Chapter 23
The Red Lady
The carvel,
if it ever had a name, it was long forgotten. Arrin had named her the Red Lady after their last ship, the poor
wrecked Red Maiden that presumably
still lay in pieces amongst the rocks of the southern shore of Tanud. Despite
the enclosing darkness of the evening she still sailed as close to a northerly
direction as she could.
It was poor
going. Arrin and Tankle knew enough about sailing to know that you could not
sail directly into the wind and that with the sails aligned in the correct
positions the ship could be tacked from side to side. Knowing this and putting
it into practice was another matter. The timbers of the Red Lady were old and
patched. The sails were equally shabby and try as they might to sail close to
the wind, every attempt ending in luffing, with the wind spilling out of the
sales and the carvel coming to a slow, clumsy stop.
There had
been no small amount of confusion and panic when Roztov the dragon had first
been spotted, but Meggelaine had landed first to smooth the way and clear the
deck for his landing. He then lay down in the middle of the ship, on top of the
cargo hold hatch between the fore and aft masts. The crew had been greatly
anxious at his arrival, not understanding what Meggelaine said, but Floran explained
to them that this was a shape shifter, a friend, which did little to calm them
but at least prevented them from all jumping overboard.
‘Where is
Ghene?’ asked Meggelaine once she had turned back into her normal form and got
her breath back.
Roztov, with
no energy left to attempt transforming back into his own form answered in
Draconic. Floran translated. ‘He says that Ghene flew through the portal.’
‘What is he
talking about, Tup? What portal?’
Roztov
gestured back towards the island, lost now in the fog and darkness, with his
jaw and rumbled a longer sentence.
‘Well,’
translated Floran. ‘He said something about how the “ungrateful arses back
there will probably never know that an elf saved them all”. He needs to tell us
what happened Meg.’
‘Oh, this is
hopeless!’ cried Meggelaine in exasperation. ‘You went and did it again didn’t
you? Well, you’re stuck like that now. I hope you’re happy!’
Roztov
grunted and turned away.
Floran took
the dragon spurn-magic rune from his pocked and held it up for the others to
see. ‘We could try this.’
Meggelaine
considered it for a moment. ‘To risky, Tup. We don’t know how that thing works.
If it strips away all the magic, he could just as easily turn into a pile of
meat as a man. We have no way of knowing.’
They argued
a while longer, but in the end there didn’t seem much choice and Roztov told
Floran, ‘just do it,’ Meggelaine responded, ‘I’ll get a bucket of water to wash
you out the scuppers them, when it all goes wrong.’
Roztov
slumped to the deck and they took him to the captain’s cabin. There was some
crudely made furniture in here, shaped by druid magic and the placed him gently
down on a bed on top of a pile of cloaks. They then pulled a blanket over him.
Meggelaine put her hands on his chest and druid healing magic coursed through
him.
‘Without me
here, you’d be dead, you know that right?’ she chided him.
‘Thanks
Meg,’ he groaned.
‘So what
happened? There were piles of bones and dead dragons everywhere.’
Floran and
Tankle leaned in so that they could listen in as Roztov told his story to
Meggelaine. He told the whole tale, of the dragon kinds, Dreggen, the portal
and the battle. For a moment there was silence, just the creaking of the ship.
‘He’s as
good as dead,’ sobbed Meggelaine, breaking the silence. ‘Why didn’t you stop
him?’
‘I nearly
went with him,’ said Roztov. ‘Besides, I couldn’t stop him. He closed the
portal. Somehow, he did it. I take that as a good sign. If anyone could escape
the clutches of Old Bones, it’s Ghene.’
‘What about
Hannah? The Dynar and everything else we set out to do?’
‘I suppose
he thought this was more important,’ replied Roztov. ‘Think of it though, think
of the things he can find out. We know nothing of the lands beyond Norob. If
Ghene can scout and survive the Spire, a tower full of white dragons, then
perhaps he can survive the lands of Garumuda.’
‘And you say
the dragon kings talked as if they were related to Garumuda?’ asked Floran.
‘They did,’
admitted Roztov, ‘but I was scarcely listened by then I was so keyed up. They
are all the children of Tanud, we knew that, but I just assumed they meant it –
like I’d say I’m a child of Styke or whatever. They talked as if Tanud had been
an actual dragon. King Primus talked as if Garumuda was his brother.’
‘That’s
incredible. Are you sure?’
‘No, I’m not
sure,’ sighed Roztov. ‘Whether it was your spell, or just his way, it was
sometimes difficult to understand what Primus was saying.’
‘We have
learned more about dragons here on Tanud than all the wizards of Hyadna. What
could it mean? What are the implications of a shared history between Primus and
Garamuda?’
‘Only the
gods know, and perhaps not even them. Primus and Old Bones are both ancient,
they could well have come from the same clutch of eggs. Who knows? Whatever falling
out they had in the past, Old Bones hadn’t forgotten about it, or maybe the
fact that he’s undead means he doesn’t care about old family ties.’
‘There is so
much we don’t know,’ pondered Floran as he went to the window and looked out,
back towards Tanud. ‘With King Primus dead, what happens now? Will Garumuda try
again? Will Tanud retaliate?’
‘I’m not
sure of anything,’ said Roztov, ‘but it looked to me like Old Bones sent
everything he had, as fast as he could. The amount of undead, even just in
those few hours, was like nothing I’d ever seen. He’s never sent anything like
that into Gnarlwold. I think he went all in. I also think that both Tanud and
Old Bones are weakened. Hopefully that’s an end to it – for a while anyway.’
‘A while in
terms of men or dragons?’ mused Floran.
‘We should
go back’, said Meggelaine suddenly rejoining the conversation. ‘Think of all
the people back there in the city suffering. The dragons won’t care. They city
will be full of badly hurt people. We should help them.’
‘I know,
Meg, I know,’ sighed Roztov again. ‘This is our best chance to leave though,
don’t you see? I mean, we have left. With King Primus dead and the city
decimated they’ll hardly have time to muck about chasing boats. We need to be
able to tell the people back home the things he have seen and the things we
have learned. For Ghene’s sacrifice to mean anything, we need to leave now.’
Roztov lay
back, coughed, and closed his eyes.
‘Right,’
said Meggelaine sternly. ‘Everyone out, he needs rest.’
Floran and
Tankle left agreeably enough although it had clearly been Meggelaine that had
been the one to agitate him.
After
resting for an hour, while the little torm watched over him, Roztov opened his
eyes and spoke once more. ‘I just can’t bring myself… I just can’t hold onto
the thought that both Broddor and Ghene are gone. We’re the last of them now
Meg.’
‘Well,
Broddor might come back. You never know. Those dwarves. And we don’t know Ghene
is dead. He might have survived.’
‘In the lair
of Old Bones?’ asked Roztov, vaguely aware that they were now arguing from the
opposite sides they had taken earlier.
‘But well,
they sacrificed themselves for something important. Maybe they saved
Nillamandor? Maybe the stopped all of Gofehag falling under the dominion of Garumuda.’
‘Maybe. But
for how long? He’ll try again,’ Roztov said with despair in his voice.
‘And we’ll
defeat him again.’
‘How though?’
‘Let’s not
think of it now,’ said Meggelaine as she rearranged the blankets. ‘Just rest
and get better. We are strong. We have all the druids of the GFC. We have all
the might and magic of the kingdoms of men. And now we know of Tanud. Who
knows, maybe we can form diplomatic links? You know, somewhere down the line.
After all, my enemy’s enemy is my friend, as they say.’
‘Perhaps let
the dust settle for a while first Meg,’ said Roztov with a weary smile.
‘Indeed. We
have a different mission anyway. One we should finish for the sake and memory
of our friend Ghene.’
Before he
finally went to sleep Roztov had one more thing to say.
‘You know,
after all this,’ he whispered. ‘If we make it home and a dragon flies overhead,
as everyone is diving for cover I’ll look down at them and say – you jump just
for one dragon? Try a city full of them.’
‘You can
show them Neith’s tongue.’
‘I’m keeping
that over the mantelpiece.’
‘You should
sell it,’ said Meggelaine. ‘Oh, that’s right, you’re already richer than King
Woad, never mind that.’
Roztov spent
the next day in bed, but on the third day since they had left the island of
dragons he reappeared from the aft cabin, leaning on a staff.
‘Hey!’ said
Meggelaine with a wave. She was above him on the poop-deck. ‘Hello lazy bones.’
He carefully
climbed up the steep wooden steps to the deck. Floran was up there too,
enjoying the clear weather and holding the tiller.
‘They are
trusting you to steer this thing?’ asked Roztov wryly.
‘I suppose
they are,’ replied Floran. ‘There is not much wind.’
Roztov
looked out over the main deck and the rest of the ship. He was no expert but he
could see it was not being handled well. They were barely moving and up in the
rigging Arrin and Tankle were having a heated discussion about sails.
‘What’s
going on?’ asked Roztov.
‘No one can
figure out how to sail against the wind. It’s called tacking isn’t it?’ said
Meggelaine. ‘They keep on losing the wind on every turn, then we just end up
floundering around on the waves for ages. The poor dears are doing their best,
but – well, it’s just as well no one is looking for us.’
‘It seems
there is more skill to sailing that perhaps we thought,’ replied Roztov.
‘Is it
luffing? Puffing?’ asked Meggelaine. ‘Oh you’re no use.’
Arrin had
climbed down and jogged up the steps to join them. He seemed happy.
‘Not so easy
as it looked then?’ asked Roztov with a friendly smile. ‘I thought you were
supposed to be a sailor?’
‘I did the
sails yes, but mainly the tops,’ laughed Arrin. ‘The Red Maiden was all rigged
differently to this. Back on the Maiden – well, I just did was Salveri did, I
never thought too much about why we were doing it.’
‘Don’t
worry,’ said Roztov. ‘Once me and Meg have re-attuned we can help out.’
For the rest
of the day Roztov and Meggelaine sat on the deck, in meditation, aligning their
druidic powers back towards the sea and the next day Roztov was true to his
word. He turned into an albatross and flew down past the ship. He then summoned
up a stiff sea breeze, enough to get the ship well underway.
Arrin
frantically arranged the sails, shouting instructions to the Stovologardian
sailors. After a few hours he landed to rest and let Meggelaine take a turn.
‘Wait
though,’ said Floran to the druids when they were all together. ‘What way are
we going exactly?’
‘Why, west
of course,’ answered Meggelaine. ‘Towards where we thing Hannah is.’
‘What,
what?’ gasped Floran. ‘After all that happened we are still looking for that
mythical island?’
‘Well yes,’
said Meggelaine patting his hand as if he was a child. ‘We druids, we have ways
of knowing and we both think its somewhere not so far away, just a few hundred
miles to the west.’
‘But,
but...’ stammered Floran, well versed in the unreliability of the supposed
druidic ability to “know” where a place was without map or compass. He turned
to Roztov.
‘Think of
your wife and family, Roz,’ he pleaded. ‘They must surely be missing you by
now.’
‘Oh, they’ll
be fine,’ Roztov replied as he waved Meggelaine away. She had turned into a
puffin and fluttered out to sea. Soon there was a good strong sea breeze
blowing and the ship lurched on its way once again.
Roztov
patted Floran on the back as he went past, down into the cabin to get his
lunch. Floran sighed, then smiled as he went to stand at the rail. He realised
that he was alone now with two druids, people that had wanderlust flowing
through their veins. Druids might settle for a while, for a few years, but
where there home really was, well it was out in the wilds, out in the forest,
out across the sea, always over the horizon.
Epilogue
A tall
blonde-haired lady, of about twenty years of age, stood at the stone banister
of a balcony on the east side if the Spire, looking out to sea. She was alone,
dressed in a long black dress that fluttered in the breeze. She struck an
imposing figure, tall, solidly built, perhaps a little too solid for the style
of gown she was wearing.
In her left
hand she played with an acorn, rolling it between her fingers and thumb.
As a white
dragon flew past, from right to left, between the spire and the fog barrier,
she followed it with her eyes, her face twisting into an expression of
distaste.
Ten minutes
later she was joined on the balcony by the dragon, a long elegant female.
‘I’m not
going,’ said the lady.
‘Don’t worry
yourself child,’ replied the dragon. ‘We have no intention of sending you to
Stovologard.’
‘Well, what
then?’
‘You have
been trained in enough magic to make your own way in the world I think. Why not
go back to Nillamandor?’
‘Huh, why is
there left for me there?’ said the lady dismissively.
The dragon
was silent, but they both knew the truth well enough. Since they had left her
behind, ten years ago, Ophess had thought of little else. Her heart’s desire
was to return there and seek out the three druids, find them and make them pay.
She’d spent
all her time, since she’d been abandoned, learning what the dragons of the
Spire could teach her and she was now a powerful – well she styled herself as a
witch, but she was in truth a female wizard. The Spire dragons trained humans
so that they could go north and infiltrate Stovologard, but these days there
was a sort of uneasy truce between the three Tanud factions and they were now
turning their attention elsewhere. To the east and the kingdoms of men.
Ophess
looked down at the acorn in her and fought the urge to throw the thing into the
sea. Instead she tucked it into her sleeve. Part of her much thought on plan
for revenge centred around one day presenting it back to Meggelaine.
The dragon
turned and left. I’ll make them pay, thought Ophess. Those three druids, that
left me here, that told lie after lie about my father. I’ll find each of them
in turn, the one by one I’ll make them pay for what they did to me.
