Dragon Quest

by Craig Askham

  “Whoooooooa!”

  “Shhhhhhh!” Rima’s rebuke came back out to play immediately, and she even twisted in her saddle to give him her best angry look. Realising he’d messed up again, Ben tried his hardest to stay quiet.

  “Sorry.”

  “Just relax, Akelius. Seriously, you can’t be like this in front of the dragon. You’ll get us all killed. Calm down.”

  The Kincora swung out over the grounds of the academy, and Ben thought it was impossible that people travelling down below, who were either starting their adventures or returning from them, wouldn’t see them as they swooped over their heads. Ten seconds later they were out at sea, banking sharply, and Ben was looking down at the cliff face and the waves that were trying their best to smash it into submission. This wasn’t the plan; they shouldn’t be headed out to sea, they should be heading south into the mountain range. What was the bird doing?

  As if reading his mind, which at this stage seemed feasible, the huge bird swung in a lazy circle back over the edge of the cliff and over top of the academy. By now, a second Kincora was winging its way into the shelter, and Ben realised they were waiting for everyone else before setting off. He released his grip of Rima’s waist ever so slightly, just enough for her to be able to breathe a little easier, and settled back to enjoy the experience. The bird banked again, and this time he enjoyed the way the world turned briefly on its side. He didn’t fall, didn’t even feel like it was possible for him to fall, such was the sturdiness of his harness. As they soared back out over the ocean again, he let go of Rima completely and threw his hands up in the air as if he was riding a rollercoaster. The moonlight reflected on the water as it churned and roiled below, and then a burst of sudden energy sent them climbing higher into the sky. Another beat of the wings took them higher still, and then higher again. The Kincora caught a current and stretched her wings out to their full span. The experience of flying changed in an instant, from frenetic and dangerous to calm and serene, as they glided over the academy again. Around they flew, careful not to stray too close to the palace for fear of hidden watchers who might sound the alarm. On their fifth circuit, the Kincora that had replaced them in the shelter surged into view again, leaping into the sky and beating its wings furiously in order to join them. There was no way of telling who was riding it, only that both saddles were, as expected, filled with human forms. It wasn’t until their paths crossed that Ben glimpsed one of the male soldiers sitting at the front, obscuring the other rider from view. In the meantime, a third Kincora flew into the shelter on some kind of secret signal, and emerged again a minute or so later with a third pair of travellers to add to the mix. They were going to have to be careful from hereon in, as the sky slowly filled with traffic. All it was going to take was one misjudgement from one bird for a collision to occur.

  Finally, the entire company of dragon watchers was in the air, along with their respective protectors. The last Kincora to emerge from the shelter was the one they all fell into line behind, and Ben guessed that the back of its solitary rider belonged to none other than Jas Toor. Feeling slightly more important as his steed took second place in the procession, he spun around in his saddle to try and get a better glimpse of third, but couldn’t make out anything other than the great bird’s silhouette close by. Giving up and facing ahead as they headed due south toward the mountains, he sighed in appreciation of life in general, and prepared himself for the long journey ahead.

  Twelve

  The novelty wore off after the first hour, once the cold started to seep through his many layers of clothing. After the second hour, he was shivering so much his back ached. Half an hour after that, he was ready to die. They stopped once to rest the birds, and to give the human contingent an opportunity for a comfort break. There was no communication that Ben was aware of, just a swift change of direction before all seven Kincoras swooped in to land on a wide ledge jutting out the side of the millionth mountain they’d been passing over. There wasn’t much space once their transport spread themselves out, and certainly no privacy whatsoever. The drop was many thousands of feet and, to top it off, they were in the middle of a blizzard so intense that the snow felt like needles jabbing into any patches of exposed skin. Needless to say, absolutely nobody opted to alight from their bird, let alone battle through the many layers of clothing required to free up the areas that needed relieving. It was a short break indeed, and one which Ben spent with his face pressed against Rima’s back for warmth. She didn’t say anything, and he suspected she was wearing so many clothes that she couldn’t even feel him.

  And so the dragon watchers continued. Ben went from wanting to die to thinking he was already dead, and didn’t even know when it had happened. He wasn’t complaining; once he accepted he was dead, the cold didn’t seem to matter so much. Only the occasional protest of his full bladder broke the illusion, and each time he squirmed around until it passed. He knew breaking point wasn’t too far away, and found himself wondering how long the urine would keep his clothes warm before it started to freeze.

  Dawn was the only thing that kept him going. The snow-capped mountains had long since changed from being a beautiful sight to being one of overwhelming horror. It was like being in the middle of an ocean in a rowing boat, such was the epic scale of the vista he was travelling over. In those moments that he knew he was still alive and trying not to piss himself, he made the decision that, should something go horribly wrong on this trip and he was abandoned here for whatever reason, there was simply no point trying to tread water long enough to survive. There would only really be two options; either curl up in the snow and wait to die, or throw himself from the top of a mountain and enjoy those last few moments of life. He’d never been a maudlin person, but there was a first time for everything and this trip appeared to be his. Still, there was dawn to look forward to. It had to come eventually.

  And come, it did. It took its sweet time, there was no doubt about it, but when it came it came, with all the bells and whistles. First the darkness in the distance started to get lighter, very slowly. Ben didn’t get excited; he’d fooled himself a dozen times already with false alarms. Eventually though, he was forced to admit that this was the one. The non-false alarm. It crept over the mountains as if it was as afraid of them as Ben was. It wasn’t, though. Far from it. The sun chose one peak above all others, way off to what Ben assumed was the east, and focused all of its attention on it. Formed a ring of light around it, like a halo, this one chosen peak amongst so many thousands of others. Lit like a beacon, it seemed wrong that they should ignore it and carry on their way. Surely, in Ben’s sleep-deprived mind, that mountain was where they needed to go?

  But no. Not according to his steed. They continued as if it wasn’t there, even as that halo grew and grew until it diffused all the clouds with as much of its light as it could spare. It crept ever closer, and more than once Ben caught himself reaching out to try and touch it. God only knew what Rima made of it, assuming she was still alive.

  And then it hit. First a sliver of sun that poked its head above the peak of that special mountain, and then the rest of it much quicker, like a time-lapse video. Before Ben knew it, daylight was upon them and he could see the vapour forming in front of his face when he breathed out. The clouds that had blighted the night with blizzards dissipated as if they’d been caught, red-handed, stealing from the cookie jar. The snow-capped mountains glistened, and the distance they covered seemed even more never-ending than it had at night, when his imagination had been doing most of the work. There was only one word that summed it up.

  “Wow.”

  In front of him, Rima Kaseevar shifted as if he’d just woken her. She twisted against the restrictions of her harness so that she could fix him with an appraising, almost forgiving, stare.

  “First intelligent thing you’ve said.” It came out as a grunt, and was followed by an almighty yawn that still hadn’t ended by the time she turned to face forwards again. He shook his head in disbelief. How lon
g had she been asleep? How had she even managed to sleep in the first place, flying through sometimes turbulent air on the back of a giant bird, in blizzards and temperatures way below zero, with almost the full weight of him leaning against her back? Was she even human? A magic-user, perhaps, whose latent skill was the ability to sleep like a baby in the most adverse of conditions? Unbelievable.

  “You’ve got a ton of sleep in your left eye,” he told her.

  “Piss off.”

  Charming.

  “And morning breath.”

  “Want me to cut through your harness with a really sharp knife? Keep talking, Akelius. I dare you.”

  Was that a hint of amusement in her tone? He didn’t want to get his hopes up, he was sleep deprived after all, but he might have actually just said something that she’d found funny.

  “Fine. I was lying about the sleep in your eye.”

  She laughed. Actually laughed. Move over, Jas Toor, I’m falling for a beautiful soldier instead. And she has cornrows.

  “I hope you managed to get some sleep, Akelius. Going to be a long day for you if you didn’t.”

  “You’re joking, right? Over the sound of your snoring?”

  Another laugh. Maybe even a little snort.

  “I only snore when I’m drunk or lying on my back. You’ll never get the opportunity to experience it, you lucky bastard.”

  Ben paused, hoping not to let the conversation fritter away but not wanting to say something stupid. He had no idea how much longer they’d be stuck on the back of this tireless bird, and he’d had about enough silence as he could handle. Also, he couldn’t help but wonder if she was flirting with him with the dig about never experiencing her lying on her back. Reverse-psychology, maybe?

  “What if you’re drunk and lying on your back?”

  “Then I sound like a steam train.”

  The words sounded funny to Ben, and he realised the translator built into the chip in his forearm was struggling with that sentence. He had no idea what language they were speaking; he spent most of his time in Aneir, so conversed mostly in Aneirin. This was Seghir though, and, as far as he knew, Rima Kaseevar’s native tongue was as English as his. Were they speaking in English now, or Aneirin? Or Seghiri? Just in case there were any locals around to overhear them which, admittedly, seemed unlikely…either way, nobody on this planet would ever use the words steam and train next to each other in a sentence, because there was no such thing here as a steam train. There were unrelated words for both steam and train though, but apparently they sounded weird when translated. Or maybe it was just in his head.

  Something caught his eye. In the distance, somewhere down below, something jarred against the background of grey rock and white snow. Whatever it was, it was mostly green. Grass, perhaps? No, it couldn’t be. Not in the middle of the largest, coldest mountain range on Vangura. His eyes were tricking him, or it was a snowy version of an oasis in the middle of a desert.

  No. This was no mirage. There was something green below them, and they were heading right for it. He reached out a hand, tapped Rima on the shoulder, and then pointed so she could follow.

  “Look,” he said.

  She looked for a good ten seconds, then turned to face him with a grin on her face.

  “Wirio’s Balls, I think we’re nearly there!”

  Ben grinned back, so happy he could have cried. As if sensing both her riders’ jubilation, the Kincora banked and slowly started losing altitude. Ahead of them, Jas Toor’s bird was already doing the same. As they got nearer, Ben saw that the patch of green was actually a large valley, nestled in the mountains like a single smear of paint on an artist’s blank canvas. He had no idea if it should have been possible to have one tiny swathe of life in all these miles of barren terrain, but he wasn’t going to complain. His perspective shifted with every beat of the Kincora’s wings, and the tiny swathe of life started to look bigger. Although guessing distances from a great height wasn’t something he’d necessarily have thought to include on his list of life skills, he was confident the valley was a good half a dozen miles long, and maybe a mile wide. The grass looked lush, and a few red flowers even dared to grow in its midst. Poppies, maybe? And there were trees; nothing large, just a few copses dotted here and there, large enough to hide from angry dragons in. There was no sign of the dragon, but right at the far end of the valley was a large pool with a waterfall dropping into it from the rocks above. There was no way of telling where the water was flowing from; it was like a reverse snow globe, verdant life underneath a dome that protected it from the snowy world outside. It ended abruptly, with no indication of what was giving it life. One thing was sure, though; Ben was going to give it a good old shake and, if he was lucky, it was going to dislodge a dragon. He settled back in his saddle, eyes darting all over the place, and prepared to land.

  Thirteen

  The dragon hunters gathered in a circle, freshly relieved of urine, watching the Kincoras fly away. Ben averted his gaze from the retreating birds, and checked the faces of his fellow adventurers instead. Nobody looked happy at being stranded, which was a relief. Even Caspillo looked confused as they became small dots in the distance, seemingly not too sure as to the wisdom behind the decision to let them go. Unsurprisingly, it was Lee who put all their fears into words.

  “So, we’re stuck here then?”

  “Yep.” For once, Caspillo’s tone didn’t have an undertone of either amusement or boredom. Ben caught his sideways glance in Jas Toor’s direction. “But Jas can call them back at any time.” All eyes turned to the magic user, who was also watching the birds and seemed to have no idea she was suddenly the centre of attention. Caspillo cleared his throat. “This is the part where you reassure us, Jas.”

  Jas started, as if disturbed from a reverie. Her face was calm, possibly serene. Or slightly insane. She looked around at all the faces staring at her, waiting with baited breath for confirmation that she could call the birds back when they were needed. She smiled.

  “Consider yourselves reassured. They’ll come back when they’re needed.”

  They stood in silence for an uncomfortable ten seconds, needing to be told what to do next. Naturally, all eyes turned to the alpha male. Caspillo, though, was looking intently at Lee.

  “I think we’re now in the hands of our resident dragon expert,” he stated.

  As one, everyone switched their stares to Lee. He gave a nervous laugh.

  “That’ll be me, then.”

  “We’re going to die.” Ben might have laughed, if the words had come from anyone other than Sorin Costache. The condemnation, however, spurred Lee into action.

  “We’re not going to die,” he decided. “We’re going to see a bloody dragon.” He clapped his hands together, as if the action would miraculously win everyone over. “Who’s with me?”

  Silence. Jas was the one who eventually took pity on him.

  “I’m with you, Jokdrath Copperhead.”

  “Me, too.”

  Ben looked around, wondering who that had come from. It was Vantalon, who caught his eye and nodded encouragement. Feeling pressured, Ben cleared his throat. Before he knew it, the words were out there.

  “And me.”

  Lee nodded for longer than necessary, delaying whilst the cogs of his brain turned almost fast enough to be audible. Finally, he gestured around them.

  “Right then. Look around you.” He waited. Nobody took their eyes off him. He gestured again, more forcefully this time. “Go on, look around. What do you see? More importantly, what do you feel?”

  Ben looked around, expecting the answer to leap up and bite him. It didn’t.

  “Fear?” he wondered, and the guide rolled his eyes. Someone jabbed him in the ribs, and he realised Jas Toor had manoeuvred herself next to him without him even realising it.

  “Warmth,” she whispered.

  “Huh?”

  “Warmth,” she hissed. “You feel warm!”

  She was right. As if on cue, he realised t
he biting cold had been replaced with a warmth that, if he didn’t take his thick cloak off soon, was going to turn uncomfortable.

  “I feel warm.” There was genuine surprise in his voice.

  “Thank you, Jas,” Lee said, with a smile. It was difficult to tell how old he was, but the lines that appeared around his eyes when he cracked that smile suggested he was older than he acted. “You feel warm. The snow in this valley has melted, and we’re standing on grass that probably hasn’t been stood on for thousands of years, if at all. Do you know why that is?” He waited, looking at the magic user as if she was going to answer, silently begging her not to. She took the hint, and gave him a slight nod of encouragement. He grinned, and held up a finger like a teacher stood in front of an imaginary blackboard. “Because dragons don’t like the cold.” He said it slowly, as if he really was a teacher and everyone assembled were his five year old pupils. Then he waited for it to sink in. Ben thought about the revelation, and then asked the question he was sure was on most of their lips.