Island of Dragons - DARFT - Chapter 4 - Welcome to Tanud (9358)

Chapter 4 - Welcome to Tanud (9358)

They set off in the morning. Nac, one of the scouts, initially came with them, but when he saw how proficient the druids were at finding their way through the forest he realised his presence was not required. After a couple of hours they stopped to say their farewells and he had a long conversation with Floran before waving and turning round to walk back to Vine Street.

‘What did he say?’ Meggelaine asked Floran.

As they walked Floran said, ‘He says there are a few more runaway settlements around here, he was trying to tell me where they are, but I tried to make him understand it was useless giving me directions in a forest. I get lost in my own library. I told him that you druids have magical ways of finding places like that, once you start attuning to the place anyway, he was having none of it at first, but when Roz turned into a fox and ran off ahead I think he understood. Well, if we keep going this direction we’ll come to another settlement, that’s what he says. It’s well hidden. He says there are more places north of the gorge.’

‘Oh,’ said Meggelaine, ‘He knows the route? He came from Stovologard?’

‘Interestingly he was born free,’ replied Floran. ‘His mother and father left Stovologard before he was born. He has a great desire to come with us and see the world, but his wife is pregnant.’

‘Oh right. I suppose they must feel really isolated where they are, poor things. Something should be done. People shouldn’t live like this. Perhaps we could set up a ring and start sneaking them out somehow.’

‘Such things are possible?’

Meggelaine had to stop and look up at her friend.

‘Floran. How many times have you travelled through a druidic stone circle?’

‘Many many times, yes, as I recall.’

‘Who do you think built them?’

Roztov was coming up behind them and moved them along, ‘Come on guys, keep up with the others.’

‘I’m just explaining to Tup here, that despite what he may think, the stone circles don’t just sprout out of the ground. Druids build them.’

‘Well they did. A long time ago, Meg.’

Floran, as was often the case, felt that he was now in the middle of the start of an argument between druids.

‘We can build them again. Did you read my letters I sent last year?’

‘Yes. You know I did. I replied to them. I agree. If we have the power to use the circles to travel all across Nillamandor, then we should be able to build our own.’

Meggelaine was trotting along beside the men, trying to look at their faces for their reaction and getting a little out of breath.

‘It’s simple really, I’ve read all the Dynaric literature I can find. In theory we could build a circle wherever we want. Imagine the possibilities!’

‘I completely agree with you Meg.’

She was momentarily confused by Roztov’s immediateconcurrence.

‘Oh, well. Well, why don’t we then?’

‘You are in the council, Meg, you tell me.’

‘Huh well, I’ve not asked Lilly about it, but, well… You need at least eighteen stones that each weigh twenty-five tons…’

‘In that case I see your problem. I seem to remember it took the GFC a year to decide where to build a new outhouse.’

‘Yes yes, very funny,’ grumbled Meggelaine. ‘It’s possible though. The Dynar built circles all over Nillamandor. Why not have one in Borland or Elbonia? It would save so much time.’

‘It would put people like Salveri, Arrin and Tankle out of business.’

‘Oh come on.’

‘Well, if you think about it. A druid ring out in the Diamond Sea would completely upset the current economic...’

‘Druid rings are not meant for every fat merchant that comes along with a cart load of turnips. Would you be willing to be a... a muleskinner all day?’

‘Perhaps if they paid me enough.’

‘Oh, please, you’re richer than King Woad.’

‘And the political aspects of having a connection to a new kingdom...’

‘Roztov!’, cried Meggelaine, ‘Why must you... Why must you always...’

‘I’m just thinking about it, you know, not trying to...’

‘Uch!’ groaned Meggelaine. ‘I hate druids!’

Floran looked like he wanted to say something but didn’t want to interrupt. Roztov nodded at him to go ahead.

‘Could we build a circle here? On this island, in order to get home?’

Roztov was smiling, he liked the idea, but was aware of the practicalities, ‘In theory maybe. If we could cut and move eighteen twenty-five ton stones and if Meg could remember all her years of research. It would be less effort to build another ship.’

‘Well, why don’t we build a ship then?’

‘Do you know how to build a ship Floran?’

‘No,’ admitted the wizard. ‘Perhaps Salveri knows.’

‘Have you asked him?’

‘No.’

‘Me neither, but I doubt it. I live in a house, but I couldn’t build one. We could have considered repairing what was left of the Red Maiden, but well… repairing or building a ship… It would draw the dragons and manhunters down on us.’

‘Yet druids have power over wood, no?’

Floran was never one to take a strong side in any discussion and historically always went along with the groups decisions, but sometimes it was almost as if he woke up from whatever was going on in his head and would engage with what was going on in the real world.

‘We do. We can shape wood with our magic. I can, and have in the past, repaired holes in the sides of ships using magic. The Red Maiden was broken in two though.’

‘So…’

‘So, Tup?’

‘So, we are going to this Stovologard place? It is decided?’

‘Unless you have any better ideas.’

‘Roztov!’ chided Meggelaine, ‘Stop teasing the poor fellow. Yes, Tuppence, we are going to Stovologard. To, probably, steal a ship. In the dead of night. Using magic to hide ourselves. Where were you when we talked about all this?’ said Meggelaine in exasperation, changing from being his defender to being his accuser in a breath.

‘Oh, I was…’

‘Just don’t worry about it Tuppence dear,’ she sounded cross. ‘We’ll wake you up when something big needs blasting.’

With that she stormed back up the line. Roztov gave Floran a wink.

‘One day she’ll see through that dopey act of yours.’

‘I don’t know what you mean, Roz.’

‘It’s not a bad idea. Well, that’s maybe a bit too much. It’s an idea, at least. Druids have a certain amount of power over rock as well as wood. Build a circle and use it to funnel people to the mainland.Do you think the dragons would notice?’

Floran did a passable impression of a confused dragon. ‘I’m sure there used to be people around here to do my biding, where did they all go?’

‘Maybe those dingbats in the GFC can put that on their to-do list right after discovering Hanna and defeating Old Bones.’

As the day wore on, the druids took turns scouting ahead, sometimes turning into birds and taking to the sky. After two hours of travel generally north, Ghene landed and told the others, ‘There are manhunters up there. They seem to be searching. We should hide.’

When you keep the company of three druids you will always find a good hiding place in a forest and it was not long before they were all sitting down together in one of the thickest parts of it. Nothing bigger than a man could have got near them due to the density of the trees and brambles. Ghene cast a spell that formed the bushes and brambles into a shelter. The rustling of the leaves and branches creaked and groaned as they intertwined, a sound that was most eerie to the others as they crouched underneath.

‘I’m going to cover our trail and take a wee look around,’ said Roztov who then turned into a fox and trotted off into the gloomy forest.

As he did so, Ghene cocked an ear and then held a finger to his lips. Everyone was quiet. After a while Broddor started to snore. Meggelaine dug her elbow into the sleeping dwarf and hissed at him.

Above them they could hear the beating of wings and the roars of the dragons as they called to each other. Meggelaine pointed upwards and the dwarf mouthed ‘oh right’ before settling back into a more comfortable position. For about the next hour they listened in silence to the noises of the hunt. Roars, the crashing of dragons through trees and sometimes the shouts of men.

Things seemed to go quiet as it got dark and eventually Roztov returned.

‘All good here?’ he asked.

‘All good. Where were you?’ asked Meggelaine.

‘Watching them,’ Roztov crept into the shelter of the hide and sat down. ‘They’ve gone, but give it half an hour I think before we set up camp.’

‘What did you see?’

‘I saw how they hunt. The dragons land and let the men off. The men then act like beaters, trying to flush things out. Sometimes the dragons dive through the trees like a fox hunting a mouse in a field of grass. They come crashing down, tree branches flying everywhere, and clutch their prey in their jaws. I don’t know if they were after us or just hunting game. The dragons ate a few vegetains and deer.’

‘If they had men with them, then they were hunting men,’ put in Floran, anxious to not cause offence at interrupting. ‘Manhunters… ahem… the clue is in the name. Dragons hunt game by themselves.’

‘Right,’ agreed Roztov. ‘That makes sense. What it looks like, well, the dragons are in charge of the hunting. It’s not like a man riding a horse. The dragon goes where the dragon wants to go. They drop off the men when they want them to chase out their prey. It’s like when men hunt with hounds.’

‘But in this case, the men are the hounds,’ said Meggelaine.

They camped where they had stopped that night. Druids can make anywhere in the forest comfortable and this area was no exception. They were kept warm by a fire and the walls of the hide and well fed by the plentiful game and winter forage that the druids brought back.

The next day went in much the same way. The druids scouted ahead and they did their best to avoid the manhunters. In the evening they made camp by a stream, on the slope of a hill. The druids used their magic to pull in the undergrowth to form a roof over them again. Above them snow was falling but it barely got past the trees and only a little fell on their shelter. Occasionally a drop of snow fell into the fire. The shelter was large enough to hold all of them, but some left the camp to attend to their own business after they had eaten their evening meal.

Those that remained in the camp sat quietly with their own thoughts. Salveri and Arrin looked into the fire, while Meggelaine and Ophess talked.

Initially it was quiet conversation, but without warning Ophess started crying and screaming.

‘Where is my father! Are they even looking for my father?’

Meggelaine jumped up and tried to sooth the girl.

‘Yes, yes, but please be quiet. There could be dragons about.’

‘You just said that there were no dragons for miles! You’re a liar!’

‘Please darling, have a care. It is better to be quiet. Roztov and Ghene are out looking for him now.’

‘You said he was safe! You said we would find him!’

‘Yes, yes, but shush. Please shush.’

Salveri and Arrin stood and went to the entrance of the hide. It was pitch dark, but they were nervous of being found by the manhunters.

‘If she doesn’t stop screaming someone should slit her throat,’ growled Salveri.

‘Salveri!’ gasped Arrin in genuine shock.

‘Well. Or knock her over the head at least.’

‘I can hear you!’ yelled Ophess at them. ‘Why are we moving around so much? If he was easy to find why have we travelled so much? I want to go back to the runaway’s town! We should go back there and wait.’

Two birds suddenly swooped into the camp, landed and turned into Roztov and Ghene.

‘What’s all the noise?’ hissed Roztov.

‘I hate you!’ she screamed at him.

‘What did I do?’ grumbled the druid. ‘Meg, you have to keep her quiet.’

‘I know, I know,’ said the fressle in despair. ‘What can I do though?’

‘What’s all the fuss?’

‘Where is my father!’ screamed Ophess.

‘The captain? Why, he is...’

Meggelaine held up her hands and said, ‘Roztov, a word...’

They went outside then walked down to the river. Roztov sat down at the bank so that he was at eye level with the fressle.

‘What’s going on Meg?’

‘I’ve been telling her that her father is alive and that we are looking for him.’

‘Oh dear, Meg,’ sighed Roztov. ‘He’s dead. We buried him.’

‘I know that. I didn’t know how else to keep her quiet. I know it’s my fault.’

‘Well, she was pretty highly strung to begin with, as I recall.’

‘Don’t blame her,’ said Meggelaine with an angry tone. ‘It’s been me that’s been telling lies to keep her quiet. It’s holding back the inevitable meltdown. And you men are no good, you are only interested in keeping her alive, not her mental wellbeing.’

‘Meg...’ Roztov started, but stopped when he didn’t know how to finish the sentence without getting his head bitten off.

‘She must have been on those rocks for a full day and night, don’t you see?’ said Meggelaine. ‘A full day and night, barely alive, with her skin all burnt up and up to her neck in salt water. I don’t know how she lived through that but she did. She must be a real fighter. Can you imagine the suffering Roz? And now all she clings on to is getting her father back. What do we do? You’re a father for Etruna’s sake! Oh you are all hopeless.’

Roztov remained silent. He knew Meggelaine well enough not to interrupt.

‘Well. You go pretend and look for him then. Fly back out and come back in an hour or so.’

He rolled his eyes, turned into an owl and flew off. Meggelaine turned back to the hide and saw that Ophess was watching from the entrance.

‘Come on. Get back to bed,’ chided Meggelaine.

‘Where did he go?’

‘To look for your father.’

‘Will he find him tonight?’

Meggelaine motioned the girl inside, then got her to lie down and then covered her with blankets.

‘I hate him.’

‘But why?’

‘He thinks he’s clever. Always bossing people around.’

Meggelaine tucked the girl in and patted her hair.

‘That’s my best friend you are talking about.’

Ophess sat up, suddenly forgetting her tears and said, ‘You are friends?’

‘Of course. We’ve known each for years. Us druids have to stick together you know.’

Ophess settle back again, ‘How did you become a druid?’

‘Oh I don’t know, I was just a girl really. It seems like a long time ago now. I worked in a bakery, and then later a tavern. My grannie, on my dad’s side had been a druid, my family made a huge thing about it. She’d gone east though, years before I was born and we all thought she was dead. Torms do things differently from humans and elves. They have their own methods, but in Tormwood the druids act as custodians of the woods and protectors of the forest folk. This is probably really boring for you...’

‘Just keep talking.’

‘Well, ahem,’ said Meggelaine, more used to addressing aging Great Forest Council members than children, ‘Tormwood has a human border run right through it, between Styke and Tomsk, so there is a lot of work for torm druids there making sure our people’s rights are respected. It’s a lot of work.

Well anyway, everyone thought my big brother was going to be a druid, but he became a merchant instead. He has a barge on the Duchy canals. I started showing some aptitude and interest, so well, my parents sent me off to the elders and well...’

‘Is it a big secret?’

‘Some of it is secret yes. Well, anyway, if you want to know how me and Roztov met, it was like this. It’s common for all druids to wander, since I’m also a citizen of Styke I thought I’d have a travel around and see what it was like. Not all torms become citizens, even if they are born in Styke, but it is granted to all torm druids. I ended up at Kardane, I liked the dwarves there and got friendly with Broddor. When he formed his company, I joined it a few weeks later. They needed someone to help scout the forest. Those goblins were really… naughty at that time.’

‘Just a bunch of dwarves?’

‘Don’t be like that. Well, after a while they took on more scouts. Dwarves are good fighters, but hopeless in the wilds. Ghene came along next. Then, I think, Tuppence came along too after that, I mean Floran. Then Roztov. When Roztov joined, more humans joined too. He’s the son of a baron you know.’

‘I don’t like him.’

‘You keep saying that. I don’t understand why.’

‘How come he is your best friend then, and not Broddor and Ghene? You knew them before him.’

‘Just by a few months.’

‘But how come?’ insisted the girl.

‘Hmm, well,’ replied Meggelaine, giving it some genuine thought. ‘Well, I think because out of all of them he likes me the most. The others like me well enough I suppose, but me and Roztov have always been very close. Maybe because we are both from Styke, but I think because he has never treated me like a lesser being. Most other people treat fressles poorly. Roztov, well, I think he prefers us to his own people to be honest.’

‘You sound like you love him.’

Meggelaine almost blushed, ‘Haha, well, yes I do, but like a brother maybe. You should sleep.’

Ophess didn’t argue and moments later she was asleep.

Meggelaine sat for a while, imagining what other questions Ophess might have asked and how she would have answered them. When she and Roztov had first met it was to fight the goblins. Styke was in dire straits. From the caverns below the Askbakar and Spidertooth Mountains hordes of them had come up, from the god’s knew where. Hungry and desperate they ravaged the kingdom. Would she have told Ophess about the bloody battles? The ethnic cleansing on both sides? Initially her sympathy was for the goblins, they were, after all, another pygmy race coming into conflict with humans, just like the torms. But goblins were irredeemably horrible. Torms have their own culture, they valued peace and the good things of life that came with it. The goblins seemed to only value destruction. In the end the goblins had been beaten back, but no one had come out of it well. It had been a hard few years in Styke, before King Woad claimed the throne, and it had not got much better after that. The Company had left by then though. How long had it been? They’d left Styke about ten years ago and Woad was crowned about three years after that. It felt like an age, so much had happened...

Meggelaine lay back beside the girl and let thoughts of the past drift away and was soon asleep herself.

In the morning Arrin was the first to wake. He had been having a nightmare about the sinking of the Red Maiden. He had no desire to go back to sleep so went outside to pee. Ghene was on watch, it was just before dawn.

‘Good morning,’ said the elf.

‘Good morning, my lord,’ said the young man as he stifled a yawn. ‘Is Roztov still out there?’

‘Yes, he is tracking Dreggen.’

‘You druids can go without sleep, my lord?’

‘No more than anyone else.’

It wasn’t long before it was time to break camp. The leftovers from last night’s dinner was quickly eaten for breakfast then all the blankets, pots, cups, knives and spoons got packed up into bags. The fire was put out and water for the day was drawn from the stream into the water skins. Arrin joined in willingly with the work. Salveri grumbled that cleaning pots and pans was women’s work, but made sure that none of the women actually heard him.

Arrin didn’t mind, he had helped his mother in the house. The atmosphere was clear and crisp, but their breath hung around them like a fog, making the air damp. He shouldered one of the heavier bags and joined Ghene who was getting ready to set off. Not far from them, Broddor who had washed in the river was now strapping on the last of his plate armour, to Arrin it looked like a complicated business, but the dwarf did it with the practices ease of someone how had done it hundreds of times, like a man lacing up his boots.

Salveri was next to join those who were ready to go, his face dark with fear and anger, then Tankle was next out of the hide, her hair tied back under a woollen hat. Her arm was still in a sling, but it seemed to be healing fast.

Arrin could hear Meggelaine talking to Ophess as she tried to persuade her to get dressed. Off to the left of the hide, Floran appeared from the trees, buttoning up his britches then letting his robe fall down to his calves. Finally Meggelaine and Ophess emerged from the hide, but then there was some delay over which cloak she wanted to wear, which meant that Broddor was next to join those that were ready.

Arrin wondered how long they would be in the forest, travelling like this. Days, weeks, even months? Would every morning be the same? Broddor putting on his armour, Ophess the last one to be ready? The others standing still, more or less patiently, with their bags dropped at their feet, waiting for the start of that day’s trek?

Arrin had never told anyone onboard the Red Maiden, but his family were quite well off. He had been better educated than any of the other sailors and he was sure that wasn’t just him being big headed. Salveri seemed to be full of prejudices, racism and stupidity, Arrin judged this to be pretty standard for sailors, even the younger ones. It didn’t mean he didn’t like them, he was aware of the advantages he had had in life. His parent’s house had a large garden with a small gazebo at the back. Sometimes he and his brother had camped there, in beds that had been made up by the maid. They had only ever done it in the summer of course, but the last couple of nights in the relatively comfortable druidic hides had reminded him of his younger days.

It had been his decision to join the crew of the Red Maiden. Arrin was a young man of eighteen years. He had worked in the tops, where Salveri had worked too, but he had not talked to him much. On his off time he socialised with the others of his own age, some of the deck hands, one or two of the stewards and the cook’s assistant. That had been his gang. The older sailors had their own cliques, they tended to play cards or throw dice in the evenings, drink rum and sing songs. The younger ones often swapped stories about Tankle and the other women on board the Red Maiden. They had all wanted to bed her, but had no idea how to approach the subject.

All his friends were dead now, he tried not to think about it. It was sheer luck that he had been up the main mast when the fire struck. Like many of the others outside on the deck or up the masts he had jumped into the sea. He couldn’t swim, neither could any of his friends. Roztov had pulled him from the water.Once more that was down to nothing but luck. Why him? He was afraid to ask, he didn’t want to talk about that day, but sometimes he wondered why the druid picked him out of the sea and not one of the others. He guessed it was because he had been the nearest. Later, when the druid had buried some of the recovered bodies using his magic and a swipe of his arms, Arrin had seen two of his friends down there in the pit and had said nothing.

He was still young, and could not put into words how he felt. He wasstill in shock, just surviving hour by hour, following the others and hoping for the best.

He had worked with Salveri, but in truth he had not liked him much. He had seen Salveri as a pretty grumpy and unapproachable fellow. He was always complaining and always lawyering about some fairly trivial rule or regulation of the captain’s.

Now, here they were, Arrin, Salveri and Tankle, the last of the Red Maiden. He didn’t count Dreggen or Ophess. Well, Ophess maybe. She had not been part of the crew and she was pretty horrible really, but he felt sorry for her.

He still found Salveri grumpy and complaining, but saw the wisdom of sticking with the older man. He knew lots of things and seemed to have the measure of the mercenaries they had been taking west. What had the captain been thinking? What had he, Arrin, been thinking come to that?

His father and older brother were both sailors, but they just went up and down the west coast. When the captain had said they were going to go further west than anyone had gone before and that they were all going to come back rich, Arrin had been all for it. What a fool.

How he wished he was back home now, with his mother, helping around the house and running errands as he had when he’d been a boy. His father was a first mate, their family was well to do. It wasn’t as if they had really needed him to bring back a fortune. He’d give all the diamonds in Fiarka to be home right now.

‘Sal, where are we going?’

‘North. Stovologard. Haven’t you been paying attention?’

‘My mind keeps wandering. You know, wandering back to the Red Maiden…’

‘Don’t let it. Don’t dwell on it, just concentrate on staying alive. If we survive we’ll have plenty of time to relive all that horror.’

‘I know, but...’

‘Just keep it together,’ Salveri seemed in a foul mood this morning. ‘She’s ready now, let’s go.’

Ophess marched past them in a sulk. Meggelaine rolled her eyes at Ghene as she went past.

The elf then said, ‘Looks like we are ready then. Broddor, bring up the rear please.’

The dwarf nodded.

Arrin suddenly realised they were missing one of their party and blurted out, ‘Oh, my lord! What about Roztov?’

‘Do not worry, man,’ said Ghene. ‘He has already had his breakfast and gone on ahead. I dare say that we will see him at lunch.’

Arrin nodded, then feeling rather stupid, he shouldered his bag and fell in behind Salveri as they began their march.

They did indeed meet Roztov for lunch. He walked into the camp and sat down at the fire where some rotrok was being roasted. There was enough room for them all to sit by the fire and there was only one conversation. It had turned to the variates of dragons.

‘Are the coloured ones evil and the metallic ones good?’ asked Floran.

‘I’ve heard that,’ said Roztov, the nearest they had to a dragon expert. ‘But I’ve never seen any evidence of it.’

Floran reached for the spoon that sat in the cooking pot and put more meat onto his plate while he said, ‘What, then, are the colour of the ones in Styke?’

Roztov, who had already finished eating, leaned back on his elbow and smoothed down his beard.

‘Hmm, let’s see. There are a few young ones in Tanglewood, I think they are all green. Then there is Caladrak, well he’s just a heap of bones. And the Usurper, well I’ve never seen him, but I think he’s a sort of yellowy-brown. Kresh-ember once flew over Timu when I was young, he was black. Oh, and some grey thing once crept out Gnarlwold when I was even younger, just a baby, but I remember my father told me it was grey or maybe silver.’

‘I see,’ said Floran with interest. ‘And which of those were good and which were evil?’

‘They are all pretty nasty.’

Meggelaine, who could never stay out of any conversation for long said, ‘I heard that too though, the colours, red, blue, green, you know, they are all evil. The metallic ones, gold, silver, copper and things. They are the good ones.’

Roztov tried to pat her on the head, but she flinched away with a look of irritation.

‘I think that’s just in books, Meg. I’ve no idea to be honest. All I know is that in Styke, whatever colour they are, they are all horrible bastards.’

‘What was the name of that thing we came up against in Pechanga?’ asked Broddor.

‘Oh, the Sleeper. Ice Dragon, his name was Hydrefin.’

‘Huh.’

Meggelaine clapped her hands. ‘Yes yes. What an adventure that was! We had trekked all the way up from Ixnay. Knowing what we know now, it was obviously a bad idea. We had no guide or anything. What was the name of those people that we met? Oh, they had a chief, ugly fellow. What was his name, Roz? No, Anyone?...’

Roztov shrugged and smiled, the succeeded in tussling her hair.

‘Oh get off,’ she said.

After a pause Arrin said, ‘What about Old Bones?’

‘What about him?’ asked Roztov.

‘I mean, is he real? My mum always used to use him to scare us into doing what he was told.’

‘You’re mum and everyone else’s mum.’

Arrin was shy speaking to the druids, but continued, ‘I’ve never seen a dragon, but I’ve heard of Old Bones. The great undead dragon that lives east of Norob. Well, that’s what they said.’

‘Ghene is the expert on that subject,’ said Roztov with an almost inaudible sigh. He then gestured with his free hand as if to give the elf the stage.

Ghene looked up from his plate where he had been picking at the remains of his dinner.

‘Oh, ahem,’ he said clearing his throat. ‘He is real alright. He’s a very big problem in the Great Forest. Not only is he undead, he is a necromancer. This voyage, well it was not a secret, was to find the ancient Dynarians because it had been them that had stopped him back in the year 25. They didn’t kill him, or even defeat him, but the pushed him back. True, it cost them their civilisation, but they did it.’

Arrin listened on, trying to take in things that sounded very alien to him. Roztov lay back and shut his eyes. He had had similar conversations with Ghene every evening on the Red Maiden.

Ghene continued. ‘It’s… well, you know, most of the people don’t realise just how strong his influence is all over the world. Look at what’s happening in Gnarlwold. That’s the work of Garamuda. That’s his more proper name by the way. You can see his influence in the eastern kingdoms. Vampires, witches, all sorts of terrible things. If it wasn’t for the GFC the whole continent would be over run. It’s most of our work holding it all in check.’

Roztov knew most of this, and did think that Ghene was overstating things a bit. Garamuda tended to get the blame for everything that happened in Nillamandor, whether he was involved or not.

‘I had no idea,’ gulped Arrin.

‘The history of my people is the history of our fight against Garamuda. If he’d not tried to conquer everything west of Norob the Dynar would still be here. There would have been no Marawan empire and, I dare say, there would have been no kingdoms of men.’

Roztov leaned up and said, ‘You always say that. I’d just like to state for the record, who can say what might have been? I’ve always said this, never underestimate the goblins. They have shaped the whole continent more than anyone else and yet they are always forgotten in history.’

‘Because they record no history.’

Broddor laughed. ‘Don’t start this line of argument again Roztov, you daft old goblin-lover.’

‘Yes, yes, old news I know,’ said Roztov good-naturedly. ‘I can agree that Garamuda has contributed to the shaping of the world today, that’s true. But what would have happened had he not been around is just speculation.’

‘Roztov,’ said Ghene patiently.‘I’ve spend more than your span of years studying this subject. All this has led up to this ill-fated journey and our presence on this island. We are searching for the last of the Dynar. They were a mighty race, who sacrificed themselves to save the world from Garamuda. If not for that wretched dragon they would still be here.’

‘Perhaps,’ Roztov conceded. ‘I know you don’t agree with this, but in Styke we don’t see any difference between the Dynar and the Empire. The Dynar never left, they just became the Marawan.’

Roztov knew that Ghene knew all this, but continued for the benefit of the rest of the listeners.

‘In Styke the ruins of the Marawan Empire are everywhere. In the north of the country are hundreds of miles of canal that they built. They were hardly a remnant. Half the cities of man are built on the ruins of Marawan settlements. Garamuda had nothing to do with that. It was the endless goblin wars, picking away. You know there is way more goblins in Styke than all the other races put together?’

Meggelaine realised that this could be the start of another heated argument between Roztov and Ghene and that Roztov was not above name calling, something that she couldn’t abide the notion of in front of the non-druids.

She coughed and said, ‘We can all agree that Old Bones is bad anyway. While Ghene looks east, I look west and take it from me, Old Bones has his claws in everything. Half the plots against the rulers of the kingdoms of men are funded by gold that has come from the Norob Forest. He is too old to conquer the continent with force and fire so now he uses intrigue and guile. And his armies of undead. Who wants the last of this meat? Anyone?’

The conversation moved on, and after a while meandered into the oft travelled territory of the druids explaining to Floran what was going on.

‘I noticed that you did not summon wolves to aid Broddor, Salveri and Arrin in the fight against the manhunters. I thought it odd at the time, was there a reason? Is it because there are no wolves in this forest?’ asked the wizard.

‘That’s a good guess, Tup.’

‘I remember you used to summon dire wolves in Styke and snow leopards in the Moon Marshes. There would not be much point in summoning a herd of vegetains to fight dragons I suppose.’

‘That’s right, Tup. Druid magic is a bit more, what’s the word, uh, sympathetic maybe than you and your lot. You learn a spell, you cast a spell. Seems simple.’

Floran choked back a laugh. Roztov gave him a wink and continued.

‘For us, we need to attune to an area for a while. The longer we are in the forest the more power we can draw from it. It’s a decent size, not the Great Forest, but decent. I think I’ve been here long enough to summon wolves, even if the nearest one is hundreds of miles away.’

Roztov knew that Floran knew the rest, but continued for the sake of Arrin and Tankle who were listening intently.

‘Well, we summon aspects of creatures, not the creatures themselves. If I summon a bunch of wolves they are a manifestation of the power of the forest, not actual wolves you understand. The longer we are here, the more can be summoned.’

‘Can Ghene and Meggelaine do it too, my lord?’ asked Arrin.

‘Oh, of course. All druids learn this.’

‘I could just about summon a squirrel,’ said Meggelaine as she sorted out the leftovers. ‘Roztov is the master of it, probably better than any druid in the GFC.’

Roztov coughed, ‘Come now, don’t compare me to Lilly and the rest.’

‘Oh, she says you’re obsessed with it,’ chortled Meggelaine. ‘You should hear her. “Roztov and those bloody animals, he should be helping us here in the council, not surrounding himself with beasts”.’

Roztov laughed but explained to the bemused sailors, ‘She jests. Lilly would never talk like that. She is an ancient elf elder of the Forest Council. Not a side show act.’

‘Well, I bet she thinks it though,’ said Meggelaine. Roztov nodded agreement at that.

‘You could summon wolves now, my lord?’ asked Tankle looking around at the shadows anxiously.

‘I probably could yes. I feel attuned enough with this forest now I think. If the need arises. There are no wolves or bears within hundreds of miles of here though, no predators of any kind, unless you count sharks I suppose. Or dragons of course. It makes it harder, but not impossible.’

Meggelaine had put away the uneaten food and lunch was over. They would eat the remainder in the evening. Camp was broken and they moved on again. The line was the same as always, with Ghene at the front and Roztov at the back. Occasionally one of the druids would scout ahead for a while and then they would continue.

Ghene was an expert woodsman, a druid attuned to the forest, with all of abilities channelled into known the land and what lay ahead. As a result he saw the hunter before the hunter saw him. It was a short, oldish man, perhaps in his fifties, but who had had a rough outdoor life. He was dressed in deerskins and carried a bow and a boar piglet carcass strung on a stick.

Ghene stopped the others then went forward to make contact. The hunter was nervous at first, but was curious of the small figure that stood before him and gave him a friendly wave. When the hunter didn’t bolt, Ghene called up Floran who tried to strike up a conversation in draconic.

The hunter smiled, revealing crooked teeth and talked to the wizard in the rough local dialect.

‘He is hunting food for his wife. He says she is sick,’ reported the wizard. ‘He speaks draconic really badly. I can hardly make out what he says. I think his name is, well, it sound like Ball. Mr Ball I suppose is his name.’

‘I see. How far away is his wife?’ asked Ghene.

After another exchange Floran said, ‘He says about half a mile away.’

Ghene wave Meggelaine up to where the hunter was.

‘This gentleman is Mr Ball, Meg. He has a sick wife. You are the least threatening looking out of all of us. Would you like to go take a look at her?’

Mr Ball took some persuading. Having never seen a torm before,hewas convinced that Meggelainewas a small child. When Ophess grew impatient and came up to see what was going on, she demanded that she not be separated from Meggelaine. This seemed to appease the hunter somewhat as Ophess was nearly as tall as him. In the end he shrugged and led them off into the forest.

After a few dozen yards and when they were alone with Ball, Ophess suddenly got worried and said, ‘It this safe? He could be anyone.’

‘No need to whisper my dear. He doesn’t understand us,’ said Meggelaine as she took the girl’s hand. ‘If he causes any trouble I’ll turn into a griffon and flatten him.’

Ophess continued to fret and complain all the way to where the hunter’s hut was. It was a well hidden lean-to that had been built up beside a low overhanging cliff. There wasn’t much room, but inside on a narrow bed there indeed lay a small lady all covered up in homespun blankets.

She was amazed to see visitors in her small house, but Ball talked to her for a while and she settled down. Two small girls were not very threatening after all.

‘Now then, let’s take a look at you,’ said Meggelaine in a business-like manner. Mrs Ball was perplexed to be administered to by what she took to be a five year old child, but Meggelaine was so deft and her movements so practiced that all the old woman could do was let it happen. Meggelaine spent a few minutes examining the old lady then said to Ophess, because no one else could understand her after all, ‘She has the blue death. From drinking dirty water. I can cure her, but I’ll also have to explain to them how to stop it from happening again. Hmm.’

Meggelaine rubbed her hands together then shut her eyes and started chanting under her breath. After a full five minutes of this, long enough for Ophess to grow bored, Meggelaine laid her hands on Mrs Ball’s chest. Her chanting changed in tempo as her small childlike fingers began to glow at the tips. The light fromMeggelaine’s fingers spread all over the old ladies body, until she was bathed in it. Meggelaine kept chanting, just audibly, as the magic did its work. Both the Balls gasped in wonder as they witnessed the druidic magic draw the disease from her and destroy it.

In a few more minutes it was all over, Meggelaine stood back and smiled. Mrs Ball sat up in her bed and threw off the covers, evidently now as fit as a flea. She laughed and walked over to where a bucket of water was placed on the floor. She took a cup and raised it to her dry lips.

‘No no, Mrs Ball!’ Meggelaine said in alarm. She mimed throwing the water away, ‘It’s dirty water you silly old woman. It will make you sick again. Puh! Puh!’

The sturdy little torm then picked up the bucket, took it outside and threw the water on ground.

‘Clean water from a stream!’ she said making hand motions. ‘Or boil it on the fire. Can’t you understand me?’

Meggelainepointed at the camp fire that the Balls evidently used to cook with and mimed boiling water. ‘Bubble bubble. Bubble bubble, Mrs Ball. I don’t know if she gets it.’

‘I want to go back now,’ said Ophess.

‘Just a little longer, sweetie.’

Meggelaine took a further ten minutes attempting to explain to the old couple the dangers of drinking dirty water and she wasn’t content until she was sure they understood. They nodded and smiled, then nodded and smiled again, then patted her head. Mrs Ball suddenly leapt up, ran into the house and brought out a saucer of milk. She put it next to the torm on the ground and stood back.

‘They think you are some sort of fairy, Meg. They think you are a silly little pixie.’

‘Don’t be rude, some of my best friends are pixies.’

Meggelaine picked up the saucer and sniffed the milk.

‘Hmm, fresh. Goat’s milk,’ she then drank it all and smacker her lips then smiled. ‘Delicious!’

Ophess looked around, ‘I wonder where they keep it?’

Mrs Ball ducked back in to her meagre dwelling then returned with a stoppered jug of milk. Meggelaine tried to refuse it, but in the end Ophess offered to carry it back. In return Meggelaine fumbled about in her pocket and pulled out an acorn.

‘This is an acorn from the Great Forest. Do you understand? It has magical properties, ahhhh!’

The Balls smiled and nodded.

‘If you feel sick. Sick. Sick, do you see? If you feel sick, sleep with it in your hand. See? In your hand? Sleeping, sleeping,’ said Meggelaine, reinforcing her words with mime. ‘You wake up feeling better. Do you see? Oh that will do. Also, plant it if you like. In a hundred years you’ll have a magic acorn tree of your very own.’

After more smiles, nods and farewells they left the Balls. Turning to wave one last time, Ophess asked, ‘Is the acorn truly magical?’

‘Yes,’ confirmed Meggelaine. ‘It won’t cure a disease like the blue death, but it will help them fight it off, if they are strong enough. It’s better for stopping infections and healing wounds.’

‘How many do you have?’

Meggelaine checked her pockets.

‘Ah, nine.’

‘Can I have one?’

‘Well, oh, very well,’ Meggelaine grumbled as she handed one over. ‘Don’t lose it though. And if you feel sick come and see me first. An acorn is not a substitute for a druid.’

‘I won’t. I will.’

They followed the path back to the others, all the while Ophess looking over her acorn from all angles.

Once they were back with the others, the whole group set off once more. Roztov left Broddor to bring up the rear for a while so he could talk to Meggelaine.

‘How were they set for winter?’

‘I don’t know,’ shrugged the fressle. ‘I didn’t ask.’

‘But did you look?’ continued Roztov. ‘Did they have food, cured meat, preserves?’

‘I think I saw a ham hanging up. Come to think of it no, I smelt it. I smelt cured meat.’

‘Any pots? Jars? Jugs?’

‘Um, some clay pots,’ said Meggelaine, biting her top lip.

‘No jars?’

‘Look, I'm sorry Roz,’ said Meggelaine getting impatient. ‘I was concentrating on making his wife better.’

Roztov continued pestering his friend for a while longer, and as the group strung out a bit, Salveri asked Floran. ‘Why is he so interested in pots and pans?’

The wizard glanced over at the sailor as they walked along, then smiled and said,‘Well, if I know my friend, he is already thinking about his next paper to the Royal Society of Timu. If they had potsthen they have access to clay, or trade for it. If jars, then they either made their own glass, orindeed trade for it. Either way, Roztov is trying to work out the scale of the runaway human society, its economics, things like that. He has done it every other time we have been far from home like this.’

‘Huh. He must be confident we’ll make it back. The other druids don't write?’

‘No, it's a human thing. I too write, I mean, we ugari. If I survive this I will probably write a book about it. My peopleare greatly interested in dragons and suchlike.’

‘You are not human, er, my lord?’ asked Arrin who was listening in to the conversation.

‘Well. No. We ugari are different from your kind in many ways, not just the colour of our skin.’

‘Oh?’ said Salveri and winked at Arin behind the wizard’s back.

‘Well,’ Floran seemed rather embarrassed. ‘We live longer, ahem, are more in tune with magic. Ahem, well, perhaps you should get Roztov to tell you what he thinks and get a human perspective on this.’

By the time it was dark and the druids were setting up camp Floran was relieved to see that the sailors had forgotten they had talked to him or at least had decided not to ask Roztov about what made ugari different from other men.

The sacks that they all carried were dumped in the centre of the camp site, then a fire was lit and water was boiled for tea. As this was done, Meggelaine began to prepare the dinner while the others carried out such chores as gathering firewood, unpacking the cooking gear and other mundane tasks. Floran sat with a book open on his knees, only half taking in what was going on around him. Everyone left him alone to his studies, it was part of the life of a Hyadnian Vizard to spend a lot of your day deep in study.

He barely noticed as Roztov told the other druids that he was going to scout about for a while, just to be sure there were no dangers nearby. If Floran had bothered to pay attention he might have noticed a slight note of tension between the druids, as if they were not quite sure of their safety.

There was a flutter of feathers as Roztov turned into an owl, then took to the sky.

The campsite had settled in for the evening when Roztov returned. This time he was on foot, running as fast as he could. As he arrived at the camp he yelled, ‘Run! Run! Run for it!’

Everyone froze for a split second, then reacted in various ways. Meggelaine went to start packing up the equipment, Ghene turned to find his pack, the others picked up weapons or readied themselves for action.

‘No time to save anything, just run!’ repeated Roztov.

He then turned into a griffin, took Ophess, who was standing stock still in confusion, into his claws and flew up into the sky.

Ophess screamed as they gained altitude. The griffin tossed her into the air and caught her on its back. She scrambled desperately, but then managed to grab handfuls of feathers and clamp her legs around its ribs. The griffin screeched, shrugged its burden into a more comfortableposition then flapping furiously headed almost directly upwards.

Ophess screamed again as dragon-fire lit the sky. They were below them though, shooting upwards, and the flames fell short. Higher and higher they went and Ophess lost her breath. She could no longer scream, she just held on to the griffin as firmly as she could. The higher they went, the colder the air got and she felt her hands and face going numb. Just when she thought she was about to lose her grip and fall the griffin screeched again then plunged into an angled dive. Ophess could hear dragons around them, roaring and breathing fire, but she buried her face into the griffin’s feathers, not wanting to look and expecting to be burnt to a crisp at any second.

The griffin screeched and cried in pain and she smelt burnt feathers. They swooped upwards again, in a steep angled glide. She felt herself pressed into the griffin’s back for several seconds, then it was climbing again, once more leaving the dragons below, breathing fire and angrily trying to keep up.

Ophess chanced to look down over her leg and saw dozens of dark winged shapes silhouetted in the flames of their breath. The griffin climbed ever higher, seemingly heading for the stars. Ophess wondered if they could fly to the moon, she had no idea if that was possible, but it certainly seemed as if they could not go down to the forest again, what with all the dragons between them and the ground.

Suddenly she was holding nothing.

She screamed hoarsely as her arms and legs frantically waved around in the air. Then Roztov, the man, grabbed her, and she just about clawed the skin off his neck as she took hold of him.

‘Yes that’s right,’ gasped Roztov as he tried to stop her from choking him. ‘Hold on tight. When I change back I will hold you in my claws.’

She had no breath left to scream with as they plunged back down to the forest. She looked down over the druid’s shoulder as the dragons below got closer and closer. One moment the dragons were all around them, then in an instant they were above them. They breathed their flames, but were far too late, just lighting up the sky harmlessly.

At the last moment Roztov turned back into a griffin and braked hard with his wings for the remaining twenty yards. As they crashed through the trees he shielded Ophess with his wings.

They landed in a heap of feathers that rolled along the forest floor before crashing into a tree and coming to a halt. Nothing moved for a few seconds, until finally the griffin let out a long low groan. It then delicately unfurled its wings and using its claws lifted up Ophess and placed her on her feet.

She was shaking violently and hiccupping.

The griffon rolled onto its legs, stood and shook its wings. It then lifted its head up, reared and called out in a deep rumbling screech.

In the next heartbeat there were lights in the forest, flickering for a second or two then disappearing. Then wolves began to arrive, skulking through the trees. One, then two, then two more, then three and more, until there were dozens of them. They were huge, the size of horses, with thick shaggy black pelts and teeth as long as a man’s finger. Ophess pressed up against the griffin in fear. It sat down and motioned with its beak for her to get on its back and she did so.

It then reared up and called again. This time bears appeared in bright lights, with feint popping sounds, all around them. Theyglowed for a moment or two, and then did not. They were massive brown creatures, like nothing Ophess had ever seen before, with claws the size of steak knives.

Dragons began to crash through the trees, and were immediately set upon by the wolves and bears. Ophess watched as a dragon was pulled down by a gang of the druid’s creatures. It breathed fire and immolated a bear, but the bear kept coming, with its fur on fire it raked at the dragon’s wings, ripping them to shreds.  The griffin she was mounted on shuddered and changed, the feathers turning to fur and she ascending about three feet as the griffin turned into a bear. It then loped off into the forest, flanked by wolves and other bears. Ophess kept low on its back to avoid branches, holding onto the thick fur as tightly as she could and digging her feet into its broad back. She chanced a look over her shoulder and saw wolves, bears and dragons locked in battle in a burning forest, behind her.

More dragons landed and tried to pursue them, but then several wolves and bears would peel off from the main group and meet the attack. A dragon could kill a wolf or a bear, or maybe more, but was always overcome by the weight of animals that hurled themselves against them. Trees were thrown aside in the brutal battles that broke out around them. The bear she was riding kept going though, seeming to be able to find its way through the forest with ease, despite its size.

They kept going for some time, until the sounds of fighting was left behind and all she heard was the sweep of the trees going past and the panting of the bear.

Her arms and legs were stiff now, but she dared not let go. Eventually the bear stopped and sat down and she slid off its back and lay down on the cold forest floor.

The bear turned back into a man and sat down beside her, crossing his legs.

‘That was a close one,’ he said. ‘I expect you are terrified after all that, but look at it this way, you are still alive. Well, anyway, once we’ve got our breath back we’ll go look for the others, right?’

Ophess found that she could not move or speak.

Island of Dragons - DRAFT - Chapter 3 –Manhunters (8874)

Chapter 3 –Manhunters (8874)

As soon as Roztov had cleared the trees and was in the air he had to dodge frantically as a narrow jet of flame lanced towards him. By the moonlight he saw dozens of dark winged shadows above him, swooping down.

He spiralled and soared upwards as two more jets of flame were aimed at him. By the light of the flames he got a split second look at one of them. A young dragon, he judged, and possibly with a mount.

As he considered this, one he had not seen previously shot right past him and as he weaved up above it he saw the dragon was mounted by a man, or a man-shaped being, in black plate armour and a helmet in the shape of some sort of snarling beast with bulging eyes.

The other dragons, seemingly unconcerned, flew past him to then breathe fire down into the trees. They were clearly attacking the camp and had probably only aimed at him for sport, he realised, mistaking him for a real owl. He dove back down into the forest, landed on the pine needle coated ground and met Broddor as he came to the entrance of the cave. The trees all around it were already on fire, but in the canopy above.

‘Owl Roztov?’ asked the dwarf.

Roztov shook his feathers and changed back into a man. As he was about to speak the trees directly above them lit up as fire rained down from abovethem. Both of them ducked instinctually.

‘There are about twenty young dragons with riders up there. I’m going back up to fight them. Send out Meg and Ghene. You and Tup defend the cave.’

Broddor didn’t question the order and ran back to the cave entrance. Roztov changed back into an owl and swooped back up into the trees, finding a path through the fire. Once aloft he soared up on the hot air from the flames, above the dragons. He then stooped, swooping down onto the back of one of them, and at the last moment he changed again, into a hippogriff and crashed into the rider. The rider was tossed from the saddle and plunged screaming into the trees. The dragon tried to twist its neck around to bite or breathe fire onto him, but Roztov sunk his huge beak into its neck and raked its body with his talons.

The other dragons reacted with confusion. Two breathed fire at the entangled combatants and one of the narrow jets hit both friend and foe. The dragon crashed into the trees as the hippogriff screeched and released its prey. With smoke streaming from his tail, Roztov bet his wing furiously to gain height on the dragons. Again they acted with confusion, some trying to catch him, others heading down into the burning trees.

As he swooped down, he saw another hippogriff appear from nowhere and crash headlong into a dragon. Together they spiralled down into the trees. A puzzled looking owl glided past him, did a somersault then turned into a rather kittenish griffin before pouncing on the nearest dragon.

He lost sight of Meggelaine as he crashed into another dragon. The rider managed to stay in his saddle, but Roztov gripped him around the waist with his claws and ripped him off, both of his boots flying off into the night. Roztov then tossed the rider after his footwear.

Down on the ground, Broddor had spotted that some of the dragons had landed, or rather climbed down through the trees and their riders had dismounted. He turned to Floran, who stood nearby and said, ‘Guard the cave. I’m going to cause some injuries.’

The wizard nodded and began to chant, cupping his hands together as if holding a moth.

Broddor held his sword, Gronmorder, a heavy two-handed weapon, above his head as he charged the armoured men. Broddor had been sleeping in his plate mail, as he always did when camping in dangerous areas and he also wore a full face helmet of dull steel. The men seemed confused to be meeting such a short, but ferocious foe and one of them was as dead as a doornail, cut near in half, before the others reacted and started stabbing at Broddor with their spears. The dwarf swung his claymore, fending off their weapons artfully. As more of the hunters joined the battle against him he swung faster, with apparent boundless energy. He had no opening to slay another of them, but neither could they land a spear on him heavily enough to do any damage.

Salveri, Arrin and Tankle watched from the dog leg at the back of the cave. They couldn’t see the druids but they could see the light of the flames and the screeches and snarls of the winged creatures above. Neither could they see Broddor, but they could hear the clanging of metal on metal from beyond the cave mouth. The only person they could see was Floran, standing with the hood of his blue robe up, silhouetted against the light.

Floran was chanting now, and clinking his rings and amulets, rubbing them and making them glow with a pale red light.

Arrin tugged at Salveri’s shirt.

‘What is he doing?’

‘Southern magic.’

Salveri stepped out of the narrow dogleg and into the main cave.

‘What are you doing?’ hissed Arrin.

Salveri went over to one of the seal skin bags that were piled at the side of the cave and pulled out a short sword.

‘I’m not going to stand idly by, cowering in the cave like a child while everyone else fights.’

‘It’s all fire and dragons out there though, Sal. What use would we be?’

‘More use than being in here.’

Salveri gripped the sword and advanced to the mouth of the cave. Arrin gulped and took a sword.

He then picked up another and offered it to Dreggen who was hovering at the mouth of the dogleg.

‘Not that I have to give you an explanation,’ he said. ‘But someone should look after the womenfolk.’

Arrin said nothing and went to join Salveri.

Tankle wanted to go with them, but her right arm was in a sling. She picked up a sword and tried it in her left hand, but it so wrong and awkward that despite her desire to do so she saw no sense in joining the battle.

At the mouth of the cave, Salveri had stopped, unsure what to do and fearful. Arrin joined him in time to see a young dragon crash through the burning trees and land on the ground near the cave entrance. Seeing the three men the dragon shook the burning branches from their wings and advanced.

‘We’ve no chance...’ was all Arrin managed to say before Floran suddenly acted.

His hands shot out straight from his body and a bolt of ice one foot wide and ten feet long appeared from nowhere, flew through the air towards the dragon then exploded with a deafening crack. Shards of ice and lumps of dragon flew in all directions. Floran swept his arms up and a barrier of magical energy formed flickering up before him. At the same time Salveri and Arrin instinctually held their arms up to shield their heads. The ice and flesh bounced off the barrier harmlessly.

Floran let his hands drop to his side, turned to them and smiled.

‘Blimaron’s balls,’ muttered Salveri, looking at the mess of ice and dragon all around them.

‘If you want to join Broddor, then now would be a good time,’ said Floran gesturing to where the dwarf, outnumbered, battled the armoured men.

The sailors jogged over to where the fighting was happening. Arrin and Salveri screamed at the top of their lungs as they charged in, amongst the burning branches and shattered trunks.

Dragon breath hit the ground near them, narrow beams of flame that splashed onto the ground in fiery puddles. Salveri’s sword clattered against a spear, sending the man falling back. Arrin hit at their enemy but his sword merely clanged off the metal armour.

Broddor, from nowhere, leapt in, kicking the man in the head with a steel boot, before fending off two more that had emerged from the smoke. It was a confused skirmish, and for several minutes the dwarf and the sailors put up a stiff resistance, but the ferocity of the defenders was not enough to win against the greater numbers of the attackers. In a lull, the sailors and the dwarf regrouped but then found themselves surrounded. The armoured men did not attack, but simply edged closer with their spears. Broddor was bracing himself to charge the one closest to him when a hippogriff landed nearby with a thud and walked towards them. It clawed at an armoured man and sent him crashing into a tree, then clawed another, slamming him into the ground. The others dropped their spears and fled. Without breaking is stride through the smoke, the hippogriff then changed into Roztov.

‘Whoever they thought they were hunting, I doubt they expected such stiff resistance,’ said the druid.

‘Are we done?’ asked the dwarf.

A bolt of ice arched through the sky and struck a dragon as it flew over their heads. As dragon parts landed all around them, Roztov replied, ‘We are done.’

Back at the cave entrance, Broddor stood guard, a silent sentinel dressed in full plate armour, both hands resting on the pommel of his sword, the tip of the blade resting on the top of a smouldering dragon haunch.

Inside the druids tended to the wounded. Floran was unharmed, but Salveri had a deep stab wound in his right arm and Arrin had a big bruise on his head where he had run into a branch.

‘Bones blood, that’s painful!’ Salveri hissed as Ghene applied his hands to the injury.

‘Our magic speeds up the healing process,’ explained Ghene. ‘But it can also intensify the pain of the wound. It should pass soon.’

Meggelaine was at the rear of the cave, comforting Ophess, so Roztov was tending to Arrin.

‘You ran into a tree?’

‘During the fight,’ said Arrin. ‘When we were all running around like crazy men. I charged right into it. Lucky though. There was none of them near enough to get me while I picked myself up.’

‘Lucky,’ said Roztov. Then addressing everyone,‘I don’t think they were expecting us to fight back. I’ve a feeling more powerful dragons will come soon. We should leave this area.’

He glanced outside, there was a forest fire starting in earnest now.

‘Well it is on fire after all,’ stated Floran with no hint of sarcasm.

Tankle joined the group in the cave and asked for details on the battle, she addressed Floran first.

‘I did not see all. I killed three dragons,’ said Floran

He then looked at Roztov, ‘How went it in the sky?’

‘Oh I’m not sure,’ muttered the druid. ‘Maybe four or five between us.’

‘We on the ground killed three men and wounded four others,’ called Broddor from the entrance. ‘No prisoners,’ said Ghene. ‘A strange battle. Why did they come for us?’

‘I’ve no idea. And men mounted on dragons. I’ve heard of it, but never seen it. In history wasn’t there... ahh...I forget.’

‘The Dynar were said to ride wyverns, and griffins,’ said Ghene.

Arrin looked like he was about to say something, but held his tongue. Roztov still had his hand on his forehead, healing the wide bruise that lay across it.

‘Speak,’ said Roztov.

‘My father told me that the Knights of Ertia rode dragons. Hundreds of years ago, before the nogs.’

‘Yes, that’s right I remember now. They were said to be the first men, by those in the south anyway. It’s not commonly known of in the north. I think, yes that’s right, I saw a statue in a nog town down there, of a man on a dragon. I asked a nog and he told me he didn’t know where it had come from but it was assumed to have been built by the “first men”. How did your father know about it?’

‘Sailor’s tales I suppose.’

Ghene had finished with Salveri and stood up to look at the other druid, ‘Is there no land you have not travelled? No kingdom you have not visited? And how did you enter Ertia? The nogs have built a wall around it.’

‘You, a druid, ask how I got in?’

‘Oh,’ said Ghene with a smile. ‘I suppose that was a stupid question. And why did a nog talk to you?’

‘This was just after the war.’

Ghene gave Roztov a long look then said, ‘Sometimes I wonder. Anyway, the “first men” are legends. They never existed. You humans and your history, half of it is made up you know.’

Roztov was used to sparing with his friend, enjoyed it even.

‘I didn’t say it was true, just that that was what the nog told me. There, Arrin, you are done. Go lie down for a few minutes before we leave.’

Roztov also stood, then walked out of the cave past Broddor.

‘Where do you go lad?’ asked the dwarf.

‘To take a look at one of the men.’

Together they walked over to one of the fallen enemies. There was enough light from the burning trees to see the corpse clearly.

‘What do you make of his armour?’ asked Roztov.

‘Steel. Well made, right enough. Ornate. The helmet is the work of a master craftsman.’

‘Yes. These are no forest savages. They were all wearing the same armour. Manufactured.’

Broddor nodded in agreement as he looked down at the body, tugging on his beard.

‘The ones I fought all wore the same armour. Like a uniform.’

Roztov knelt down and ran his hand over the breastplate.

‘This level of work, it would need civilisation to make. There must be a town or even a city around here.’

‘Could be hundreds of miles away though if they flew on the back of dragons.’

‘True.’

Roztov unbuckled the helmet and removed it. The head of a man with blonde hair was revealed. He was young and handsome.

‘Huh, I don’t what I was expecting, but it wasn’t him,’ said the druid.

‘He’s a man anyway,’ grunted the dwarf, ‘Not a goblin or a nog.’

The druid stood up.

‘Well, whoever he was, we don’t have time to bury him. We’d better leave.’

They gathered everything together then left the camp and the burning forest. After no more than an hour of travel they encountered more men. Ghene had spotted them at much the same time they had seen him, as he led the others through the dark forest. When he stopped, they stopped also. Ghene was fairly sure there was only two of them. They looked young, but at home in the forest, even at night. When no one made any aggressive moves they stepped forward.

At first one of the men spoke, but Ghene and the others at the front of the line could not understand what they said, so with hand gestures themen indicated they wanted to be followed.

Ghene was at the front and passed the message down the line.

‘Two men. Seem friendly. They want us to follow them.’

Roztov, out of curiosity came up the line to take a look. He looked over the two young men. They looked like scouts, dressed in dark leather clothing and carrying bows. They appeared peaceful.

Ghene shrugged at him.

‘Fair enough, but keep your eyes open,’ said Roztov.

‘You say to me, a druid - keep your eyes open. Here, in the forest, at night, after a dragon attack. You think I won’t keep...’

‘Yes, yes, all right. Just get moving.’

Roztov shooed the elf away and let everyone else file past before taking his place again at the end of the line.

The men led them through the forest for about five miles or so. Ghene could tell that they knew the forest well and were following an animal track. Eventually, as dawn was breaking and the near total darkness of the forest floor became a dim twilight, they arrived at their destination.

Ghene followed the men into a narrow gorge choked with undergrowth. They approached what at first seemed to be a wall of thorns, but the men swept them aside with their bows to reveal the entrance to a narrow covered street.

They street was just wide enough for two people to pass. On the right hand side was the rugged wall of the gorge and on the left were a series of huts that were covered in turf and bushes. The street too, was overhung with trestles that were thick with vines and thorns. Ghene could see that even during the day there would be little light down here. There was no light on the street, but very dim lanterns shone in the small windows of some of the huts.

The men led them to what may have been the equivalent of a town square or meeting hall for these people, depending on what you thought was enough cover to constitute a roof. Then with hand gestures they were told to sit on the wooden benches that were positioned around the area and they did so. It had been a long night and they were each carrying a heavy bag of supplies.

Everyone was silent, even Ophess. One of the men went away and brought a few older men back with them. They then discoursed in a language that Ghene did not understand. He noticed that Floran was cocking his head to the side, as if he might be recognising the tongue.

One of the old men approached the group and eyed them up. He then addressed himself to Salveri.

The sailor did not understand what was said to him.

‘Not me, chief. Try one of that lot,’ he replied with a hand gesture towards Ghene and his companions.

The chief tried again.

‘Anyone understand that?’ asked Ghene looking around to the others.

‘It sounded like he said “grumpy sluts” to me,’ said Roztov.

‘Not helpful. Anyone else?’

The chief spoke again, slower this time.

‘It did sound like “grumpy sluts” to me too,’ put in Meggelaine, as if genuinely trying to help.

‘Wait,’ said Floran and stepped forward.

He then spoke a few words in a language no one else understood. The chief shook his head and spoke again. Floran cleared his throat then said a few more sentences. Eventually they seemed to get a dialog going. 

Meggelaine tugged at Roztov’s sleeve and he bent down so she could whisper in his ear.

‘What language is that?’

‘I don’t know but if I had to guess, I’d say it is draconic.’

‘Huh. ’

After a while Floran bowed to the chief and turned to the others.

‘Yes well, these grumpy sluts as you call them, are runaways from the north apparently. The ones that attacker us, they call manhunters. Also from the north. From a city called Stu-vlug-urd.’

‘Stovologard?’ asked Roztov trying to wrap his tongue around the strange language.

‘Close enough. Anyway, the chiefs name is Ber, the scouts that found us are Nac and Wen. They saw the flames from an observation post they have at the top of the gorge and came to take a look. They are very surprised and curious about who we are and how we look. This place is called - well I’ll translate it as Vine Street or Vine Road.’

‘What language?’ asked Ghene.

‘A sort of draconic pidgin. It’s hard to understand. Not as hard as Stykian though.’

This was a dig at Roztov and Meggelaine’s native tongue, which was rendered impenetrable to most non-native speakers by the number of modes of address.

Ber spoke some more, nodding and smiling at Floran and Roztov.

‘He says we may rest here for now. He can offer us a place to sleep. Oh, and a place for the women and children. He thinks Meg is a child.’

The chief gestured at Ghene in the gloom.

‘Oh, you are also a child apparently,’ Floran said to Ghene with a smile.

They were all shown to their accommodation, low-beamed single room huts made fromhewntree limbs and packed dirt. It was two to a hut and Ophess shared with Meggelaine, who she was getting more and more dependent on. She simply collapsed onto the bed in exhaustion. It was cold and of little comfort but still better than the floor of a cave. There was a blanket too and she pulled it over herself gratefully.

With her eyes half open she watched as Meggelaine removed her coat, then her woollen jumper and blouse. Down to her slip she then took off her boots and britches. All her clothes, she neatly folded on a chair by the bed. She then reached into her bag and pulled out a night gown. Ophess marvelled at how small Meggelaine was. She was so small, the height of a five year old human child and so much smaller than Ophess. The fressle commanded respect from the men though, even the other two druids. She was powerful in whatever this ‘council’ was that they talked about and seemed to know a lot of things.

Meggelaine got into bed and pulled up the blanket. She then said good night and blew out the candle. Ophess wanted to ask Meggelaine how small fressle babies were, but she was too sleepy.

In the early morning she was woken by Meggelaine getting dressed again.

‘Where are you going?’ Ophess asked.

‘Oh, I’m going with Roz and Ghene to do a bit of scouting. You can go back to sleep.’

Ophess grunted and rolled over. She was asleep again in a few breaths.

Meggelaine finished dressing then opened the small door of the hut and walked out onto the covered lane. It was a cold and crisp morning. Meggelaine could see her breath and the waterlogged air hung around in the close confines of the covered settlement. There was a path that led up to a hidden look out and she joined the other two druids there. Roztov was dressed in his old campaign gear, a chain shirt, a dented helmet and his ancient old scimitar in a scabbard by his side. Ghene was dressed in his usual leathers and carried only a knife.

‘What’s the plan?’ asked Meggelaine.

‘Just a wee flap about really,’ said Roztov pulling on his beard. ‘Something small so as not to draw attention. Hen-harriers maybe.’

‘Goshawk?’

‘Kestrel?’

‘Yes yes. Stick together.’

The three druids changed into various small birds and took off into the sky, flying north. For a while they enjoyed the feeling of freedom after the confined camp, but remembering the dangers of this land they then returned to treetop level and skimmed along as low as they dared.

After an hour or so they found a burnt out clearing and landed on some charred stumps. It was an area of forest, maybe an acre or so, that had been scorched unevenly and was still mostly black and covered in ash. The birds squawked at each other and hopped about, then finally turned back into the three druids. Ghene looked up at the sky, turning as he did so.

‘Dragon breath did this,’ he said.

Roztov walked over to a pile of wet ash and kicked it. There were bones underneath.

‘Vegetain remains,’ he said.

Ghene was the expert on Garumuda, but Roztov knew more about dragons in general.

‘This is the way they hunt. Scorch an area of the forest then eat the barbequed vegetain meat. There must have been a herd of them here.’

‘I don’t like this place,’ said Meggelaine, trying to not get soot on her boots.

‘Agreed. I think we’ve seen enough here. Those mountains in the distance,’ Ghene gestured north. ‘See how the clouds are forming? There is a chasm there I think. You can’t see it for the low clouds but it would account for the formation.’

Roztov was from a mountainous region and concurred. ‘Must be a pretty big chasm as well. Might be worth a look. There might be civilisation there. It would be defensible from dragons maybe.’

‘We need to get higher and take a look, but I think that gorge extends south and west. I think...’

‘Err, guys,’ said Meggelaine, the only one currently looking east.

They all looked and saw dozens of dots high in the sky. They had not been there before.

‘Let’s get out of here,’ said Ghene.

They turned into falcons and flew back south as fast as they could.

The people of Vine Street were glad to have the newcomers as guests. Broddor arranged some of their gear to go to them in payment for their lodgings. The runaways had no means of making metal so the knives and woodwork tools that were given to them were very gratefully received. They were also astounded to hear stories from the rest of the world as told to them by Floran.

That night the whole camp turned out to hear his stories, told in a low voice around a hooded lantern in the gloomy and dank main hall.

The others separated into two groups that evening, after the main meal, with Broddor, Roztov, Ghene and Meggelaine at one side of the hall and the sailors on the other. Ophess floated between the two groups and the runaways who listened to Floran.

At the druids’ camp they lay back on the ground, keeping warm at a small covered fire. Roztov was lying with his head propped up on a hand. Meggelaine was using his stomach as a pillow. Ghene and Broddor sat cross-legged. The conversation was about Dreggen.

‘The captain brought him on as a navigator then?’ said Broddor.

‘Roztov knows more about that,’ said Meggelaine unnecessarily, then prodded him in the ribs. She knew Roztov had not trusted Dreggen from the start.

‘Ah yes,’ Roztov admitted. ‘The captain brought him onboard at Grenos. You weren’t there Broddor, but we had a bit of an argument about it later on.’

Dreggen could have hardly have been described as a navigator, but he had convinced the captain of the Red Maiden that he knew the waters west of Grenos. It would have been his right to have dined at the captain’s table but he kept to himself, so much so that Broddor had barely noticed his arrival. Roztov had though.

The voyage northwest of Grenos had started well enough.

‘Grenos was as far west as I’d ever been,’ said Roztov.

‘I thought you and Broddor had been out further,’ said Meggelaine.

‘Incorrect,’ put in Broddor, who was sat with his eyes shut. ‘The patron of the trip wanted to return before winter so back we went. It was an ill-judged expedition, although we did not “sail around in circles” as Roztov often says.’

‘It felt like it,’ put in Roztov. ‘Besides it makes the story better for the telling and it was ten years ago.’

‘Eleven and a half,’ corrected the dwarf, who could not stand inaccuracy.

‘Huh? Really? Well it was before Woad became king anyway.’

‘Oh yes, yes. I remember now,’ said Meggelaine, who would have said that whether she did or not.

The next island they had passed after Grenos had been Pehque. Roztov and Broddor had stood on the deck and watched it roll past. A two headed giant ran up to the shoreline and waved a stone club at them.

‘Chalk Pehque up to being real and not mythical then’, Roztov had said.

‘Mark it on the chart. I want to come back here.’

Roztov and the other two druids had their argument on that day as well. It was late in the evening, on deck, just the three of them in the bow, watching the ship’s wake in the moonlight.

‘I never thought I’d clap eyes on a mythical island,’ said Roztov.

‘That Dreggen seems to know these waters then. I wonder how?’ mused Meggelaine.

‘I don’t trust him.’

Meggelaine seemed surprised. ‘Well, I suppose a human would know a human, but no one else knows these waters. What else do we have to go on?’

‘I know, but how can he know the way to Hanna?’

‘He doesn’t, but he knows what is up here. The dangers,’ said Ghene calmly.

‘I know I’ve said this before, but this is a wild goose chase. If Hanna is the size of Grenos we could easily sail right past it. No one knows how far west the Diamond Sea goes.’

‘So we spend more time flying. Scout out, get as high as possible,’ put in Meggelaine.

‘I don’t trust him. There is something not right about him and I think letting him guide the ship any further is a mistake,’ said Roztov. He wasn’t angry, but was becoming exasperated with the fressle and the elf.

‘Well...’ said Meggelaine, trying to think of something that would pacify Roztov.

‘What would we be doing otherwise? Think of that,’ said Ghene. ‘We would be sailing blindly north west. At least this way we have something. He knew where Pehque was.’

‘So? That kid isn’t right. He had a crazed look in his eyes.’

‘Well maybe, but what does that matter in the end? And remember, this is a voyage funded by the GFC. Myself and Meggelaine represent the GFC. I say we stick with Dreggen. Meggelaine?’

‘Well...’

‘We can just fly away if things get messy. We have ways of saving ourselves, but think of the lives of the crew.’

Roztov was right in that they could fly, but they all knew they could only hold an avian form for a few hours. If they did not find land in that time they would drown like everyone else if the ship sunk.

Ghene smiled humourlessly, ‘Someone who didn’t know you as well as I did might think that you wanted this mission to fail due to your view on the argument of resettlement.’

‘Someone who didn’t know you as well as I did might think you are an arsehole,’ retorted Roztov.

‘Enough of that!’ Meggelaine interjected angrily. ‘Enough of that now. Time for bed anyway. Come on.’

Roztov stalked off, he was not particularly angry, but he knew it was pointless to continue when Meggelaine got in the mood for acting like she was their mother. He turned into a bear and went to sleep in the hold. When he was in a sullen mood or brooding he would often turn into a bear, he found the fur comforting, even if he did wake up as a man that wished he’d slept under a blanket the next morning.

After he’d stretched the kinks out of his back and visited the head he sought out Dreggen and found him on the deck, stood at the rail watching the sea go by.

‘Dreggen. Listen, where are you from?’ said Roztov.

‘Elbonia.’

‘Whereabouts in Elbonia?’

Dreggen paused then said, ‘Oban.’

Roztov had been to Elbonia several times before this voyage and had been to Oban once or twice. Dreggen would not have known that though.

‘Whereabouts in Oban?’

 ‘I don’t have to answer your questions.’

Roztov gave him a long look then said, ‘No. You don’t.’

If Dreggen thought the druid was going to leave at that point, he was wrong, as Roztov gazed out to sea for a good half minute then finally said, ‘You know. Well, you know, I started this life when I was a young man. Some days I feel really old. I mean, I am pretty old now. I’ve two daughters back at home. I’ve got a son somewhere too. Me and my friends, we’ve come up against a lot of bad people. Giants, trolls, lunarians, gosh – all sorts. Undead, dragons even, once or twice. We are not light weights.’

‘What are you trying to tell me? Are you threatening me?’

‘I have no need to threaten you. Meggelaine and Ghene are blinded by their desire to find Hanna. It’s going to get us into trouble no matter what happens, I can see that. I don’t know what your story is. I suppose it doesn’t matter. If I threw you over the side, they would keep on going anyway. Huh, there are whales over there. They look like blackfins. Way out to the left there, do you see them?’

Roztov wandered off at that point, to tell the other druids of his sighting, leaving Dreggen alone at the ship’s rail.  He looked, but could see nothing.

At Vine Street, Meggelaine stood up and left the druid camp. She told the others she wanted an early night. As she entered the two person hut she shared with Ophess, the girl said to her, ‘What’s going on?’

‘Shush, I’m just coming to bed.’

‘Were you with the others? Were you talking about finding my father? What are your plans?’

‘Well...’ said Meggelaine.

The little fressle had not told the others, but she had been keeping Ophess calm by telling her that her father was not dead and that they were doing everything they could to find him.

‘Well... This is a big island. He’s sure to be hiding somewhere safe and sound. We just need to track him down.’

‘We have to go find him!’

‘Hush, we will. But we are safe here. Roztov and Ghene are out looking for him now. They can fly and see for miles.’

As Meggelaine undressed, Ophess continued to prattle on, nervous and edgy, her voice getting higher and higher in pitch until it was virtually a scream.

‘Hush, hush,’ said Meggelaine, doing her best to comfort the child. ‘We will find him soon enough. You should rest. It’s much better if you are rested and calm. Don’t make too much noise, you don’t want the manhunters to find us again.’

It took a while, but eventually Ophess was silent again. Once she was changed into her night gown Meggelaine got into bed. She realised that by telling Ophess that her father still lived she was storing up trouble for later, but it seemed the best way to keep her quiet. The fear of bringing the manhunters down on the runaway camp was very real. Meggelaine didn’t have any children of her own and probably never would. She thought that Roztov, with his experience of fatherhood, would undoubtedly be better at this sort of thing than her, but the child had latched onto her and Roztov wasn’t much interested. He had enough on his plate anyway.

Meggelaine lay awake for a long time before she slept.

In muted conversation, at the sailor’s camp in the darkest area of the meeting area, they discussed the druids and their companions. They spoke Enttish, the common tongue of Nillamandor. Tankle was the only native speaker of the language. Arrin was from Tomsk and Salveri was from Bellavia.

Salveri had been doing most of the talking, ‘The druids can change and heal. They can fly if they change into the right animals. I think they can do other things, they can find their way easily. They leave no trail.’

They were all huddled up around a covered fire, wrapped up in cloaks.

Arrin was next to talk, ‘The wizard can summon up those huge ice lances. When he killed that dragon, it was... I mean, it was incredible. It just exploded into bits. My family, my friends in the tavern, they will never believe me when I tell them.’

‘If we ever make it home that is,’ said Salveri with a grunt. ‘I’ve heard those Hyandans can do fireballs, turn invisible, levitate, things like that.’

‘What about the dwarf? They seem to treat him with great reverence although he has no magic that I can see. He really lay in to those manhunters though.’

‘He seems all right,’ admitted Salveri.

‘I like him. I’ve known dwarves,’putinTankle. ‘They came to our valley and set up a fortress. A few dozen of them, to begin with anyway. The village didn’t like them at first, but their metal goods were so well made and cheap. Their stone carvings were lovely and they gave them away for free. I went inside one time, I made friends with a dwarf girl, and they carve every wall, floor and ceiling with marvellous scenes from their history and mythology. It’s amazing what they can do. Broddor must be one of those holy knights that they have. I don’t understand their gods, but I think they dedicate themselves to a temple and swear to defend it. I don’t know what he’s doing out here then.’

‘No dwarves in Bellavia,’ said Salveri, ‘They’ve not come that far west I suppose. What about Tomsk?’

‘None,’ said Arrin. ‘Plenty of fraskans though.’

‘What the hell is a fraskan?’

‘Err, like Meggelaine. They call themselves torms, but in Tomsk we call them fraskans. In Styke they call them fressles. They are all the same people.’

‘Bones’s Blood,’ swore Salveri, the old racist. ‘There are too many squatters in the lands of man by half.’

Unseen by the sailors a bird settled in the thorn vines above them. There was a little moonlight, but little of it penetrated the gloom of the vine shrouded meeting hall.

Salveri turned the subject back to the druids and their friends, ‘Powerful they may be, but they are freebooters, mercenaries and adventurers. You see them all the time passing through Tullis. They are not like us. Life is cheap to them. A friend of my brother joined a company, he told me about it. The leaders have all these magic powers and magic items, so they always survive the battles. The kids with rusty swords and wooden spears that form the bulk of the companies, they die like flies.’

‘I dunno. Meg seems nice. The druids all seem nice. And you said so yourself that you like Broddor,’ said Arrin.

‘I like Floran,’ remarked Tankle with a blush.

‘Yes,yes. Individually they are nice,’ acknowledged Salveri. ‘But in general I mean, and all together. When the bacon falls into the fire they will save themselves first. We’ll be forgotten. Or just hit by a stray fireball or ice lance in the next battle. Oh, sorry, they’ll say, what a shame old Sal died or young Arrin. What a shame he didn’t have all the magic juju to protect him.’

‘We’d all be dead now anyway if it wasn’t for them.’ This from Tankle.

‘We wouldn’t be here at all if it wasn’t for them!’ snarled Salveri.

‘It was the captain took the commission. We could have got on another ship.’ From Arrin.

‘Well whatever. We stick together right? When it all kicks off, remember we are the last of the Red Maiden right? Because you can be dam sure if they have to sacrifice us to get to this Hanna place, they’d do it.’

‘I don’t know,’ muttered Arrin.

‘We stick together right?’

‘Right.’

When he turned to her in the darkness and she could see the glint of moonlight in his eyes Tankle said, ‘Right, right. Yes, right.’

The bird that had been listening up in the vines fluttered out into the night. It was Roztov, on his way out to do his business in the forest before going to bed.

When you had the ability to turn into a little bird, eavesdropping came easily. He had to admit to himself that there was something in what they said. People in their company had died, not many and mostly in the first few years, but enough that he was sure he had forgotten a lot of them. There had been a time, a few years after the company had been set up, when the fighting with the goblins had been brutal and bloody. After the death of Queen Beril the kingdom had been near anarchy, with the Barons all vying for power and occasionally killing each other. It would be twenty years before Styke chose another monarch. Roztov’s father’s barony came under constant attack from goblins. Many young men that had lost their families in theraids and wanted revenge joined the Company. Some of them were near suicidal and when they joined and well... often they died.

After the goblin wars came to a conclusion, many of those young men returned to their farms and villages. Broddor, still young and adventurous, wanted to seek gold and glory in Lunaria, which had just entered into what turned out to be a long and pointless war with Enttland. Roztov, well, he was a forth son, it was expected that he would seek his fortune elsewhere now that their vale was peaceful, and off he went.

They recruited again in Luxor, bolstered their numbers and headed into the Moon Marshes and the other desolate wastes hidden behind the Joppian Mountains. Some of them died. Young mercenaries and sell-swords from the backstreets of Wardernton and Shellbe.

After Lunaria the core of the Company was Roztov, Broddor, Meg, Ghene, Floran and a dozen or so others. The rest were twenty to thirty younger men and women, eager to prove themselves, eagerly seeking glory. These were the ones that died, on the spears of Lunarian berserkers or blown to bits by Lunarian cannons.

After that, other places, other people, other battles. The Company got smaller and smaller as its members died or retired. Roztov knew that hundreds of people had passed through the Company over its entire lifespan. It shamed him to know that he had long since forgotten most of those that had died. He did not keep a journal in those days.

Leaving those reminisces for now, he landed on a branch, fluttered his feathersand attended to his business.

Broddor and Floran had long speculated exactly what happened when a druid went to the toilet in animal form, specifically what happened to the dung once it left their bodies, but the druids had so far never revealed this secret to anyone.

The next morning, the survivors of the Red Maiden met for breakfast in the main hall and set to planning their next move. As had happened the previous evening, the former members of the Kardane Company talked together while the sailors kept to themselves. Dreggen was nowhere to be seen and no one missed him.

After a while the conversation of the druids moved, as it so often did, onto the subject of Garumuda, the dragon that blighted the continent east of the Norob Forest.

‘Even so,’ Meggelaine was saying, ‘Etruna help Nillamandor if the Tanud serpents decided to expend their territory.’

‘It is possible that they are bound by a treaty not to venture east.’

'Really?'

'Old Bones considers all of Nillamandorto be his personal game reserve. I know he has treaties with other dragons. It could be there exists one with Tanud.’

‘You think that could be the case Roztov? You knew about Tanud.’

‘Ahem, yes,’ he confirmed. ‘But only from what I had heard on our last voyage in the Diamond Sea. I don’t know what the Tanud serpents are like, but I do know the ones in western Nillamandor. They have their own politics, they play their own games. Like us they fear Garumuda. Some of them are in contact with him. Many of them have magical abilities and can communicate with each other over great distances. It’s possible, likely even then, that Tanud and Garumuda are in contact with each other.’

Ghene nodded, ‘Old Bones is a devious old bugger. It may well be because of him that the Tanud Serpents have never left this island.’

‘Garumuda,’ hissed Meggelaine. ‘Blighter of the world.’

Salveri had been drawn to the conversation and had come over.

‘Old Bones is a myth,’ he said. ‘My old mum used to scare us into doing as we were told by telling us his stories.’

Ghene smiled, educating people on Garumuda was his favourite topic of conversation.

‘He, above all others, has forged the shape of Nillamandor. His destruction of the Dynar let the kingdoms of man rise. We may not like it, but he’s shaped everything about us. That curse that you sailors use “Bones’s Blood”, where do you think it comes from?’

‘So it’s all true?’

‘Please sit, my friend. Tell me what you know and I will tell you if it is true.’

With a nod, Roztov stood up and then stretched his legs. He whispered a farewell to Meggelaine and left the camp. He had no huge desire to sit through one of Ghene’s lectures on the history of Garumuda.

Initially he thought about going back to his hut and having a nap, but then realising he had not seen Dreggen this morning, so he went in search of him.

He found him raking through their supplies and filling his bag with food.

‘Where are you going, Dreggen?’

‘None of your business.’

Roztov moved to the entrance to the hut and blocked it with his body. He leaned against the doorframe and looking at his nails quietly said, 'What are you Dreggen?'

'A man.'

'I mean, what did you do for a living?'

'I was the ship's navigator.'

'And before that?'

‘A ship’s purser.’

‘I see. And before that?’

'A clerk in a bank in Tullis.'

'Which one?'

'The Iron Bank.'

'On which street?'

'Bank Street.'

'What is the sign it has above the door?'

'A silver coin.'

There was a long pause. Salveri had followed the sound of the conversation, perhaps bored of the lecture, and had come over.

Roztov gave him a nod then said, 'Huh. Perhaps. His answers come quickly enough.'

‘There is no bank with a silver coin for a sign anywhere in Tullis,’ said Salveri.

Dreggen had filled his bag and was looking anxious at the doorway, but made no move towards it.

‘Dreggen,’ said Roztov. ‘You have manacle marks on your wrists. Years old. How do you account for that?

‘I once got into trouble in Borland. The follies of youth.’

‘What were you doing there?’

‘Studying. My parents sent me.’

‘From where?’

‘I've had enough of your questions. What do my parents have to do with it?’

Roztov continued to ask his questions calmly, as if just passing the time with a friend.

‘Where is your family from?’

 ‘I told you, Elbonia.’

‘No, I don’t think so. I’ve been there, you don’t have the accent.’

Dreggentook a step backwards, ‘I’ve moved about a lot.’

‘You speak Enttish with a strange lilt. I just thought of it now. You roll your rhotic consonants just like the runaways do. You’re from this island aren’t you?’

‘No!’

‘Why come back? What is going on? Did you bring the attack on the ship?’

Dreggen, by now, was pressed up against the back wall of the hut. All the others had arrived and were packed onto the narrow street outside, listening to the conversation.

‘Are you a spy? From Stovologard?’

Dreggen said nothing. Roztov realised he would not get another word out of him. A few moments of silence passed, then the druid stepped aside from the doorway.

‘Then go.’

At first Dreggen could not believe what Roztov had just said, thinking it was a trick. Roztov took a further step back, and the others behind him followed his lead. Making up his mind in a rush, Dreggen bolted for the door, ran into the street and then down the track, stopping only once to check over his shoulder that he wasn’t being followed.

Roztov nodded to Ghene though, who turned into a goshawk and fluttered up into the vines and then off into the sky.

Salveri seemed to wake up from a dream, said ‘Why did you let him go!’

‘I can’t hold him.’

‘You could kill him.’

‘I’m not a killer, you understand that?’

Salveri took his knife from his belt, ‘I’ll bloody do it then.’

Roztov gently put out his arm, ‘Stay your hand. No good would come of it.’

‘He could lead the manhunters to this place. They could slaughter them all.’

‘Ghene will keep an eye on him.’

‘So what? We don’t know anything about this place. There could be manhunters anywhere.’

‘There are none within fifty miles. Wherever he is going, he won’t be able to find his way back here.’

Salveri wasn’t so sure. He didn’t know how druid magic worked. Perhaps the druids had put a spell on the place to hide it, he had no idea. He looked at the other druids, then Floran and Broddor. None of them had any problem with Dreggen leaving either it seemed.

With the excitement over, people began to drift off.

‘Why did they let him go?’ he asked Broddor, the one he found the most approachable.

‘Druid logic I suppose. They don’t like seeing creatures caged. People either. They’d probably kill him rather than imprison him.’

‘What about you and Floran? You don’t think it’s madness to let him go?’

‘Oh, Floran will go along with whatever everyone else thinks. As for me, well, I’m not sure. In the forest I trust the druids. My people do love throwing folks they don’t like in jail, but I’m more for frontier justice myself.’

The rest of the day Floran spent deep in conversation with the runaways. They had a small council, of sorts, and told the wizard everything they knew about the island. In return Floran gratefully gave them information about the outside world.

The druids scouted out more of the surroundings and returned as night fell.

That evening they did not make conversation with the others, but sat together in circle, their eyes closed, their lips moving only slightly as they quietly chanted and hummed.

Broddor sat with the sailors and Tankle asked him, ‘What are they doing?’

‘They are attuning. To each other, the land, the trees. I’m not an expert, but I know a druid can adjust himself... or herself. How to explain it? They can attune and adjust their powers to suit the environment and who they are in the company of. If you have only the pleasure of one druid, then he acts as a jack-of-all-trades if you catch my meaning. With three of them, well, they divide the roles.’

‘Druid magic,’ said Tankle. ‘I knew nothing about it before I met them. I had only ever heard tales of the Great Forest. It is far inland is it not? They speak of a council. Is it very powerful?’

‘Oh well,’ replied the dwarf. 'The druids of the Great Forest are powerful beings. Roztov is not part of the council, but he is probably the most powerful of the three. In situations like this, as I said, they divide up the roles and attune their magic to their selected purpose. I should imagine that Meg is attuning her magic to healing while Ghene is attuning his magic to sensitivity to the land, the earth, speaking to the squirrels, you know that sort of thing.'

'What about Roztov?'

'Arse-kicking I expect. Fireballs, bolts of lighting, blasts of wind strong enough to blow a dragon to the ground, all that good stuff.’

‘I would scarce believe it,’ joined in Arrin. ‘If I had not seen it with my own eyes, when we fought the manhunters.’

‘Aye lad,’ nodded Broddor. ‘We’ve seen some fair few battles. There were other druids in the Company back in the old days. They’ve mostly all retired or in the Great Forest Council.’

‘You were their leader once?’ asked Tankle.

‘Aye, that is so. Back when I was young, Styke and other countries that had goblin problems leased out some of their valleys to my people. In return for fighting the goblins we had the rights to all the minerals in the mountains we occupied. My father’s fortress was founded in the vale of the Barony of Roztov’s father. The day the Company was founded we were seven dwarves only. The others joined soon after though.’

Tankle seemed anxious to connect with the dwarf and said, ‘Oh, we had dwarves in my valley too! I made friends with a girl from the fortress. She showed me her room.’

Salveri stirred where he was sitting, but did not speak. Broddor glanced over at him and while he struggled to think what to say next, wondering if he was bothered if he offended the sailor or not, Floran approached them.

‘Ah, friend Floran,’ said Broddor with some relief. ‘What news?’

‘Lots, hmm,’ said the wizard as he sat down with the others. ‘The people of Vine Street, most of them are from Stovologard, on the northern shore of the island. I have learned a lot about this place. If we want a boat we should go there.’

‘We go there then?’ asked Broddor.

‘Yes. Stovologard. If we want a boat.’

Broddor rolled his eyes, ‘Why would we not want a boat?’

Floran shrugged.

‘Very well. We should get some rest then. The chances are the druids will want to leave in the morning.’