Chapter 14 – The Dragon Teeth Mountains (6533)(DRAFT)

Chapter 14 – The Dragon Teeth Mountains (6533)

Heavy snow began to fall, covering the surrounding grass and heather with its whiteness, and starkly highlighting the crimson red of the blood from the battle as it melted through.

 ‘We’re not going on in this are we?’ asked Meggelaine holding her hand out to catch the snowflakes.

‘I’ve got nothing left after all the battle,’ admitted Ghene. ‘I can’t change again until I’ve rested, even if I tried.’

Roztov wiped the snow from his face and beard, as he looked up at the sky. ‘I’ll put a roof on this thing then, and we’ll call it a day for now,’ he said. He then swept his arms slowly up and around his body. The surrounding rocks of the rampart cracked and groaned as they flowed upwards and flattened out to make a roof. The hedge that Meggelaine had created grew thick and deep, rustling aggressively as it cut out all the light, while the central mound grew tall enough to meet the ceiling and act as a pillar to hold up the roof. He then pointed at the hedge on the leeward side of the shelter and poked two windows at eyelevel out and a very low, narrow door.

Roztov then sat down against the central pillar and wrapped his cloak around his body.

‘That’s it, I’m spent.’

The others busied around, setting up camp, lighting a fire and heating up water for tea.

Once things were more settled, they discussed the way ahead.

‘Should we go back down into the valleys do you think?’ wondered Meggelaine sipping her tea.

‘I think the best thing to do is forge ahead,’ replied Roztov wearily as he watched the snow through the door. ‘If what we understand of the land ahead is correct, we are only about twenty-five miles away from Stovologard as the crow flies. We could do it in a day.’

‘Yes, but we’ll need to turn west at some point,’ put in Ghene. ‘Going up and down rather than along the ridges will add more time onto our journey.’

‘Right, two days at the most then,’ agreed Roztov. ‘We’ll have to camp one more night in the mountains. I think if we meet those trolls again we can just push straight through them. I should be attuned enough to summon some creatures too. Not sure what though, maybe eagles...’

‘Against trolls and yales?’ asked Meggelaine.

‘Hmm, I’ll have a think,’ said Roztov as he shut his eyes and drifted off to sleep. Meggelaine caught his tea cup as it fell from his hand.

They spent all of the remainder of that day in the shelter and were not disturbed. The next morning the snow had stopped, but lay thick on the ground. They had to dig their way out of the shelter. The going was slow, but people that travelled with druids moved swifter than those that didn’t, and always took longer to tire, even in the windswept ridges and snow filled hollows of the mountains of north Tanud.

After three hours of trudging through the snow, they stopped and took their bearings.

Ghene pointed at a peak to their north west. ‘I think we should go straight over that mountain. We’ll be able to see Stovologard from the top of it.’

Roztov rubbed the ice from his beard. ‘The weather is closing in again. We might end up camping on top of it.’

Ghene shrugged.

‘You’re right,’ admitted Roztov. ‘That’s not a big problem I suppose.’

The saw the occasional dragon flying overhead, and as a precaution they hid in the snow when they did so, but truthfully they did not know if the dragons cared if they were there or not. As evening wore on the snow started falling again and they stopped to camp on the southern face of the mountain as Roztov had predicted.

A hole was burrowed out of the mountain side and they all crowded into it.

‘We’ve not made good time,’ admitted Ghene. ‘The climb was steeper than I thought, but even so we are not far away now. Once on the other side of the mountain I think it will all be down hill to the city.’

The others nodded and warmed their hands by the fire.

They began their climb again in the morning. Thick cloud had descended down onto the mountains and they could see no further than ten yards. Ghene could find his way well enough though and they reached the flat top of the mountain before lunch. If the city lay before them, they could not see it. They could see little of anything until Ghene lead them down out of the snow into a flat bottomed valley full of swampy grass and heather. Dank and cold as it was, it was pleasant to see a colour other than white. The clouds hung over them like a blanket, and to the north their view was blocked by a wall of thick fog.

‘Were the bloody hell are we, elf?’ asked Broddor.

‘We can’t be far away,’ replied Ghene. ‘If we just follow this valley, then...’

‘This place is deserted. If we were so close to the city I’d expect a road here,’ mused the dwarf.

Roztov, who had been bringing up the rear, came and joined them. ‘We are still very high up, don’t forget that Broddor. This valley may not be inhabited because it is troll territory.’

‘You had to say it, didn’t you?’ hissed Meggelaine.

She then looked around, expecting to be attacked from all directions at that exact moment, but nothing happened. Roztov looked around. Nothing continued to happen.

‘Right, let’s keep going,’ said Roztov, mussing up Meggelaine’s hair as he walked past her.

She was right though, as they were attacked two hours later. The valley had turned east, much to Ghene’s irritation and they were forced to correct their course by climbing back up into the mountains. As they trekked through a shallow snow-choked valley the clouds cleared to reveal a rich blue spring sky. A great deal of dragon activity was displayed above them.

It soon became apparent that the dragons were not in the slightest bit interested in them, so they continued on their way regardless of the danger overhead.

‘What do you think is going on?’ asked Broddor.

‘They look like chasm dragons. Mainly going north,’ said Roztov. ‘They must be on the offensive.’

Perhaps because they were too focused on keeping an eye on the dragons, a fresh band of trolls were able close in from the south and surprise them. The first of them came riding over the top of the ridge to their left, the yales bounding through the snow, sending great clumps of it down before them.

 ‘Trolls!’ yelled Broddor, charging towards them. ‘Defence in depth!’

He made slow going of it though, up to his chest in snow as he was. Roztov shielded his eyes to look up at the ridge. More were coming up from behind, following the tracks of the yales leading the charge. As Broddor slowly made his lonely way towards the approaching troll war band the others waited until the last of them had come over the ridge. After a few more moments, Roztov was the first to speak.

‘Well, here we go again,’ he sighed as he counted the enemy. ‘I don’t think even Broddor’s “Defence in Depth” can win this one. There are at least a hundred of them.’

Arin stood beside him, his teeth chattering in fear. ‘You said we could push through them my lord. Or shall we take to the sky?’

Roztov could see the young man was desperate to escape. The mounted trolls were twenty feet tall from hoof to head, brandishing clubs and axes that could kill a man in a single blow. They howled echoed around the mountains as they came, swinging their lethal weapons over their heads.

Roztov looked up. High above them there was a dragon battle going on. Dozens of dragons were wheeling around in combat. Jets of flame tore across the deep blue sky as it filled up with smoke.

‘I’m not sure we want to get tangled up in that,’ said Roztov calmly.

Arin had been using his spear as a walking staff. He now levelled it nervously towards the charging trolls.

‘We’ll see how we get on. If we have to run for it, we will. Keep to the same plan as last time,’ said Roztov. ‘Stay beside Tuppence, make sure no trolls sneak up on him. Good luck.’

The druid nodded to the terrified young man, then turned into a massive grizzly bear and joined the other two druids who had already shape shifted into similar creatures and were bounding forward, using the path that Broddor had already ploughed through the snow.

The dwarf was already exhausted. He plunged his sword into the snow and rested on the pommel while he got his breath back. The three bears loped past him.

‘I’ll just...’ he panted. ‘I’ll just wait here for them.’

He watched as Roztov met the first of the riders, leaping high out of the snow to claw the troll from the saddle and savage it to death in a flurry of red and white. The yale reared and a smaller bear went for its throat, snarling loudly. The bear that was Ghene met the next rider, their bodies running into each other with a bone-shuddering thud. The yale fell, the troll plunging from its saddle and landing in the snow. Ghene turned and clawed at the troll’s back as it tried to rise.

Most of the rest of the trolls rode around the bears and carried on towards the remainder of the group. One came charging towards Broddor, wielding a long heavy tree branch as a club. Broddor easily avoided the blow as it came crashing down and chopped the arm off the troll as it swung past. There was snow flying everywhere, so he didn’t see the next rider that came at him and the yale hit him with its chest at full speed, sending him flying backwards. As he tried to pull himself out of the snow and stand up the yale’s horns scraped across the back plate of his armour. He rolled in the snow and using his sword one-handed plunged the point into its right eye. The beast reared up in pain and the troll on its back leapt down from the saddle and came at Broddor with a heavy bit of metal that looked like a park railing.

Broddor was already back on his feet though and calling out a battle cry he ducked under the railing as it was swung and stabbed the troll in the belly. It stepped back with a growl, clutching its stomach. Two more trolls joined the first one and Broddor now had a proper fight on his hands.

Meanwhile, the remainder of the riders that were not fighting bears or Broddor, the bulk of the war band, continued on towards were Floran, Tankle and Arin were standing.

‘Right,’ said Floran as he raised his staff. He then pointed it at the ground before him and drew a circle around their position. A wall of fire sprung up, three yards wide, that turned the snow into scalding steam. From side the side the circle was ten yards wide and the three of them stood in its centre to be as far away from the flames as possible. The flames were tall too, thirty feet high, but they caught glimpses of the trolls riding around its circumference, as if looking for an opening.

When they discerned that there were none, the first of them jumped through the fire. The trolls could not persuade their mounts to leap through the flames so they came through on foot. The first one that came was hit by an ice lance that shot from Floran’s outstretched hand, which sent it flying back screaming into the flames. Another one came charging through, swinging a flaming club, but Floran shot it in the head with a blast of magical acid that made it fall to its knees clutching at its face. Arin and Tankle advanced and stabbed it in the chest with their spears.

Three more leapt through at the same time and Floran aimed a fireball at them which sent one of them flying backwards. The others was knocked to their knees, but pulled themselves back up again and came on.

Arin realised that no one was watching their back and glanced over his shoulder. Just as he did so a yale, crazed by the flames, crashed into the snow behind them as if it had been bodily thrown there by trolls on the other side of the wall. It picked itself up and shook its head.

‘Yale!’ cried Arin in warning.

Floran shot another fireball at the two advancing trolls, turned then shot an ice lance at the yale, killing it instantly in a shower of ice and blood. Arin was hit in the chest by a lump of fur covered flesh. Tankle screamed and Arin turned, there seemed to be so much going on that he couldn’t take i tall in. The roar of the flames, the stench of the dead and burning trolls, the howling of the trolls on the other side of the wall. He felt overwhelmed.

Another trolls stumbled through the flames, almost fully on fire and barely alive. Seeing its enemies in the centre of the circle, it charged quickly and although Floran raised his hands again to cast a spell he was too slow and the troll, with a swing of its club, hit the wizard squarely on the side of the head, knocking him into the melting snow in a crumpled heap.

Arin screamed and stabbed the troll in the groin with his spear. The creature crumpled over the weapon, the weight of its body breaking the shaft. Another troll leapt through the flames, but slipped on the melting snow and fell with its head and shoulders in the wall of fire. It rolled and screamed, thrashing around to put out the flames. Arin and Tankle backed off, towards the body of Floran.

Arin was shaking with terror. He glanced at Tankle. She seemed terrified too, but held her spear firmly. The blow that had sent Floran flying must have surely killed him. Neither of them could move though, and they watched as the troll put out the flames and pick itself up.

It then hunted around on the ground, in the melted snow and blood, until it found its club.

Tankle and Arin, their bodies pressed together, edged away from Floran’s corpse and stepped backwards until the flames of the circle was right at their backs. Tankle held her spear before them, but Arin only had the bottom half of the shaft of his spear, three feet of useless broken wood, to defend himself with.

The injured troll advanced slowly towards them. Arin marvelled at how dead its eyes were, like it was drugged. Its mouth was closed and its long nose reached almost to its chin. It would feel nothing as it killed them, he could see that. There was no mercy in a being such as this.

It was limping though, and its right arm was badly burnt. It wielded its club in its left hand.

Bravely Tankle thrust the spear at the troll and it bit into its side. The troll grasped the haft of the spear with its right hand then struck Tankle in the right arm with its club. She screamed as she fell, landed badly and fell silent. Arin, in his terror, wanted to run, but there was nowhere to run to. Even if he was crazy enough to run through the roaring flames of the fire wall he could see that there were still many trolls, mounted on yales, waiting on the other side.

The troll didn’t see a young man armed with half a broom handle as much of a threat though and seemed to prefer to finish off Tankle first. It raised its club to deliver the killing blow. Arin finally found his courage and ran towards the monster, sticking the broken end of his spear into its armpit.

The troll snarled and changed the direction of its blow to hit Arin. The club caught him on its upswing, on the left elbow, shattering it and sending jarring pain through his body that made him instantly sick. He fell to the ground and vomited.

He clutched his left arm with his right hand. The pain was terrible and he could feel that the bones were just all over the place underneath his coat. He looked up as the troll loomed over him, raising its club once again.

As the club descended, the troll was suddenly swept away by a green dragon. Arin looked up to see the disappearing tail and haunches of the dragon, its wings beating down the flames of the magic circle as it passed. The troll was in its claws, and as it gained height it almost casually tossed the screaming creature down the side of the mountain.

The dragon then returned to visit destruction on more of the war band, breathing a thick line of fire that incinerated three of them in an instant, sending up billowing clouds of steam from the melting snow.

Arin ground his teeth as pain coursed through his body. He felt sick again and nearly lost consciousness. He shut his eyes and curled up into a ball, grunting and weeping as waves of pain went up his arm. He didn’t know how long he was like that until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

‘Let me look at that,’ said a calm voice.

He opened his eyes to see Ghene looking down at him. The elf touched his shattered arm and immediately the pain began to ease.

‘You’ll live,’ said Ghene. ‘Just wait while I go check on Floran.’

Arin was sitting up now, cradling his left arm with his right. The pain was still intense, but felt manageable. He watched as Ghene approached the wizard and lifted his head up into his lap. Not far away Meggelaine was tending to Tankle.

‘He lives,’ said Ghene looking over to Arin with a smile.

‘Floran,’ he continued, returning his attention to his friend. ‘You can dispel the wall of fire now.’

The wizard groaned, waved his left hand dismissively, and the flames died down. After a few heart beats they were all but gone, the only fire that remained burned on the bodies of dead trolls and yales.

Arin stood up, despite the pain, to look around. He saw that over on the western side of the valley the battle raged on. Broddor was still out there, a one dwarf army, taking on any troll that was brave enough to face him. It was Roztov that was doing most of the damage though, strafing up and down the valley, burning up trolls and yales that couldn’t get out of the way quickly enough.

The bulk of the troll war band still survived, and while they scattered the first few times the dragon went overhead, they soon realised that they would killed off one by one if they didn’t fight back. On the dragon’s next pass they stood their ground, throwing their axes and clubs up in the air in a vain attempt to bring him down. While more of them died, Roztov was hit by a shower of their thrown weapons in return. The dragon roared and snapped its teeth, swooping back up into the sky to escape the missiles.

Arin got the impression that the druid was not used to flying as such a large creature, as he was ungainly and not as elegant in his flight as the other’s Arin had seen on the island. It took Roztov a while to turn, then glide around and down for the next attack. As he had done on all the previous passes he then had to lower his head to breath fire on the trolls, a procedure that unbalanced him. It was perhaps that which caused him to crash to the snow when an axe hit him in the wing. It was not a strong blow, as its power was spent by the time it had gained enough height to reach the dragon, but it was enough to cause him to veer off to the side. Roztov tried to regain his balance, failed and came careening down right into the midst of the trolls.

He lurched to his feet, but a club struck him in the neck and his head slammed down into the snow once again. A gout of flame came from his mouth but the trolls easily side stepped it. Roztov rolled and struck out with his claws, tearing one of his attackers near in half, but the others closed in, frantically trying to land a telling blow on the dragon.

Ghene gently put Floran’s head down on the ground, stood up and turned into a hippogriff. The battle was some distance away now, but that gave him enough time to reach a speed fast enough to knock the nearest troll out of its saddle and batter it to the ground. As he tangled with his victim he felt a club land heavily on his back, making him rear up in pain. Another club came swinging in but he ducked to the side then lashed out at the troll’s face with his claws. More clubs came at him and Ghene realised that he was surrounded. As he thrashed about, rearing and clawing, it was all he could do to hold off the attackers that circled him. There was certainly nothing he could do to help Roztov even though it was him that was being attacked by the bulk of the war band. Roztov, try as he might, could not get airborne again. Every time he managed to beat some of them off and fold out his wings to escape upwards he was beaten back down again by a hail of thrown clubs and axes.

Meggelaine stopped tending to Arin and Tankle and stood up on tip-toes to try and see what was going on. Turning back into a bear would not be enough to be of any help, she realised. The truth was she hadn’t done much in the initial charge anyway. She’d only dealt a few minor injuries to the trolls as they had charged past. Try as she might she could never turn into a bear any bigger than a Great Forest copperback. She didn’t even turn into a copperback though, to be honest. Whatever species she it was, it wasn’t known to man, elf or torm. She was hopeless at shape shifting, she was the first to admit it. The others always mocked her about it, in fact...

‘Oh, none of that matters right now!’ she shouted. ‘Stop distracting yourself and think, you stupid woman!’

Was there anything she could do at all? She bit down on her thumbnail savagely as she watched the battle. There was nothing. Where was Broddor? She looked around to her left. There were three trolls about fifty yards away that were acting like a bunch of children sitting on a bag of angry cats. She suspected that Broddor was underneath them then. So perhaps if she could rescue Broddor first...

As she took her first tentative steps towards the three trolls, another dragon passed overhead and burnt the trolls that were atop Broddor to a crisp with a long line of flame that started more or less at Meggelaine’s feet. The dragon then continued to fly down the slope and incinerated several of the trolls that were attacking Roztov.

Meggelaine had been thrown back by the flames, but as she shield her eyes from the smoke and steam she could see Broddor, clad in armour that was impervious to flame as he was, clamber up from the ash and bones of the troll remains and stagger back towards the battle.

The other dragon was green like Roztov, although maybe a shade darker than the druid. It killed more of the trolls, turning them into flailing, screaming candles, five and six at a time. Those that remained alive evidently decided that two dragons was one too many to do battle with and turned their yales around and galloped back up the slope of the valley into the clouds of steam. Those of them that were on foot tried to catch and mount any stray yale they could find as quickly as they could. The two dragons tore through the retreating ranks of the war band, the new dragon catching a troll in its mouth and biting its arm off. Meggelaine grimaced at the sound of crunching bones. Broddor hacked at one of them as it fled, cutting a deep gouge in its side, but he was too slow to offer any further pursuit. As the last few troll survivors mounted and fled, the dragons stopped their attack, arched their necks and took a long look at each other.

As the two creatures eyed each other up, Meggelaine moved closer to where they were and crouched down behind the dead steaming corpse of a yale. She noticed that one of Roztov’s wings had been pinned to the ground by an axe. The other dragon, which was longer and larger than Roztov reached with a claw and pulled out the weapon. The larger dragon then sniffed at Roztov, reared and roared.

Roztov said something in draconic.

Meggelaine realised the larger dragon was Shumakkak the Green, one of the dragons that they had first seen back at the Chasm. She was the one known as the Huntress, a raid leader.

She settled back down onto all fours and folded in her wings, then began to converse with Roztov.

Floran crept up to join her and while lying on his stomach watched over the wet pelt of the dead yale.

‘What are they talking about?’ she asked.

‘Well,’ replied Floran. ‘Basically, she is chatting him up.’

‘What?’

‘He’s trying to make up a story about who we are and what we are doing here.’

‘Is she buying it?’

‘I don’t think she cares,’ said Floran with a grin. ‘She is saying that she has never seen another green dragon before.’

The dragons continued to talk. Roztov was up on his feet now. He was almost as tall as Shumakkak, but not as long. Broddor flopped down beside them. ‘She’s well up for it,’ he laughed.

‘What?’ said Meggelaine yet again.

‘That dragon wants Roztov to give her a right good seeing to. You know what that lad is like. He has an eye for the ladies.’

‘Oh Etruna,’ said Meggelaine, lowering her eyes to the back of the dead yale. When she raised them again she could see that Roztov was looking over at them. He seemed to have a look of bewilderment that managed to show on his face even though he was a dragon.

He spoke again and Floran translated. ‘He is telling her – not here. Elsewhere.’

Shumakkak unfolded her wings and flew off down the mountainside. After a few moments hesitation Roztov did the same.

‘Well, looks like Roztov is in for some fun!’ laughed Broddor as he stood up and slapped his thigh.

Floran stood and shook his head. ‘I don’t know what it was we just saw happen.’

‘Never mind lad,’ replied the dwarf. ‘I’ll tell you when you’re older.’

‘Uch,’ growled Meggelaine. ‘I’d better check on the others.’

As she got back to where Arin and Tankle were lying she could see that Ghene was there tending to them. ‘What happened?’ he asked.

‘Roztov has gone off with Shumakkak.’

‘To do what?’

Meggelaine rolled her eyes. ‘I’ll tell you when you’re older.’

Roztov returned three hours later. By that time they had made a shelter in the slope of the mountain, dug out of the side of a rock and they were resting and healing their injuries. Tankle’s arm was just bruised, but she had struck her head on a rock when she fell and was still groggy despite the attentions of the druids. Ghene had splinted Arin’s arm and he felt no pain, just a tingling as the druid magic worked through him.

He had turned to Floran earlier and asked, ‘how did you survive that blow? I thought it took your head off.’

‘Need you ask?’ replied Floran pulling back his shirt to reveal the many medallions and amulets that he wore around his neck. ‘I have many magic charms on my person to lessen the blows that strike me. You cannot see it, but I am protected by armour almost as strong as Broddor’s.’

‘Oh, of course,’ said Arin. He pondered for a moment then asked, ‘can anyone learn magic?’

‘Well,’ replied Floran, ‘that’s an interesting question. There are lots of different kinds, as you understand, the druid magic of nature, Broddor’s divine magic and then there is mine. We of Hyadna, the magic is, in theory open to all. There are a few scholars that are not ugrai, although none spring to mind at this moment in time.’

‘So I could learn?’

‘I don’t see why not. If you wanted. It’s very far away, but I suppose we could sail there once we get back to the continent.’

Floran turned to Tankle hopefully. ‘We could all go perhaps? Would you like to see my home?’

Tankle smiled and nodded. She didn’t look like she was following the conversation at all.

‘Well, that would be very nice indeed,’ said Floran with a broad smile. ‘It would be lovely to introduce you to my family. We shall all go, at the first opportunity. Roztov may even want to come. How about you Broddor?’

‘Don’t plan your holidays just yet,’ chuckled the dwarf. ‘We’ve still to get off this bastard island.’

Floran was about to reply, but at that point Roztov the dragon poked his head in the freshly dug cave, giving everyone a shock.

As they recovered themselves Meggelaine began to scold him. ‘You are unbelievable! We’ve only been here about a month and already you have two dragon girlfriends! Shumakkak, and what was that other one? Lori, Lora...’

‘Lorkuvan,’ said Roztov in draconian.

‘Oh, can you speak?’ asked Meggelaine.

Roztov rumbled a few words in draconian, then coughed.

‘If I concentrate,’ he said slowly, ‘I can turn the draconic into Enttish.’

‘Well?’ asked Meggelaine as she looked him in the large yellow eyes. ‘What are you going to tell your wife?’

‘Are you crazy? Nothing of course.’

‘Huh,’ said the little fressle, patting him on the nose. ‘Can you even change back or are you stuck like that forever now?’

The dragon sighed. Meggelaine turned to look at the others. Arin and Tankle were sat with their mouths open in astonishment, Ghene and Floran looked concerned, while Broddor was smiling.

‘It’s going to be difficult to shift back, but I flew over a mountain lake on the way here. It gave me an idea.’

‘What idea?’ asked Meggelaine turning back to look at him sternly.

‘Do you remember when Festos was a wolf and he fell backwards into the river behind the Council hall?’ asked Roztov.

‘No.’

‘Well, the shock changed him back. He climbed out the river in his normal form.’

‘He was drunk that night,’ said Meggelaine sharply, now remembering the night in question. ‘We’ve not any beer left. We’d need more than half a dozen bottles of beer to get a dragon drunk anyway, that’s a fact.’

‘Beer or not, it’s worth a try,’ said the dragon pulling its head out of the cave. There was the sound of dragon wings flapping and a flurry of snow entered the cave as Roztov left.

It was early afternoon by the time the others reached the lake. It was indeed high in the mountains, above the clouds and ringed by snow covered peaks. They settled down to eat their lunch at its shore while Roztov circled it. There were other dragons in the sky, but they were a good distance away and paid him no attention.

Roztov had already melted much of the ice of the lake with his dragon fire, enough to make a hole about fifty yards wide when they arrived and once he had spotted them he swooped love over their heads, roared, then soared up into the sky. The others shielded their eyes from the sun to follow his progress upwards. After he’d gained enough height, the dragon seemed to shut its eyes, then roll over backwards, its wings folded around its body. With its head pointing downwards it plunged into the lake like a giant arrow.

‘Blimey!’ exclaimed Broddor as the others gasped at the impressive splash that followed. ‘This will make a fine tale to tell, even if he doesn’t survive it.’

Meggelaine slapped the dwarf’s arm. ‘Don’t talk like that!’

After a full minute, Roztov the man breached the surface of the water, gasped, choked, shock his head then started to swim for the edge of the ice. Ghene and Floran ran out to meet him. The water that lapped at the sides of the hole was warm and steaming. They dragged Roztov out in a slippery and undignified fashion and helped him to shore. Once there, everyone helped him dry himself and his clothes by the camp fire. He sat, shivering and coughing up blood.

 ‘Oh no,’ groaned Meggelaine as she applied her healing magic to him.

‘I’m fine. I feel fine,’ said Roztov as a shuddered passed through his body.

‘If you do that again, it will kill you.’

Ghene was stood a short distance away from the fire. He pointed with his spear. ‘Look.’

There were five trolls mounted on yales, on a nearby ridge, watching them.

Broddor stood up, unsheathed his sword and joined the elf. ‘Back for more, the buggers.’

‘I don’t think they’ll attack,’ said Ghene. ‘They probably think our presence here is sanctioned by the dragons now.’

‘Could be,’ grunted the dwarf. ‘We killed a fair few of them right enough. What’s the plan?’

Ghene turned to the dwarf and raised an eyebrow. ‘You, Broddor, speak of plans?’

‘Yes yes,’ said the dwarf realising what he’d just said, ‘I mean, we don’t attack?’

‘I think I’ll scout north,’ replied the elf. ‘I’ve a feeling we’ll be able to see the city from the other side of this lake. It’s away from the trolls as well. Get the others moving. Probably best to look like we’re leaving . I’ll come back and join you once I’ve had a look over that ridge.’

Ghene pointed to the space between two of the peaks on the other side of the lake. He then turned into a goshawk and flew off.

‘What do you mean, move?’ when Broddor told the plan to Meggelaine. She gestured to Roztov. ‘Look at the state of him. He’ll fall to pieces.’

‘Well...’ said Broddor.

Meggelaine grumbled something unintelligible, stood up and said, ‘don’t bother saying it. I know what you’re thinking, Broddor.’

Meggelaine gave Roztov a long icy look. ‘The things I do for you.’ In a flash of druidic magic she then turned into a stocky pony with a rich red shaggy coat and a wild mane that covered its eyes completely, giving it a roguish look. Floran and Arin helped Roztov onto Meggelaine’s back and in this fashion they transported him north along the shore of the mountain lake.

It was evening, the sun was setting to the west, as they reached the ridge and looked down the mountainside to the north.  The view, though, was obscured by thick clouds below, that stretched out as far as they could see. Occasionally a dragon flew up out of the blanket of white, only to dip back into it a few minutes later.

Ghene finished his scouting and had rejoined them. ‘Stovologard and the coast are down there, I think we would be able to see it if the clouds were not obscuring our view.’

Roztov was half dozing, but looked up when Ghene had said this. He lifted his head, then both of his arms in a gesture of exultation. Slowly he moved them apart, muttering under his breath. He then let his arms fall back down to Meggelaine’s neck once more.

‘That’s better,’ he said finally as his head fell back into her mane.

The others had been watching him, but they turned north again to look once more at the clouds.

‘Is anything...?’ muttered Broddor.

As they watched, the clouds gradually parted, blown by distant winds, and the countryside was revealed to them. In the far distance, like the giant hilt of a black dagger, was the city of Stovologard. Its central tower was incredibly tall, larger even than the Spire, although it was hard to get a sense of scale. They could just make out specks flying around it that must have been dragons, which gave some indication of the tower’s size. Smoke rose from it, a black smear against the dark blue of the sea that lay on the edge of the horizon.

Below the tower sprawled a city of men, by far the largest settlement they had seen on Tanud.

There were also other smaller towns nestled in the hills. There were rivers, farms, arable land and patches of woodland. It looked remarkably like an Enttish county or one of the pocket kingdoms west of the Great Forest. It looked like home, in fact, except for the huge brooding and sinister presence of the tower of Stovologard that dominated the entire landscape.

The sun set and the land became darkness.

‘We’d better get down off this mountainside before making camp,’ said Ghene, looking at Floran.

Floran nodded and held up his staff. It gave off a dull violet light, that was just enough for them all to see where they were going, but not enough to give away their position.

It was late at night when they descended far enough into the valleys north of the mountains to feel safe from the trolls. They sheltered in an abandoned mine. Looking down from the mine’s entrance they could see the lights of a village, but they didn’t feel prepared enough to enter it that night.

‘Can he really control the weather?’ Arin asked Meggelaine as they sat together at the entrance of the mine while she checked over his arm.

‘If he can, it’s a new one on me.’

Arin wasn’t sure what she meant.

‘Oh, definitely not. No way,’ said Meggelaine with a laugh as she looked up. ‘It was just a coincidence. He was just joking. Well, I think it was a joke...’

‘Druids can’t control the weather then, Meg?’

‘You know,’ she said patting his injured arm very gently. ‘I don’t know. Go get some rest young man, I’ll take the first watch. Good night.’

Arin smiled, bowed stiffly and bid her good night.

Island of Dragons - Chapter 13 - Dragon Lands - The mountains south of Stovologard (7121)(DRAFT)

Chapter 13 - Dragon Lands - The mountains south of Stovologard (7121)

For the rest of the day after Roztov left there wasn’t much for anyone to do apart from watch the weather from the cave entrance. It was a tall wide crack in the side of a mountain that went back further than anyone cared to explore.

'If this was Styke,' remarked Meggelaine. 'This cave would be rammed full of hibernating bears.'

'It does seem odd,' agreed Ghene, 'I suspect though, that his island has never been home to them, or wolves either.'

Outside the low cloud cover obscured everything from view except the sleet and rain that fell close to the entrance. When night fell they couldn’t even see that.

Floran lit a fire a good way back from the mouth of the cave and kept the place warm. Meggelaine continued to complain that she would not be able to sleep on the cold rock and everyone else complained about the food supply.

‘How much is left?’ asked Broddor.

‘Enough meat for day,’ said Meggelaine looking through the bags. ‘Enough potatoes to last two days if we go sparingly on them.’

‘No crabs left?’

‘No, you ate them all, you greedy pig.’

Broddor sighed. ‘You druids can summon food though? I’ve seen you do it before.’

Meggelaine scowled at him while Ghene answered the question. ‘Yes, but it’s tricky. It would be much easier to go hunt something up. If he’s not back soon I’ll go bag some rabbits or a goat.’

‘Maybe Roztov will bring something back,’ said Broddor picking up a potato and sniffing it.

‘He seemed in a bad mood when he left,’ grumbled Salveri as he unwrapped a piece of smoked meat.

‘Oh, he’ll be fine when he gets back,’ said Ghene. ‘He forgets his anger very quickly.’

‘A goat would be great,’ mused Broddor, rubbing his belly. ‘Cut up into cubes and skewered on sticks then grilled on the fire, I could eat...’

‘A girl died!’ cried Meggelaine. ‘Eaten by a dragon! And all everyone can think about is their stomachs!’

A silence descended on the cave that lasted for the rest of the day, any kind of idle chatter smothered by her grief.

The whole of the next day too, was spent in the cave as the wind whipped the rain and sleet around in the mist outside. By the start of the third day since Roztov had left they were all starting to feel frustrated and annoyed at being cooped up.

'I'm getting cabin fever,' remarked Ghene. Floran nodded, but Broddor shrugged. He felt more at ease in a cave than anywhere else.

In the afternoon the wind blew all the clouds away and they tentatively went outside to take a look around. The wind was strong and cold, but for a while they could see all the way down into the valley. There was a village at the bottom of it, situated beside a meandering river.

The sailors stood together and talked.

‘Those are men down there,’ said Salveri shielding his eyes from the sun with his hands as he observed the valley. 'That’s civilisation. I can see a man chopping wood from here.‘

‘That big building in the middle looks like a tavern,’ said Arrin wistfully.

‘Or a town hall,’ said Tankle.

‘It’s a tavern,’ said Salveri with certainty, although he had no way of knowing. ‘And that’s where I’m going tonight. I’ve still got gold in my pocket.’

The other two looked at him in alarm.

'Are you crazy?' said Arrin.

'No,' growled the older man. 'You are crazy if you stay in that stinking cave any longer. It's been three days! Do you think that druid is coming back? He's either dead, captured or decided just to fly off for good.'

He turned his back on them and walked off to look over the other side of the ridge. Arrin turned to Tankle 'He's all talk. He'll never do it.'

Salveri had made up his mind, those other two could do what they liked, but he reckoned that the town at the bottom of the valley was no more than three hours away. Getting up from the fire he muttered that he was going out to empty his bladder and took a walk along to the outcrop they had stood at when they’d seen the town.

It was misty, but the wind had died down a bit. He thought he could just make out lights. What annoyed him the most was that the other two, Arrin and Tankle obviously thought he wasn't going to do it as they'd made no further attempt to talk him out of it. He stood for a while in contemplation, then grumbled, ‘to hell with this,’ and started walking.

As long as he kept going downhill, following the lights, what could go wrong?

He’d go get a drink in that tavern and wait there until Ghene came and got him. Then those dopey druids would realise there was food, drink and nice warm beds and have the sense to bring everyone else down.

‘Bloody fools,’ he started to mutter to himself as he stepped down the steep side of the mountain. ‘Always waiting, waiting. Waiting for a druid to make a decision about something. Too many druid’s by half. I’ll be nice and warm by the fire in a couple of hours. Takes a sailor to show them some common sense.’

His eyes had been watching where he had been putting his feet for some time. He looked up again, seeking for the lights of the town. He couldn’t see them in the mist, but as long as he kept going downhill, then he couldn’t miss it, right?

‘He’s been twenty minutes, Ghene, you’d better go look for him,’ said Meggelaine.

‘Uch,’ grunted the elf as he stood and did up the buttons on his jacket. ‘He’ll have decided to shift his bowels I’m sure, that can take humans hours.’

‘Even so. After Ophess, we should be more careful.’

Ghene waved over his shoulder as he walked out into the night. He had no trouble following the man’s trail and half an hour later he was alarmed to find a patch of blood. Drops of blood led away into the mist. He didn’t follow it immediately, but instead walked around in the rocks, looking at the ground. He kneeled down and put out his hand and touched something wet.

‘Oh no,’ he said quietly.

A mighty, but distant roar echoed up from the valley, then distant flames lit up the fog. Somewhere to his west, dragons were fighting. As he tried to make out what was going on his saw a black dot silhouetted against the lit up clouds, what looked like a small bird heading east as fast as its wings could carry it. Another burst of flame lit up the sky above him and he saw the bird pass overhead.

‘Roztov,’ he said, and started to run back up the mountainside to the cave.

Roztov was just saying his hellos to the others when Ghene came up behind him.

‘Can I get your help with something?’ he asked his friend, pointing back outside. He then led him to where he had found the blood. Elves had good enough eyesight to see at night and Roztov could enhance his vision with druidic magic.

Ghene pointed to the thing he had touched earlier and Roztov gingerly picked it up. It was the top half of a man’s head.

‘Bloody hell,’ said Roztov, gently putting it back down again. He then covered it with stones.

‘There are big hoof prints here and here. I’d say about ten sets of giant hoof prints,’ said Ghene quietly as he looked along the side of the valley.

‘No tracks of men, besides Salveri?’

‘No, so not manhunters. These are not dragon claw marks. They are cloven, like a goats.’

‘Bloody big goat though,’ said Roztov as he knelt down at hoof print and took a very good look at it. After almost a minute he stood up again and said, ‘Could be yales.’

‘They are not real.’

‘Says who?’

‘Well, everyone.’

‘Well everyone is wrong,’ said Roztov flatly. ‘I’ve seen one, more than one actually.’

‘Where? Oh wait, let me guess. Ertia.’

‘Correct.’

‘That’s where all your oddities come from. Whenever it’s something only ever you have seen, you’ve seen it in Ertia.’

‘The forests of Ertia are remarkable, you should get out more.’

Ghene pursed his lips, then decided not to pursue the subject of yales any further and instead said, ‘I can’t see more than thirty feet in this mist. They could be really close for all we know.’

‘Want to follow the giant goat trail?’

‘I’m tempted, but we’d have to follow it on foot. It could go for a dozen miles and who knows what would be at the end of it.’

‘A whole bunch of things with giant cloven hoofs that can take a man’s head off.’

‘It does rather feel as if we’d be looking for nothing but trouble.’

‘Right,’ agreed Roztov. ‘I mean, he’s dead for sure, poor bugger. No one survives the loss of that much head.’

Having settled the matter, they walked back to the cave.

Meggelaine jumped up from her spot by the fire when the other two druids returned.

‘So?’ she asked. ‘What’s going on.’

‘I’m sorry,’ replied Ghene solemnly. ‘He’s dead.’

The elf then silently walked into the back of the cave and disappeared into the darkness.

‘What?’ said Meggelaine, turning back to Roztov who had just sat down by the fire. ‘Roztov!’

‘Very dead. Sorry.’

‘What happened?’

Roztov glanced around the fire. Arrin had gone white and Tankle was being comforted by Floran. He struggled to say something diplomatic, but in the end settled for, ‘critters got him.’

'It wasn't dragons?'

'We are not sure,' answered Roztov in Stykian, a language that only they spoke. 'It was something big though. He wouldn't have known what hit him.'

Meggelaine gulped. She was about to speak, but Roztov turned and went to stand at the entrance. Without turning he addressed the others. 'No more bloody wandering off. That's two we've lost now. Keep everyone together from now on.'

While Roztov watched the cave entrance for the rest of the evening and Ghene kept his own company at the back of the cave, Meggelaine retreated into herself. Roztov was angry, but not with her, or anyone really. Angry with himself maybe, although he realised it wasn't useful. He would let Meg be for a while, she needed to be alone for a while, but when the time was right he would offer her comfort. He knew she would bounce back. They had both lost people more important to them than poor old Salveri. He stood and watched the night sky, stewing over what had happened and wondering if he should have done anything any differently. He would have to put a lid on it he knew, as he had done before many times in the past. Now was not the time for recriminations and "what ifs". Mistakes had been made, but they had to move on. Surviving was the only thing that mattered.

After a couple of hours Ghene came to the entrance and took his turn on watch. Roztov returned to the group and sat down by the fire. He had brought two large bags with him, one of which contained bread, cheese, cured meat and six bottles of beer. They used the beer to toast the memory of poor Salveri and after a suitable amount of reflection, Meggelaine emerged from her own introspections. ‘Well, how was the scouting?’ she asked.

‘Good,' said Roztov quietly. 'I didn’t get to Stovologard, but I’ve been around a bit. Being able to turn into a rock lizard has been hand. The people in these lands keep them as pets.’

‘It seems a bit odd to have a pet you can talk to.’

‘I suppose,’ said Roztov. Then something occurred to him. ‘The captain had a parrot that could talk.’

‘That’s not really the same.’

‘Well, maybe it makes sense. When you are ruled over by dragons, then having a pet lizard you can lord over could be therapeutic. If you’ve had a hard day being bossed about by dragons you can come home and kick the lizard. Anyway, Tuppence, pass me over that other bag.’

Floran did so, and after he’d undone the knot at its top, Roztov began to pull out its contents. The first thing out was a purse full of gold coins.

‘Where did you get all that?’ asked Broddor.

‘I robbed a bank. They use this gold as currency mainly in the towns and the city. Further out they use this paper script.’

Roztov pulled out a roll of thin papers. He peeled off a few and passed them around, but the language transcribed on the papers was alien to them all. Next Roztov began to pull out clothes that were folded neatly and tied with ribbons.

‘Local clothing,’ he explained. These too were passed around.

Meggelaine finished her beer and threw the empty bottle out into the night. She went and stood for a while at the cave entrance and after a few moments Roztov joined her. They were alone.

‘Another one gone. I can’t stand this Roz. I’m going to burst with fear. I’m going crazy.’

He kneeled down and put his arm around her shoulder.

‘I know. I’m completely frazzled as well. All we can do is keep moving forward. One last big push.’

‘I’m too old for this. I was too busy thinking about losing Ophess to remember to look after the others.’

‘It wasn’t your fault sweetie, he wandered off. That was a foolish thing to do.’

'It's so stupid. Arrin told me all he wanted was a beer. If he'd just waited he could have had one of the ones you brought back with you.'

'There is nothing we can do about it now.'

Before they all turned in for the night, Roztov sat down by the fire once more and addressed the group.

‘Well, poor Salveri is dead, but there is nothing we can do about that. All we can do is press on and hope that we all survive this.’

It went unsaid, although they were all thinking it, that Arrin and Tankle were the most vulnerable ones left, in that they had no magic spells, or magic armour, or druidic power to protect them.

‘If we stick together,’ continued Roztov, ‘And no more wandering off, then I think we can all get off this island. From what I have seen, there are two options. I got these clothes, I think we could just about pass ourselves off as locals. We'd need to colour our pale skin. Tup would just about be ok. We could dress Meg as a child. I think it’s not uncommon for people to migrate to the city and what with all the fighting going on at the moment there are refugees on the roads moving north. There are guards though, so Tup would have to do all the talking, that would be the trickiest part.’

‘What’s the other option?’ asked Floran.

‘I turn into a dragon, fly us all in at night, we steal a boat and we are out of here. Could do it in one day maybe.’

Meggelaine balked and grabbed his arm. ‘There are too many dragons up in the sky Roz! They are fighting up and down the whole mountain range. We’d get caught right in the middle of it.’

As if to prove her point the entrance of the cave was lit by a flash of fire high overhead.

‘I agree,’ said Ghene. ‘We’d have nowhere to hide if it went wrong. The Spire is days flight away now and considering what happened last time we were there I don’t think we should go back.’

There was a little more discussion, but in the end it was decided the most sensible thing to do was keeping going north on foot.

In the morning they descended into the valley. They had donned the local clothing and used soot from the fire to darken their skin. Normally there would have been a few jokes made about their strange appearance, but after Salveri’s recent death, no one was in the mood.

 As the mists cleared they saw that the village they had seen the day before had been burnt to the ground. There was no one left alive, charred corpses lay in the smouldering ruins.

They walked along the main street looking for survivors but found none. At the northern gate Ghene looked at the ground and said, ‘About fifty people fled north last night. There are recent wheel tracks too. ’

As was their perpetual habit, as they walked on everyone kept glancing up into the sky every few minutes. Roztov scanned the clouds then said, ‘I think the fighting has moved on. If we make good time there is a cave I found further down that we can shelter in for lunch.’

Sleet was beginning to fall, large wet lumps of snow that made them pull the hoods of their cloaks down as low as they would go.

‘I really have had enough of caves,’ grumbled Ghene as they entered the narrow cleft in the side of a moss covered rock.

‘It’s just to get dried and have something to eat,’ apologised Roztov. ‘Look, I’ll expand it a bit.’

He then made a pushing sideways motion with his hands and the rock inside the cave flowed backwards, doubling the size of the fissure.

They had gathered some fire wood on the way down. It was damp, and sent sparks flying as it burnt.

As they ate and watched the valley, the weather cleared a little, to reveal more mountains in the distance. A battle raged in the sky, moving south towards them.

Roztov started counting.

‘It looks like a retreat,’ said Ghene, standing at the entrance and shielding his eyes. ‘I think the chasm dragons are being routed.’

‘I count a hundred and seventy,’ said Roztov. ‘Hard to tell who is who, but I think the Stovologard dragons are more or less uniformly sized and dark green. The Chasm dragons come in all shapes and sizes.’

‘Seems like a pretty decent war going on up there,’ said Broddor as he joined them.

‘Yes,’ agreed Roztov, ‘but you rarely see them killing each other. There is a lot of fire and smoke, but so far I’ve not seen any roasted dragons fall from the sky.’

‘Yes, right enough,’ admitted the dwarf. ‘The people on the ground are suffering though, judging by all the burning villages we are seeing.’

They had seen two other burnt out villages on their way along the valley, but had not passed close to them.

‘It’s the same in every war. The strong fight and it’s the weak that die.’

They thought back to campaigns back on Nillamandor. They had all seen a great deal of violence in the past.

‘What those wretched Claw Clan goblins used to do to people...’ Roztov trailed off. ‘Oh, I really want to get away from all this. Like Meggelaine said last night, we are too old for this.'

'I'm still young for a dwarf, lad,' said Broddor straightening his back and smoothing down his beard.

 ‘Well anyway, if we turn to the right and head east until evening there is a town, assuming it’s not been burnt to the ground, where there is a decent tavern. We should get going.’

The town still stood and the guards at the gate seemed happy enough to let them inside, assuming them to be refugees from the villages further south.

‘The locals call this place Tunde, It's a wine region in the summer,’ said Roztov as they entered the town square. ‘It tastes like horse piss though, stick to the beer.’

There were dozens of wagons all over the square and a good deal of activity as the recent arrivals from other areas sorted themselves out. Children played among the wheels of the hand carts and amongst the baggage. Some men were erecting a tent, women cooked on small fires, others haggled with the locals for food.

They were a short race of people in this region, with olive coloured skin and flat noses. Poor people wore simple brown robes and wooden shoes while the more affluent of them wore embroidered robes of rich red or blue silk. Roztov knew they would not pass for locals on close inspection, but what with all the chaos going on in the region they were of little interest and left alone.

The houses in the town were built on stilts, with the main (and often only) room being accessed by a steep set of steps or a ladder. Farm animals were kept in enclosures under the house, so that as they walked along the dirt streets they mainly saw cows, goats and sullen looking vegetains. Rock lizards scuttled about, poking through bins and piles of refuse.

The roofs of the houses had ridiculously tall gables, almost the height of the rest of the house, stilts and all, and served no other purpose than to show the status of the occupants. The centre of the town had the largest buildings.

‘This place is an inn, listen Tup, do you want to do the talking or shall I?’

‘Ah,’ stuttered Floran, ‘How will you talk?’

‘I’ll turn into a rock lizard and just blether away. I’ve done it before. Very well, when we go in, just find an empty table and sit at it. It will be fairly dark so you can all take your cloaks off.’

He then looked about and seeing that they were not observed he turned into a piebald rock lizard and hoped up the broad wooden steps.

The main room of the inn had a wooden floor that creaked and groaned as they crossed it. There were six large low tables where the guests were eating their evening meals. There were no chairs and everyone sat on the floor. In the centre of the room was a fire pit where a cook roasted the meat that was served to the inn’s guests.

It was not unheard of for people to use the smarter rock lizards as servants so Roztov hoped up to the innkeeper and ordered some food. Half an hour later some smiling girls brought it all to their table.

The atmosphere in the inn was very pleasant, despite the war going on, or maybe because of it as people tried their best to ignore it. The host seemed to be a very pleasant man and his servants were very attentive. The room was lit by two small oil lamps only, so it was dark enough that no one would have known what colour their skin was anyway.

Floran decided to try out his draconian on the landlord after all and once he had eaten enough he went to talk to him. The others sat back and washed down their food with cups of beer.

‘I can’t get used to this sitting on the floor lark,’ said Broddor as he refolded his legs.

‘Gosh,’ said Meggelaine confidingly, ‘These are such nice people aren’t they? Those girls are so nice. All the other guests seem nice too. This isn’t like a Stykian tavern, where everyone would be blazing drunk and fighting. Very civilised.’

She glanced over to where Arrin and Tankle were talking in whispers.

‘I think this is doing us all good,’ she said. ‘We could stay here for a while. Well, as long as the war doesn’t come in this direction.’

Ghene was stood by an open window looking out onto the square. He turned and sat down with the others. ‘There are more refugees out there. The town guards seem to be dealing with them though. The rain is back on. It’s going to be a hard night for anyone not under cover.’

‘We should maybe go out later and see if anyone needs a healer,’ said Meggelaine.

Roztov, earlier, had left as a lizard and returned as a man.

‘Yes,’ he agreed, ‘but take care. A child with magical powers will draw attention.’

The inn they were staying at was a collection of a dozen or so buildings in a walled compound. A smiling and bowing maid took them down a lantern lit path that would have been pleasant in the summer when the trees had leaves. She showed them in to a single-roomed house that contained six beds. There was a warm stove in the centre of the room on which hot water was being brewed for tea.

Once the maid had left the pulled back their hoods and arranged themselves around the stove. Roztov gave them a nod, turned into a lizard and scampered off out the door and over the wall.

‘Bye then,’ said  Meggelaine tetchily.

‘How was the square, Meg?’ asked Broddor.

‘Oh, not too bad. A few ill and injured people. Some dragon fire burns.’

‘You healed them all? No one questioned you?’

‘No,’ said the fressle with a sigh. ‘I must say, this place is a lot more civilised than I thought it would be. The people are, well... nice.’

‘They are not so nice in the main city,’ put in Floran. ‘Or that’s what the land lord told me anyway.’

When Floran fell silent, Meggelaine grunted and poked him with her foot. ‘Well, go on then!’

‘Oh, well. I learned a few other things. The people call this land Dempasut. They call their main city Stovologard. The main city has more population than the rest of the surrounding country put together. The people here don’t think much of the people in the city. They call then dragonthralls, a pejorative.’

‘That’s where we need to be though lad, how do we get there?’ asked Broddor.

‘Normally the road west, but that’s where the war is. The Dempasut army is not letting anyone through. The road east doesn’t really lead anywhere, just higher into the mountains to small villages that are only used in the spring.’

‘And north, lad?’

‘No one goes up there, it’s the main range. Infested with goblins, apparently. The dragons let the goblins stay up there to discourage humans from going on the run and hiding in the caves.’

‘Seems strange,’ said Ghene. ‘I would have thought goblins were a bigger problem than runaway villagers.’

‘That’s what he told me. The way north is dangerous because there are lots of caves and lots of goblins. All the mountains are infested with goblins apparently. Men stay in the valleys.’

‘Right.’

They talked for a while longer, and when they were on their second cups of tea, Roztov returned.

‘Well?’ asked Meggelaine.

‘Just having a sniff about. Checking the defences. There are more people here than usual and more soldiers than normal. I found a camp of men on the other side of town, about two hundred of them. They were dressed in the same sort of armour as manhunters, but had dog-mask helmets. The manhunters all had beast masks right? Boars and suchlike. These fellows seemed a bit more organised. They looked like ground troops too, not the sort of chaps that habitually ride around on dragons. An odd thing is that they are all mostly tall and fair, with blonde hair and blue eyes. Not like the locals of this town at all. I can only guess that they are descendants of boat loads of Vegan raiders or explorers. There are armed men in this town that look more local, they are watchmen and gate guards. They wear no helmets.’

‘I’m sure they have bigger things to worry about, but we should stay out of their way,’ said Ghene who then went on to tell Roztov everything that Floran had learned.

‘Oh, goblins shouldn’t be much of a problem,’ said Roztov somewhat dismissively. ‘We could scare them away by turning into bears or something. Goblins we can deal with.’

‘Due north then?’ said Ghene. ‘It would be the most direct and quickest way to the city.’

‘Yes I think so, ‘ agreed Roztov. ‘Do you think one of us should scout ahead first?’

‘I’m not sure. The skies are somewhat full of dragons,’ mused Ghene. ‘And besides, what other choice do we have? We can’t stay here. Even these friendly locals are going to notice we are foreigners eventually. Going north is the only option and if all we have to contend with is goblins then it should be fine.’

‘Fair enough, is there any tea left?’ said Roztov as he reached for a cup.

Meggelaine poured him out some tea from the kettle, scowling at him as she did so. Roztov knew she was feeling left out, but thought it better not to mention it.

The spent the whole of the next day outfitting for the journey north. Using Roztov's stolen gold they bought new camping equipment, tools and provisions. Long spears were also purchased, seen as being the best weapons for dealing with goblins. After another pleasant night in Tunde they left in the morning. The north side of the valley was steep and covered in rocks and heather. After an hour of climbing they reached the snow line. After another hour they were at the top of the ridge. Looking back, down into the valley, the town was laid out like a child's model. They could see the town square, filling with more refugees from the south and the soldier's camped out on the common.

Looking east along the valley, it rose up into the main bulk of the mountains and west it led to flatter lands where the smoke from burning villages could be seen rising up into the clouds. As they took a break, sheltering in the lee of a large rock, a flight of dragons came from the east, flying along the valley in pairs. Twenty in all, dark green in colour, barely having to flick the tips of their wings as they rode the currents west, heading to where the war was. Ten flights of two passed them in the space of five minutes.

'Magnificent,' admitted Roztov.

'The tales we'll tell, if we ever make it home,' agreed Meggelaine.

They had progressed north about ten miles, along the main ridge of the mountains when they first saw riders in the distance, higher up than them on the hump of the next ridge. They were currently hemmed on both sides by the shallow slopes of rounded mountain tops to either side.

Ghene pointed them out, ‘I can just see... Oh, they are trolls.’

‘Oh Tup!’ sighed Meggelaine in dismay. ‘Don’t you know the difference between trolls and goblins?’

‘I do,’ said Floran. ‘But I suppose the people of Tunde don’t.’ He would have been well within his rights to have put ice into what he was saying, but he came from a race that new little of sarcasm or irony.

Roztov came up to the front of the line and joined Ghene. ‘Etruna, look at the size of them. And there are about thirty of them coming down from there. Mounted on giant goats or yales.’

He turned and addressed the rest of the group.

‘Right, we’ve got about ten minutes. I don’t think we can outrun them on the ground and the skies are too dragon infested to escape by air, so we stand and fight, right?’

‘Yes yes,’ said Broddor eagerly as he unstrapped Gronmorder from his back. ‘Let’s just fight them here. If they think we are just a bunch of peasants then they’ll get the shock of their lives when we give them a proper scuffle.’

‘Well, maybe, but if they are anything like Stykian trolls then they’ll fight to the death,’ said Roztov glancing back up the slope. ‘And if those are yales and they are like the ones in Ertia then their horns could be magical.’

‘Etruna save us,’ groaned Meggelaine, ‘In what way magical?’

‘I uh... don’t know.’ Roztov began to move his arms in slow sweeping gestures, making the earth rise up before him. ‘Let’s make a rampart here.’

Ghene used his magic to pull in boulders from nearby and piled them up onto the earthen wall Roztov had made, as a form of crude crenellations. As the others stepped back Meggelaine joined in, small bushes on the flanks suddenly grown into tall thorny hedges. She then raised a mound in the centre of the defences.

Within less than two minutes they were all stood inside a druid’s fort.

Standing on the rampart and keeping an eye on the trolls Roztov said, ‘Right, this is the plan. Broddor meets the attack. Me and Ghene stay at his sides, not engaging, just holding them off. Meg, you keep Etruna’s blessings focused on Broddor. If Gene or I get into trouble we can help each other out. If Broddor falls though, we’ve all had it. Tup, you stay at the back on the mound, it should give you enough clearance to shoot over our heads. Give them a few fireballs, if they keep coming after that then just give them the lot. Broddor, remember, no heroics, you are the shield not the spear. It will be Floran’s job to do the killing.’

Roztov drew his sword and checked the blade with his thumb. He noticed Tankle and Arrin, each with their spear in white knuckle grasps.

‘If anything gets passed us, you two are to defend Floran. Again, don’t try and kill them, just hold them off until Floran can blast them. Everyone understand their position? Broddor out front, me and Ghene on the flanks, Meg in the middle, then Tankle and Arrin, then Tup at the rear. Defence in depth, just like back up on the Moon Marshes.’

They all nodded, and Broddor muttered, ‘Defence in depth, got it.’ He gave his sword a few practice swings and repeated the phrase two more times.

They all took their positions and waited. For a few minutes the trolls watched from their position up the slope, perhaps curious as to how the ground could have suddenly grown up in such a strange formation. Eventually though they wheeled their mounts around and thundered down the valley towards the fortress.

Broddor leapt down off the rampart and with his sword held high over his head charged out to meet them. ‘Jeg har kylling! Defence in depth!’

‘Oh for...!’ groaned Roztov.

‘You don't just shout it!’ he bellowed at the dwarf’s back. ‘The plan... oh never mind. Everyone just charge in, why not?’

Ahead of them thirty trolls, beings were between eight and ten feet tall, galloped down the hillside mounted on goat-like creatures that were the size of plough-horses. The trolls wore goat-leather armour and wielded clubs and crude axes. Their skin was dark mottled green and their long snout-like mouths were lined with sharp yellow teeth. They howled and blew on horns as they came, but the first of them was met by Broddor's sword as he leapt from a rock and cut into its neck.

The dwarf landed on the mossy heather of the hillside then charged at his next target, as the troll behind him slid from the saddle, clutching its throat as it bled to death.

Two giant bears ran up behind and then past Broddor, joining the charge and confusing a handful of the trolls enough to make them rein in their mounts. Broddor picked a target a hundred feet ahead of him and watched in amazement as the goat-creatures horns seemed to swivel around and down as the creature lowered its head. The two four feet long horns were aimed directly at him, but he rolled out of the way just in time, slashing at the mounts legs as it thundered past.

He was stepped on by a bear as it met a troll and its mount at full speed. The troll flew out of the saddle, catapulted into the air towards the fort. It was then blasted backwards by an ice lance fire by Floran from his mound sending the by now very dead creature flying back in the direction it had just come from. Meanwhile the bear clawed at the goat-creature until it turned tail and fled.

Roztov, the bear, reared up on his hind legs to try and take in the overall battle. Broddor was ducking and weaving through the legs of several of the mounted trolls as they tried to club him over the head. Ghene had dismounted a troll and was clawing at it as it tried to fend him off with an axe. Three of the trolls made it to the fortress, but Floran unleashed a fireball that hit all of them and blasted them backwards. As one of them tried to get back onto its feet, shaking its head, a small angry bear leapt on its back and sunk its teeth into its neck.

Arrin and Tankle came forwards to stab their spears through the hearts of the other trolls to make sure they were dead. The troll charge was in confusion, but they were not retreating. A group of them bore down on Roztov and he rammed his blunt head right into the chest of one of the trolls mounts, sending them flying down the hillside. An axe bit into his side, making him roar in pain. He turned and clawed at the troll, ripping half its head off.

Now that he saw them close up, Roztov realised the mounts were yales after all. He had never fought any before but he knew their horns were dangerous. Two trolls nearby had dismounted, and came at him cautiously, clubs raised. He ran towards them, beating one aside as the other landed a blow on his back. While he stood with one back foot on the chest of the first troll he fended off the second.

The second troll was cunning, keeping back from the slashing claws, feinting and blocking, looking for an opening. As the first troll breathed its last Roztov was about to charge, when a yale caught him completely by surprise and speared him in the rear end with one of its long spiralled horns.

Roztov roared in pain once more and tried to turn, but the horn had changed shape inside him and was buried in his flesh like a hook. As he did so, the cunning troll chose this moment to leap in with an attack, but the druid was too fast and batted the troll to the ground with a back handed swipe. The troll that was mounted on the yale hit him a glancing blow on the side of the head that made his ears ring. He roared again and swiped at the troll, but he was pinned by the horn and as he tried to turn the yale turned with him, its head down and pushing.

Trapped as he was, he was a tempting target for other enemies, and two more trolls on foot came towards him, holding axes. Roztov glanced round, he could only see Ghene, fighting furiously some distance off. There were trolls at the fortress, but he could not see any of his friends.

Ignoring the yale in his backside and the troll that rode it for a moment, he turned to the two advancing trolls and concentring his magic, opened the ground up beneath them. They fell into deep pits, then cried in terror as the earth fell back on top of them.

While he had being doing that the troll behind him had leaned over the neck of its mount and struck him twice on the back. It was raising its weapon for a third blow when it was blasted out of the saddle by an ice lance. As it landed on a rock with a heavy crunch the yale straitened its horn and pulled back. It's head red with Roztov's blood it ran off back up the hillside.

It looked like the battle was over, all the trolls were all dead or dying. As the two that Roztov had buried alive tried to claw their way out of the earth Broddor, Tankle and Arrin stabbed them in the heads.

Finally, they all walked back to the fortress. Roztov and Ghene turned back into their normal forms and did their best to heal their own injuries while Meggelaine healed everyone else. Everyone had been hurt, but the little fressle's magic was powerful and none of them suffered long.

'Those were yales,' said Roztov as he lay on his stomach, watching over the parapet, between two rocks. 'About the same size as the ones I met in Ertia. The Ertian ones were gentle though. One of these ones got me right in the arse.'

'They have the strangest horns,' remarked Ghene. 'I've never known anything like it. They turn and swivel and change shape.'

'Take your trousers down,' said Meggelaine to Roztov.

He wiggled his britches down over his thighs so she could see his wound.

'It bit deep, but into the flesh only. You should be glad that you have such a fat bum.'

She put her small hands on his buttock.

'That's nice,' sighed Roztov, laying his head down into his arms and shutting his eyes.

Broddor limped over and sat down beside him. The dwarf had been injured too, but not badly.

'Do you think there will be more of them lad?'

'How should I know?,' replied Roztov. 'Listen, you have to do more than just yell "Defence in Depth" as you charge in, Broddor. What is the point of me coming up with a plan if you just pile in all the time?'

'Right, right,' apologised the dwarf. 'Next time. Defence in Depth.'

'Well, we are going to have to wait here a while, to let everyone recover Broddor, so we'll just have to see if any more come, or if that was all of them. If we'd stuck to the plan then maybe we would not have been so badly beaten up and we could have moved on.'

'Sorry lad.'

'It's solved the mystery of what happened to Salveri anyway,' said Roztov laying his head back down.

The dwarf patted him on the shoulder, rose and left silently. He then went and sat with some of the others. When Arrin gave him a worried look, he winked at him. 'Don't worry, he's always grumpy when he's been a bear. And there is nothing more grumpy than a bear with a sore arse.'