Chapter 14 – The
Dragon Teeth Mountains (6533)
Heavy snow
began to fall, covering the surrounding grass and heather with its whiteness,
and starkly highlighting the crimson red of the blood from the battle as it
melted through.
‘We’re not going on in this are we?’ asked
Meggelaine holding her hand out to catch the snowflakes.
‘I’ve got
nothing left after all the battle,’ admitted Ghene. ‘I can’t change again until
I’ve rested, even if I tried.’
Roztov wiped
the snow from his face and beard, as he looked up at the sky. ‘I’ll put a roof
on this thing then, and we’ll call it a day for now,’ he said. He then swept
his arms slowly up and around his body. The surrounding rocks of the rampart
cracked and groaned as they flowed upwards and flattened out to make a roof. The
hedge that Meggelaine had created grew thick and deep, rustling aggressively as
it cut out all the light, while the central mound grew tall enough to meet the
ceiling and act as a pillar to hold up the roof. He then pointed at the hedge
on the leeward side of the shelter and poked two windows at eyelevel out and a
very low, narrow door.
Roztov then
sat down against the central pillar and wrapped his cloak around his body.
‘That’s it,
I’m spent.’
The others
busied around, setting up camp, lighting a fire and heating up water for tea.
Once things
were more settled, they discussed the way ahead.
‘Should we
go back down into the valleys do you think?’ wondered Meggelaine sipping her
tea.
‘I think the
best thing to do is forge ahead,’ replied Roztov wearily as he watched the snow
through the door. ‘If what we understand of the land ahead is correct, we are
only about twenty-five miles away from Stovologard as the crow flies. We could
do it in a day.’
‘Yes, but
we’ll need to turn west at some point,’ put in Ghene. ‘Going up and down rather
than along the ridges will add more time onto our journey.’
‘Right, two
days at the most then,’ agreed Roztov. ‘We’ll have to camp one more night in
the mountains. I think if we meet those trolls again we can just push straight
through them. I should be attuned enough to summon some creatures too. Not sure
what though, maybe eagles...’
‘Against
trolls and yales?’ asked Meggelaine.
‘Hmm, I’ll
have a think,’ said Roztov as he shut his eyes and drifted off to sleep. Meggelaine
caught his tea cup as it fell from his hand.
They spent
all of the remainder of that day in the shelter and were not disturbed. The
next morning the snow had stopped, but lay thick on the ground. They had to dig
their way out of the shelter. The going was slow, but people that travelled
with druids moved swifter than those that didn’t, and always took longer to
tire, even in the windswept ridges and snow filled hollows of the mountains of
north Tanud.
After three
hours of trudging through the snow, they stopped and took their bearings.
Ghene
pointed at a peak to their north west. ‘I think we should go straight over that
mountain. We’ll be able to see Stovologard from the top of it.’
Roztov
rubbed the ice from his beard. ‘The weather is closing in again. We might end
up camping on top of it.’
Ghene
shrugged.
‘You’re
right,’ admitted Roztov. ‘That’s not a big problem I suppose.’
The saw the
occasional dragon flying overhead, and as a precaution they hid in the snow
when they did so, but truthfully they did not know if the dragons cared if they
were there or not. As evening wore on the snow started falling again and they
stopped to camp on the southern face of the mountain as Roztov had predicted.
A hole was
burrowed out of the mountain side and they all crowded into it.
‘We’ve not
made good time,’ admitted Ghene. ‘The climb was steeper than I thought, but
even so we are not far away now. Once on the other side of the mountain I think
it will all be down hill to the city.’
The others
nodded and warmed their hands by the fire.
They began
their climb again in the morning. Thick cloud had descended down onto the
mountains and they could see no further than ten yards. Ghene could find his
way well enough though and they reached the flat top of the mountain before lunch.
If the city lay before them, they could not see it. They could see little of
anything until Ghene lead them down out of the snow into a flat bottomed valley
full of swampy grass and heather. Dank and cold as it was, it was pleasant to
see a colour other than white. The clouds hung over them like a blanket, and to
the north their view was blocked by a wall of thick fog.
‘Were the
bloody hell are we, elf?’ asked Broddor.
‘We can’t be
far away,’ replied Ghene. ‘If we just follow this valley, then...’
‘This place
is deserted. If we were so close to the city I’d expect a road here,’ mused the
dwarf.
Roztov, who
had been bringing up the rear, came and joined them. ‘We are still very high
up, don’t forget that Broddor. This valley may not be inhabited because it is
troll territory.’
‘You had to
say it, didn’t you?’ hissed Meggelaine.
She then
looked around, expecting to be attacked from all directions at that exact
moment, but nothing happened. Roztov looked around. Nothing continued to
happen.
‘Right,
let’s keep going,’ said Roztov, mussing up Meggelaine’s hair as he walked past
her.
She was
right though, as they were attacked two hours later. The valley had turned
east, much to Ghene’s irritation and they were forced to correct their course
by climbing back up into the mountains. As they trekked through a shallow
snow-choked valley the clouds cleared to reveal a rich blue spring sky. A great
deal of dragon activity was displayed above them.
It soon
became apparent that the dragons were not in the slightest bit interested in
them, so they continued on their way regardless of the danger overhead.
‘What do you
think is going on?’ asked Broddor.
‘They look
like chasm dragons. Mainly going north,’ said Roztov. ‘They must be on the
offensive.’
Perhaps
because they were too focused on keeping an eye on the dragons, a fresh band of
trolls were able close in from the south and surprise them. The first of them
came riding over the top of the ridge to their left, the yales bounding through
the snow, sending great clumps of it down before them.
‘Trolls!’ yelled Broddor, charging towards
them. ‘Defence in depth!’
He made slow
going of it though, up to his chest in snow as he was. Roztov shielded his eyes
to look up at the ridge. More were coming up from behind, following the tracks
of the yales leading the charge. As Broddor slowly made his lonely way towards
the approaching troll war band the others waited until the last of them had
come over the ridge. After a few more moments, Roztov was the first to speak.
‘Well, here
we go again,’ he sighed as he counted the enemy. ‘I don’t think even Broddor’s
“Defence in Depth” can win this one. There are at least a hundred of them.’
Arin stood
beside him, his teeth chattering in fear. ‘You said we could push through them
my lord. Or shall we take to the sky?’
Roztov could
see the young man was desperate to escape. The mounted trolls were twenty feet
tall from hoof to head, brandishing clubs and axes that could kill a man in a
single blow. They howled echoed around the mountains as they came, swinging
their lethal weapons over their heads.
Roztov
looked up. High above them there was a dragon battle going on. Dozens of
dragons were wheeling around in combat. Jets of flame tore across the deep blue
sky as it filled up with smoke.
‘I’m not
sure we want to get tangled up in that,’ said Roztov calmly.
Arin had
been using his spear as a walking staff. He now levelled it nervously towards
the charging trolls.
‘We’ll see
how we get on. If we have to run for it, we will. Keep to the same plan as last
time,’ said Roztov. ‘Stay beside Tuppence, make sure no trolls sneak up on him.
Good luck.’
The druid nodded
to the terrified young man, then turned into a massive grizzly bear and joined
the other two druids who had already shape shifted into similar creatures and
were bounding forward, using the path that Broddor had already ploughed through
the snow.
The dwarf
was already exhausted. He plunged his sword into the snow and rested on the
pommel while he got his breath back. The three bears loped past him.
‘I’ll
just...’ he panted. ‘I’ll just wait here for them.’
He watched
as Roztov met the first of the riders, leaping high out of the snow to claw the
troll from the saddle and savage it to death in a flurry of red and white. The
yale reared and a smaller bear went for its throat, snarling loudly. The bear
that was Ghene met the next rider, their bodies running into each other with a
bone-shuddering thud. The yale fell, the troll plunging from its saddle and
landing in the snow. Ghene turned and clawed at the troll’s back as it tried to
rise.
Most of the
rest of the trolls rode around the bears and carried on towards the remainder
of the group. One came charging towards Broddor, wielding a long heavy tree
branch as a club. Broddor easily avoided the blow as it came crashing down and
chopped the arm off the troll as it swung past. There was snow flying
everywhere, so he didn’t see the next rider that came at him and the yale hit
him with its chest at full speed, sending him flying backwards. As he tried to pull
himself out of the snow and stand up the yale’s horns scraped across the back
plate of his armour. He rolled in the snow and using his sword one-handed
plunged the point into its right eye. The beast reared up in pain and the troll
on its back leapt down from the saddle and came at Broddor with a heavy bit of
metal that looked like a park railing.
Broddor was
already back on his feet though and calling out a battle cry he ducked under
the railing as it was swung and stabbed the troll in the belly. It stepped back
with a growl, clutching its stomach. Two more trolls joined the first one and
Broddor now had a proper fight on his hands.
Meanwhile,
the remainder of the riders that were not fighting bears or Broddor, the bulk
of the war band, continued on towards were Floran, Tankle and Arin were
standing.
‘Right,’
said Floran as he raised his staff. He then pointed it at the ground before him
and drew a circle around their position. A wall of fire sprung up, three yards
wide, that turned the snow into scalding steam. From side the side the circle
was ten yards wide and the three of them stood in its centre to be as far away
from the flames as possible. The flames were tall too, thirty feet high, but
they caught glimpses of the trolls riding around its circumference, as if
looking for an opening.
When they
discerned that there were none, the first of them jumped through the fire. The
trolls could not persuade their mounts to leap through the flames so they came
through on foot. The first one that came was hit by an ice lance that shot from
Floran’s outstretched hand, which sent it flying back screaming into the
flames. Another one came charging through, swinging a flaming club, but Floran
shot it in the head with a blast of magical acid that made it fall to its knees
clutching at its face. Arin and Tankle advanced and stabbed it in the chest
with their spears.
Three more
leapt through at the same time and Floran aimed a fireball at them which sent
one of them flying backwards. The others was knocked to their knees, but pulled
themselves back up again and came on.
Arin
realised that no one was watching their back and glanced over his shoulder.
Just as he did so a yale, crazed by the flames, crashed into the snow behind
them as if it had been bodily thrown there by trolls on the other side of the
wall. It picked itself up and shook its head.
‘Yale!’
cried Arin in warning.
Floran shot
another fireball at the two advancing trolls, turned then shot an ice lance at
the yale, killing it instantly in a shower of ice and blood. Arin was hit in
the chest by a lump of fur covered flesh. Tankle screamed and Arin turned,
there seemed to be so much going on that he couldn’t take i tall in. The roar
of the flames, the stench of the dead and burning trolls, the howling of the
trolls on the other side of the wall. He felt overwhelmed.
Another
trolls stumbled through the flames, almost fully on fire and barely alive.
Seeing its enemies in the centre of the circle, it charged quickly and although
Floran raised his hands again to cast a spell he was too slow and the troll,
with a swing of its club, hit the wizard squarely on the side of the head,
knocking him into the melting snow in a crumpled heap.
Arin
screamed and stabbed the troll in the groin with his spear. The creature
crumpled over the weapon, the weight of its body breaking the shaft. Another
troll leapt through the flames, but slipped on the melting snow and fell with
its head and shoulders in the wall of fire. It rolled and screamed, thrashing
around to put out the flames. Arin and Tankle backed off, towards the body of
Floran.
Arin was
shaking with terror. He glanced at Tankle. She seemed terrified too, but held
her spear firmly. The blow that had sent Floran flying must have surely killed
him. Neither of them could move though, and they watched as the troll put out
the flames and pick itself up.
It then
hunted around on the ground, in the melted snow and blood, until it found its
club.
Tankle and
Arin, their bodies pressed together, edged away from Floran’s corpse and stepped
backwards until the flames of the circle was right at their backs. Tankle held her
spear before them, but Arin only had the bottom half of the shaft of his spear,
three feet of useless broken wood, to defend himself with.
The injured troll
advanced slowly towards them. Arin marvelled at how dead its eyes were, like it
was drugged. Its mouth was closed and its long nose reached almost to its chin.
It would feel nothing as it killed them, he could see that. There was no mercy
in a being such as this.
It was
limping though, and its right arm was badly burnt. It wielded its club in its
left hand.
Bravely
Tankle thrust the spear at the troll and it bit into its side. The troll
grasped the haft of the spear with its right hand then struck Tankle in the
right arm with its club. She screamed as she fell, landed badly and fell
silent. Arin, in his terror, wanted to run, but there was nowhere to run to.
Even if he was crazy enough to run through the roaring flames of the fire wall
he could see that there were still many trolls, mounted on yales, waiting on
the other side.
The troll didn’t
see a young man armed with half a broom handle as much of a threat though and
seemed to prefer to finish off Tankle first. It raised its club to deliver the
killing blow. Arin finally found his courage and ran towards the monster,
sticking the broken end of his spear into its armpit.
The troll
snarled and changed the direction of its blow to hit Arin. The club caught him
on its upswing, on the left elbow, shattering it and sending jarring pain
through his body that made him instantly sick. He fell to the ground and
vomited.
He clutched
his left arm with his right hand. The pain was terrible and he could feel that
the bones were just all over the place underneath his coat. He looked up as the
troll loomed over him, raising its club once again.
As the club
descended, the troll was suddenly swept away by a green dragon. Arin looked up
to see the disappearing tail and haunches of the dragon, its wings beating down
the flames of the magic circle as it passed. The troll was in its claws, and as
it gained height it almost casually tossed the screaming creature down the side
of the mountain.
The dragon
then returned to visit destruction on more of the war band, breathing a thick
line of fire that incinerated three of them in an instant, sending up billowing
clouds of steam from the melting snow.
Arin ground
his teeth as pain coursed through his body. He felt sick again and nearly lost
consciousness. He shut his eyes and curled up into a ball, grunting and weeping
as waves of pain went up his arm. He didn’t know how long he was like that
until he felt a hand on his shoulder.
‘Let me look
at that,’ said a calm voice.
He opened
his eyes to see Ghene looking down at him. The elf touched his shattered arm
and immediately the pain began to ease.
‘You’ll
live,’ said Ghene. ‘Just wait while I go check on Floran.’
Arin was
sitting up now, cradling his left arm with his right. The pain was still
intense, but felt manageable. He watched as Ghene approached the wizard and
lifted his head up into his lap. Not far away Meggelaine was tending to Tankle.
‘He lives,’
said Ghene looking over to Arin with a smile.
‘Floran,’ he
continued, returning his attention to his friend. ‘You can dispel the wall of
fire now.’
The wizard
groaned, waved his left hand dismissively, and the flames died down. After a
few heart beats they were all but gone, the only fire that remained burned on
the bodies of dead trolls and yales.
Arin stood
up, despite the pain, to look around. He saw that over on the western side of
the valley the battle raged on. Broddor was still out there, a one dwarf army,
taking on any troll that was brave enough to face him. It was Roztov that was
doing most of the damage though, strafing up and down the valley, burning up
trolls and yales that couldn’t get out of the way quickly enough.
The bulk of
the troll war band still survived, and while they scattered the first few times
the dragon went overhead, they soon realised that they would killed off one by
one if they didn’t fight back. On the dragon’s next pass they stood their
ground, throwing their axes and clubs up in the air in a vain attempt to bring
him down. While more of them died, Roztov was hit by a shower of their thrown weapons
in return. The dragon roared and snapped its teeth, swooping back up into the
sky to escape the missiles.
Arin got the
impression that the druid was not used to flying as such a large creature, as
he was ungainly and not as elegant in his flight as the other’s Arin had seen
on the island. It took Roztov a while to turn, then glide around and down for
the next attack. As he had done on all the previous passes he then had to lower
his head to breath fire on the trolls, a procedure that unbalanced him. It was
perhaps that which caused him to crash to the snow when an axe hit him in the
wing. It was not a strong blow, as its power was spent by the time it had
gained enough height to reach the dragon, but it was enough to cause him to
veer off to the side. Roztov tried to regain his balance, failed and came
careening down right into the midst of the trolls.
He lurched
to his feet, but a club struck him in the neck and his head slammed down into
the snow once again. A gout of flame came from his mouth but the trolls easily
side stepped it. Roztov rolled and struck out with his claws, tearing one of
his attackers near in half, but the others closed in, frantically trying to
land a telling blow on the dragon.
Ghene gently
put Floran’s head down on the ground, stood up and turned into a hippogriff. The
battle was some distance away now, but that gave him enough time to reach a speed
fast enough to knock the nearest troll out of its saddle and batter it to the
ground. As he tangled with his victim he felt a club land heavily on his back,
making him rear up in pain. Another club came swinging in but he ducked to the side
then lashed out at the troll’s face with his claws. More clubs came at him and Ghene
realised that he was surrounded. As he thrashed about, rearing and clawing, it
was all he could do to hold off the attackers that circled him. There was certainly
nothing he could do to help Roztov even though it was him that was being
attacked by the bulk of the war band. Roztov, try as he might, could not get
airborne again. Every time he managed to beat some of them off and fold out his
wings to escape upwards he was beaten back down again by a hail of thrown clubs
and axes.
Meggelaine
stopped tending to Arin and Tankle and stood up on tip-toes to try and see what
was going on. Turning back into a bear would not be enough to be of any help,
she realised. The truth was she hadn’t done much in the initial charge anyway.
She’d only dealt a few minor injuries to the trolls as they had charged past.
Try as she might she could never turn into a bear any bigger than a Great
Forest copperback. She didn’t even turn into a copperback though, to be honest.
Whatever species she it was, it wasn’t known to man, elf or torm. She was
hopeless at shape shifting, she was the first to admit it. The others always
mocked her about it, in fact...
‘Oh, none of
that matters right now!’ she shouted. ‘Stop distracting yourself and think, you
stupid woman!’
Was there
anything she could do at all? She bit down on her thumbnail savagely as she
watched the battle. There was nothing. Where was Broddor? She looked around to
her left. There were three trolls about fifty yards away that were acting like
a bunch of children sitting on a bag of angry cats. She suspected that Broddor
was underneath them then. So perhaps if she could rescue Broddor first...
As she took
her first tentative steps towards the three trolls, another dragon passed
overhead and burnt the trolls that were atop Broddor to a crisp with a long
line of flame that started more or less at Meggelaine’s feet. The dragon then continued
to fly down the slope and incinerated several of the trolls that were attacking
Roztov.
Meggelaine
had been thrown back by the flames, but as she shield her eyes from the smoke
and steam she could see Broddor, clad in armour that was impervious to flame as
he was, clamber up from the ash and bones of the troll remains and stagger back
towards the battle.
The other
dragon was green like Roztov, although maybe a shade darker than the druid. It
killed more of the trolls, turning them into flailing, screaming candles, five
and six at a time. Those that remained alive evidently decided that two dragons
was one too many to do battle with and turned their yales around and galloped
back up the slope of the valley into the clouds of steam. Those of them that
were on foot tried to catch and mount any stray yale they could find as quickly
as they could. The two dragons tore through the retreating ranks of the war
band, the new dragon catching a troll in its mouth and biting its arm off.
Meggelaine grimaced at the sound of crunching bones. Broddor hacked at one of
them as it fled, cutting a deep gouge in its side, but he was too slow to offer
any further pursuit. As the last few troll survivors mounted and fled, the
dragons stopped their attack, arched their necks and took a long look at each
other.
As the two
creatures eyed each other up, Meggelaine moved closer to where they were and
crouched down behind the dead steaming corpse of a yale. She noticed that one
of Roztov’s wings had been pinned to the ground by an axe. The other dragon, which
was longer and larger than Roztov reached with a claw and pulled out the weapon.
The larger dragon then sniffed at Roztov, reared and roared.
Roztov said
something in draconic.
Meggelaine
realised the larger dragon was Shumakkak the Green, one of the dragons that
they had first seen back at the Chasm. She was the one known as the Huntress, a
raid leader.
She settled
back down onto all fours and folded in her wings, then began to converse with
Roztov.
Floran crept
up to join her and while lying on his stomach watched over the wet pelt of the
dead yale.
‘What are
they talking about?’ she asked.
‘Well,’
replied Floran. ‘Basically, she is chatting him up.’
‘What?’
‘He’s trying
to make up a story about who we are and what we are doing here.’
‘Is she
buying it?’
‘I don’t
think she cares,’ said Floran with a grin. ‘She is saying that she has never
seen another green dragon before.’
The dragons
continued to talk. Roztov was up on his feet now. He was almost as tall as Shumakkak,
but not as long. Broddor flopped down beside them. ‘She’s well up for it,’ he
laughed.
‘What?’ said
Meggelaine yet again.
‘That dragon
wants Roztov to give her a right good seeing to. You know what that lad is
like. He has an eye for the ladies.’
‘Oh Etruna,’
said Meggelaine, lowering her eyes to the back of the dead yale. When she
raised them again she could see that Roztov was looking over at them. He seemed
to have a look of bewilderment that managed to show on his face even though he
was a dragon.
He spoke
again and Floran translated. ‘He is telling her – not here. Elsewhere.’
Shumakkak
unfolded her wings and flew off down the mountainside. After a few moments
hesitation Roztov did the same.
‘Well, looks
like Roztov is in for some fun!’ laughed Broddor as he stood up and slapped his
thigh.
Floran stood
and shook his head. ‘I don’t know what it was we just saw happen.’
‘Never mind
lad,’ replied the dwarf. ‘I’ll tell you when you’re older.’
‘Uch,’
growled Meggelaine. ‘I’d better check on the others.’
As she got
back to where Arin and Tankle were lying she could see that Ghene was there
tending to them. ‘What happened?’ he asked.
‘Roztov has
gone off with Shumakkak.’
‘To do
what?’
Meggelaine
rolled her eyes. ‘I’ll tell you when you’re older.’
Roztov
returned three hours later. By that time they had made a shelter in the slope
of the mountain, dug out of the side of a rock and they were resting and
healing their injuries. Tankle’s arm was just bruised, but she had struck her
head on a rock when she fell and was still groggy despite the attentions of the
druids. Ghene had splinted Arin’s arm and he felt no pain, just a tingling as
the druid magic worked through him.
He had
turned to Floran earlier and asked, ‘how did you survive that blow? I thought
it took your head off.’
‘Need you
ask?’ replied Floran pulling back his shirt to reveal the many medallions and
amulets that he wore around his neck. ‘I have many magic charms on my person to
lessen the blows that strike me. You cannot see it, but I am protected by
armour almost as strong as Broddor’s.’
‘Oh, of
course,’ said Arin. He pondered for a moment then asked, ‘can anyone learn
magic?’
‘Well,’
replied Floran, ‘that’s an interesting question. There are lots of different
kinds, as you understand, the druid magic of nature, Broddor’s divine magic and
then there is mine. We of Hyadna, the magic is, in theory open to all. There
are a few scholars that are not ugrai, although none spring to mind at this
moment in time.’
‘So I could
learn?’
‘I don’t see
why not. If you wanted. It’s very far away, but I suppose we could sail there
once we get back to the continent.’
Floran turned
to Tankle hopefully. ‘We could all go perhaps? Would you like to see my home?’
Tankle
smiled and nodded. She didn’t look like she was following the conversation at
all.
‘Well, that
would be very nice indeed,’ said Floran with a broad smile. ‘It would be lovely
to introduce you to my family. We shall all go, at the first opportunity.
Roztov may even want to come. How about you Broddor?’
‘Don’t plan
your holidays just yet,’ chuckled the dwarf. ‘We’ve still to get off this bastard
island.’
Floran was
about to reply, but at that point Roztov the dragon poked his head in the
freshly dug cave, giving everyone a shock.
As they
recovered themselves Meggelaine began to scold him. ‘You are unbelievable!
We’ve only been here about a month and already you have two dragon girlfriends!
Shumakkak, and what was that other one? Lori, Lora...’
‘Lorkuvan,’
said Roztov in draconian.
‘Oh, can you
speak?’ asked Meggelaine.
Roztov
rumbled a few words in draconian, then coughed.
‘If I
concentrate,’ he said slowly, ‘I can turn the draconic into Enttish.’
‘Well?’
asked Meggelaine as she looked him in the large yellow eyes. ‘What are you
going to tell your wife?’
‘Are you
crazy? Nothing of course.’
‘Huh,’ said
the little fressle, patting him on the nose. ‘Can you even change back or are
you stuck like that forever now?’
The dragon
sighed. Meggelaine turned to look at the others. Arin and Tankle were sat with
their mouths open in astonishment, Ghene and Floran looked concerned, while
Broddor was smiling.
‘It’s going
to be difficult to shift back, but I flew over a mountain lake on the way here.
It gave me an idea.’
‘What idea?’
asked Meggelaine turning back to look at him sternly.
‘Do you
remember when Festos was a wolf and he fell backwards into the river behind the
Council hall?’ asked Roztov.
‘No.’
‘Well, the
shock changed him back. He climbed out the river in his normal form.’
‘He was
drunk that night,’ said Meggelaine sharply, now remembering the night in
question. ‘We’ve not any beer left. We’d need more than half a dozen bottles of
beer to get a dragon drunk anyway, that’s a fact.’
‘Beer or
not, it’s worth a try,’ said the dragon pulling its head out of the cave. There
was the sound of dragon wings flapping and a flurry of snow entered the cave as
Roztov left.
It was early
afternoon by the time the others reached the lake. It was indeed high in the
mountains, above the clouds and ringed by snow covered peaks. They settled down
to eat their lunch at its shore while Roztov circled it. There were other
dragons in the sky, but they were a good distance away and paid him no attention.
Roztov had
already melted much of the ice of the lake with his dragon fire, enough to make
a hole about fifty yards wide when they arrived and once he had spotted them he
swooped love over their heads, roared, then soared up into the sky. The others
shielded their eyes from the sun to follow his progress upwards. After he’d
gained enough height, the dragon seemed to shut its eyes, then roll over
backwards, its wings folded around its body. With its head pointing downwards
it plunged into the lake like a giant arrow.
‘Blimey!’
exclaimed Broddor as the others gasped at the impressive splash that followed.
‘This will make a fine tale to tell, even if he doesn’t survive it.’
Meggelaine
slapped the dwarf’s arm. ‘Don’t talk like that!’
After a full
minute, Roztov the man breached the surface of the water, gasped, choked, shock
his head then started to swim for the edge of the ice. Ghene and Floran ran out
to meet him. The water that lapped at the sides of the hole was warm and
steaming. They dragged Roztov out in a slippery and undignified fashion and
helped him to shore. Once there, everyone helped him dry himself and his
clothes by the camp fire. He sat, shivering and coughing up blood.
‘Oh no,’ groaned Meggelaine as she applied her
healing magic to him.
‘I’m fine. I
feel fine,’ said Roztov as a shuddered passed through his body.
‘If you do
that again, it will kill you.’
Ghene was
stood a short distance away from the fire. He pointed with his spear. ‘Look.’
There were
five trolls mounted on yales, on a nearby ridge, watching them.
Broddor
stood up, unsheathed his sword and joined the elf. ‘Back for more, the
buggers.’
‘I don’t
think they’ll attack,’ said Ghene. ‘They probably think our presence here is
sanctioned by the dragons now.’
‘Could be,’
grunted the dwarf. ‘We killed a fair few of them right enough. What’s the plan?’
Ghene turned
to the dwarf and raised an eyebrow. ‘You, Broddor, speak of plans?’
‘Yes yes,’
said the dwarf realising what he’d just said, ‘I mean, we don’t attack?’
‘I think
I’ll scout north,’ replied the elf. ‘I’ve a feeling we’ll be able to see the
city from the other side of this lake. It’s away from the trolls as well. Get
the others moving. Probably best to look like we’re leaving . I’ll come back
and join you once I’ve had a look over that ridge.’
Ghene
pointed to the space between two of the peaks on the other side of the lake. He
then turned into a goshawk and flew off.
‘What do you
mean, move?’ when Broddor told the plan to Meggelaine. She gestured to Roztov.
‘Look at the state of him. He’ll fall to pieces.’
‘Well...’
said Broddor.
Meggelaine
grumbled something unintelligible, stood up and said, ‘don’t bother saying it.
I know what you’re thinking, Broddor.’
Meggelaine gave
Roztov a long icy look. ‘The things I do for you.’ In a flash of druidic magic
she then turned into a stocky pony with a rich red shaggy coat and a wild mane
that covered its eyes completely, giving it a roguish look. Floran and Arin
helped Roztov onto Meggelaine’s back and in this fashion they transported him
north along the shore of the mountain lake.
It was
evening, the sun was setting to the west, as they reached the ridge and looked
down the mountainside to the north. The
view, though, was obscured by thick clouds below, that stretched out as far as
they could see. Occasionally a dragon flew up out of the blanket of white, only
to dip back into it a few minutes later.
Ghene finished
his scouting and had rejoined them. ‘Stovologard and the coast are down there,
I think we would be able to see it if the clouds were not obscuring our view.’
Roztov was
half dozing, but looked up when Ghene had said this. He lifted his head, then
both of his arms in a gesture of exultation. Slowly he moved them apart,
muttering under his breath. He then let his arms fall back down to Meggelaine’s
neck once more.
‘That’s
better,’ he said finally as his head fell back into her mane.
The others
had been watching him, but they turned north again to look once more at the
clouds.
‘Is
anything...?’ muttered Broddor.
As they
watched, the clouds gradually parted, blown by distant winds, and the
countryside was revealed to them. In the far distance, like the giant hilt of a
black dagger, was the city of Stovologard. Its central tower was incredibly
tall, larger even than the Spire, although it was hard to get a sense of scale.
They could just make out specks flying around it that must have been dragons,
which gave some indication of the tower’s size. Smoke rose from it, a black
smear against the dark blue of the sea that lay on the edge of the horizon.
Below the
tower sprawled a city of men, by far the largest settlement they had seen on
Tanud.
There were also
other smaller towns nestled in the hills. There were rivers, farms, arable land
and patches of woodland. It looked remarkably like an Enttish county or one of
the pocket kingdoms west of the Great Forest. It looked like home, in fact,
except for the huge brooding and sinister presence of the tower of Stovologard
that dominated the entire landscape.
The sun set
and the land became darkness.
‘We’d better
get down off this mountainside before making camp,’ said Ghene, looking at
Floran.
Floran
nodded and held up his staff. It gave off a dull violet light, that was just
enough for them all to see where they were going, but not enough to give away
their position.
It was late at
night when they descended far enough into the valleys north of the mountains to
feel safe from the trolls. They sheltered in an abandoned mine. Looking down
from the mine’s entrance they could see the lights of a village, but they
didn’t feel prepared enough to enter it that night.
‘Can he
really control the weather?’ Arin asked Meggelaine as they sat together at the
entrance of the mine while she checked over his arm.
‘If he can,
it’s a new one on me.’
Arin wasn’t
sure what she meant.
‘Oh, definitely
not. No way,’ said Meggelaine with a laugh as she looked up. ‘It was just a
coincidence. He was just joking. Well, I think it was a joke...’
‘Druids
can’t control the weather then, Meg?’
‘You know,’
she said patting his injured arm very gently. ‘I don’t know. Go get some rest
young man, I’ll take the first watch. Good night.’
Arin smiled,
bowed stiffly and bid her good night.
