Island of Dragons - Chapter 12–To the north (5454)(DRAFT)

Chapter 12–To the north (5454)

They walked north for two hours, until it got dark, then walked on for one more hour to where Ghene had found a cave. The druid’s expanded it somewhat, making a dog leg at the back as they had before to offer protection from possible dragon attack.

Wood was gathered and a fire was lit. There was plenty of food once more, the druids gathered and hunted it as they went. There was no conversation until after the evening meal, everyone being lost in thought except for Meggelaine who was muttering to herself.

Eventually Broddor threw his last bone into the fire and said, ‘Has it been twenty days now? Since the shipwreck?’

‘Something like that,’ confirmed Roztov.

‘So what’s the plan?’

The druids all looked at each other, then Roztov spoke again. ‘I’m toying with the idea of another madcap flight. Due north this time.’

‘Oh no!’ cried Meggelaine.

‘It’s just an idea,’ he said, trying to sooth his friend. ‘Probably not a good one.’

‘Definitely not a good one, oh please!’ she groaned. ‘How we survived that flight through the chasm I have no idea. At any time we could have met one of the big ones coming the other direction.’

‘I have to agree, Roz,’ said Ghene. ‘We had scouted the chasm for days, so we knew where it went. We have little idea of what is to the north. We also had the Spire hunting grounds to hide in once we were clear of the chasm. We don’t know what’s up there. We wouldn’t have a place of safety to flee back to.’

‘Unless we came all the way back here.’

‘Not a chance,’ pleaded Meggelaine. ‘I’d never survive it.’

‘No, no, I see that,’ replied Roztov. ‘I’m just talking. It’s just, if we flew north and didn’t stop, then saw a boat and took it by force... No, you’re right, that would never work, we’d have a hundred dragons on top of us... or, maybe someone scouts first, then we know where to take everyone. It’s just we could do it in a day or two. I’ve a feeling if we stay on the ground we’ll be another twenty days on the island.’

‘What’s the big rush?’ Meggelaine said as she pulled herself in closer to the fire. ‘If it takes twenty days then it takes twenty days.’

‘Better to scout first, whatever we do,’ said Ghene. ‘I’ve no idea what is north of us. We should probably just edge forward for a bit. See how it goes. Scout and move, then scout and move. In truth, I’m surprised we’ve made it this far.’

The next morning, Ghene was up before all the others and scouting ahead. Roztov took the front of the line as the group moved out and Meggelaine bringing up the rear. With no Ophess to keep quiet Meggelaine was more at liberty to help out, so it was now her job to make sure they left no trail that could be followed by the manhunters. There was little talking, and what little was done was in a whisper. The lands around the Spire were so still that talking felt like an intrusion into the silence. The loss of Ophess also sat heavily on them too, but as the party spread out along the trail, some quiet conversations eventually started.

‘She’s the first we’ve lost since the wreck,’ Broddor remarked to Floran as they walked together.

‘Yes.’

‘I can see the sailors have heavy hearts,’ mused the dwarf. ‘She was far from popular with them, but she was one of theirs.’

Floran looked up ahead. The sailors were well out of earshot.

‘They will be wondering which of them will be next.’

‘Tup, you can sometimes say rather harsh things, and that’s coming from me,’ said the dwarf. He sighed then went on.‘You are right enough though. Lucky for them they travel with us, I suppose. Oh, we’re stopping...’

They were still in the forest, following a snow covered trail as it wound its way up through the lower slopes of a mountain. Through gaps in the trees and when the slope was at the right angle they could see down to the sea.

The group came together and as Roztov approached, Broddor said, ‘Wherever are you leading us? I’m no expert lad, as you know, but it feels like we are going round in circles.’

‘Ah, yes, I expect it does,’ admitted his friend, ‘Let’s eat lunch here. We need to get around the edge of the northern spur of the chasm. Ghene is going to find the way.’

‘Righto.’

‘Let’s go down here. It will be nice to look over the coast.’

He led them a few hundred yards to where a tight stand of trees stood at the top of a tall cliff. From here they could look down on the mile of forest that almost seem to be falling down the side if the steep slopes that lead down to the beach. The sea was dark and storm-tossed, what they could see of it, which was a thin strip of dark grey between the white of the sandy beach and the white of the wall of fog.

Roztov and Meggelaine made a hide that sheltered them from the wind and from view. No fire was lit and they all ate the leftover food from the evening meal. Roztov lay with his back to a rock, at the front of the hide, looking out across the shore as he chewed on a portion of smoked meat.

‘When you look at it, it’s incredible. A wall of fog, as far as the eye can see in either direction. It must shroud the entire island.’

‘Aye,’ agreed Broddor, who was resting against the wall of the hide. ‘I dare say.’

‘It’s hard to see how far back it goes. You know, I was below deck when we wrecked. What made the captain think it was a good idea to go into a fog bank with full sail?’

‘If the captain was alive we could ask him,’ replied Broddor dryly.

‘He was being guided by Dreggen, remember?’ put in Meggelaine as she sat down beside them. ‘He must have been aiming for the island.’

‘Well yes,’ said Roztov. ‘We know for sure Dreggen wanted to come here. I suppose he must have told the captain he knew there was nothing dangerous in the fog or something.’

Broddor shrugged and everyone was lost in thought for a while. The dwarf could see that Meggelaine was dwelling on the wreck again so he said, ‘How long will Ghene be?’

‘Maybe another hour or so,’ replied Roztov. ‘He said he’d have a bit of a flap about. See if he could find the most sheltered trail around the side of the mountain.’

‘Well, tell us all a tale then lad.’

‘Oh, I’m not really in the...’

‘Somebody mentioned something about the Council outhouse a while back. I’ve not heard that one in years. Go on lad.’

Broddor smiled and nodded his head to the others in the hide to get their attention.

‘Very well,’ said Roztov. ‘This story, well, it’s got bigger over the years, that’s safe to say. It has become a sort of cautionary tale I tell to anyone who ever expects the Great Forest Council to do anything in a hurry. Or to go at any pace faster than glacial, really. Firstly you have to realise that the Great Forest is huge and the biggest population is goblins. There are elven kingdoms hidden away in its depths though, also druidic enclaves and such like.’

He addressed himself to the sailors, who with nothing better to do were now also listening.

‘Elves don’t really do towns. A family makes a house somewhere and as the family grows this might turn into an estate. Each estate is usually a mile or so away from any other estate, so elven settlements spread over tens of miles. For a council though, that’s impractical, so right in the middle of the forest is the nearest thing they have to a town. And in that town there is a big building where the druids of the GFC meet. The town, the settlements, the forest, it’s all part of an elven kingdom called Gressy. Well, calling it a kingdom is a bit much maybe for a collection of estates that spread over the entire Great Forest. Not very important to know that I suppose, as the town and the council building is run by a very powerful elven druid called Lilly.’

‘Etruna bless her,’ put in Meggelaine.

‘Yes, bless her cotton socks. Elven toilet habits, well I’ve never been able to work out what they do. I suppose they must go to the toilet, but it’s a mystery to me how they go about it. You’ll never hear an elf fart either. Ever. But it is a druid council, not an elven one, and there are a lot of human and fressle druids in the world. Other races too. We all poop they way everyone poops, you know? Fressles do it the same way humans do, just in smaller quantities.’

‘Most of them anyway,’ interrupted Meggelaine again.

‘Some exceptions spring to mind. Anyway, we needed a place to go do it. The first time I was there, I was much younger, I need to, you know... go. I was too embarrassed to ask one of the elves, so I turned into a hawk and flew out deep into the forest and did it there. I was only there for two weeks, so that’s what I did for the entire length of my visit. I wasn’t back again for about two years, and by then Meggelaine was permanently installed there. Since we are such old friends I asked her if she had worked out where the facilities were. It turned out she was doing the exact same thing I had done the last time I was there!’

Broddor snorted with laughter, which set some of the others to chuckling.

‘Well, something had to be done,’ continued Roztov.‘At that time there were about a hundred permanent members of the council and about a third of them were not elves. So that’s thirty-odd people that were having to wander off, deep into the forest, whenever they needed to go do their business. You really had to plan your day around it, it was absurd. So, someone braver than me eventually put it on the council agenda to discuss the building of an outhouse.’

‘Here we go,’ laughed Broddor.

‘It’s simple enough right? I put one up at my own house in the forest in a day, bish-bosh job done. For a druid it’s the work of a moment. You would have thought it would be simple. Dig a hole. Construct a hide over the top of it. Have it a few dozen yards away from the council building. Well, what a fuss the elves made. Lilly’s reaction was like, well I don’t know, it was like we were proposing to all go poop in her bed.’

Meggelaine gave him a look.

‘Oh she really was that bad, Meg. Meeting after meeting they had about planning permission for that infernal outhouse. The elves pushed it right back out into the forest so that it was completely impractical, but then there would be some horse trading over other things and a non-elf would manage to bring it in a bit. I remember I managed to move it in by about twenty yards by agreeing to deliver a letter to the King of Styke. Something regarding elven rights in Tanglewood I think. Well, that year, I remember, I was back and forth running various errands and after that year the outhouse still wasn’t bloody built. To this day I’ve never used an outhouse at the GFC. Did you ever get it built Meg?’

‘Sort of.’

‘What do you mean, sort of?’

And so the conversation continued into the trials and tribulations of planning bathroom facilities in elven lands.  They were in a more relaxed mood when Ghene returned. Only Meggelaine remained anxious and withdrawn.

‘What are you all laughing about?’ Ghene asked as he sat down to admire the view.

‘Come on then. How do elves poop?’ asked Broddor with a grin.

‘What?’

‘Talking about the GFC outhouse again.’

Ghene sighed, ‘I see, well. Perhaps one day when you’re old enough I’ll tell you.’

Broddor grunted and gave a brief dismissive wave. Ghene smiled, ignored the dwarf and told them of what he’d done while scouting. Ten minutes later they went on their way again.

Ghene had found them a good campsite some miles further north and with the aid of magical lights provided by Floran to guide them they travelled through the night to get to it. It was deemed worth the risk of being seen to leave the territory of the Spire Dragons well behind them.

There were fewer trees on this part of the coast, but Ghene had found them a ruined cottage that the druids pulled roots over to make a roof. It was sheltered from the wind and warm enough for them to take their coats off.

As they ate their evening meal the druids talked of politics.

‘So which is worse?’ asked Roztov. ‘Dreggen bringing his message to this King Primus fellow and the creation of some kind of portal that links Stovologard to Old Bones – or not?’

‘Sorry, explain this to a daft old dwarf will you,’ said Broddor. ‘Why would the opening of this portal be a good thing?’

‘Well. King Primus seems to think that he can negotiate with Old Bones. He’s wrong. You can’t negotiate with death, not even a dragon can do that. Primus may as well try and negotiate with a disease, or I don’t know, a tidal wave. The dragons on this island are immensely powerful, but they are of the living. Old Bones is undead.’

‘Right,’ said Broddor sceptically.

‘Don’t you see? This portal, or whatever, opens and Old Bones will send his armies through it. Tanud doesn’t have an ally, it has an invasion on its hands. Two threats to Nillamandor become neutralised.’

‘Oh but Roz,’ put in Meggelaine. ‘Think of the people that live here, not just the dragons. They’d be slaughtered.’

‘I know,’ admitted Roztov. ‘Or look at it this way, perhaps the three factions of Tanud, the Chasm dragons, the Spire dragons and the northern dragons would stop their own feud and unite against a common enemy. It may end up better for them.’

‘Whatever happened, it would keep them all busy,’ agreed Ghene. ‘We would certainly be glad of Garumuda being distracted from his schemes back on Nillamandor.’

‘Or,’ blurted out Meggelaine, ever the contrarian. ‘We end up with a massive undead dragon army not just in the east, but in the west as well?’

‘Yes,’ said Roztov, pulling on his beard as he thought. ‘We have no idea of knowing. I’ve no idea what’s best. Whether to keep them apart, or let them have at it.’

‘You druids,’ grunted Broddor. ‘You won’t be able to help yourselves. You’ll interfere somehow. You should have stuck a knife in Dreggen when you had the chance Ghene.’

‘It would have made no difference, the Spire dragons know the message now. King Primus probably knows already from them.’

‘Knows what though?’ mused Roztov. ‘A note that says “Dear Kingy, getting together is a lovely idea, let’s set up a portal. Love and Kisses, OB”?’

‘Right. A portal. What do we know about portals?’ said Meggelaine.

‘Well not a druid’s ring, that’s for sure,’ put in Ghene.‘They function through the glory of Etruna. Dragons could move the stones I suppose, but the magic required is closed to them.’

‘Well, you are the expert on druid rings, sweetie,’ said Roztov as he tried to reach over to tussle her hair.

‘You shut your face,’ she said as she ducked out of reach.‘Tup, you have magic teleporty thingies in Hyadna don’t you?’

Floran had been paying little attention to their conversation.

‘Eh? Sorry, what?’

Meggelaine scowled at him. ‘Those strange pyramids of yours. Magical travel etcetera.’

‘Oh yes,’ smiled Floran as he bowed his head in apology. ‘There is a network of twenty-three pyramids throughout the Al Hamdalla region. Only the Vizards of Heshmatiye know how to use them. You couldn’t get a dragon through one, a horse maybe. They use a great deal of magical power to send even just a man.’

There was a pause for a moment or two then Ghene spoke. ‘I’ve heard stories, I expect we all have, of how Old Bones moves his undead about. If you look at how overrun Gnarlwold is, there are some that hypothesis that he has some magical means of moving his armies around. Nobody knows, but one theory is these things called Dead Gates. No one has even seen any evidence of them, but he must have some method of moving thousands of undead around Nillamandor without them being seen. He can’t be marching them through Eask and Lodz and he’s definitely not taking them by sea.’

‘Straight up teleportation, without rings or pyramids then?’ asked Roztov.

‘Not even the Dynar could do that. They considered it impossible, other than by the use of the druidic rings and the grace of Etruna.’

‘And yet the Vizards can do it.’

‘We don’t know!’ snapped Meggelaine. ‘Perhaps if we had more druids helping out at the GFC we would know, but we don’t.’

Roztov and Ghene remained silent after their friend’s outburst. She scowled and busied herself with the few cups and pots they had retained since fleeing Moletown. Roztov got up from his place by the fire, grunting as his knees popped and went over to where he had arranged his bed and lay down to sleep.

The next day their journey led them down out of the mountains and away from the coast, into a more relatively flat forested area.  There was a narrow strip of land, no more than a few miles wide, between the eastern end of thechasm and the sea. Although it was well covered by trees the druids kept careful watch and Ghene scouted ahead of the main group.

Once they were clear of the chasm they entered an area of rugged hills that didn't seemto be inhabited or hunted by anyone. It was a desolate land, with short fat alder trees growingonly in the shallow valleys.

The terrain remained the same for the next four days they travelled through it. Always going north, they camped each night in a secluded hollow or glade, usually lighting a fire and eating whatever food the druids had gathered from their trek through the valleys. There was little game to be had, but the druids found all sorts of things that were edible, although not necessarily pleasant to eat.

The druids led the group slowly, keeping their eyes open for threats. The few dragons that did fly overheadwere easily avoided andon the fifth day they reached the sea again. Spring was well on its way now, but the strong winds that came off the half frozen white tipped waves was flecked with ice.

Between the alder scattered hills and valleys and the sea was a strip of sand dunes covered in hardy grass. The hollows of the dunes were filled with snow, blown in by strong winds coursing along the coastline. The druids stopped for a while, taking in the view, reading the weather and the lie of the land. Eventually they led the group west along the beach, into the wind. There was little cover in this region, none at all on the beach and only a little shelter to be had behind the taller dunes further in land.

There wasn’t much the druids could do about the harsh wind. Everyone pulled their cloak hood’s down over their faces and did their best to shield their eyes from the sand and ice being blown at them. Roztov was watching the sky though and after about an hour of slogging west into the wind he shouted out when he saw a dragon high overhead.

‘Everyone lie down!’ he yelled over the howling wind. 'Put your hands over your noses and mouths.'

Then with a sweeping motion of his right hand he magically covered everyone in a few inches of sand. Roztov himself was covered, except for his eyes, and he watched as the dragon flew over. It was following the coast, from east to west, a dark silhouette against the pale grey sky. As it flew off into the distance he raised his head up out of the sand, then gradually his body. When it had completely gone he called out to the others that the coast was clear. They all then rose out of the sand, brushed off their cloaks and clothes, then continued on their way, battling against the wind with every step.

On the second day heading south-west along the beach they could see mountains looming out of the mist, dark smudges against the slate grey sky.

'I think we need to attune to this area,' said Ghene when they stopped for a short rest, 'and learn what lies on the other sideof those mountains. I only have the vaguest of notions of where Stovologard could be in relation to where we are.'

‘We’ll need to find a decent place to camp,’ replied Roztov, holding his cloak’s hood down with one hand to stop it being blown back. ‘It’s impossible to fly in this wind. I’ll scout ahead for a bit.’ He then crouched down and turned into a fox. He sniffed the air then cantered off down the beach.

He found them a place to shelter from the wind although it was dark by the time they got there. It was a cramped little cave, formed from the space between a pile of large rocks. The druids shaped it a little to keep out the draughts and a fire was lit. The cave soon grew warm, a happy respite from the wind howling outside.There was barely enough room for everyone to lie down, so Roztov used his magic to carve an additional space out of one of the rocks at the rear. The others brought in bundles of course dune grass to make beds from.

‘I’m exhausted. Every step against that wind is a struggle,’ said Meggelaine as she threw a stick on the fire then flopped onto her bed of grass.

‘This is a harsh land,’ said Broddor. ‘This is our third night on this coast and the wind hasn’t stopped for a second. I’ve got sand everywhere. And I mean everywhere.’

Roztov was closest to the low entrance of the cave. ‘It’s started snowing again.’

‘That’s all we need,’ grumbled Meggelaine. ‘I’ve never seen the sea iced over before.’

‘You have.’

‘Eh? When?’

‘That winter after we came down from the Moon Marshes. The harbour of that town, I can’t remember its name. It was frozen over. We had to wait until spring to get passage on a ship.’

‘The town’s name was Shellbe,’ said Ghene. ‘I’m going to the back of the cave to start the attuning process.’

‘Do you want anything to eat?’ offered Meggelaine, although she was too tired to think of cooking anything.

‘Later perhaps, thank you.’

They stayed in the cave all the next day and night. It was warm though, and there was enough to eat, so everyone was content just to be in out of the weather. Ghene spent the rest of the evening attuning. In the morning he turned into a bird and flew north.

By the next day though, most of them were bored of life inside the cave so they went fishing in the rock pools nearby. They had crabs for their dinner.

Late on the second night Ghene returned and as he warmed himself by the fire with a cup of tea he gave his report.

'There is a narrow isthmus between this area and the rest of the island to the north. Virtuallyimpassable on foot. Beyond it is a wall of tall mountains, then a ridge that leads down into theforest. Beyond that I did not see.'

He put his cup down and stretched out his legs before continuing. ‘Just north of here is an inlet, it’s about a mile wide. There are jagged cliffs on either side, like the fjords of Vegas. All of it looks impassable, I saw no animal trails, let alone paths. I don’t think anyone ever travels this region. People going between the two halves of the island must go by boat.’

‘Perhaps we should do some mountain hoping then,’ said Roztov. ‘Scout for a good camp, fly everyone up, then do it again.’

‘In these winds?’

‘If we are not flying right into the teeth of it we should be ok. What other choice do we have?’

So it was decided that they would begin their cautious hoping flights north in the morning. By the light of the fire they sharpened the blades of their weapons and cleaned their armour. Meggelaine washed out the cups and pots with melted snow.

As Roztov washed some of the dirt off his dented helmet, Ghene smiled and asked him, ‘Why have you never replaced that old thing?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. It brings me luck maybe.’

‘You are too tight to buy a new one, more like,’ put in Meggelaine.

‘Was it dented in some might battle?’ asked Arin. ‘Fighting against a foe like Doomshade?’

Roztov liked that the sailors were joining in with his and his friend’s conversations more recently.

‘Actually no,’ he admitted. ‘Strangely, one day when I was on the road to Timu, I was hit on the head by a falling turtle.’

‘Really?’ said Arin in confusion, ‘Where had it come from?’

‘To this day I do not know, I can only assume it was dropped by an eagle.’

Broddor was laughing. ‘Don’t listen to him lad. He tells a different story about that dent each time he is asked.’

‘Oh, I see,’ said Arin leaning back as he realised it was a joke.

‘When Roz first came to our fortress, he was wearing that helmet and it had a dent in it then. Did it have a dent in it when your father gave it to you?’

‘Why actually yes, and he told me he got the dent when an ogre hit him on the head with a roast ox leg. You see, he was in a cave...’

Roztov paused when he saw Meggelaine was scowling at him, she was still grieving over the death of Ophess and found their mirth annoying.

‘Just buy a new one, for Etruna’s sake,’ she snapped.

‘Where?’ said Roztov looking around in an exaggerated fashion and then shrugging.

‘You know what I mean.’

‘They say you are wealthy, is that true?’ asked Salveri curiously.

‘Oh Roz is richer than a king,’ replied Broddor.

‘Not true.’

‘Oh it is. He’s a hoarder. Like a dragon. He never spends a single penny unless he absolutely has to. Typical Stykian.’

‘Well, I invested my share from Volek’s horde. Unlike other people I know that drank it all away.’

‘Hah! Playing into the stereotypes of dwarves!’ accused Broddor although he had just done the same to Roztov. ‘I didn't drink it, well not all of it. Most of it went to the temple.’

‘Well, you can both donate something to Ophess’s family when we get back then,’ said Meggelaine.

‘Sorry, Meg,’ said Broddor. ‘Insensitive of us.’

Roztov rolled his eyes, then turned back to watch the snow being whipped about by the wind outside the door of the cave.

In the morning they put their plan to push north into motion. Roztov carried Salveri and Arrin, Ghene carried Broddor, while Floran summoned a giant bee to carry both himself and Tankle. Meggelaine carried no one and turned into a kestrel.

They dropped down twice, once on each side of the fjord and finally made their camp at the end of the day high in the mountains in a deep cave that Ghene had found. There was no fuel for a fire, so Floran created a magical one to keep them warm.

‘What a desolate region this is,’ remarked Meggelaine as she rubbed her hands and heated herself by the fire. ‘I’m never going to be able to sleep on this rock. I need pine branches, or reeds, or earth at least. Who has the food?’

Roztov handed her the bag with their supplies. She opened it and began to sort out the rations.

‘Not a bird, not a dragon, not a living soul did I see the whole flight today,’ Roztov said later as he ate his meal of baked potatoes and smoked rotrok meat. Tonight they were finishing the last of the food from the forests around the Spire.

Meggelaine was still apparently in a foul mood, as from nowhere she said, ‘You are of an age, you should be in the council.’

‘Now then, Meg,’ he said softly.

‘You and all your money. Sat on your big pile of wealth in your estate in Angor. You should be helping out at the GFC.’

‘What do you think I’m doing now?’

‘You should join the Council when we get back then.’

‘Sure sure, when we get back. Anyway, there are plenty of druids older than me all over the place that have nothing to do with the GFC.’

‘Yes, but they are hermits and mendicants. You have incredible power in you. Lilly talks of you daily.’

‘Does she?’

‘You are a great disappointment to her. She says you have squandered all your potential.’

‘Hey!’ scolded Roztov. ‘I’m trying to raise a family.’

‘Oh please. Your poor wife waits on you hand and foot in that mansion of yours.’

‘Firstly, it’s not a mansion, which you would know if you had ever seen it, and secondly Jeb doesn’t wait on me hand of foot, which you would know if you had ever met her!’

‘The reason I’ve never been to visit,’ said Meggelaine with tears forming in her eyes, ‘is because we are so busy trying to do everything back at the council because of all the bloody druids that don’t pull their weight!’

Roztov held up his hand defensively, ‘Listen. How can this be the time to brow beat me into joining the GFC?’

‘It’s not,’ agreed Ghene. ‘But what Meg says is true. You would do a lot of good there.’

‘Build me a bloody proper toilet and I might consider it,’ said Roztov, getting to his feet angrily.‘I know you are still upset about Ophess, but that’s all done now Meg. I’m going to sleep now. Goodnight!’

Roztov turned into a large grizzly bear, snarled, then curled up into a huge furry ball at the back of the cave.

‘That’s never good,’ remarked Broddor. ‘When he goes to sleep as a bear.’

‘I know that,’ snapped Meggelaine.

There was silence for a while. The strange magical fire made no sound, there was no crackle from the wood, just the feint roaring sound of the flames. Meggelaine sat and watched it for a while, as the others began to bed down on the hard rock, spreading their cloaks and using their packs and bags as pillows.

‘I’ll never sleep like that,’ she muttered then went over to where the bear was gently snoring and pulled herself up onto its back. It didn’t notice as she lay down on top of it. Meggelaine snuggled in and from her warm spot in the bear’s fur watched the fire for another hour before finally falling asleep.

When she woke in the morning the bear was gone and she was wrapped up snugly in Roztov’s cloak. Light filtered in from the cave mouth where she could see Ghene, Broddor and Floran talking. She sat up, yawned and stretched.

‘Where did he go?’ she asked as she approached the others.

‘North,’ answered Ghene. ‘He’s gone to scout out Stovologard. He said we should wait here until he returns.’

Meggelaine sighed, feeling responsible for her friend’s sudden departure.

‘He better not get himself killed. How long? He didn’t go as a dragon did he?’

‘Two or three days I should think, he should just be looking for the next safe spot to camp. And no, he was a sparrowhawk,’ replied Ghene.

‘Although knowing him he might have a look around for boats worth nicking,’ said Broddor.

‘Right fine,’ said Meggelaine, then sighed again, ‘I’ll get breakfast ready for everyone.’

(G355 26/05/2018 via Roll20 - AP, JF(GM)) WA32

(G355 26/05/2018 via Roll20 - AP, JF(GM)) WA32


DAY 340 (13th Alturiak)(February)

Fenrir, alone, served as the Day Air Watch of Westgate today.

Veddic went house hunting.

DAY 341 (14th Alturiak)(February)

Another day of Fenrir patrolling the skies above Westgate.

Veddic arranges the sale of the house on Wizard's Cut.

DAY 342 (15th Alturiak)(February)

Another day of Fenrir patrolling the skies above Westgate.

Veddic accepts the keys of the house on Wizard's Cut.

DAY 343 (16th Alturiak)(February)

Another day of work for Fenrir. As well as ordering the Ring of Knock he had ordered some magical goggles of 'Spotting'. They arrived today at Spectre Island. Random did not let on who had made them.

DAY 344 (17th Alturiak)(February)

As he flew over the city again in the morning, trying out his new glasses, Fenrir realised that even without them he was getting to know the city of Westgate very well. From the air at least. The morning traffic, the markets, the rhythm of the city, was laid out for him each day. He was now pretty familiar with the streets, alleys, grand houses and buildings of the entire city. He was almost at the stage of getting bored with it.

He was shaken out of his boredom when a gnome mounted on a decent sized dragon took off from the city and made to leave west. The gnome was impertinent when questioned and flew off at high speed when Fenrir demanded that he land. There was nothing Fenrir could do as he was limited to the walking speed of his magical wings.

When a sleet and rain storm closed in he went and talked to Trepplemar in her office. She said she would soon find some other people to join him so he wasn't on his own.

Back at Spectre Island he talked to Random who reminded him of the current quests that needed doing:
1. Get rid of Trepplemar from the watch
2. Go through the portal in the Plane of Shadow and see what the 'FAMP' looked like (Failed Alternative Material Plane)
3. Do the next thing in Random's war against the vampires
4. Investigate a pirate ship that was anchored east of the island.

Fenrir was not aware of the fourth item on Random's to do list, so Random took him up to the watchtower and pointed out the lights of the ship.
'It turned up a few days ago. I don't know who they are or what they want, but I should imagine they are curious as to what we are up to here. I can't let Barry's Gang go anywhere until that ship has gone. They might be aligned to one of the pirate factions or just be independents. Pirate politics is very fluid though. If you want you could fly over and check them out some time.'
Fenrir agreed.
'Well then,' continued Random. 'Have you a hat of disguise? Use mine if you don't. Go as another race or gender or something, we really would not like to advertise that a member of the Westgate watch is out here!'

Fenrir had the beginnings of an idea and went to the sick house on the island. A young adept called Uma was tending to the two sick men there.
One of the men had 'PSNBD' or 'Plane of Shadow Nasty Bum Disease' and the other had some sort of disease that had driven him crazy.

Fenrir told Veddic to collect their poop and flew off to their house back in the city. The house was perfect in every way except for the three servants that had been part of the sale, a man, his wife and lout of a son.
As part of the deal they were to retain their employment at the house. Presumably the person selling the house had not wanted them as they were so horrible.

Walking into the main room Fenrir found the son sat in the best chair by the fire drinking the  expensive brandy. Fenrir punched him in the face. The lout then went running to his mother crying.

There was a bit of a hoo-haa but in the end Fenrir scared them all into behaving themselves and eventually went to bed.

DAY 345 (18th Alturiak)(February)

It was another day of high winds in Westgate so Fenrir had some time to talk to Trepplemar again. He learned the following things through his usual charming banter:

- She was native to Westgate.
- She has a husband and three grown up children. Four grandchildren.
- She lives in a well defended house in town. Typical wizard's abode full of fireball traps and stuff.
- She believes in the rule of law, but behaves in neither a good or evil way.
- She is 60 (or so) and is considering retiring, but has no obvious successor.

After work Fenrir headed back to his house. He smelled cooking in the kitchen and went in to take a look. His cook was in the middle of cooking something like forty pies!
She tried to lie about it, but it was clear - she was running a business from the house's kitchen.

'Finish them,' growled Fenrir. 'I'll take them to the watch with me tomorrow morning.'

DAY 346 (19th Alturiak)(February)

Fenrir came down in the morning to see a big batch of fresh pies on his kitchen table. They looked good, but he wasn't entirely sure of their contents.
He summoned to cook and told her to eat one, but she refused and ran to her room.

He then angrily stuffed them all into his Bag of Holding and went to work. He sat at the top of the watchtower and read through the paperwork for the house. Since it was all gibberish to him he summoned one of the more clever watchmen he was friends with - a man called Curly - who read over it.
'It's a fairly straight forward contract, my lord. A clause that is often put in to protect the staff of a house when the previous owner leaves. At the end of the day though its up to the sheriff or magistrate who settles the dispute, if there is one. With you being a lord and a man of the watch I can't see how you would have any issues if you slung them out on their arse.'

Fenrir, grumbling, took a pie from his bag and opened it up. All the watchmen agreed it looked like a good pie. Determine not to let the whole pie issue lie he then flew over to another watchtower where he had been told there was a watch cleric who could cast 'Detect Posion.'
He didn't have it memorised so Fenrir said he'd be back the next day.

After work he then hired a steward, a dwarf called Jasper Pen, who then hired three new servants on his behalf. When he returned home he told the horrible servants that they were demoted to toilet cleaners and were to be paid one copper piece a month from here on in.

DAY 347 (20th Alturiak)(February)

When he got to work in the morning Fenrir took the possibly tainted pies to the watch cleric who confirmed that the big pile of pies were poisoned. He did warn that could simply mean that the meat was off, not that there was something deadly like arsenic in there.

After his shift he went and talked to a magistrate called Xender Holysword. He was a paladin and a good man, but he did say that in general a magistrate would take his side in any attempt to remove his unwanted staff, especially if it could be proved the cook had done something nasty to his pies.

[I'm tempted here, dear reader, to wonder why Fenrir wasn't concentrating on more important matters, and not spend days obsessing about pies, but possibly he just wanted to make his house a happy home  before doing anything else. I can only speculate.]

He returned home to find that Pen was ruling the place with a rod of iron. Fenrir approved.

He then went to Spectre Island, got Random's Hat of Disguise, Veddic's churn of diseased poop and then flew out to the pirate ship.

It was dark, some of the pirates were getting drunk on deck by the light of the ship's lanterns. He also
saw a man tied to the mast who had just been flogged and two wenches being pestered by more drunks. Another group of drunken pirates were largely failing in an attempt to launch a small boat, with the notion of rowing all the way to Westgate in search of a decent tavern.

Invisibly Fenrir moved through the ship, into the galley, some of the rooms and storage areas. Everywhere he went he smeared some of the effluent in his small churn. He was like some kind of Poop Fairy. A group of pirates below decks did hear him as he wafted by, but they could not locate them.
As pirates went to the tap of the barrel on deck to get another drink he dropped a little of the poop into their tankards.
He then went up onto the crow's nest and waited.

(G354 19/05/2018 via Roll20 - AP, JF(GM)) WA31

(G354 19/05/2018 via Roll20 - AP, JF(GM)) WA31

DAY 337 (10th Alturiak)(February) cont ...

Invisible and flying, Fenrir flew down into the courtyard of the northern half of Castle Dread. Through a ruined wall he entered a room where he saw a scabby gnome telling a joke to a minotaur. He left them too it then flew to a sort of tunnel that lead to the stone bridge. Here he saw four men armed with crossbows.

He tried one of the doors in the courtyard. It seemed barred from the inside. He tried another and it was the same. The 'roof' of the castle was the collapsed upper stories and here he found a door which he opened with one of his magical 'Knock' stones.

He snuck downstairs and tried to get past some armed men, but as he'd found out at the Grand Manor, although he was invisible and off the ground he still made a small amount of noise as he went past. The men in this part of the castle were rogues and their heightened senses soon had them looking around the place suspiciously.

He left that part of the castle and went to another, where he found and killed a swordsman in a side room. He dragged the body outside, the door he'd come in led out of the castle entirely, and began to loot it. Somehow the minotaur had sensed him though (they have a good sense of smell so that was probably it) and it jumped down off the wall and surprised him.

Fenrir flew away. Once the coast was clear again he returned to his game of knocking on doors and seeing what happened. He was discovered again by the gnome and the minotaur. The gnome cast a Web spell at him in the courtyard but it had no effect. Fenrir blasted them both with his chained  Eldritch Blast and then two more guards who had come to see what was going on.

The minotaur and the guards died, the gnome ran for it and hid in a half ruined building to the south. Fenrir hunted him down and killed him along with all the other guards he encountered, except for the last which he let live in return for information about the location of the Magpie.
'It's in the room of Lady Redblade!' he cried.
Fenrir had a fair idea where that was as he'd already seen a woman matching that description in the rooms where the rogues were.

He assaulted the rooms with all of his warlock power, killing all the rogues and the woman known as Lady Redblade. They fought back, but Fenrir was too powerful to be in any great danger. He found a treasure chest in the Lady's room, which contained the Magpie - a clay figurine about a foot tall in height. He also found and released three prisoners in a cell to the south.

He then left the castle and together with Veddic headed back to Spectre Island. The Magpie appeared to be a large clay statue, hollow, with a cork stopper in its base.
It had no magical aura but they were wary of it until Random uncorked it and shook out its contents. There were many pages of legal papers, land deeds, property deeds, letters and such. All for and about property in Cormyr.
Random read it for half an hour or so then said, 'This is about the Skalantur Scandal. Hmm, I suppose Dressdelle was in the Dragon Coast trying to get to these when the attack on House Bleth went wrong. I've a feeling if we give these to her, she'll no longer have any reason to be in Westgate.'

DAY 338 (11th Alturiak)(February)

Fenrir went to work at the Day Air Watch. Veddic stayed on the island and used a magical spell  to copy all the 'Magpie Papers', which took a few hours. They were not exact copies, the spell  could not recreate seals for example, but they were otherwise exact duplicates.

There was fog over the city today so Fenrir and Dressdelle did no flying. Fenrir returned to Spectre Island in the evening.

DAY 339 (12th Alturiak)(February)

In the morning, at work, Fenrir handed all the original Magpie Papers to Dressdelle.
She was initially surprised, 'Where did you get them?'
'Castle Dread,' replied Fenrir.
'I see,' mused Dressdelle. 'Cormyr had told me to hold on while another team went there,
but it looks like you got their first. Well, I've no more reason to hang around here.
Thanks, and goodbye!'
And with that she took off north, presumably to Cormyr to stir things up again. From what I have heard about the Skalantur Scandal the Papers may have been evidence that cleared many of the War Wizards of Cormyr of wrong-doing in the scandal.

It made no odds to Fenrir though, he'd done what he needed to do and he went to report Dressdelle leaving to Trepplemar. She took the news stoically and as he left she said, 'There's more to you than meets the eye.'

In the evening Fenrir returned to Spectre Island.

Among other things Random said:
'Well, old fruit, as you know I have a general policy of not telling you anything, since you are such a security risk, but I think I'll break that rule a little bit now. They need you to move back into the city. Find a decent building, that's  secure and defensible, and set yourself up there. If we are going to get rid of Trepplemar and get you in charge of the magical arm of the watch you need to appear to be rich, a noble, and part of Westgate society.
So, take some of this cash, spend it like a noble. Buy a good horse, employ a bunch of servants, you get the idea. See if you can get a noble girlfriend. Turn on that Fenrir charm.
I've a plan to take out Fayder, after that is done, keep your eyes open for the Night Masks and the Fire Knives, they might well still think it's a good idea to take you out.
Very gently, from your new position of power, see what information you can gather on Trepplemar. See if you can find out something that can be used to lever her out of the watch. Take it slowly though, we don't want to jeopardise the progress that has already been made.'

It was decided that over the next few days Veddic, with the help of Random's contacts and Cavu's money would go about finding a suitable house in the city, while Fenrir continued in the watch.
A suitable place was found on Wizard's Cut, a street close to the noble ward.

Fenrir also arranged to buy a ring of Knock, through Random.

(G353 28/04/2018 via Roll20 - AP, JF(GM)) WA30

(G353 28/04/2018 via Roll20 - AP, JF(GM)) WA30

DAY 334 (7th Alturiak)(February) cont...

Fenrir returned to the island with this useful information - namely the location of the Magpie in  Castle Dread. This led on to a late night discussion about all the things going on in Westgate in general.

Random told him that the city ran on graft and corruption, this was not new and hardly surprising. From the Croamarkh on down, everyone was on the take. However, recently, the last few years, an even more vile corruption had been infesting the city - vampirism.
'Now I tell you this in the strictest of confidence, young Fenrir,' said Random. 'Please don't go blabbing about all this next time you are in hot water. I knew that there were vampires in the city and that some of the noble houses had issues with it, but it wasn't until I talked to Cavu that I found out that it runs deeper than anyone knows. Not only are half the noble families riddled with vampirism, but also the Nightmasks. Indeed, the secretive new leader of the Nightmasks is a vampire. Well, I'm no friend to their sort, I've had trouble with them in the past. So when Cavu suggested I join his cause I could see that our interested were the same.
Now, this is top secret old chap, but Cavu, somehow, has learned that the Nightmasks plan to install one of their own as the ruler of the city. Don't worry about the details, but suffice to say that if they succeed in their ambition then Westgate will be turned into some kind of undead hellhole. That is the last thing this region needs, there are enough of them out east as it is.'

Random also relayed a few of his adventures to Fenrir, these can be read elsewhere in this journal.


DAY 335 (8th Alturiak)(February)

Fenrir reported for work in the Day Air Watch as usual. He took Veddic with him.

There was high winds, so flying was limited.

He asked Dressdelle if he could go down to Gulway (where Castle Dread was located) and she said that was fine as long as he went and talked to the Westgate marshall that was based there to make it look official.

After work they returned to Spectre Island.


DAY 336 (9th Alturiak)(February)

Today Fenrir and Veddic flew south-west to the Gulway valley. They both sat on the flying carpet as it was faster than Fenrir's dark wings.

It took them seven hours to get there. As they arrived at the first village in the valley an old lady on a broomstick flew up to them. It was Grannie Stormskuttle.
'Ah, if it isn't the watchmen from Westgate,' she said.
Fenrir recognised her as one of the witches that had been flying back and forth to the city recently and thumbing their noses at law and order.
Initially she was prickly and gave them a taste of their own medicine, asking questions and being obtuse.
Eventually though she said, 'Well the marshall lives on Cabbage Street in the village of Dog Castle. Their is an inn too. Enjoy your stay.'

They flew over a region of vineyards and dairy farms, this was a cheese and wine region. The fields were empty except a few fed up looking cows. They walked the last mile to the village and headed straight for the marshall's house.

His name was Rurik Strongaxe, a dwarf, and he was sat in his front garden taking the cool evening air as they arrived. He was distrustful at first, watchmen from the city usually meant trouble for him, but after a friendly chat they left him to it and went to the 'Cow and Cabbage' to get rooms and food.

There were only four other guests at the dinner table that night, two merchants, an adept and a female elven druid. All just passing through.

Grannie Stormskuttle came in later and talked to the innkeeper. She accepted a drink from Fenrir, although when she asked why they were in the valley, Fenrir was evasive.
In general chit-chat discussions with the people in the inn he learned the location of Castle Dread. It was three miles south of the village, in the hills.

DAY 337 (10th Alturiak)(February)

The lads had a slap up breakfast at the inn, then Fenrir went on an invisible aerial scouting mission. Castle Dread was mostly a ruin, and was made up of two parts, divided by a stone bridge over a deep ravine. There was a single entrance in the southern half. He saw a few people walking around in the courtyard of the northern half.

He flew back and reported this to Veddic. They then left the village for three hours, for reasons I'm still not clear on, but perhaps to maintain the pretence they were on some sort of sightseeing
tour of the region. It gave Fenrir some time to think though, and realise that they had come to Gulway somewhat unprepared. The village offered no magical items of any kind and the only shop sold food and a few simple supplies.
Fenrir suddenly hit on the notion of buying a compass and after asking random farmers for a while found an old retired sailor in the village and bought an old one off him for twenty gold coins.

They returned to the inn, had lunch, then together flew up to the castle. They edged closer and saw that their was no real watch being taken from the ruined ramparts of the castle. The people there seemed not to expect an attack. Veddic and his carpet hid behind a ruined hut in the shadow of the castle and Fenrir flew up over its walls to see what trouble he could cause.

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

Chapter 11 – Inside the Spire (6641)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘You live here then? No dragons?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Serving who though?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Oh, for...’

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

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

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

***

Meggelaine was beside herself with anxiety.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Well, we can’t just leave her!’

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

Roztov raised an eyebrow. Ghene sighed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Meggelaine sniffed and blew her nose on her sleeve.

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

‘Yes. Yes. We should do that.’

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

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

‘Yes, dear,’ said Roztov with a sigh.

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

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

‘Too true,’ agreed the younger man.

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

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

‘No one would believe us.’

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

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

Salveri straightened up and looked at her.

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

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

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

‘Sal!’ chastised Arin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Oh, apologies, well, I...’

‘Well go on then!’ cackled the female.

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

‘More like it. Now, who are you?’

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

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

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

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

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

‘Yes.’

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

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

‘Red robes? Shaved head?’ asked Ghene.

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

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

‘There or higher. Probably higher.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘So what?’

‘I’m not sure.’

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

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

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

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

‘None of your business.’

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

‘Hardly.’

‘So what is it?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘What does that gain him?’

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

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

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

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

‘Please don't.’

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

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

‘Other elves.’

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

‘Queen actually.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Humph. Hello.’

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

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

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

‘What?’

‘Well, dragons.’

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

‘They are invisible, mostly.’

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

‘They are incorporeal, like smoke.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘What happened?’ asked Roztov.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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