The Shadow Dragon

by J. R. Castle

  ‘You said you needed our help,’ Quinn reminded her.

  ‘Lorimer and Bewick are too powerful. I can’t trust anyone in Port Keriss, but you’re strangers, and you’re not exactly Bewick’s best friends right now. It’s my cousin, Anna. She disappeared. She was crossing the marshes to Astria, and she was supposed to be back a week ago. I’m terrified that something’s happened to her. If you can help me, I can guide you through the marshes in return.’ She glanced at the windows again. Dark clouds were racing across the sky, obscuring the moon and the stars, and rain spattered down, hitting the windows with the force of a hailstorm. ‘I have nothing against dragonbloods. I remember the Empire before Vayn and his Black Guard, and I’ve heard a rumour. They say the true Emperor has returned.’ She met Quinn’s eyes. ‘He’d be about your age now.’

  Quinn pulled his hair out of his face and looked up at the others. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘If the Stone Trolls are real, we can’t just go stomping across the marsh,’ Ignus said. ‘I’ve seen them. We’d be lost in there on our own.’

  ‘Then it’s agreed,’ Thea said. ‘We’ll set off in the morning.’ She turned to glare at Ignus. ‘And this time, let’s try and keep a low profile … No more picking fights.’

  Quinn nodded. They had to keep unnoticed and away from the Black Guard. Though something told him that would be easier said than done.

  CHAPTER 4

  SHADOWS IN THE MIST

  They left Port Keriss at first light.

  Maria hadn’t had much in her home, but she’d managed to find a few spare clothes and backpacks for each of them, and some provisions. She’d even helped Quinn mend his shoes, which had begun to fall to pieces from being soaked repeatedly in seawater. For the first time in days, Quinn had had a decent breakfast and he was feeling confident about the journey ahead. He’d also managed to pull a brush through his tangled hair and give his face a scrub.

  The rain had died out during the night and in its place mist had slipped in from the marshes, covering the small port like a cold, wet cloth. The air was sharp and the wind chilly, as they moved down the narrow streets to the inland town gate – where they left the suspicious locals – and out onto the main highway that led to Astria. Every footstep and clink of metal from their gear seemed dulled by the mist.

  The ragtag group hadn’t gone more than half a mile from the port when the road began to dip down from the rocky coastline and away from the stormy sea. The cold became more and more intense until Quinn could feel goosebumps break out across his body.

  ‘This is as far as we go on the road,’ Maria huffed, as the land levelled out and the marshes stretched out around them. Quinn saw tall, skeletal trees looming out of the stagnant water, draped with hanging mosses that dripped slowly into the marsh.

  Maria pointed an elegant hand across the marsh. ‘Follow me exactly,’ she said. ‘The paths can shift in an instant. One false move and the ground will swallow you whole.’

  With a long, last look at the solid, straight highway cutting through middle of the marshes, Quinn stepped off the road behind Maria. Thea shot a protective, sideways glance his way.

  From the road, it had seemed like there were dozens of paths and ways between the pools of still, dirty water. However, up close, Quinn could see that some of what had looked like solid land was no more than clumps of grass floating above the surface. The ground where they stepped was boggy and wet, and water bubbled up over his shoes until his feet were soaked again. He heard Ignus curse behind him as the big man sank to his knees.

  ‘Exactly where I tread,’ Maria called back.

  Slowly they trudged through the marshes, sometimes doubling back, sometimes circling around. Quinn couldn’t see the sun through the mist and he had no idea in what direction they were actually heading. For all he knew, Maria could be leading them right to a patrol of Black Guard. But why would she do that? he thought. If she’d wanted to turn them in, she could have done it in the middle of the port and saved herself a grim trudge in the cold.

  It was the mist that was making him feel paranoid. Its presence felt a little too real, pressing in from all sides, drifting up through his cotton shawl and tunic. It was as if the ghosts of the marsh’s victims were reaching up one more time …

  ‘You’re going crazy,’ he muttered to himself.

  Ignus must have heard him, and soon broke the silence. ‘Who’s for a marching song?’

  ‘Aren’t you worried about being heard?’ Thea said.

  ‘No one’s going to hear us out here,’ Maria said.

  ‘Oh,’ Thea said. ‘Good. I don’t suppose you’re actually any good at singing?’ she asked Ignus.

  As it turned out, he wasn’t, but at least his bellowing, out-of-tune voice seemed to make the mist and marshes feel less eerie. Quinn couldn’t imagine any kind of ghost world where there would be such a loud and tuneless song. With Ignus beside him, what could he have to worry about? The man was a flame dragon after all, and even when he wasn’t in his dragonform, he could flatten most opponents with one of his meaty fists.

  As the marsh path widened, Thea, sure-footed and nimble, skipped easily alongside Maria and soon fell into conversation about the exotic-looking ingredients on display in her shop – magic ingredients, for potion making. Quinn, however, dropped back until he was walking alongside Ignus. The further they moved into the marshes, the thicker the mist became. By now, Quinn could scarcely see his hand in front of his face.

  As Ignus took a breath between his tuneless verses, Quinn let his thoughts burst out. ‘Dragonform,’ he practically shouted. ‘What’s the deal?’

  ‘I was wondering when you were going to ask that,’ Ignus rumbled. He took a deep breath, and put a huge, protective arm around Quinn’s shoulder. ‘They say it’s to do with emotion: anger, hatred, love – mixed with dragonblood, of course – passed down from the ancients, when magic and dragons were more common on these isles than they are now.’

  ‘And the powers?’ Quinn asked. ‘You’re “flame”, others are “storm” and “shadow” …’

  ‘That all depends,’ Ignus said. ‘All dragons can breathe fire – but you won’t find a flame stronger than a flame dragon’s. I always expected to be a dragon; it wasn’t a secret back then and it nearly always ran in my family. But it still came as a surprise to me.’

  ‘What happened?’ Quinn asked.

  ‘Well, I was fighting with my brother. One minute we were wrestling on the ground, the next, I felt scales springing up on my skin, and my bones stretching and bending …’

  Quinn knew that feeling … being under threat, the hot dragonblood coursing through his body.

  ‘Then,’ Ignus continued, ‘wings burst through my back, and I was looking at the world through the eyes of a dragon and I knocked my brother halfway across the field. You should have seen the look on his face!’

  ‘And now …?’

  ‘Now it just happens. I get the image of the dragon in my mind and I think about how it feels to change. It’s as natural as breathing.’

  Quinn wanted to kick Ignus in his giant shin. It just happens? Not to Quinn, it didn’t. Ignus was obviously a natural, whereas Quinn felt like a fraud. And I’m the one who’s supposed to be the true Emperor?

  He ground his teeth and focused all his concentration, remembering the moment he had lashed out at Goric, the Black Guard captain on Yaross – although he wouldn’t make much of an Emperor if that was all he could manage. Back then, talons had sprung out from his fingers without him even thinking about it, and scales had covered his arm to deflect Goric’s magic sword. He pulled the images up into his mind, forced himself to remember the heat racing across his skin, and the tingling, twisting of his flesh. Become scales, please.

  A patch of golden scales appeared on his hand for a moment, itching like he’d reached into a patch of stinging nettles, then faded again. He kicked a tussock of boggy grass in frustration.

  Suddenly, a scream sounded up ahead. Quinn jumped, sn
atched out of his concentration and back to reality.

  Thea?

  ‘What was that?’ Ignus barked.

  Quinn put his head down and broke into a run, splashing through the cold, muddy water. He found his hand had drawn his sword without him even thinking about it. Ignus leapt after him, charging like a bull.

  Together, Quinn and Ignus burst out onto a little hillock that rose above the mist. Thea had dropped to her knees on the wet grass and was almost doubled over laughing. Maria was looking down at her slightly disapprovingly.

  ‘What is it?’ Ignus demanded, steam drifting from his nose and mouth to thicken the already heavy mist.

  ‘Sorry,’ Thea said, trying to muffle her laughs. She waved a hand towards a twisted tree stump sticking out of the bog. Mist wreathed around it, stirring gently in an unseen breeze. ‘I just got “attacked” by a Kerissian Stone Troll.’ She took a steadying breath.

  Quinn gave a laugh and pulled Thea to her feet. ‘I think this mist might be getting to you.’

  ‘Maybe we should travel closer together,’ Ignus said, seriously. ‘If one of us really gets in trouble, we can’t afford to be separated.’

  ‘OK,’ said Quinn. But instead of keeping close, he let the others stride ahead. He’d almost had it, his dragonform; he wasn’t about to give up now.

  As they continued to make their way carefully through the marshes, the chill deepening all the while, Quinn still held back. Leeches crawled across the ground and over his boots. He peeled them off and threw them back in the marsh water.

  He pushed his hair back from his eyes and gathered his thoughts once more. He wasn’t going to give up on his father’s inheritance so easily. I’m going to figure it out if it takes me the rest of my life.

  He could still hear the voices of the others up ahead. As long as he could hear them, he figured he’d be fine.

  Concentrate!

  He pictured the dragonform he’d seen reflected in his golden sword. That was how he’d known he was a dragonblood in the first place. In the sword, he’d been covered in fine, glistening golden scales. He tried imagining his arms coated with those steel-hard bright scales. He let his mind melt into the image until he could feel the heat almost burning at the underside of his skin, which was itching so badly he wanted to tear it off.

  Change!

  His skin started to harden in front of his eyes, the lightly tanned colour deepening and becoming golden until the skin had become overlapping scales. Slowly, they crept up his arm, all the way to his shoulder. Yes! This was the most he’d ever managed, and the scales weren’t fading. Now, my legs. He pictured them in his mind like the legs of the dragon in the sword. Fire raced along his veins, flaring and burning. He reached down to feel his legs under the cotton trousers, and felt the scales appear at his thighs and work their way down.

  Suddenly, as the scales reached his knees he realised his mistake. His legs gave way completely and he stumbled forward, the support gone from under him.

  ‘Argh …’ He let out a quick cry before tumbling into the black water with a splash. The weight of his clothes and his backpack dragged him down, the murky water closed over his head and he soon disappeared under the misty surface. No matter how hard he kicked his useless legs, he kept on sinking.

  The dragonform was dragging him down and the weight of the golden scales was keeping him under. He tried to let out a scream but instead just gulped down the nasty black water; bubbles coursed from his mouth, rising upwards like a final prayer.

  Quinn turned his head desperately. The water was dark and full of cloying mud and weeds. His clothes felt like they were made out of metal.

  There! his mind screamed. Above him was the faint light of the surface. It seemed so far away.

  Let go of it! Think of something else. Anything! He forced the image of the scales out of his mind and suddenly he felt his flesh return.

  He kicked and pulled with his arms, forcing himself upwards, dragging himself through the tangle of weeds that threatened to lure him towards a watery grave. His lungs burned, demanding air. Just keep going!

  Finally, his head burst from the surface. He coughed violently, dredging up the black water he’d swallowed, gasping for the misty air surrounding him.

  ‘Urgh-gh,’ he gurgled, fighting the urge to vomit as more brackish water rose in his throat. He flailed for a grassy mound and caught hold of it. With the last of his strength, he managed to haul himself halfway out, his feet still dangling in the marshy wetness. His body shuddered as he drew in great, rasping breaths. He cursed himself for losing sight of the marsh path and his fellow travellers.

  Then something emerged from the mist. ‘Ignus!’ he called, relieved.

  But he soon realised it wasn’t the fire dragon. Instead, the figure was vast and horned. As it loomed over him and reached out he saw that whatever it was, it clearly wasn’t human.

  ‘Not I, my friend,’ it began. ‘Guess again …’

  CHAPTER 5

  AND THEN, HE WAS GONE

  Quinn grasped at the marsh reeds, his heart thumping with fear.

  The creature above him looked like a man, but it was far bigger. Gigantic horns jutted from its forehead and a black mask covered its face. Its fingers ended in jagged yellow claws. A Stone Troll? Quinn wondered.

  With a yell, Quinn thrashed his feet and hauled himself upwards, but the giant horned creature was too quick. It lunged and grabbed Quinn around the throat. He felt its claws digging into his neck as it dragged him out of the marsh water.

  Not a Stone Troll… he thought. Definitely something worse…

  ‘I’ve got a choice for you, my friend,’ the creature growled. ‘It’s an easy one: your money, or your life.’

  Quinn closed his eyes and tried to concentrate. He’d been so close to getting his dragonform until he’d fallen into the marsh. If it would just come to him now …

  The giant shook him. ‘Well?’

  Quinn couldn’t focus. Not with those claws against his throat. He’d have to use brute force …

  ‘How … about …’ he gasped. ‘Your life!’

  Quinn kicked out and felt his foot drive home into the giant’s soft belly. With a whoosh of breath the giant dropped him, cursing. The moment he hit the ground, Quinn dragged his sword from his scabbard and swung it with all his force at the giant.

  ‘Raarghh,’ he yelled, charging.

  The giant jumped back, dodging Quinn’s blow. Suddenly, his fearsome bluster was gone, and a look of panic swept across his ugly face.

  ‘Now hold on, hold on!’ He held up his hands. ‘You don’t want to do this. No reason we can’t do it nicely. Just hand over your money and no one needs to get hurt.’

  ‘Oh yeah?’ Quinn laughed, mockingly. ‘How about when you had me by the neck?’

  He took a step forward, raising his sword; the giant stumbled in the boggy ground.

  ‘You’re taking this far too personally,’ he said, not half as fierce-sounding as he had been a moment ago. In fact, Quinn reckoned he was looking a bit pale around the mask now. Maybe he wasn’t used to people fighting back.

  ‘You think this is too personal?’ Quinn growled. ‘You haven’t seen anything yet.’

  With a yell, he charged the giant, swinging his sword in a great arc over his head. The giant stumbled back, raising his arms. Then, something strange happened. As Quinn brought down the golden sword, it sliced right through his attacker as though he wasn’t there. The giant tumbled back, hitting the wet ground with a dull splash.

  The giant’s form seemed to shift and shudder, cast off like the mist evaporating in the sun’s glare. Quinn was no longer looking at the terrifying horned monster from just a moment ago. Instead, in front of him lay a thin, scruffy-looking man with a scraggly moustache, holding up his arms in defence.

  Quinn lowered his sword. ‘What the …?’ he managed.

  ‘Ah,’ the man said, clearing his throat. ‘About that …’

  At that moment, the mist parted and Ignu
s, Thea and Maria came charging out.

  ‘What’s happening?’ Thea demanded. ‘What’s going on?’

  Quinn pointed at the man on the ground. ‘I don’t know, but this man has some explaining to do …’

  Maria looked down at the puny figure. ‘And I thought you might have found a Stone Troll …’

  Ignus charged forward, his fists at the ready. However, as he stepped closer, dodging the peat bogs and grimy water, a smirk began to creep across his face. As he loomed over the ‘giant’, he let out a great guffaw of laughter.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ Quinn demanded.

  Ignus just ignored him and held out a hand into the bog. ‘Ulric, you old fraud!’ he bellowed. ‘What in Alariss are you doing with your backside in a peat bog?’

  ‘Ulric?’ Quinn demanded.

  ‘The Dragon Knight?’ Thea gawped.

  ‘That’s me,’ the man said, sheepishly. ‘The Shadow Dragon.’ Ulric sketched a little bow as Ignus hauled the soaking wet man to his feet.

  ‘Where in the gods’ blue sky have you been, old friend?’ Ignus boomed, grabbing Ulric in a friendly bear hug.

  ‘Uh, well,’ Ulric stammered, freeing himself from Ignus’s breath-crushing embrace. ‘That’s a long story …’

  ‘I’ll help fill you in,’ Quinn began, angrily. ‘This man was trying to rob me!’

  Ignus let out another roar of laughter, clutching at his stomach.

  Thea stared at the big man. ‘Why is this so funny?’

  ‘It’s not!’ Quinn fumed.

  Ignus grinned at Ulric. ‘It’s good to see you, old man. I thought you were going to hide out on Duna, or Aya Nor?’