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.