Island of Dragons - chapter 9 - to the spire

Chapter 9 - To The Spire (6182)

It was still gloomy twilight when Roztov returned to the camp. Meggelaine sat bolt upright from where she was sleeping by the fire. Ghene was half awake, leaned against the side of the rock the camp sheltered behind.

‘Roztov!’ she squealed. ‘Where the bloody hell have you been? We expected you hours ago.’

 ‘Yes, but I popped in at the chasm on the way back,’ said Roztov. ‘Ghene, it’s incredible! We were way off with everything. The architecture is something totally...’

‘Popped in at the chasm?’ interrupted Meggelaine shrilly.

‘Just... Well, yes, but you won’t believe all the things I saw inside, the fresco, the archi...’

‘You went inside!?’

‘Yes, Meg, I...’

‘You! Come here. Bend down!’

Roztov sat down by the fire and fended her off with his left hand. ‘I’m not falling for that again. Anyway, I saw prayer halls and what looked like baths. I saw the most fantastical carvings, a chamber I think that was for a king or some kind of ruler anyway, it was so heartbreaking to see the damage the dragons had done though, bloody philistines. All trampled a man crushing a bird’s nest underfoot. In the corridors too small for the dragons though, much of it remains intact, and I did find a larger chamber that was still completely undamaged, with statues of people in pairs and with statues of elephants. The guy I talked to called the people that did the carvings the “cloth-wearers” and that they were friends with animals, whatever he meant by that.’

‘Incredible,’ said Ghene. ‘The statues of peoples where clothed then. In what fashion?’

Roztov was about to say something, but was cut short by Meggelaine screaming.

‘Shut up you pair of idiots!’ she yelled. ‘It doesn’t matter! We’ve got bigger problems than working out whether... whether these agents wore kilts or breeches! Can we cross the chasm safely, that was what you were sent to find out, remember?’

‘Well, about that. The dragon they had put in the cage, I talked to her. In exchange for me freeing her she told me a lot of stuff about the place. She says the only safe place to cross is the eastern forest near the Spire.’

‘Oh Etruna!’ groaned Meggelaine. ‘You are going to be the death of me Roztov. You’re worse than that idiot, Broddor. You want to be eaten by a dragon, is that it?’

‘No,’ said Roztov trying to pull her in for a hug. ‘I admit it sounds foolish, but I did it carefully. The dragon never made any threats against me.’

‘Did it carefully? Get your hands off me,’ growled Meggelaine. ‘Look at you. You act like it’s as easy as a walk in the woods, but look, your hands are shaking.’

Roztov looked down at his hands and saw that they were indeed shaking quite violently.

‘Yes, yes. I think I must be reacting to the danger now. I’m terrified, are you happy?’

Meggelaine folded her arms and looked at him.

‘Don’t worry sweetie,’ said Roztov. ‘Please just put the kettle on. I’ll be fine after a nice cup of tea.’

Meggelaine looked at him for a few more moments, the finally relented and put the kettle over the fire.

‘You’ve got to take care. Not just avoiding being a dragon’s breakfast, but your wellbeing. You’re no use to anyone if you turn yourself into a head case.’

‘It’s probably easier if you don’t draw attention to it sweetie. Just let me bury it all in bravado for now, we can deal with my mental health later.’

‘Bravado, that’s exactly what it is. You have to remember you are just a man. Underneath all the magic and druid power there is a human animal. All that animal instinct to flee from something so big and terrifying is all still in you.’

‘Yes, you are right,’ admitted Roztov. ‘Well, although it’s maybe not all dragon fear either. To have discovered so much in one day. A whole other civilisation. It goes some way to explain why the people that live here look the way they do. They are likely the last remnants of a human kingdom, rather like the elves being the last of the Dynar.’

‘I would dearly like to have a look inside,’ said Ghene who was still not fully convinced that it was humans that had built the chasm halls.

‘Don’t you dare,’ said Meggelaine. ‘There has definitely been more than enough foolishness in regards to that chasm. My nerves are shot. I can't take it any longer, I'm a wreck. You all just have to stop.’

There was a pause in the conversation while Meggelaine prepared a cup of tea for Roztov and handed it to him. She then went on to prepare two more.

‘I don’t wish to sound mean here,’ began Roztov. ‘But honestly, you two are a right pair of nitwits. What did you expect when we set off from Tullis? When the plan is "just sail west and see where we end up"? Well, this is where we ended up. Right here, in this bloody mess.’

‘I know, I know,’ replied Meggelaine, close to tears, ‘Don’t have a go at me Roz. I can’t help it, how long has it been now? Two weeks? I’ve been living off my nerves. Fear has never left me once. And most of the crew died, I’m going to have that on my conscious for the rest of my life.’

‘Hey hey,’ said Roztov as he managed to grab her and pull her in for a hug. ‘Like I said, we can deal with all that later. Look at it this way though, no one lied to them where we were going or how dangerous it would be.’

‘I'll send money to their family’s when we get back...’

‘Yes do that. Honestly though Em, there is no use worrying about it until we get off this blasted island.’

Ghene finished his tea and put his cup down gently on a nearby flat rock. Meggelaine would have usually swooped in to take it and clean it, but for now she was content to stay cradled in Roztov’s left arm. Wind swirled briefly into their camp and kicked up some sparks from the fire.

They waited for the wind to die down and watched the flames for a while. Seeing that the other two were too comfortable to move Ghene stood and fed some more wood onto the fire.

‘Tell us what your friend the dragon told you then Roz,’ he said.

‘His friend Mrs Dragon, apparently.’

Roztov carefully told them everything he could remember about what Lorkuvan had told him. The chasm, the spire, the names of dragons he had learned and the details of their nature. After he had finished the other two digested this information until finally Ghene said. ‘Roz are you seriously telling me that the King of the Dragons... wears a toupee?’

Meggelaine exploded into a fit of giggles and as he also laughed Roztov said. ‘Apparently so!’

It took a while for Meggelaine to recover from her hysterics. She then got the hiccups.

‘Well anyway,’ said Ghene. ‘It’s good to know the chasm dragons have no magic. Dragons with magic we can never win against, but if those fellows down there have none then we have a chance at least.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Roztov. ‘They are big, and hugely powerful, but that’s all they’ve got. If they can’t see you they can’t find you.’

‘Or burn you to a crisp,’ put in Meggelaine in between hiccups.

‘The one exception being this dragon called Shumakkak,’ said Roztov. ‘She’s the lithe green one, a sky tracker apparently, whatever that is.’

‘Well, because of her we change the plan?’ asked Meggelaine. ‘Take the manhunter route through the Spire hunting grounds to the east?’

‘I’m not sure Roz,’ said Ghene. ‘Can we trust this dragon of yours?

‘I think so. Besides she told me when I asked about the manhunters. I didn’t mention I was planning going north or that I was with anyone else.’

‘Bloody dragon girlfriend now,’ grumbled Meggelaine, who was still sat in the crook of his left arm.

‘What can I say? I’ve always been popular with the ladies,’ he said as he ruffled her hair.

‘Even so,’ said Ghene. ‘Let’s not be hasty. We should head back to Moletown again now anyway. I’d like to spend a few more days attuning I think. Focus my attention east.’

‘Good idea.’

They set off after lunch, saying farewell to their cosy little campsite they had spent four nights in. It would take them three hours to fly back to Moletown so they calculated they had plenty of time. There had been a fresh snowfall in the morning and the trees were freshly covered. The sky was overcast and few flakes continued to fall here or there.

The peaks were clear of trees, but the valleys were full of them, packed so tight that in most areas the ground could not be seen. The rivers were either iced over or clogged with snow. This area around the chasm seemed to be the tallest part of Tanud and spring would arrive late.

The three birds swooped into the valley they already knew would take them south, and followed the river back that they had followed up five days before.

***

Despite everything they tried they could not make a camp that was as comfortable as the druids were capable of. With a druid, a camp felt like home, warm and welcoming. Somehow the snow and the cold felt at bay, as if viewed from inside a nice snug cottage, looking out through the window.

Without them though, it was misery. Floran was a master of fire and could certainly keep one going, but they were too scared to make anything other than a small one, just large enough to cook with. Not that they had much to cook on it. The wildlife was pretty docile, but none of them were hunters. Salveri had literally tripped over a rotrok the day before and its meat had been the first they’d had since fleeing Moletown.

‘It is so cold!’ groaned Tankle as she warmed her hands by the fire. ‘My arse is freezing off!’

‘Can we not build up the fire a bit, my lord?’ asked Salveri looking up at Floran who was stood with his rear pointing at the flames.

‘Well, perhaps just a bit.’

‘It’s amazing what a difference having the druids around is, isn’t it my lord?’ observed Arrin, not for the first time.

‘Indeed yes,’ said Floran. ‘Druid magic. You don’t always see it at work.’

‘Do you think we should stay here my lord?’

This was the afternoon of their third day out from Moletown. The first night they had fled north (they hoped) and made camp in the roots of some massive unknown variety of tree. It had been utterly miserable. The next day they set off in hope of finding a better campsite, failed, attempted to return to the first camp, got lost and then settle where they were now for the second night in a wet, moss filled gulley with a tree fallen across it. They had leant some branches against one side to keep the wind off the fire, but the moss had all been churned up into mud and they were all covered in it.

‘I think so,’ said Floran who had no idea what to do, but didn’t seem too bothered about it. ‘We should probably wait until the druids turn up.’

‘They will find us?’

‘Oh, undoubtedly.’

Salveri was cutting up rotrok meat with his knife, poking the strips of flesh onto sticks and cooking them on the fire.

‘What a bloody mess,’ he grumbled to no one in particular.

Floran agreed, but said nothing. He was looking over the top of their shelter which was about level with his nose. He had not lied when he had said the druids would find them, he was certain of that. He was slightly more concerned that the dragons might find them first. He knew he would probably survive such an encounter, but wasn’t sure if the others would. He would probably have to do what Broddor did and hold off the attack while they fled, further splitting up the party.

He looked over his shoulder for a moment, down at the others by the fire. Ophess was thankfully being quiet. Salveri was his usual sullen self. Arrin and Tankle doing as well as could be expected. Floran’s eyes lingered on Tankle, drawn to her firm buxom body... Realising that thinking about that sort of thing was of no help in this situation he turned his head forward again and found his vision blocked by an apparently angry kestrel stood on the fallen tree looking him directly in the eye.

The kestrel was then joined by a goshawk and a sparrowhawk.

Not that Floran could have named the types of hawks he was looking at, but he knew who they were. He stepped back far enough to let them hop down onto the mud and change into their true forms.

‘What happened?’ asked Meggelaine. ‘What are you all doing out here? And where is Broddor?’

Floran took a moment to collect his thoughts, then said, ‘A man came to the settlement. It turned out he was a dragon. When we tried to leave the town the dragon confronted us. Broddor held it off while we escaped. That was two days ago.’

‘Let’s talk on the move,’ interrupted Ghene. ‘There is a much better camp site half a mile west of here.’

As they walked Floran told what more he knew. When Floran mentioned the name of Mordran, Meggelaine explained and said, ‘That’s the fellow that came to our campsite, Roztov! I must say, he was friendlier when he was with us.’

‘Yes, I wonder why.’

‘Oh well,’ said Floran who then cleared his throat and continued. ‘The dragon tried to stop us leaving, and Broddor bandied words with it for a while. Technically though, he struck the first blow.’

‘I see,’ said Meggelaine with ice in her voice.

‘They seemed evenly matched, from what I observed as we left. I’m not...’

‘Oh be quiet!’ snapped the fressle. ‘We were only gone a few days! What is it with Broddor? He has the diplomatic skills of a stink-weasel. And you are no better!’

‘Now then,’ interrupted Roztov. ‘It’s done now. Let’s just relocated then see what we can do to sort things out.’

Meggelaine fumed silently the rest of the way.

The place that Ghene had found was indeed a much better spot. It was in an area where it had recently snowed and it lay thick and heavy, but it was near a half frozen stream. The druids used their magic to make a hide that was big enough for all of them and was artfully hidden from view. They quickly lit a fire and with a wave of his hand, Roztov moved some of the entwined branches above them aside to allow the smoke out.

‘I’ll go hunt us some meat,’ said Ghene and left the camp.

While Meggelaine busied herself about the hide, seeking out drafts and plugging them, arranging places for people to recline or sleep and such like, Roztov told the others of their adventures to the north. When Ghene returned with a dear carcass, he got up and stretched.

‘Well, I’d better go look for Broddor before it gets too dark. As ever, it falls to me to go find what trouble he’s got himself into and get him out of it.’

‘Tradition dictates it,’ said Ghene. ‘Roz must always be the one that goes to find Broddor.’

‘Smart arse.’

‘You think he still lives, my lord?’ asked Arrin.

‘I expect so. He’ll be around somewhere.’

‘Well, stay out of trouble yourself,’ said Meggelaine. ‘If Mordran has been fighting Broddor he’s sure to be angry.’

‘Oh, I’m sure it will be fine. Besides, I’ve been itching to try something out and now might be a good time.’

Meggelaine looked up from her work and growled, ‘What?’

‘Summon a dragon.’

‘Impossible,’ said Meggelaine with some relief.

‘I feel like I’ve got it in me.’

‘You’ll rupture yourself, like the time Festos tried to turn into a basilisk. He couldn’t walk upright for a month.’

‘I’m talking about summoning one, not turning into one, although...’

‘Not a chance,’ put in Ghene as he prepared the deer meat.

‘Think about it though. If not here, then where else? This place is chock-a-block with dragons. If a dragon can turn into a man, may a man not turn into a dragon?’

Both the druids and Floran made general blustering noises of protest.

‘Is that how it works?’ asked Salveri, once things quietened down.

‘Pretty much,’ explained Roztov. ‘It’s easier to turn into certain creatures when you are in their environment. And summon them too. Sympathetic druid magic. So, bears and wolves in these sorts of northern forests are the easiest to do. In Fiarka it would be mountain lions and crocodiles, you get the idea. So here, on the island of dragons, well...’

‘Put it out of your mind Roz,’ cautioned Meggelaine. ‘You’ll turn yourself inside out.’

‘We’ll see,’ he said. ‘I’ll think about it.’

He then turned into a fox and trotted off.

After a while Ghene looked up and turning to Floran said, ‘So Moletown is effectively a zoo for the Spire dragons?’

‘That is the current hypothesis.’

***

It had been quite a fight. A tale to tell in the taverns of Tullis and Timu that was for sure. When Mordran had come for them, Broddor had charged, meeting him head on. As the others fled, he leapt at the dragon, his sword Gronmorder held above his head.

At first the dragon had merely attempted to swat him aside, and had earned a deep cut along its left foreleg for its trouble. Now fearing the blade and seemingly losing its temper it then drew back its head and unleashed its dragon’s breath. The icy blast would have killed him instantly had he not been in his armour and even so he felt its effects as it chilled to the bone. The air was full of cold steam and Broddor was lost from view. As it cleared he could be seen at its centre, covered in ice and snow crystals.

His feet were stuck to the ground, embedded in a foot of ice. The arm joints of his armour were frozen solid. The dragon made to go past him, thinking him dead, but Broddor strained his arms and shattered the ice around him enough to be able to swing his sword again. It struck the dragon in the flank and it reared back in surprise and pain.

The beast lashed out with its right claw, but was cut again as Broddor met the blow with his sword. The force of the impact shattered the ice around one of his legs and he took a step back.

The dragon breathed again and as the steam and snow cleared it watched to see the result. Broddor was covered in rock hard ice, immobile, a frozen statue in the rough outline of a dwarf. The dragon waited a few moments to confirm its victory, and just as it turned its head a voice echoed out of Broddor’s frozen helmet.

‘I’m still alive.’

The dragon spoke something in draconic, a language Broddor did not know, but its meaning was clear enough. How can this be?

‘Magic armour, mate. The smiths of the Holy Order of Aerekrig don’t piss about.’

Broddor grunted and the ice fell from his arms again, in heavy chunks. He swung his sword a couple of times to shake the ice off it.

‘Hey, don’t wander off,’ said Broddor as the dragon made to leave. ‘Look, I’ve got my leg free again. If you go after my friends, I’m going to be right behind you. You have to fight me first.’

The dragon snarled and leapt up into the trees, then crashing through the upper limbs of a stand of pines it took to the air. It cried out, though, when it discovered it had a determined dwarf in full plate armour holding onto its tail.

Screeching it turned in the air and snapped its jaws at its unwanted passenger, but reared out of the way as Broddor brought his sword up. The dragon flew on for a few wing beats, trying to gain some height, but the dwarf was now hacking at its tail.  Not big blows, hardly even drawing blood as he struggled to maintain his grip with his legs, but certainly enough to be annoying.

Mordran, somewhat panicked at how things were going dove back down into the trees and they landed together in a heap. The dragon was first on its feet, throwing trees off his body like kindling. It looked around, and saw its enemy, picking himself up, shaking his head and leaning on his sword.

The dragon was not used to fighting people that could fight back, but even so it could not quite decide to flee. Neither did it fancy facing that long sharp sword that the dwarf wielded and while it stood in indecision Broddor got his bearings back and walked up to it again.

‘Come on then.’

***

Two days later the fight had more or less ended in a draw. The dragon besides its frozen breath, claws and teeth knew plenty of magic and had expended much of its energy on spells that were seemingly useless against Broddor’s holy armour. After the first few hours the combat was effectively over and they had spent the rest of their time resting until one of them felt strong enough to attack the other, then the fight would recommence. This became the pattern and as it became obvious to both of them that neither could defeat the other they had come to a standstill.

They had ended up with Broddor stood on one side of an area of trees that had been flattened in the last bought, and the dragon lain down at the other. Broddor didn’t mind overly much that this was the current situation, reasoning that each hour that went by was extra time for his friends to sort themselves out.

A fox trotted up to him.

‘Fox Roztov?’ he asked.

The fox turned into the man and said, ‘Hello Broddor.’

‘Did you use your druid magic to find me?’

‘Druid magic?’ snorted Roztov. ‘You and this dragon have laid waste to literally miles of forest. A blind man could have found you.’

‘Right right,’ sighed the dwarf. ‘I admit I’m nae in the mood for banter right now lad. Do you have any water? I’ve been eating handfuls of snow, but I still have a raging thirst.’

‘In the name of Etruna, have you been fighting for two days? Here.’

Broddor thankfully took the druid’s water skin and drained it. Once he was finished he smacked his lips and handed back the empty skin.

‘Now that you are here, I can have a pee,’ the dwarf turned so he was facing the dragon and began to unfasten some of his armour. ‘No peaking.’

As a long steady stream of steaming dwarf piss hit the ground he continued to talk.

‘He’s a tough one, I’ll give him that. I’ve been keeping him pinned down, waiting for you to get here and make the others safe. He threw all his magic at me to begin with, but he’s spent now. It’s a standoff.’

‘Well, I’m here to rescue you now.’

‘Rescue?’ laughed the dwarf. ‘Dinnae talk nonsense. All I needed was someone to watch the dragon while I took a piss. Now I can go over and slay him, just you watch. Knus mig...’

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

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

‘No. Let’s go talk to him instead.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘What’s this all about anyway?’

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

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

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

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

‘How does he know?’

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

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

The dragon snarled and said something in draconic.

‘What did he say now?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Manhunters are on their way.’

‘Here?’

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

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

‘Could they be in league with Mordran?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Who?’ asked Meggelaine nervously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was evening now, the sun was setting to their east, the clouds glowed blood red.

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘I think so, I think...’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘All of them, I think.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘And yet we dare.’

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