys at the front line down, we heard the cry of “Incoming!” again.

Shile came trotting back to the line from his outpost on an out of sight hill behind the nearby woods. He held up his hand. Roztov squinted to see. Fingers, then a flat palm. He then called down to the others on the ground, “Dark assassins, maybe two dozen.”

Well, let me tell you, these things, they were undead, but wore black hooded cloaks. They were like nothing I’d seen before, or since, come to that. I don’t know who out of us that had first called them dark assassins, but the name stuck.No one had any real idea what these creatures where. Some sort of ghost or ghast was the best guess of the clerics, but who knew?

They could kill the boldest warrior in seconds with their deadly touch. Dressed in long dark robes with deep hoods it was like they were made from nothingness. Hard to fight, but we had discovered that they could be killed and this wasn’t going to be the first time we had fought them.

Two dozen was a lot, they were powerful foes and we were weary, but what else could we do? I watched from my place on the parapet as Roztov coordinated the defence.

Taciturn as ever, Mantos nodded to the druid as he led the fighters into the front line positions. I gave Roz a pat on the back as I went forward, but as Edehhag and a couple of warriors were about to go past Roz signalled them to wait.

The battle began again as it had before. The heavily armoured warriors and paladins holding off the charge while the druids, clerics and Vegan shaman provided support from behind.

But the dark assassins were proving too powerful! I could see that Mantos was being, well not defeated, but harried by two foes at once and two other warriors had fallen. Three undead creatures surged forward and quickly scaled the parapet. Meggelaine let out a yelp as one reached for her. Illandria valiantly swung her hammer at it, but a cleric was no match for one of these terribly powerful undead in combat and she was quickly knocked aside.

“Edehhag! Fill that gap!” Roztov cried.

Without a word the huge Luxorianbarbarian leapt forward with his squad close behind him. Roz had to wrench his eyes away from the troubles on the battlement and look across at the main battle. I was busy rallying the warriors there, but without more help we would all surely perish. I knew that Roztov new that the assassins had more intelligence than the redskins and that they would be drawn to the magic of the wizards if they were called in to support the front line too soon. But it was now or never, everything could be lost in a moment of indecision.

“Now Ellerina, for all love!” he yelled.

Needing no encouragement at all to help her friends on the field Ellerina held her staff aloft and called down the first of her ice comet spells. It landed in the middle of the enemies ranks with an almighty crash, showering shards of broken ice everywhere. More robed figures stepped up and I saw fireballs fly over my head into the assassins, unleashed by our friend Floran and the other wizards.

But these dastardly creatures were so powerful! Six had fallen already, but there were still more left standing. And they were so quick that some could slip past the front lines and get in amongst the weaker supporting troops.

It was utter chaos. Smoke was everywhere from the spell casting, lighting was flashing and sheets of flame were lighting up everything every few seconds blinding me, and everyone else. I was beginning to wonder if Roztov hadn't just made a decision which had cost us our lives when suddenly a dark robed figure lunged at him through the smoke.

Again and again it hit him, knocking aside his staff like a twig. I rushed to try save him, but a one of the assassins caught my arm and I fell to the icy, muddy ground. I was trampled underfoot and for a while I could not get up again. By the time I got to him poor Roz was already flat on his back.

I saw that some of the healers had him though, and he was safe, so I went back to the battle.

The assassins seemed to drift away shortly after that though and I sent Shile to follow and keep an eye on them.

When he returned I went into the tunnel to where the wounded were and watched as Roz was slowly brought back to consciousness. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. “I smell lilies...” he murmured.

“Welcome back to the land of the living”, I heard Illandria say as she released his hand.

Seeing he was awake, I went over to him and signalledShile to come over.

“No time for lazing around now Roztov!”I said, “While we recovered from the battle I sent Shileright out into the marsh much deeper than before. He thinks he may have seen the source, or at least a source of the evil in this valley. That's right Shile?'

Shile only nodded. You rarely heard him speak. As we talked we walked out of the tunnel and up onto the barricade.

“Shile thinks that this... thing... can be tricked away from its guards and attacked.”

“But...” said Roztov, slowly gathering his wits. “Out there in the open we would be sitting ducks.”

“Yes, but Shile thinks that he could provoke it into attacking us here. Then we could fight it on ground of our own choosing. Tactics, right?”

“That's right Shile?” asked Roztov.

The elf shrugged and nodded, then standing he adjusted his bow over his shoulder and looked out across the plain, his incredible elven vision pinpointing something miles beyond normal human sight.

“We will have to be quick. It is on the move.”

Roztov grunted and kneaded his back as he stood up. He seemed to thinking quickly. I could see he was formulating a plan, he’s better than that sort of thing than me and I trusted his judgement so I waited until he said, “Go Shile, we will be ready when you get back. Goddess speed and good luck.”

The elf nodded and took off at a very quick jog. We watched as he disappeared into the tree line in the distance.

Between us we gathered the entire company into a battle line. With our gang of druids and clerics around, the warriors could be brought back to battle readiness very quickly. No one could do anything about the fact that we hadn’t slept in days though.

Quickly we were ready, everyone at the barricade, waiting for the next attack. Time passed and we began to wonder if Shile hadn’t met with a bitter end. As we considered the wisdom of sending out a third scout we saw a slight figure burst through the trees.

“He arrives!” gasped someone on the barricade.

Shile ran towards the barricade and paused at about the halfway mark and turning, fired three arrows into the tree line in quick succession.

I wondered what he had been firing at as the elf ran the rest of the way to join us. Just then I noticed Mantos, stood at my side, rocking back and forth on his heels, like an athlete waiting for the starters whistle, but then our attention turned again to the forest as a distant crash emanated from within.

The woods began to move and rustle and with a sudden burst a huge black form burst from the trees. Bigger than a troll, this huge creature stood at least twenty feet tall, can you imagine? Its robe was like the sail of a ship! They billowed around it as it knocked the withered marsh trees over like sticks. It wielded a sword near twelve feet long, the length of two men it was! Silver steel, encrusted with blood, it seemed to howl as the thing whirled it around. It came towards us quickly and we all knew terror, although none of us fled.

Without waiting to be told, or to see if anyone was following him, Mantos charged towards the creature to meet it head on. Once again Roztov nodded to his fellow healers to be ready to receive the wounded. As he stepped up to the parapet I heard Meggelaine mutter to him.

“Doomshade...”

“What?” he answered as he looked down at her.

“Doomshade, I have heard of this creature. They talk about it in whispers in the taverns ofWardernton.”

Before he could reply, the battle had started, Mantos meeting the huge ghast (or whatever it was) in a terrible clash of metal. Fear trembling in each of us, but we all knew what we had to do. Mantos was taking a terrible beating from the dread monster, but I could see the healers were challenging all their magic to keep him on his feet, blessings and prayers to their various gods. He seemed to almost pulse with the energy from it, glowing with yellow light. His yellow glow contrasted against the pale weak moonlight of these lands, the only spot of radiance in the monochromatic gloom.

They healers all chanted as one, a line of magical prayers behind the red-clad warrior to keep him strong enough to fight this terrible being.

Not far behind him, the other fighters arrived at full charge, to harrythe creature at its flanks. Belovar and Edehhag literally hurling themselves at the huge ghast, mindless of the danger they were in. I was right behind them.

I was in the thick of it and left the tactics to Roz. He told me later that as he chanted along with the other healers, their magical powers all aiding the fight, he was mindful of everything that could go wrong. Mantos was being healed in wave after wave of magic. If one of the spells was to fail then he would be dead in seconds. Using his shield as best he could to ward off the blows and even getting in a blow of his own occasionally, he was valiantly holding off the terrible horror. If he went down nothing would hold it back. Gradually Roztov could feel himself weakening. The others were exhausted as well. Using so much magic power at once could knock you out cold on your feet, or so they tell me. But still they kept chanting, it was all or nothing now.

When he judged the time was right, just as the healers were beginning to tire and falter he cried out. “Now! Hit it with everything!”

Ellerina and her wizards again leapt forward to unleash ruin on the huge ghast. Spell after spell landed on it, fire and ice, often knocking the fighters at the front to their feet in the blast. I am short, as you can see, but even I ducked as all that magic flew overhead. Wherever it landed, lumps of frozen mud and ice flew up. Red hot coals from the exploding fireballs rained down on our upheld shields.

The wizards and mages were giving everything they had. I glanced behind me as I huddled under my shield. The healers were spent though. I could see Roz was down on one knee, he had nothing left to give. Meg was the same, the others too. Meggelaine, now at eye level with Roz, shot him a glance, but she kept right on chanting, the sturdy little fressle never missing a beat.

The wizards continued to throw everything at Doomshade, and when the storm of fire and ice was over I looked back to the front and saw that the thing still stood! But as I watched I saw that it was teetering and slowly it fell to its knees. A cry of joy went up from the ranks and I lead the charge of the warriors and barbarians who were still on their feet to finish the monster off.

It was trying to rise, but was struck down again by our combined attacks. Letting out one last dreadful groan it swung its sword for a final time and then disappeared from view under our blows. I seemed to fade and drift away until all that was left was the sword and an empty cape.

A great cry of victory went up, we had done it! We could hardly believe we had defeated such a dread and powerful foe. Not only that, but by defeating him we had brought peace back to this valley. One valley out of hundreds I admit, but those other valleys are other stories.

Well, anyway, that was the tale of how we defeated the dread Doomshade of the Moon Marshes. Oh, we even recovered our lost scout, that was our friend Ghene by the way, we found him alive, barely, hold up in a burnt out farmhouse. Later, we managed to get some sleep, wounds were healed and bandaged, hunger and thirst attended to. Well, that was our mightiest battle in the Marshes, but the campaign was far from over. We were there nearly a year, all told. There are people that live up there, can you believe it? Wild savage folks, true, but people, more or less. They had a queen, of sorts, oh well, how we dealt with her, that’s another tale... Oh thank you, my throat is a little dry...’

Broddor bowed to his audience and went to sit down at the table where he had eaten his dinner. Heaccepted a tankard of homebrewed beer that was offered to him by one of the locals.

‘Not too bad that, not too bad,’ he said after drinking half of it in several big gulps.

There was a man sat next to him that he did not recognise, but then he supposed he hadn’t met everyone in Moletown after all. The main hall was dark and smoky but he could see it was a man, big built, old but still strong looking, with white hair and beard.

‘That is quite a tale,’ said the man. ‘You know I met your friends the druids just a few days ago.’

Broddor took the tankard from his lips and whiped the beer from his beard. ‘Did you?’

‘I’m sorry, I’m Mordran, a traveller. I’ve just arrived in town. Your friends were kind enough to let me warm myself by their fire.’

‘Oh I see. How is it you speak Enttish?’ asked Broddor in astonishment.

‘You could say I get around. Yes, I saw them two days ago, as I was coming down here.’

‘How were they?’

‘They seemed well enough,’ smiled the old man. ‘Is this all of you from your shipwreck then? The three druids, yourself and Floran?’

Broddor shrugged and drained the last of the beer from the cup, ‘Well, aye, if you add three sailors and a young lassto the haul, then that’s your catch.’

Most people had eaten, but there was still some fruit and bread on a plate that had not been touched. Mordran pulled it over and tore off a small crust and popped it into his mouth. As he chewed he said, ‘I try to get down this way every so often, you know. I come from up north. I’m one of the few people left that can travel this island.’

‘How can you travel unmolested with all these bastard dragons about?’

‘Oh, I know the old ways. There are valleys and areas of forest that the dragons never go.’

‘Huh,’ Broddor grunted. ‘I wish our bloody druids had known them, we might not have gotten attacked so often. I lost my second best undershirt in the last attack.’

‘That is a shame. Was it precious to you?’

‘Och, I suppose it doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, but it was one of the shirts my wife had embroidered. She’ll not be happy about that when I get back.’

‘How do you think you’ll get back?’ asked Mordran as he nibbled on the bread.

‘Aye well, ye would have been better asking the druids that, they have some skidtdumyt plan to steal a boat up north. Hey, if you are from up north, you’d know if they have any boats right?’

‘I think they do yes, although they might not be easy to get hold of.’

Broddor patted his sword, which was propped up at the side of the table, ‘We’ll see about that, the way I see it those blodig dragons owe us a boat anyway.’

‘You have your sword,’ Mordran said, then gestured at Floran. ‘You have your wizard, a powerful one too judging by your tale of the Moon Marshes and you have your druids. Perhaps you are right, you could steal a ship from the dragons of Stovologard.’

Floran had wandered over to the small fire that burned in the hearth of the main hall and stood talking to some of the locals in their own language.

‘Tuppence, lad,’ called Broddor. ‘Come over here. This fellow speaks Enttish!’

Floran bowed to the people he was talking to and then came and joined Broddor and Mordran at the table.

‘Hello,’ he said.

‘Well met, my friend,’ replied Mordran. ‘You speak Draconic well.’

‘I thank you. You speak Enttish well.’

‘Tell me,’ asked Mordran. ‘If you were to take a ship from the northern dragons, how would you do it?’

‘Oh. The druids come up with the plans really.’

‘I see. But how do you fight dragons?’

Floran considered for a moment then said, ‘Well, Hyadnian magic. Ice lances, comets, that sort of thing seems to work best. The dragons we have fought are not entirely immune to fire either, I…’

There was a sudden scream from the other side of the hall. Broddor looked up, and then sighed. It was Ophess. Tankle was there, holding the girl’s wrist. Ophess was trying to struggle out of her grip, but Tankle had the strength of a woman who hauled ropes all day for a living.

Broddor joined them as Tankle was saying, ‘Stop screaming you fool. Do you want to bring the man hunters down on us?’

‘I’ll scream again if you don’t let go of me!’

‘Djævelens røv! What’s going on?’ asked Broddor.

’She’s breaking the mugs. She’s broken four already. It’s disrepectful.’

Broddor looked down, there was indeed a good deal of broken pottery underfoot.

’It’s an accident!’ yelled Ophess.

’Is it bollocks,’ growled Tankle.’I saw you. Smashing them for fun.’

’Are you calling me a liar?’ threw back Ophess, snarling up at the sailor.

’I’m calling you a little shit!’

Ophess was either shocked, or pretended to, ’You swore! I’m telling Meg when she gets back! You’ll be in big trouble.’

’Why you little...’ said Tankle as she made to get her other hand around the girl’s neck.

Broddor stepped in. ’Now then. That’s enough. Time for bed anyway eh? Come on Ophess.’

’No!’ 

Tankle threw up her hands and let Ophess go, more than willing to let Broddor take over.Ophess swiped a mug off a nearby table and held it over her head, ready to smash it to the floor.

’No one tells me when it’s bed time! I’ll smash this one too!’

The people of Moletown silently watched the drama play out. They could not understand the language the newcomers were speaking but they understood the gist of it. None of them seemed overly concerned about the noise they girl was making or the loss of some of their mugs.

Broddor stepped forward, but stopped when he realised he was too short to get the mug off her without a struggle. ’Now look here lass. No one has time for this.’

Ophess grabbed another mug from the table and cried out, ’Ha!’

She held both over her head.

Simutaniously both Broddor and Tankle stepped back and folded their arms. 

’Do it then you little shite,’ grunted Tankle. ’And see how much trouble you get into.’

Ophess snarled and hurled one of the mugs to the floor. Rather than smashing though, it swooped up into the air then hovered over her head. Ophess looked up at it in amazement and let the other fall from her grasp. It too swooped up into the air and joined its brother. The mugs then gently wafted across the hall and set themselves down on the mantlepiece.

Broddor, suspicious, looked over at Floran. He could see the wizard, who stood a few yards away, had his arms crossed, but one hand was pointing at the mugs, two fingers gesturing at them, then relaxing as the mugs landed.

When the mugs lay to rest everyone in the hall sighed out a breath, then looked back at Ophess.

’That’s enough nonsense now lass. Bed time.’

Broddor was not particularly angry, but Ophess must have thought he was, as she accepted his hand and allowed herself to be led out of the hall and to the bunker she shared with Tankle.

As she got ready for bed she kept up a constant stream of carping.

’I don’t want her in my room tonight. She can sleep in the kitchen. How dare she handle me like that? I’m the captain’s daughter. He’d have flogged her for that.’

’Yes, yes. I’ll tell her. Just get into bed and sleep.’

As she got into bed and pulled up the covers she said, ’Meg always tells me a story.’

Broddor, who was on his knees laying the small fireplace in the room for the next morning looked up and replied, ’I’ve just done telling a long tale. Were ye not listening?’

’Tell another.’

Broddor sighed and dredged up some vaguely remembered story from his youth involving himself and his brother getting into trouble for smashing his mother’s favourite plate, but he only got halfway through it before she fell asleep.

He sighed then went through to the kitchen and made himself a cup of tea. He decided to wait here until Tankle turned up, just incase the girl woke up again and possibly started wandering around outside in the dark by herself. She needed constant watching.

Tankle turned up eventually, yawning, and slumped down in the other chair by the kitchen hearth.

’What have you been doing all night, wench?’

’Oh nothing,’ sighed Tankle as she inspected the tea pot.

’There’s one cup left, you can have it. I hope you wern’t kissing Tuppence again.’

’No my lord!’ gasped Tankle, blushing crimson.

’Don’t worry,’ Broddor laughed. ’It’s hardly a secret any more. Well, I’m off to my own digs. Good night.’

Broddor stepped out into the night. He wasn’t wearing his armour, so the winter chill hit him and he gathered his coat around his body for warmth. He had felt that wandering around in his armour was slightly intimidating to his hosts so had not been wearing it the last couple of nights. He’d only taken his sword into the hall with him to help tell the story...

’Blodig Gronmorder!’ he cursed. ‘You’ve only gone and left your sword in the bloody hall you stupid old fool.’

Broddor turned in his tracks and headed back to the main hall. Dwarves have good night vision, as you might expect from a race that spent so much time underground so he easily spotted the tall figure of Mordran in the darkness. The man was some distance away and heading out of the village, into the trees.

‘Where is that daft old goof off to?’ muttered the dwarf. Curious, he followed.

Further into the forest he saw lights and as he got closer he saw Mordran join a group of villagers, some of whom were carrying torches.

Broddor stopped, somewhat perplexed by the unusual sight of naked flames in the forest. He looked up. These torches would be visible from the air, what were these people thinking? Surely the manhunters would see them.

He took a few steps forward, but then thought twice and ducked behind a tree. Whatever was going on looked like a ceremony. Some of the people were chanting as Mordran entered the circle of torches. Broddor initially thought to leave, his sense of decency telling him it was impolite to spy on them, but then he thought that perhaps he could stay and watch a bit of it, to tell Roztov about later. That druid was interested in all these sorts of local customs after all.

The circle expanded as the villagers all took several steps back and then suddenly Mordran turned into a very large white dragon. 

’Kniv mig raslet!’ swore Broddor. He put his hand over his mouth, expecting to see the people instantly devoured by the dragon, but they all seemed content enough. One of them then conversed with the beast in that harsh language they used between themselves. The dragon spoke back in a deep rumbling baritone. The conversation went back and forth for a while, then the dragon put its clawed front talon on the head of one of the villagers, in a gesture that was reminiscent of a man stroking a dog.

‘Right,’ said Broddor, turning and quietly heading back to the town.

Floran had joined Salveri and Arrin in their bunker for a cup of tea, before retiring to the abode he shared with Broddor.

‘That girl is going to get us all killed,’ said Salveri, returning to a familiar topic.

‘We seem safe enough here though,’ put in Arrin.

‘True,’ agreed the older man. ‘Long may it last. How long do you think before the druids return, my lord?’

Floran was warming his hands on his cup and staring into the dying flames of the fire in the kitchen hearth.

‘Oh,’ he said, surfacing from his reverie. ‘A few more days perhaps. Hard to say really.’

‘How long before... I mean, how long should we wait?’

Floran yawned and stretched his feet out towards the fire, ‘Until they come back I suppose.’

‘I mean, my lord,’ insisted Salveri. ‘Are they likely to get killed out there?’

‘Oh, I shouldn’t think so. Very difficult to kill a druid, they have too many tricks.’

Salveri nodded and looked over at Arrin.

‘Well your hair is growing back anyway,’ Salveri said as he lifted up the young man’s hair at the back. ‘Give it another couple of months and you’ll have a proper sailor’s haircut.’

‘Aye,’ agreed Arrin. The younger sailors on the Red Maiden had all undercut their hair, but he had not shaved it since the wreck. ‘Ophess’s hair is growing back too, she looks like a loon.’

Just then Tankle quietly opened the door and descended the three steps down into the kitchen.

‘Don’t talk to me about that pest,’ she muttered.

‘Who’s watching her?’ growled Salveri, half getting out of his seat.

‘Calm yourself. She’s asleep. I can keep an eye on the place from here,’ said Tankle as she left the door slightly open and turned her seat around.

‘You’re letting the warmth out.’

‘It’s like an oven in here anyway.’

Salveri pointed a finger at the large woman. ‘You are getting above yourself wench.’

‘Oh, really?’

‘Aye,’ said Salveri, who was about to say more, but then glanced at Floran. ‘Well, you’ve got ideas above your station. I’ll say no more.’

From the door Tankle shrugged at Salveri and pulled a face at him. Salveri tutted and waved his hand at her dismissively. There was an awkward silence for a while, but as the fire died down and the last of the tea was drunk the atmosphere became pleasant once more.

Salveri’s eyes were half closed when Broddor came busting in and nearly tripped over Tankle.

‘Right good, you’re all here. Gather your stuff, we’re leaving!’

Floran turned around in his chair and smiled at his friend. ‘Why?’

‘Bloody dragons isn’t it? That Mordran is a dragon in disguise.’

‘That does make a kind of sense. It did occur to me that he might be.’

‘What?’ gasped Broddor, his mouth hanging open. ‘It occurred to you? You didn’t think to mention it?’

‘Oh sorry,’ apologised Floran. ‘It’s just that we are not so far away from the spire. Mordran must be a dragon from there. What is this place to them though, I wonder?’

‘From what I saw, some kind of petting zoo!’

‘What do we do?’

’Kniv mig! I’m talking to myself! We leave. Now!’ Broddor took a deep breath. ’Gather your stuff. I’ll go get me blasted sword. Someone go get all the druid’s gear that they left and someone go wake that girl. Do it all quietly. Meet back here. Right?’

Ten minutes later, they were all heading out of town as quietly as they could. Broddor didn’t hold out much hope of getting out without being noticed, especially when Ophess was with them. She was half asleep and quiet though, despite being angred by being forced out of bed and into her outdoor clothes. He felt a dam sight safer now, with his armour on and Gronmorder strapped to his back.

Mordran, holding an unlit torch, stepped out from behind a tree. As he came closer, flames suddenly sprung from the torch, illuminating the area.

‘It is not safe to wander around in the dark, you know.’

Broddor, was ahead of the others, using is dwarven eyesight to guide the group.

‘Oh, don’t worry about us,’ he said.

‘You should wait until morning at least,’ insisted Mordran.

‘Um,’ Broddor was no good a lying.

‘We got word from the druids, didn’t we?’ said Salveri stepping up to join the dwarf. ‘They said we had to go join them right away.’

‘I don’t think so,’ replied Mordran. ‘I think you should stay.’

Broddor slowly reached over his shoulder to the hilt of his sword.

Mordran saw this though and said, ‘Don’t do anything foolish.’

‘Dragon you may be,’ growled Broddor. ‘But I reckon I can hold you off long enough for the others to get away.’

Mordran laughed, and in an instant, where a man stood, there was a huge white dragon. He took up all the space in front of them, his head lost somewhere above in the trees. What they could see was terrifying enough, his front feet each had talons on them as long as short swords. His scales shone in the light from the fallen torch, glistening with a golden sheen.

The branches above rustled and the dragon’s head descended to Broddor’s level. Its head alone was bigger than the dwarf, even in all his armour.

The dragon seemed to smile, displaying a wide set of needle sharp teeth.

It then said, in a low rumbling voice, ‘Let’s put that to the test shall we?’