Island of Dragons - Chapter 11 – Inside the Spire (6641) (DRAFT)

Chapter 11 – Inside the Spire (6641)

Ophess panicked, banged on the door, rattled the handle and tugged it as hard as she could. When that was of no use she went after the creature that she thought had the key. They were unnaturally fast and easily avoided her.

‘Stop laughing at me!’ she yelled at them as they cackled and fluttered around the room.

She chased one round the table and then cornered it at the hearth. Laughing it flew up the chimney, where she could then hear it spluttering, coughing and giggling. She edged closer, but then it shot out of the chimney again in a cloud of soot that hit her right in the face.

‘Oh you horrible..!’ she coughed. ‘You wretched things!’

As she stood and coughed, trying to wipe the soot and tears from her face, one of the females handed her a clean wet cloth. She snatched it and cleaned her face with it.

The female cooed at her and motioned her to sit at the small table.

‘Oh, what’s the point?’ snarled Ophess, but she sat down. The female brought her a cup of tea from the stove.

These beings looked a bit like fressles, she supposed, except for the wings and the sharp teeth. Her father was from Borland, but she had been raised in Tullis, one of the busiest ports of Nillamandor, so she’d seen a lot of strange people. She remembered once, down at the docks, she’d seen cages with little creatures in them, a bit like these things that were tormenting her now. The sailors had called them pixies. They’d been no more than two feet tall and had had the same gossamer wings. She’d been too young to ask where they had come from or where they were being taken too, but she still remembered it clearly.

She sipped the tea from the small cup. It was sweet. ‘You lot are pixies then? Pixies? No?’

She giggled. She felt like a giant in this room. The chair was so small her knees were right up at her chest. She couldn’t fit under the table. The two female pixies cooed and soothed her.

‘You live here then? No dragons?’

She laughed inexplicably, suddenly finding it funny that such small people lived in such a big mountain. This room was very warm from the stove, she realised, and the tea was making her sleepy. She put her empty cup down and rested her elbows on her knees. She then rested her chin in her hands and shut her eyes. Just for a moment.

She woke up to find that the fire had gone out and that the room was empty of pixies. She yawned and stretched. She felt like she’d been asleep for hours. Where had the pixies gone?

She tried the door she had come in by. It was locked. Looking around she saw that there was another small door in the opposite wall and that it was ajar. She walked over and opened it, to reveal a short corridor that led to some steps.

Sure that the druids would come to get her soon anyway, she walked over to the steps and looked up them. They went up quite far then turned. She started to climb, but found the steps awkwardly small.

‘Why do they need steps at all if they can fly?’ she said to herself.

Eventually the stairs ended in another narrow, low ceilinged corridor. There were no windows and she was starting to feel claustrophobic. She was starting to feel like a rat lodged in a drain.

There was nothing else for it though, each time she came to another door and went through it, it mysteriously locked behind her. She passed along more corridors and laboriously climbed more of the irritatingly narrow stairs.

After climbing for what felt like hours, and after several breaks to get her breath back she came to yet another small wooden door. It was slightly open so she pushed it enough to get out. This time, instead of another small corridor there was a pillar in front of her and with some relief she found she was now in a very high-ceilinged, wide and airy hall.

The floor was made of polished marble, there were stained glass windows on the opposite wall letting light in, but colouring it pale blue. She couldn’t tell if the floor was blue, or if it just looked that way because of the light. She walked softly into the middle of the hall and looked along it in both directions. There was a set of double doors not far from her so she decided to head towards them. She remembered that her father had once taken her to the temple of Blimaron in Oban and this place reminded her of that. There were no priests though, or supplicants come to get their boils cured or whatever reason they had for being there. This place was deserted.

Ophess never thought for a moment that her father could be dead. It was far too bad a thing for her to comprehend. Much easier to blame the druids and think that they were lying to her, saying they were looking for him when they were doing no such thing. He was probably still lost somewhere. Or maybe, because he was really clever, he had already found a boat and was searching the coast looking for her. He must be somewhere! All she knew was that he loved her more than anything. Why else did he buy her so many presents and always take her on his voyages? If there were any just gods in the world she would be reunited with him soon. He was the only one that understood her, that could talk to her properly. Without him she had nothing. She shuddered and put such thoughts from her mind.

There seemed to be no one here at all. Strange that such a big place was deserted. The hall led to a wide sweeping stair case. This time the steps came up to nearly he waist and she had to clamber up each one. Was there nothing in this place built to a human scale?

After the giant stairs she followed another, even wider hall along to a set of tall double doors. They led into a chamber as big as the inside of a table, but lighter and uncluttered. There was a single huge table in the middle of it.

The table was taller than her, so she enjoyed the sensation of walking under it to cross the room. Open doors, each as tall as a ships mast, lead to another set of big stone steps that spiralled up to the next floor. There was no one around at all, not even any of those little pixie things. Was it them that lived here? Maybe there were no dragons at all in this place.

And yet, having seen their clothes and their small rooms, she had a feeling that the pixies were servants.

Serving who though?

This hall was as wide as the main street in Tullis and had closed doors on either side of it. They were far too big for her to open so she walked down the middle of the hall to a big set of double doors that looked open.

There was no way the pixies could have built this. She felt like a fressle in the lands of men, everything was far too big. There were carvings in the marble doors and frescos on the walls of dragons. This place was built to their scale, it had to be for them, but where were they?

A gust of wind, that seemed to come from nowhere, made her hair lift up for a moment, so she stopped to flatten it down again with her hands. She wondered how high up she was now. None of the windows were low enough for her to look out of though.

The doors were wide enough open for her to enter the next room. It was another large chamber, with a table and two things that looked like beds or sofas, if a sofa had been built for an elephant.

There was a set of windows that went all the way to the floor at the far end of the chamber, that looked out over a balcony. They were shut though and the handles were far too big and high up for her to reach.

As she stood and looked at them, the windows seemed to open by themselves, the handles both going down at the same time. The doors then slowly swung inwards, enough to let in a gentle breeze from outside. The sailor in her wondered at the craftsmanship in those huge wrought iron and glass doors that they were so perfectly balanced that even a puff of air could move them. Each of them must have weighed a ton, yet they opened smoothly and silently.

Cautiously she walked through the windows and out onto the balcony. It was carved out of the rock of the Spire and had no guard rail. A gentle wind blew across it.

She edged as close as she dared to the side and took in the majestic view of the coast. She could see across the forest and out to sea. Beyond the sea she could see the wall of fog that ringed the island. She gazed out over the water, having more than half expected to see her father in a ship, waving up at her. There was nothing out on the water though, not even gulls. After a while the cold winter wind made her shiver, so she turned to go back in.

She walked back into the room and shrugged. What now? Probably if she waited long enough a little bird would fly in through the doors, then whatever druid it was would turn into a whatever, she’d jump on its back and they’d fly her back again. She may as well climb onto one of those elephant sofas and have a nap. Once she was up, she lay back on the soft leather upholstery. She turned her head and looked around, what a strange piece of furniture this was, big enough for a giant and weirdly deep, like a huge elevated dog basket. A breeze blew in from outside and she glanced round, thinking she’d seen something out of the corner of her eye. Had it been a pixie?

She hoped down again, and crossed to the inner doors. Strange that they were now shut. When it had been the little doors closing behind her, she had assumed it had been those tricky pixies. Had a pixie now closed these massive portals? She didn’t think so, it would have taken about twenty of them with ropes.

She reached up, standing on tiptoes, and tried the handles but she couldn’t move them.

‘Oh, for...’

She stamped her foot then looked around defiantly. There was no one to scream at, so she went back to the sofa and climbed onto it again.

‘Well it doesn’t matter,’ she said to herself. ‘I’ve seen all there is to see anyway. I’ll just wait for one of those stupid druids to turn up. Then I’ll scream and scream at them until they promise that everyone concentrates on finding father from now on.’

She settled back on the sofa and stared up at the ceiling. There was a sort of geometric swirling pattern up there. She passed the time by tracing it with her eyes.

***

Meggelaine was beside herself with anxiety.

‘Oh, this is all my fault! I should have been watching her. She’d been so quiet lately though, and I was so bound up in my own fears. Oh dear! She could have gone an hour ago and I’d not have noticed. I’ll go after her right now, which way did she go Ghene?’

‘Now now,’ said Roztov making downward gestures with his hands as Meggelaine’s voice grew more and more shrill. ‘You’re not attuned for tearing around in the forest. You’re attuned for healing.’

‘Well, you are set up for battle,’ she retorted.

‘It has to be me that goes after her,’ put in Ghene as he studied the earth around them. ‘I’m the one attuned for scouting.’

‘Why not me?’ grunted Broddor. ‘I’ve the one with the dragon proof armour and the all-seeing helmet.’

‘Overruled,’ said Roztov quickly. ‘You just want to go looking for Mordran. Plus, you’re a maniac.’

‘I don’t care about whose attuned or whatever magic they have, it should be me,’ cried Meggelaine again. ‘I was too busy peeing my pants and trying to burrow into the ground while those dragons went over that I forgot about poor Ophess and now she's gone and its all my fault!’

‘You are too distraught, sweetie,’ soothed Roztov.

‘Well, we can’t just leave her!’

‘Of course not,’ said Ghene quietly. ‘Everyone just wait here. I'll follow her trail and see where she went. I hope she's not silly enough as to have headed for the Spire.’

Roztov raised an eyebrow. Ghene sighed.

‘Yes, of course,’ said the elf. ‘Of course she’s gone there. Life would be too easy otherwise.’

He said the last sentence as he slipped off into the forest, heading towards the dragon’s mountain.

Meggelaine and Roztov prepared a shelter under a nearby fallen tree. The others made themselves useful gathering firewood.

‘We don’t even know any of her family,’ Meggelaine said, weeping. ‘When we get back, how will we notify her next of kin?’

‘It ahh... let’s worry about that when we get back to Nillamandor.’

‘With the captain dead, we don’t know! Did she have a mother? I didn’t even ask that. Oh!’

Meggelaine sniffed and blew her nose on her sleeve.

‘Don’t... ’ stuttered Roztov. ‘Well, the Red Maiden would have been registered at the Port Authority in Tullis. We can get the details from them.’

‘Yes. Yes. We should do that.’

A tear dropped off the end of Meggelaine’s nose. She sniffed and fished a handkerchief from her pocket. As she dried her eyes she watched Roztov set up the rest of the shelter.

‘Leave a gap at the top of the shelter for the smoke to get out. Honestly, you’ll smoke us all like kippers.’

‘Yes, dear,’ said Roztov with a sigh.

Salveri and Arin had gone a short way from the camp to gather fallen wood. As they did so, as was the habit of everyone since the shipwreck, they would occasionally pause to glance nervously up at the sky.

‘That fressle isn’t the only one whose nerves are shot,’ grumbled Salveri.

‘Too true,’ agreed the younger man.

‘I don’t think I’ll ever be the same again after that pell-mell ride through that chasm full of dragons. If we ever survive this I’ll be waking screaming from my bed every night until my dying day.’

‘Oh I don’t know,’ said Arrin. ‘I think I enjoyed it. Think of the stories we’ll have to tell. Well, if we get back, I mean.’

‘No one would believe us.’

Tankle was also gathering wood, her broken arm was nearly fully healed now, and had wandered close enough to join the conversation.

‘What do you fellows think?’ she whispered. ‘The captain’s daughter. She’s gone nuts right?’

Salveri straightened up and looked at her.

‘I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, wench. That girl is going to get us all killed.’

‘I mean I feel sorry for her,’ Tankle said, walking back her irritation a little. ‘She just can’t cope with the situation. The death of her father and the loss of the ship, I mean. And being so close to death then coming back. She would have been in the water for over a day like that. Washed up in the rocks, just barely alive, until the druids came along and brought her back. What a nightmare.’

‘Well, whatever the reason,’ hissed Salveri. ‘She’s touched. She’s a danger. It would be a blessing of that elf came back and said she was dead.’

‘Sal!’ chastised Arin.

‘Bones blood! You are still as soft as a Borland tart Arrin, even after everything.’

Arrin shrugged and nearly dropped some of his wood. They had enough now anyway, so the conversation ended and they headed back to the camp.

Ghene found that he was now following a reasonably well maintained path through the forest.  Narrow, but clear of obstacles, it reminded him of many of the paths that criss-crossed the Great Forest. He began to feel homesick, thinking that the trails and paths of his homeland looked quiet similar to this in winter. There were less evergreens in the valleys, but it was much the same as this in the mountains. Like most elves, he had been born in the Great Forest, a region that covered all of central Nillamandor. The human kingdoms to the north and west, the savage lands to the south and the Norob Forest to the east meant that it was closed in on all sides, but it was still vast, an area of forest and mountains larger than all the kingdoms of man put together. He had lived most of his life there, and had become a druid there. When he had been younger, the elders had seen him as a joker, which had been true, but he had also had a great curiosity, not so uncommon among druids, and it was that which had led him to Styke where he had joined the dwarven Kardane Company.  

After the break up of the Company he headed home and he was now living back in the forest. He was now also a member of the Council. He was still young by elven standards so the prospect of finding the mythical final home of the Dynar, the mother race, had greatly appealed to him. The elders had initially seen it as nothing more than a dream, but his researches had come to convince them and he had received their blessing, and more importantly, their finance for an expedition west.

To begin with he had considered forming his company from among the elven druids and rangers of the forest, but in the end it had seemed more sensible to call on his old companions again, those that remained anyway. Besides, if he had used the elves most of them would have been older and more cautious than him. It would have taken them years to get out of the forest, let alone onto a ship. And so, for the sake of speed as much as anything else he had persuaded Meggelaine and Roztov to join him. Once Broddor and Floran had joined them they had a good part of the original company’s command back together.

He could see that Meggelaine was suffering, and he was sorry for that, but he had no regrets over the quest thus far. Everything they were discovering about the island of Tanud would be of great interest to the Council, if they ever made it back.

The path led down into a dell. He paused for a moment and listened. He could feel something, sense the presence of something. This area felt magical. Another wave of homesickness washed over him. This area felt very much like a druid’s grove. There was no snow on the ground, but the air was cool and crisp. He remembered his grove back at the council, with his house hidden by the roots of a huge sycamore tree.

He sighed quietly, then continued on his way, using his druidic magic to mask his passage. He supposed that Lilly and the others still saw him as a boy, a frivolous kind of fellow that preferred the company of other (an in the eyes of most elves, lesser) races. He knew from stories though that Lilly had also wandered with a band of non-elves in her youth. Well, whether they thought it or not, he took his work for the Council seriously. This was more than just another escapade to him. The search for Hannah may have seemed like a fantasy to some of them, but if he made it back he would be advancing their knowledge of the world more than everything they had learned in the last hundred years at least. He was not a prideful person, but it would give him some satisfaction to return and be seen as a success, even if he didn’t bring anything back about the Dynar. Roztov sometimes mocked his obsession with finding Hannah, but frankly he had no idea about life in the Council. Neither did Roztov have any of his reputation resting on the outcome, he was just along as a guide. That Society he wrote for would know nothing about this adventure until he got back. Ghene liked to act like he didn’t care overly much about what the elders thought of him, but in a long lived race reputation counted for a lot. When the Red Maiden set off from Tullis back at the beginning of spring, he had had a lot invested in the voyage, not just the elven gold that had paid for it. Once he had passed through the grove he did his best to put his worries to one side.  

He entered the Spire like a ghost. He could see the dragons well enough, to his eyes they appeared in pale purple outline. The dragons were not only invisible to normal sight, but by some strange magic their forms were loose, as if made of clouds of gas. He could have passed right through one, if he’d dared, but from watching them he could see that they still needed to open the doors to go through them. Hazy as their forms were they could not pass through solid walls.

They drifted about the place like invisible smoke, but mighty as they clearly were they had no inkling that Ghene was in their midst.

When a powerful druid wishes to remain unseen there is nothing than can see them, not even an ancient white dragon wizard of the Spire. Even so, Ghene did his best to avoid them and observed them from as large a distance as he could. He battled powerful dragons before, but never by himself. If one of them sensed him somehow he was in no doubt he would be squashed flat pretty quickly, or more likely trapped by some dragon magic and unable to escape.

He moved through their high ceilinged halls and chamber then after a while crept into the small side passages used by the dragon’s servants. He observed some of the servant’s going back and forth on their errands. They looked like drulger, one of the dozens of pygmy fey races that inhabited Nillamandor. Somewhat magical beings, unpredictable and mischievous, a race that stayed out of the way of humans and dwarves, but were well known to elves. From listening around corners he also heard that they spoke the fey tongue, a universal language, known to all races that had natural magic in their being.

Ghene slipped in and out of their rooms, followed a few of them and listened to some of their conversations until he decided on a place where he thought it might be safe to talk to them.

He found a small chamber where a male and female drulger were sitting by a fire warming their feet. He gently coughed and they looked around.

‘Sorry to bother you,’ said Ghene in the fey tongue. ‘I’m just passing through.’

‘Oh, here!’ exclaimed the female. ‘This is our house you know! Never heard of knocking?’

Ghene glanced over his shoulder at the door he had just snuck through.

‘Oh, apologies, well, I...’

‘Well go on then!’ cackled the female.

Ghene rather self-consciously stepped back to the door and knocked three times on the frame.

‘More like it. Now, who are you?’

‘My name is Ghene. I’m an elf. I’m not from here.’

‘I can see that,’ said the female as she rose from her tiny chair and fluttered her wings. ‘Well, I’m Medna, and this is my husband Bort.’

‘Hullo,’ said the male, speaking for the first time.

‘Pleased to meet you both,’ said Ghene. ‘Perhaps you can help me? I’m looking for a girl. She’d be about my height. Young though, with long blonde hair all over the place like a haystack.’

‘Haven’t seen any girls,’ said Medna with a giggle. ‘If there were any though, they’d have them up top, where they keep all their prisoners. Oh, here, there was that other fellow they brought in last week. Bort, you remember?’

‘Yes.’

'That's right. They brought in one like you, taller than you even. All dirty he was, with ripped clothes. They put him in one of the top rooms. You know what they are like when they get a new pet.

Probably play with him for a bit then release him back into the wild when they get bored.’

‘Red robes? Shaved head?’ asked Ghene.

‘That’s the fellow. I’ve brought up food a couple of times. They’ve got him in one of the rooms on floor eighty-seven.’

‘I see. So, if they had captured a girl, then they’d have her up there?’

‘There or higher. Probably higher.’

Ghene talked to them some more, but declined the offer of a cup of tea. Drulger and fey like them were tricksters, happy to lie just for the fun of it, and prone to exaggeration, but he managed to get a decent idea of the layout of the upper floors from them.

Once he’d bid them goodbye he cautiously made his way up to where they had told him to look.

Avoiding the dragons and sneaking from room to room he first found his way to where they were keeping the man he assumed to be Dreggen. Since he’d not found any sign of Ophess he decided to look in on him first.

There was a single dragon sized door, and a smaller side door for the servants. It had a gap under it big enough for a mouse to get under, so he turned into one and entered the room.

There was a bed, a table and chair, but not much else. Light filtered down from a very high window. Unlike the dragon halls, which were almost all marble, this chamber was made from undressed stone, much like the servant quarters.

Dreggen was sat at the table, pushing the remains of his last meal around on the plate.

Ghene turned back into his true form and Dreggen stood up with a start.

‘You,’ he grunted. ‘Well, why ever you are here, I don't want rescued. I'm exactly where I need to be.’

Ghene took a step closer and taking Dreggen’s arm lifted it up.

‘You told us the manacle marks on your wrists were from your youth. I think they are more recent than that.’

‘So what?’

‘I’m not sure.’

Ghene paused for a moment, deep in thought. He remembered a story from three or four years ago and suddenly he had a wild idea about who Dreggen might actually be. He was by no means sure, so he chose his next words carefully.

‘Tell me then,’ he said with more certainty than he felt, ‘What message do you bring here from Garumuda?’

Dreggen started again, then smiled and pulled away his arm. ‘Oh well done. Very well deduced.’

Ghene tried not to give away that he had guessing. ‘Well?’

‘None of your business.’

‘Some sort of alliance between the dragons of the Spire and Old Bones?’

‘Hardly.’

‘So what is it?’

Dreggen moved away from Ghene, to the side of the table. ‘Go away or I'll shout and bring my keepers down on you.’

In the blink of an eye, Ghene had his knife out of its scabbard and pressed up against Dreggen’s throat.

‘Don't do that,’ Ghene said calmly. ‘Now tell me what’s going on.’

Dreggen looked down at the blade and licked his lips. ‘Well, it doesn't matter now anyway. I was just a servant. All of us are servants to the dragons. Twelve dragons and ten people. Sent east by King Primus. He has a... connection to Garumuda. The dragons are crowded onto this island, always fighting amongst themselves. What they need is living room. If they invade Nillamandor from the west, while Garumuda invades from the east then the whole continent can come under the control of dragonkind.’

Ghene laughed mirthlessly. ‘Old Bones is already invading from the east, you idiot.’

‘Yes well,’ said Dreggen, licking his dried up lips again. ‘I know that now.’

‘This is bad, I admit. Did you see Garumuda? What was said?’

 ‘I never saw him, only Kretorek, our chief diplomat, and his human consort Tverten saw him.’

‘Well, and?’ said Ghene as he grew impatient, pressing the dagger closer.

‘I don't know!’ pleaded Dreggen. ‘It was between them!’

‘Then why bother coming all the way back here if there was no message to bring? You are lying.’

‘Very well! Garumuda wants to set up a gateway, a portal between east and west.’

‘What does that gain him?’

‘I don't know. But that is the message.’

‘If it’s a message for King Primus, what are you doing here?’

‘The Spire dragons found me first. I could not hide my mind from them, they know everything. Now they are deciding what to do with me.’

Ghene had put his dagger back in its scabbard by now. He was using his right hand to pull on his lower lip. He looked up and said, ‘It would probably be best if I killed you.’

‘Please don't.’

‘You’re human. You are a traitor to your own kind.’

‘Huh!’ snorted Dreggen. ‘What kind is that? I was born here. The dragons are the rulers. I am loyal to my nation. Who rules your nation, elf?’

‘Other elves.’

‘I am loyal to my lords and masters. I have a dragon for a king and you have an elf for a king, is there much difference?’

‘Queen actually.’

‘Queen then, but my meaning is that whatever the race of your monarch is, a subject’s first loyalty is to his nation and his ruler.’

‘Fair enough,’ conceded Ghene, ‘when you put it like that.’

Even so, Ghene’s hand returned to the pommel of his dagger. What would it mean if Dreggen’s message got to King Primus? He realised that the dragon’s of the Spire now knew everything that Dreggen knew, so even if he did kill him it would probably get to Primus anyway. Not unless the white dragons had more sense than he had seen them display thus far. Still, Dreggen was dangerous and certainly a threat to the Great Forest and all of Nillamandor.

Sweat was starting to bead on Dreggen’s forehead as he rightly saw that his life hung in the balance. Whatever decision Ghene was going to come to, he never found out, as after a few more moments, the big door opened and a fully visible white dragon stepped in. In almost the same instant Ghene turned into a hawk and shot up and out of the narrow window high up on the opposite wall.

‘Fly, little bird,’ said Dreggen, watching as it fluttered out and away.

Two hours later Ghene returned to the Spire and finally found his way to the room where Ophess was sleeping. The dragons knew he was here, apparently, but still found it impossible to track or locate him. He found her lying half asleep on one of the big dragon couches. Trying not to startle her he looked up and said, ‘Hello Ophess.’

Initially she was elated to see a friendly face, but then she remembered that she was supposed to be angry with all the druids.

‘Humph. Hello.’

‘Well, however you feel about it, let’s go,’ said Ghene, who had run out of patience quiet some time ago.

‘Why? This place is safe. Nobody lives here apart from those little pixies.’

‘I can assure you there are lots of other things living here too.’

‘What?’

‘Well, dragons.’

Ophess sat up and looked around. ‘I've not seen any.’

‘They are invisible, mostly.’

‘Oh really? Well, even if they are invisible, how come I can’t hear them stomping about the place?’

‘They are incorporeal, like smoke.’

‘Dragons then, but you can’t see them and you can’t touch them? That’s stupid!’

‘You didn't see me either until I wanted you too. Now I am fully present though, they will be able to sense me, I should imagine, so let’s not waste any more time.’

Ophess stood and walked to the edge of the bed. Ghene held up a hand to help her down. She turned again though, torn between doing as she was told and further displays of defiance. If it had been Roztov they’d sent she would have fought him tooth and nail, but the elf she found somehow more commanding.

Once again, Ghene’s plans were interrupted by doors opening. As they swung open, a mist blew in and whipped up into the rough outline of a dragon. This then formed fully into a huge white dragon. Two more began to form behind the first.

Ghene turned into a hippogriff just as the first dragon rushed him and pounced. He was smaller than the dragon, but faster. It tried to pin him with its front feet, but Ghene wriggled free and raked its neck with his claws. One of the others buffeted him aside with its wing and he rolled under the sofa, dodging further blows.

Ophess was on the ground now and running towards the windows, screaming at the top of her lungs. Ghene scrambled to his feet and raced after her, but again was knocked aside by one of the dragons which then succeeded in pinning him to the ground. The third dragon landed in front of the girl, making her skid to a halt. In an instant the dragon’s head swooped down and with its jaws wide open it swallowed her whole.

Ghene convulsed and threw the dragon that was holding him down aside and flew as fast as he could at the dragon that had just eaten Ophess. It met his charge and batted him to one side with its wings, throwing Ghene through the windowpane in a shower of broken glass.

Ghene fell for a few dozen metres then unfolded his wings and banked to gain height. He screeched and swooped around on an updraft and was quickly back at the same level as the windows although he was now about a hundred feet away.

He turned towards the Spire, but saw that two of the dragons were on the balcony and preparing to cast spells.

Realising it was futile to go back he wheeled around and headed away from the Spire.

‘Where is she?’ said Meggelaine, standing up as Ghene arrived at the camp.

‘Not good news, I’m afraid. She was eaten by a dragon.’

Meggelaine cried out and collapsed back down by the fire. She began to sob.

‘What happened?’ asked Roztov.

Ghene sat down by the fire beside his friend and wiped the blood from his face.

‘The whites found us, just as I was trying to get her away. I tried, but there was too many of them.’

Meggelaine looked up and noticed for the first time that Ghene was injured. She tutted and started to examine his wounds. ‘Look at you. That’s a deep cut you have in your scalp there.’

‘Thanks, Meg,’ said the elf, tilting his head as she looked him over. ‘Etruna, there was nothing I could do, I was attacked by three of them. Ophess ran, but one of them got to her and just... just gobbled her up.’

He went on to explain how he had found her and there was a long discussion on those events that included a lot of effort from both Ghene and Roztov to calm down Meggelaine.

After that, he told them of his encounter with Dreggen.

‘Remember how we once talked about how bad it would be if the dragons of Tanud and Garumuda ever got together? Well, I don’t bring good news about that either.’

He relayed the details of what he had learned from Dreggen.

‘How did you know about a message from Old Bones?’ asked Meggelaine.

‘I didn’t know, at all really,’ admitted Ghene, ‘but I remembered something that had happened a while back and took a stab in the dark. What Dreggen said fitted with the thing that I remembered, unfortunately. Well, maybe three years ago or so a flight of ten dragons went over Nillamandor. They had human riders, or so I heard. They flew east and were not seen for a couple of weeks, then they flew west again. What I heard was that on the way east they had flown over our ranger station east of Tygnz, and on the way back they were ready for them. Not a bad bit of multilateral planning I heard. The rangers at Lodz sent magical messengers back to the King in Bydgoszcz and he had his gryphon cavalry airborne by the time the dragons crossed his lands. We have diplomatic ties with Lodz, so I was able to read the dispatches about it. It did rather alarm me at the time, I remember, as there have not been mounted dragons over Nillamandor since the Empire. Nothing else like it happened after that though. I never got word of who they were or what they were doing, so since it seemed like a one off I didn't bother enquiring through our diplomatic channels. Dreggen must have been part of that flight, taken prisoner and then escaped.’

'I don't remember that at all,' said Meggelaine.

'You were in Tyra at the time I think, maybe missed it.'

‘Hmm,’ mused Roztov. ‘I maybe vaguely remember reading that in a chapbook in Timu. I just assumed it was bollocks though, as everything that gets printed in Timu is bollocks.'

‘I never verified it, just had one source, a single bit of velum delivered from our embassy in Bydgoszcz. I think at the time I'd also thought it possibly exaggerated. I mean, mounted dragons? Maybe someone saw a goblin riding a wyvern and everyone got a bit excited. Then a story gets cooked up to present the King of Lodz in a good light. The Council should have checked up on it, but you know what they are like. Lilly had other things on her mind. But now that we are so familiar with the manhunters, and then when I saw Dreggen again and looked at his wrists, it all slotted into place.’

‘Incredible,’ groaned Roztov, sitting back and rubbing his face with his hands.

‘All this time, what an idiot I’ve been,’ cursed Ghene. ‘We’ve been played for fools. Dreggen must have waited a year or more for a ship that was going as far west as us. Then he led us straight to this island. He must have laughed at us every single day. Oh Etruna.’

Roztov patted his friend on the shoulder and resisted the urge to say “I told you so”.

***

Moments after Ghene had decided to fly away from the Spire, back in the room where the fighting had happed the dragon that had swallowed Ophess regurgitated her back up.

She skidded across the floor, curled up on her side, covered in thick dragon spittle.

She coughed and spluttered, then managed to get onto her hands and knees. She coughed up a mouthful of liquid and spat it out onto the floor.

She then looked up and saw three huge white dragons looking down at her.

(G352 21/04/2018 via Roll20 - AP, JF(GM)) WA29

(G352 21/04/2018 via Roll20 - AP, JF(GM)) WA29

DAY 327 (Midwinter)(January)

Today was another day in the DAW for Fenrir and Veddic, but it was another easy one due to the inclement weather. Jenders, Dressdelle's old companion, was also there. He was a tough looking dragon shaman with big leathery wings on his back.
He didn't seem to think much of Fenrir.

At seven o'clock they returned to Spectre Island.

Random seemed to be having supply issues. He needed more food and water but didn't want to bring in too many supply vessels incase it drew unwanted attention. Veddic decided to help with  daily multiple castings of 'Create Food and Water'.

DAY 328 (1st Alturiak)(February)

Another day at work for Fenrir and Veddic. Flurries of snow kept them grounded for most of the day.

The only incident was a young female dwarf flying into the city on a giant eagle. She seemed  nice enough and she handed over 10 gold as a 'Benevolent donation'. Dressdelle (who was keeping warm on the watchtower roof) told him later he should have asked for a lot more.

He spent the rest of the day talking to Dressdelle, trying to make friends with her and draw out information. You may remember that Random had asked him to find out about the 'Magpie Affair'.

On their return to Spectre Island they found that Rizole had turned up there. You may remember she was a rogue we met back in my Sea Wyvern days down in Chult. She later became a warlock with a bit of a crush on Fenrir. He was a bit wary of her.
She talked to him alone on the cliff top.
'Don't forget you owe the demons a big favour for them pulling your fat out of the fire back in Castle Cormaeril,' she informed him.


DAY 329 (2nd Alturiak)(February)

They dropped Rizole off in town to ask around about the 'Magpie Affair' then went to work.

They were paid today, for their first month's work. Arahel's wages were put towards a small memorial to her in the 'Watch Park' as she had died in the line of duty.

Fenrir took Dressdelle to the Spitting Cockatrice that evening. He tried to charm her but she fended him off with a 'don't be silly young man!'

They had a decent enough evening though and he escorted her home before returning to Spectre Island.

Between him and Rizole they learned the following facts about the Magpie Affair

- Dressdelle is an 'ex' war wizard from Cormyr. The War Wizards are a group of battle-mages and sorcerers loyal to the Crown of  Cormyr. They are led by the Royal Mage of Cormyr.

- Whatever happened, it involved a big fight at Castle Bleth where many guards died and also two of Dressdelle's friends. One other escaped

- Dressdelle has been doing community service in Westgate ever since

When he heard about that Random also told them that he remembered something about a thing called the 'Abraxus Affair' a big scandal in Cormyr that resulted in the exile of House Bleth and the Fire Knives to Westgate. How it all connected together though, he didn't know.

DAY 330 (3rd Alturiak)(February)

The lads reported for work as usual. It was a day of high winds and limited flying, so as usual they watched the city from the Watch Tower battlements while drinking endless cups of tea and eating multiple breakfasts and lunches.

Dressdelle was two hours late to work, probably due to having a slight hangover from the night before.

They stopped an elven druid flying out of the city. She seemed nice enough, her name was  Silaqui Starflame, so they let her go on her way.

Back at the island Rizole told them she had been around every tavern and information merchant in the city but all she had learned was this :

- Nobody knows what the Magpie is, but rumours abound. Most think its a super powerful magic item

- The term 'Magpie' was used by a House Bleth noble but he now denies it

Fenrir spent the evening chatting to Random and Rizole. He found their company strangely restful, as Random was a tiefling and Rizole was a fellow warlock. None of them had to pretend to be anything other than what they were (i.e. very dodgy!)

DAY 331 (4th Alturiak)(February)

Another day at work for Fenrir and Veddic. It was overcast, but there was no effect to their flying so they patrolled the skies above Westgate, keeping the city safe.

Dressdelle mentioned a Debutante Ball she had been invited to, but had no one to escort her. She wondered if Fenrir might be interested. He bit her hand off.

After work he got changed into decent togs back on the island then met Dressdelle outside Castle Urdo as arranged.

She warned him that Reogeg Eysmile, the chief 'Finger' of the Watch was also there. The Fingers were internal affairs.
She told him not to talk to him, but he did anyway. Eysmile asked about Lady Dreggleblot and about Castle Cormaeril. Fenrir answered with a mixture of truth and lies, placing all blame on Arahel where it was needed. He denied seeing a demon at the castle.

Dressdelle frantically waved him over and talked to him privately.
'Are you nuts? I told you not to talk to him!'
When Fenrir shrugged she then said. 'He never asks a question unless he already knows the answer. Don't be fooled by the nice little old man act, he's very clever and ruthless.'

The ball was fun for Fenrir, but all the girls were too young and innocent to be let anywhere near him.

He returned to the Island around midnight.


DAY 332 (5th Alturiak)(February)

There was a dead dog on the doorstep of the cottage in the morning. No one had any idea of how it could have gotten there. Fenrir wondered if it was a message from the demons or if he was just being paranoid.

Regardless of that, he and Veddic reported for work as usual. They only event of any interest was a half-orc maiden called Dedre Cruncher leaving the city on a giant 'Magnificent Silver Bird' (or Argentavis). They tried to stop her but she flew off at high speed shouting 'Eat my feathers, copper!'

Dressdelle was five hours late for work. Fenrir wondered it she was hung over again or was becoming more lazy now that he and Veddic were there.

After work he went to speak to Ynar Shieldblazon, a bard they had used in the past, but he told them they had probably learned all there was to know in the city about the Magpie Affair.
'Only Dressdelle herself and House Bleth know the rest,' he told them.


DAY 333 (5th Alturiak)(February)

At work today, a lovely woman on a flying carpet (being flown by a man in flowing robes) entered the city.
'One for you,' said Dressdelle with a wink to Fenrir.
He asked her few questions and she told him she'd be in the Blue Banner Inn. When she said she could use some company as she was all alone Fenrir gave her a smile and said he would see what he could do.

After that he got permission from Dressdelle to leave early, a Cure Disease from Veddic (since he'd been dipping his wick here, there and everywhere lately!) and met his new friend at the  Blue Banner at eight in the evening.

When she was ready, she took them to a restaurant a few streets away that she said had been recommended to her. Fenrir followed along, lost in her beauty.

They got a table and their evening went well enough until she got up to 'powder her nose' and headed towards a door at the back. Fenrir glanced down at his food and when he looked up the entire restaurant was coming at him with knives and crossbows!

The merchants at the table next to them, the friends at the main table, the couple in the corner, and all the waiters and cooks, let fly with crossbow bolts and throwing daggers. As he dodged and weaved he shouted, 'You have one chance to call this off!'

They didn't though, so he flew up in the air and went invisible. The "merchants" had a big sack of muslin bags of flour that they began to throw about the place. This gave everyone a rough idea of where Fenrir was.

Fenrir used his eldritch blast in a cone formation to hit large areas of the restaurant in one go. The attackers were fearless in their assault on the warlock but he was much more powerful than them and in less than a minute he had slaughtered them all. Bodies and blood lay everywhere, mixed in with the flour that lay on all the flat surfaces. It was a macabre sight.

As he wiped his face and spat out the flour in his mouth a man entered by the main door. He was tall, dark and dressed in black. As he entered he quietly sang;

''
Hey, Been trying to meet you
Hey, Must be a devil between us
Or whores in my head
Whores at the door
Whore in my bed
But hey
Where
Have you
Been?
''

Fenrir wasn't sure what was going on. The man then said;
'Nevermind, just my little joke. You know, we should be on the same side, should we not? What a mess you just made here. Tut-tut. I think the watch must be on their way. Well, it was nice meeting you.Do you have any idea what's going on in this city? Any idea at all? You are on the wrong side. No? You are just a pawn then. A mindless tool of some higher authority. Replaceable. Expendable. Killing you would be fun, but they'd just send someone else.
Oh, here come the watch now. Be seeing you!'

Fenrir growled and blasted the man in the leg.
'Ouch that hurt, anyway bye bye,' the man said as he shut the door behind him.

Fenrir decided to stay and explain things to the watch. A constable and four watchmen arrived. When they saw the scale of the violence the sergeant was summoned.

It took about an hour to sort out. Among other things the sergeant said;

'Oh yes, it looks like they are all low level thugs and rogues. Most of them, you've done a favour to the world by killing them. Shame you killed that old fellow over there though, old Mannie Man wasn't much harm to anyone probably just took a few silver to convince him to join in the attack. Mannie was very stupid. Shame about how his six kids won't have a father now. And... awww... you killed Sweatpea. (the constable referred to the young lady that lured Fenrir into the trap in the first place) She was always a naughty girl right enough, but she was so beautiful and charming she always got away with it. Until now I suppose, oh well.'

In the back room they also found the real owner of the establishment, dead with his throat cut. Fenrir had killed fourteen people.

He didn't get back to the island until five in the morning. As he arrived in, covered in blood and flour,  Veddic asked, 'Err... how did your date go?'

As he washed up, Random (who rarely slept) told him;
'That would have been Fayder, the assassin I told you about. He's cunning like a fox. Unlucky for him though I'm even more cunning-er. Don't worry, I'll come up with a plan to get rid of him.'


DAY 334 (6th Alturiak)(February)

A tired Fenrir woke up and got ready for work at dawn. As he looked at his sleepy face in the mirror, it shattered and the pieces fell on the floor. Rizole gave him a meaningful look.

He sighed, walked out the door of the cottage and flew off with the sun rising before him. Veddic grabbed a roll for breakfast and leapt on his carpet to follow.

After work Random had some information for them.
'Go talk to a man called Fillais Bleth, he may well know where the Magpie is. He's old, senile and supposedly in charge of the construction of Castle Bleth. If it's in their anywhere he should know about it. Spin him some story and he's sure to tell you.'

Fenrir returned to Westgate that night and found Fillais in a house next to the Castle. It was child's play for him to talk the daft old man into telling him the location of the Magpie.
'Oh it's well hidden, don't worry young man!' declared the old aristocrat, 'Where we keep all the things we want to remain hidden, in a place two days ride from here called Castle Dread!'

Chapter 10 – Towards The Spire (5386) (DRAFT)

Chapter 10 – Towards The Spire (5386)

Meggelaine awoke as the sun was rising through the trees, its frigid rays filtering through the snow laden branches. Roztov had found them a good place to camp where the ground was clear and the trees had wide crown spreads that sheltered them from view completely. It was also situated at the bottom of a valley and so was sheltered from the wind, to a certain extend.

When they had arrived, the druids were exhausted, Roztov most of all. He curled around the fire in a big green arc, still in the form of a dragon, and was asleep instantly. Meggelaine had changed back and lain in the thin lair of autumn leaves that was the ground of their camp and panted for a full half hour until she got her breath back.

Ghene had been quicker to recover but even so, let Broddor and Floran take charge of setting up camp. A fire was lit and the last of their rations was eaten.

Meggelaine awoke to find she was still snuggled in beside a dragon.

‘Roztov,’ she said as she rubbed her eyes. ‘You have to change back!’

The dragon’s head snaked round to look at her. It then spoke, a deep murmuring mutter, its chin on the ground.

‘I can’t understand you, sweetie.’

The dragon cleared its throat and lifted its head a little, then said something that sounded a bit like, I’m not sure I can.

‘I warned you this would happen,’ Meggelaine said as she stood up. ‘This is what happens if you show off.’

I know, grumbled the dragon.

‘The longer you leave it the worse it will get.’

Ghene was awake now too, ‘We are right here, Roz. We can help you.’

The dragon growled and stood up, throwing aside Broddor who had been resting against its tail.

It flapped its wings then refolded them. It shook its head. There was a yellow glow and its form seemed to shift a little, but after a few seconds, Roztov gave up the attempt.

The dragon growled and clawed at the ground. By now everyone was awake and standing back to give him room.

‘What are you waiting for?’ chided Meggelaine. ‘Try again.’

The dragon gave her a look, then sniffed. It seemed lost in thought for a moment. It then coiled around itself, twisting around, bringing its tail in and folding its wings until it was almost a ball. It then seemed to leap into the air, flapping and twisting as if having a fit. It flapped and rolled and twisted until it was about ten feet off the ground and knocking branches off the trees. Everyone stood further back. It briefly landed, then leapt into the air again in one last mighty spasm and suddenly turned into a bear.

The bear crashed to the ground and lay in a heap, panting, but otherwise motionless.

It let out a long sigh and then stood up. After a few more breaths it reared up onto its hind legs, pawed at the air and roared before finally turning back into a man.

Roztov stumbled and then sat heavily down at the fire.

‘That hurt.’

Meggelaine was immediately in about him, fussing. ‘Good idea to transition to a bear first. Now, let me check you over.’

Her healing hands poked and prodded him, looking for anything that looked broken or out of place. She then went through her usual routine that she had, such as checking his heart, vision, breathing and such.

‘You’ll live,’ she said eventually. ‘Just rest and no more nonsense.’

Roztov lay resting for the remainder of the day and for a while seemed to get worse, his complexion turned deathly pale and blood flecking at his lips.

Meggelaine fussed around him, keeping the shelter warm with a large cheery fire. She went as far as to make him a bed from freshly cut pine tree branches covered in two cloaks.

‘I’m honestly fine,’ said Roztov as he lay watching the fire.

‘You are coughing up blood, you idiot. What did I tell you? Your insides are all tangled up.’

‘I’m fine,’ he insisted, but rumbled about on his bed to try and find the best position for his aches and pains.

‘Missing your bed back in Angor?’ Meggelaine said.

‘Oh yes, well, very much so, since the start of this whole escapade. I got it made by a carpenter in Ulrim, solid oak, with a whey-husk mattress. It’s like sleeping on a cloud. You know, you should come over and see us, after all this is over. The girls aren’t even babies any longer.’

‘I will, I’ll come and see you. When we get back in Nillamandor I’ll do it even before going to the Council.’

‘Do it,’ said Roztov sleepily. ‘Bring Assynt with you.’

‘Shush you!’

‘What does it matter here?’ said Roztov with a laugh. ‘What does anything matter?’

‘Oh get some rest you stupid old man.’

They spent two nights camping in this secluded area and sleeping in their shelter. On the first evening they got Broddor to re-tell the story of his battle with Mordran again.

‘So,’ asked Roztov, once it had concluded. ‘Besides his claws, teeth and icy breath, he had magic too?’

‘Oh, he had all sorts of magic,’ confirmed the dwarf. ‘He fired off all sorts of stuff at me, most of which hurt. My armour stopped him from killing me though, thanks be to Aerekrig. A fireball or two, I think he tried to turn me into a frog, but it didn’t land. He went invisible, but my helmet, as you know laddie, is magical and allows me to see invisible things. He tried to turn into a mist as well and float away, but my sword is blessed by dwarven runes and could cut him even more easily than when he was in a material form, so he changed back. I annoyed him greatly.’

‘I bet you did.’

‘That dragon needs slaying though,’ grumbled Broddor. ‘What sort of tale is it, that I fought a dragon as big and powerful as that, but didn’t slay it? It’s hardly a tale worth telling.’

‘Well maybe,’ said Roztov. ‘I’m not entirely sure it wasn’t a bit of misunderstanding though.’

‘He seemed nice enough to me,’ put in Meggelaine.

‘Oh aye? Did he indeed? Well, I fought the bugger for two days, so let me tell you, he’s not all sweetness and light. You druids seem to think you can talk your way out of anything.’

No one said anything until Broddor began again.

‘Well, I suppose Roztov did sort of bring peace to Styke, I’ll give him that. I take it back, I meant no offence to your powers of diplomacy.’

‘None taken,’ said the druid, holding up his hands.

‘But I can’t end the tale by saying “and then a druid came along and resolved it all peacefully”, do you see what I mean? And yet, such a mighty battle, I have to tell it.’

Roztov knew this was a thorny issue for the dwarf, who came from a race that based so much of their identity through their tales.

‘I’m sure you’ll figure it out.’

‘It would be best if...’

Just then Ghene entered the shelter and put his finger to his lips.

‘There is a dragon overhead.’

While everyone else remained silently inside, the other two druids could not resist going outside to take a look. The tree cover over their camp was thick, but they could catch glimpses of it, casting its shadow over the forest. It was a big black silhouette against the overcast sky. Meggelaine ducked back inside and the other two watched it until it left the area.

An hour after that, as they sat around the fire once more, Meggelaine started shivering in fear.

‘Oh my heart!’ she cried out. ‘I can’t take it any longer!’

‘Meggelaine, you are as cold as ice, get closer to the fire,’ said Roztov as he bundled her up.

‘I’m a nervous wreck, we need to get off this wretched island!’ she sobbed. ‘I can’t take it any longer. Every time I see a dragon I pee my pants. I’m not even joking.’

‘There there.’

‘I need some fresh air,’ said the fressle as she stood up. ‘The walls are closing in on me.’

She left through the shelter’s small entrance and Roztov followed. Together they went down to a secluded spot between two massive trees. Roztov knelt and rubbed Meggelaine’s back until her composure returned.

‘It’s going to drive us all batty, Roz.’

‘Hopefully not.’

 ‘Look at Ophess, have you looked at her recently?’ she continued. ‘She’s retreated into herself, totally gone. I don’t know why we are not all stark raving mad.’

‘We’ve had worse, Em.’

‘Have we?’

‘Well, I don’t want to make you feel worse by remembering other dark times, but we had some bleak days on the Moon Marshes. And even back in Styke when we went into those endless goblin tunnels.’

‘Oh don’t,’ said Meggelaine with a shiver. ‘And how was I then?’

‘A nervous wreck.’

‘There is only so much I can take, Roz. This is my limit.’

Roztov sighed and thought for a while.

‘Dear Meg. We’ll rest here another day, all right? Then sneak past the Spire, into Stovologard and steal a boat. We could be out of here in less than a week. You just need to hold it together for a bit longer.’

‘You make is sound easy.’

‘I never said that, just that it might be over quicker than you think.’

‘I don’t know what I was thinking. I’ve not been on a proper adventure in years. I’m old and past it. Then we take on all this. Ridiculous! Me and Ghene deserver everything we get, for being such idiots. I wish I’d never dragged you and Broddor into it though. And Tup. Oh Etruna, and all those poor sailors!’

As she dissolved into tears again, Roztov lifted her up and hugged her like a child.

‘There there.’

It had been a long time since he’d seen it, but this was not the first time he’d had to deal with Meggelaine having a break down. It was understandable, given the circumstances they were in, he had been a bit like that too back in his younger days. Now he was older though, and imbued with so much druidic power he wasn’t frightened of anything much anymore and he’d long since tackled all the inner demons associated with seeing friends die and wondering if he could have saved them if he’d done things differently.

He also sometimes wished he could let it all out like Meggelaine did when she had had too much. He wondered if he could even do it, if he wanted to. This was how it was though, Broddor was a dwarf and they were born to battle, Floran was an ugrai and they saw the world differently from men. Floran viewed the world outside of Hyadna as somehow not as meaningful as in his home country. Roztov realised that this sounded a little harsh and that Floran was a lot better than most other ugrai, who saw all other races as inferior and the rest of the world as pretty much a waste of time.

Ghene too, came from an arrogant race. Elves were long lived race and saw the world from a wider perspective. Roztov sometimes thought that Ghene spent too much time looking at the bigger picture, which made him appear callous. That was also too strong, he realised. Ghene was emotional, he knew that, but it all went on inside him. He supposed he was closer to Meggelaine in temperament and outlook. In the lands of men, druids stood alone and distant from the rest of their race, ignoring borders and going about their business largely unchecked. He had grown used to the respect given to him by his kin, but underneath it all, he was still just a man.  

She was asleep now. Roztov sighed and carried her back to the shelter.

Later that evening Roztov awoke to find his arm had gone numb. He gently lifted Meggelaine’s head from the crook of his elbow, got up off the bed then pulled the cloak across to cover her sleeping form. He then went outside into the night to empty his bladder. After that he stood for about fifteen minutes, enjoying the quiet of the still forest air.

He felt tired, physically and emotionally, from talking the poor little fressle back to her senses. After a few minutes lost in thought, he coughed, his breath a big cloud of mist that hung motionless in the still air, then turned back to the shelter.

Broddor came out of the door just as he approached it, presumably on a similar errand. He looked up at the druid.

‘Oh, Roztov, I’ve got it!’

‘Got what?’

‘The next big white dragon I slay, I’ll just say it was Mordran,’ said the dwarf with a laugh. ‘That way I can conclude the tale something like “the battle went on for many days” and then um... “I hunted him down, and after an epic chase” something something, and then “finally slew the beast”.’

‘You’re assuming you’ll encounter another big white dragon.’

‘I think there is a fair to middling chance of that happening in a place like this. Any dragon would do though, when you come to think about it. I can’t tell them apart after all, I’m not a dragon expert like young Ghene there. And Mordran can change his form into anything, so the next dragon I kill could well be him anyway, how would I know?’

‘Fair enough, but since he’s a shape shifter he could be anything. Why not (and I’m not advocating this by any means) just go stab a squirrel and say it was him?’

‘Talk sense lad,’ said Broddor as he gently cuffed his friend’s chest. ‘A squirrel? What sort of ending to a story would that be? It has to be a dragon, obviously!’

‘Right. I’m going to bed.’

‘Night night laddie!’

Roztov shook his head, then lay down beside Meggelaine again. Nothing ever seemed to stop that dwarf anyway. He was relentless.

The next morning, the gossip around the campfire was that Floran and Tankle had wandered off.

‘Have they had their breakfast?’ asked Meggelaine.

‘I don’t think so,’ replied Roztov as he ate his. It was trout fished from a nearby river, roasted on the fire, along with a selection of chopped up and baked root vegetables.

‘Well, where did they go? Does nobody else care that they are just wandering around in the forest?’

‘They are not far away,’ said Ghene.

Meggelaine knew that if Ghene said so, then it was true, but even so she continued.

‘I mean, what are they doing? What’s...?’

She stopped as she watched Roztov laugh and splutter as he ate, then nudge Broddor who was eating his fish and chips beside him.

‘What? Oh...’

‘Here, have some breakfast sweetie,’ said Roztov offering her a plate. ‘I doubt they’ll be gone that long.’

‘Fine,’ she replied, grumbling as she took the plate. ‘Always the last to know, nobody tells me anything.’

‘You honestly didn’t see it?’

‘What do I know of the love life of the big folks? Although I now remember you saying he came on this voyage in the first place because he had lady trouble. What was it?’ asked Meggelaine.

‘We can only speculate,’ said Roztov putting down his plate and stretched out his legs by the fire. ’But Hyadnian marriages are really hard to arrange from what I’ve heard. Complicated. And for Vizards it’s even worse. I think he had a thing for a necromancer, which is pretty stupid considering what happened to me.’

‘Yes, well,’ said Meggelaine. ‘Soora went that way after you married her though. It’s another thing to marry one knowingly.’

‘It says something about Hyadnian society if a necromancer was his best or only option.’

‘True enough.’

‘When they do eventually get married, their weddings are quite civilised affairs though, considering how hard it is to arrange one. We attended one when we were there, remember Broddor?’

‘Aye, it was dull. Completely dry, not a drop of drink to be had. Food was good though I suppose.’

Roztov laughed. ‘Well, compared to a dwarven wedding it was dull. Dwarven weddings are just drunken fist fights!’

‘That’s not fair!’ exclaimed Broddor. ‘That wedding was wild even for a dwarven one. Don’t judge us all by the one and only dwarven wedding you’ve been to. It was a special case.’

‘So you say.’

The conversation around the fire continued for the entire day in much the same vein. Stories about old comrades and what became of them, tales of their earlier adventures, the people they had met and the places they had been.

It was a world apart from the life of a sailor and the last three crewmembers of the Red Maiden generally listened to the tales with great enjoyment. Sometimes they got repeated, by Broddor in particular, and when he launched into a tale from the Moon Marshes they had all heard before Salveri sat back with the other two sailors. They struck up a conversation of their own.

‘That dwarf sure likes the sound of his own voice,’ muttered Salveri. ‘These people just sit and swap stories all day. If I’ve heard this one twice in two weeks then they must have heard it a hundred times.’

‘Yes, but it seems to be the way they pass the time. Maybe they used to do it too, when they were out on campaign,’ said Arrin.

‘They should try the life of a sailor then. No time for chatting, not for a top man. You work all day, you are too tired for chatter at the end of it.’

Arrin and Tankle both knew this was far from true and exchanged a knowing glance between themselves.

‘I don’t know,’ Salveri continued to mutter. ‘They make light of everything. When you think of how many we lost in the wreck. It’s disrespectful... I...’

Salveri paused and rubbed his hands over his face and beard. His anger was swelling, his impotent rage at that gang of freebooters that had, in his eyes, caused the destruction of the Red Maiden and the loss of most of her crew. The loss of his nephew, his sister’s boy, was eating away at him and he planted the blame for the lad’s death firmly at the feet of those that were now talking and laughing so freely around the camp fire.

‘So help me,’ he went on. ‘If I met any of them down an alleyway one dark night, I’d stick a knife in them. That Ophess may be a spoilt brat, but I’d take her any day over that lot. We are nothing to them, just foot soldiers, Lunarian cannon fodder. How many have they already marched to their deaths?’

‘Now then...’ started Arrin.

‘Oh don’t start making excuses for them. Sure, they’ve saved our lives, but it was them that endangered it in the first place.’

‘But the captain, he made a...’

‘Oh, stow it will you?’ hissed Salveri. ‘Gods, that dwarf prattles on and on...’

Salveri stewed in silence for a while. Arrin and Tankle both looked on Salveri with great respect, but neither of them was shy of voicing their own thoughts.

‘Well, you don’t know much about dwarves then,’ said Tankle. ‘When I used to go see my friend Freja in the dwarven fortress I learned that retelling stories is how their culture works. If you knew any dwarves, then you would know this. The others listen to him out of politeness.’

‘My friend Freja?’ said Salveri with a mocking tone. ‘They are all just squatters in the land of man. I’m glad I live as far west as you can get. Away from all the short arses. How do you even have a dwarf friend? You’re a sailor.’

‘I knew her from before I went to sea. When I was a girl.’

‘When you were a little girl? Give me strength. It’s because the captain was a Borlander we had women on board. Letting women on ships honestly, it’s madness. In any port in Bellavia, they would never hire... ah.’

He stopped talking when Tankle shifted her weight and loomed over him. Salveri suddenly remembered that she was near twice the size of him and while she might tolerate his racism, since his sexism was targeting her personally it might be less well received.

‘What was that Sal?’ she said with quiet menace. ‘You were going to say something about women at sea?’

Salveri gulped then said, ‘Never mind, wench. Never mind an old man. I’ve had enough of sitting anyway, I’m going out to stretch my legs.’

He then got up and left. Tankle and Arrin shuffled closer to the fire and resumed listening to Broddor’s story.

The next morning the druids deemed it safe to continue and they all packed up their meagre camp. As usual Arrin was one of the first to be ready and he stood in his place in the line waiting for the stragglers. Tankle’s arm was much better now, and she no longer kept it in a sling, but she still needed help getting her doublet on. Arrin noticed that it was Floran that helped her.

‘What is the plan, my lord?’ he asked Ghene, who was also waiting.

The elf was eyeing the path ahead as his hands rechecked his belt and scabbard.

‘Oh, we are going north,’ he replied. ‘There are dragons about, but I am fully attuned to this area now. Yes, it should be fine, we'll just go north as directly as we can. We’ll try not to get too close the Spire. The base of the mountain anyway. From here, viewed through the trees, we only see the top of it and it looks like an incredibly tall tower, but really it’s a mountain. The base is wide.'

‘How close will we be?’

‘It depends on who or what we have to avoid on the way, but a mile at the most I should think.’

A mile sounded quite close enough to Arrin. Everyone was ready now and they set off into the forest, Ghene leading the way. It was a rugged, densely forested area, but as ever Ghene found a clear and easy route for them to follow.

At midday they stopped to eat and drink.

‘This place feels just like home, don't you think?’ asked Ghene of Meggelaine. ‘It feels... fey. As if elves live here. I mean, they don't, we would know about that, of course, if they did, but if I didn’t know any better I would say this land was tended by elves. The trees grow so straight and true, the streams are full of crystal clear water, the animal tracks are so well placed. This could be the Great Forest in winter.’

‘Don’t talk to me about home,’ said Meggelaine. ‘I’ll have another attack of the vapours.’

‘Yes, apologies,’ replied Ghene as he stood and shouldered his pack. ‘Well, anyway. There are dragons over to the west, doing I know not what. The further east we can be, the better so we’ll bend towards the Spire a bit more. Should be fine.’

They had to do a bit more bending, as they day wore on, as Ghene navigated them away from danger. The spire loomed closer and closer, but it still seemed the safest route. Like mice trying to find a place to hide from cats they ran for the nearest hole in the skirting board. They set up camp that night with the spire towering over them, its base easily less than a mile away although they could not see it among the trees.

In the night, they were kept awake by dragons roaring in the distance.

‘What is happening?’ asked Meggelaine.

‘I don’t know,’ replied Ghene. ‘A battle. A war.’

The next morning they set off again, aiming to pass west of the Spire once more. It loomed, impossibly tall, its top disappearing into the clouds, before them, slightly to their right.

After no more than fifty paces Meggelaine stopped in her tracks.

'I don’t want to go', she said.

Roztov came up from the rear of the group. ‘Why not?’ he asked.

‘I'm scared.’

‘We are following Ghene, sweetie. He knows where he’s going.’

‘I know that,’ hissed Meggelaine. ‘Tell that to my britches though, I’m soiling myself. Look at that thing. It must be stuffed full of dragons and we are heading directly for it.’

‘Remember you are a druid, sweetie,’ cajoled Roztov. ‘You’ve already battled dragons. You can...’

‘Yes yes, all right,’ she snapped at him. ‘This is more than just my usual tormish fear of big things. I’ve got such a strong feeling of... well, like we are tangled up in something bigger than we can comprehend. That we have been led here. No. Been herded, that’s a better word. Like we are being herded towards this place, for some awful purpose... by some dreadful ancient... Can’t you feel it?’

‘I can’t feel anything Meg, I’m numb all over. We need to get moving.’

‘Just wait,’ she insisted, holding up her hands. ‘Just wait a minute.’

Roztov was about to speak, but Ghene turned around and addressed them all.

‘Everyone get undercover, here come a flight of whites.’

No one had to be told twice, as they leapt into the bushes and lay flat. Only Ghene poked his head up to get a look at what was going on.

‘Six... seven... eight. Heading west. All white. As big as Broddor told us Mordran was.’

He watched for a while longer. Everyone tried to breathe as quietly as they could, irrational as that was since the dragons were hundreds of yards overhead. The minutes stretched out for almost an hour until finally Ghene spoke again.

‘I think we can carry on now.’

They all stood up and brushed the dirt and leaves from their clothes.

Meggelaine, who was looking around, yelped, ‘Where is Ophess?’

‘She’s not with you?’ asked Roztov.

Ghene glanced around then looked at the forest floor. He then looked east.

‘She’s gone towards the spire.’

***

She wondered how long it would be before they realised they had lost her. Presumably at some point Meg would realise, have one of her panics and then get them all searching for her. Probably Ghene would find her and bring her back, or Roztov would come along and give her a telling off then drag her back to the group. No, he wouldn’t tell her off, he didn’t do that sort of thing. He’d just be dismissive of her, which was worse.

Well, she'd just enjoy the idea of them all being in a panic for a while longer. Served them right.

Too busy thinking about and talking about their own problems. Just because she had been quiet for a while didn't mean that she had disappeared or that she'd forgotten that they had all promised that they would find her father.

She decided she hated them all now, even Meg. It had all been a pack of lies, about finding him, to keep her quiet. She realised that now.

The forest opened up into a path and she followed it, walking quickly, oblivious to the danger she was in.  Imagine how angry they would be if she went in and they had to come and get her, she thought. It did occur to her that it might be dangerous, but the druids had said that the one they had called Mordran had been nice enough. As long as you didn't attack them like that stupid dwarf did then you'd probably be fine.

Viewed from where she was, the Spire was a cliff face, a wall of rock that ascended dizzyingly into the clouds, a near vertical wall of featureless stone.

From looking at it through the branches, she had expected it to enter the ground just like the roots of a pine tree, straight down into the earth. In her head she had pictured it like the harbour wall back at Tullis, which had a set of steps on it that lead to a solitary door. She had always thought that door odd, placed as it was in a wall as high as a house and as long as ten ships. She had asked her father once what was behind the door, but he had laughed and told her obvious lies.

The Spire was a mountain though, and further away than she had thought. She kept on thinking that the entrance, this harbour wall door, was going to be around the next bend, but the next bend led to another length of the path. And this path she was on, it was so inviting, she wanted to see what was around the next corner, then the next and then the next. There was no snow here, the forest was very pleasant, not too cold at all. She could even see what looked like fire flies flitting around in the deeper parts of the wood away from the path. It was magical, in a good way. Her father had once taken her to his home town on Borland and down to this forest that he had said was full of pixies. She had seen lots of fire flies their too and had been entranced by them and had believed every word her father had said about them. She realised, older and wiser now, that he had just been spinning stories, made up on the spot about pixie kings and princesses. They had just been fire flies.

The path didn't lead directly to the base of the spire as she had envisioned, but curved around and down, deeper into the trees. With no better plan, she kept following it until it came to a wooden door set into the base of a featureless rock wall. She was astounded, as it did look a lot like the door on the harbour wall of Tullis. It was smaller though, as if made for a child, and rounded at the top. She approached the door then looked up, but could not see beyond the trees, then looked back along the path. Still no sign of the druids coming to get her.

The door was hardly even five feet tall, a man would have had to bend down to get through it, but it was just the right height for her. It was also slightly open. For a second she thought she heard voices.

Holding her breath she pushed the door inwards and looked inside. She saw a long stone corridor that ended in another door. It was closed, but there was light coming from underneath it and she could faintly hear talking. High pitched voices that sounded a little bit like the way Meg talked.

Could there be fressles here? She tip toed along the corridor to the other door and then pressed her ear to it. The chatter continued, there sounded like four or five voices. Every so often one or more would laugh, a high pitched string of cackling squeaks. Whoever they were, they sounded like a jolly lot.

With no warning, the talking abruptly stopped. She took her ear from the door and stood back. A moment later it opened and she saw two strange beings looking up at her.

They were shorter than Meg, but not by much, they had wide black eyes, like mice, and pointed ears. They wore clothes, but had large shimmering wings on their backs, transparent like a bee’s.

One cooed at her. The other pulled its lips back to reveal sharp looking teeth and hissed.

She could see that the room beyond was like a little kitchen or something and that there were two more of these creatures sat at a table. They had apparently been playing a card game.

Before she could recover her senses, one of the grabbed her hand and yanked her inside, while the other locked the door and pocketed the key.