The Dragon Chronicles

by Ellen Campbell

  ‘That doesn’t sound so bad to me,’ Nogdo said as he touched his pocket, considering the picture drawn on the parchment. ‘Did men ever ride dragons?’

  ‘Only the king, and only Ashella. One day he tried to saddle her, and she burned his hand. He never rode her again.’ Tolcan’s cracked lips twisted into a sneer.

  ‘Did King Samire eat dragon meat?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So Ashella and the king didn’t talk.’

  ‘That is right,’ Tolcan said. ‘But when Ashella died, the king’s heart cracked in two. He cooked and ate a piece of her flesh so she could live within him. Ashella was an old dragon, and that meant her flesh, when eaten by a man, caused obsession. That one bite consumed King Samire. Neither food nor sleep could eliminate his hunger for dragon flesh. Madness claimed him, and under the guise of peace, he used Ashella’s name to call a meeting with the dragons across the Kingdom of Enslain. That day, King Samire used great spear machines to slaughter thirty of my kind.’

  Even though Nogdo wasn’t to blame for what had happened, he couldn’t help feeling shame for what the past king had done. The continued rivalry between men and dragons had taken thousands of lives since. Nogdo daydreamed of what might have happened if the truce had continued. The Kingdom of Enslain sat at the base of the southern Frozen Mountains.

  ‘The week of that slaughter,’ Tolcan continued, ‘the citizens ceased work. Instead of farming and trading, the king forced them to slice, strip, and preserve with salt the meat from the thirty dragon corpses.’

  The dragon sighed. ‘Summer neared, and King Samire feared his dragon meat would spoil in the hot, corrupting temperatures. Roads leading up to the Jagged Mountains were built so the meat could be frozen and thus preserved. Tens of thousands of men died creating those treacherous roads, but the king’s madness deepened. He sent a vast army to the northern mountains, far away, in pursuit of the remaining dragons.

  ‘Fie! No wonder your kind hate us.’

  Tolcan’s nostrils flared. ‘The king’s son, but eleven years of age, happened upon our leftover meat on his father’s plate, and ate it. The king discovered him, and like your son, the boy scaled and sprouted wings. He locked his son away in a cave. The king saw the curse on his son as punishment for what he’d done to the dragons. But he couldn’t stop. Through torturing another of my kind, King Samire learned how to cure his son’s affliction, and took up a quest to search out a dragon egg. The army had killed so many dragons that there were no eggs to be found.’

  Nogdo hung on the dragon’s every word.

  ‘In becoming one of us,’ Tolcan said smugly, ‘the prince had our memories, and learned the truth about his father. He desired revenge. While the king was away on his quest for a dragon egg, the prince, now a dragon, escaped the cave in which he had been imprisoned. He lured a little boy back to his cave, bit off the top of his tail, and cooked the meat. The little boy, captivated by the young dragon, happily ate the Dragon Prince’s flesh. They conspired together and gathered a hundred children to the cave to eat more dragon flesh stolen from the Jagged Mountain stores. The Dragon Prince taught his new kin hatred for the race of men, and together, they destroyed the city of Ashos with fire.’

  Nogdo couldn’t believe his ears. What a horrible tale of the past. Now he knew why the Dark Times were so named. Ashos must have been rebuilt since then. Surely the current monarch, King Geldon, knew these truths. ‘So what then?’

  ‘Over time, The Dragon Prince became so powerful that he was made Dragon King. Over time, he regretted destroying Ashos, and has since worked hard to convince dragons to leave towns and farmlands be. The Dragon King can force dragons to obey him, but he desires that dragons choose to be peaceful. Now, times are harder. Men have multiplied, as have dragons, and so we are thrown into each other’s paths.’

  The dragon breathed out heavily, dust and leaves whipped across the ground. ‘Your son is innocent, dragon eater, but I cannot feel any sympathy for you.’

  Nogdo scratched his beard. ‘Are there dragons that would give me their eggs? Do you know the ingredients for the cure? How many eggs would it take to cure a hundred children?’

  Tolcan’s eyes narrowed. ‘So you’re the one who sold our meat to all those innocent children.’ The dragon snarled at Nogdo, and this time, the noise woke one of the sleeping men.

  ‘Oi! What are you doing ‘ere?’ came a deep voice, and Nogdo turned in time to see a burly dragon hunter with a short neck, swinging a bludgeon at his head.

  Thunk. The butcher slipped into darkness.

  * * *

  Dirty faces, sneering lips with ale-tainted breath, peered down at Nogdo as he stirred. A searing pain started at the back of his skull and stopped as an ache behind his left eye. Two men hauled him to his feet, and Nogdo met the crinkled eyes of a black-bearded man with muscular arms clad in golden cuffs.

  ‘Talk, butcher,’ he said with deadly calm. He held his sword to Nogdo’s throat.

  ‘How do you know I’m a butcher?’

  The stoic man’s bicep flexed as he tightened his grip on the hilt of his short sword. ‘The dragon told me.’

  The butcher regarded Tolcan several metres away, tail shaking, smoke pouring from his nostrils.

  ‘Are you in charge?’ Nogdo asked, surprised by his courage in the face of a blade’s tip.

  ‘My name is Orgvand, master of dragon hunters. And yours?’

  ‘Nogdo.’

  ‘Are you here for a dragon egg?’ asked the master.

  That earned a round of snickers from the onlookers.

  ‘Quiet,’ yelled Orgvand, silencing the camp so that only the gentle rustling of leaves was heard.

  ‘Why do you need an egg?’ Nogdo inquired.

  ‘I’m asking the questions.’ Beneath the hairs of his moustache, Orgvand pursed his lips. ‘Why is it that a butcher wants a dragon egg?’

  Why did the dragon hunter care? Nogdo remembered the picture on the parchment hidden in his pocket, and smiled. ‘I want to ride a dragon.’

  Orgvand revealed a row of half-rotten teeth. ‘And why would you, a half-wit butcher, be interested in something like that?’

  Everyone knew that dragons couldn’t be tamed, even those captured at birth. If King Samire couldn’t convince Ashella to bear a saddle, then the dragon hunters had even less chance. Maybe they had seen the picture and thought it possible. It was probably a fanciful drawing produced by a long-dead artist. If it had been hidden among other Dark Times treasures, maybe they thought it some replica of truth. ‘My son is turning into a dragon and I need the egg—’

  One of Orgvand’s men punched Nogdo in the face. ‘Think you’re amusin’, do ya?’

  Nogdo rubbed his jaw. ‘Ask the dragon if you don’t believe me, then, you dog.’

  All heads turned to look at Orgvand, and while they were distracted, Nogdo tried to think up a foolproof plan. Disappointingly, none of his ideas brought him any closer to freeing Tolcan.

  Orgvand took Nogdo by the neck and dragged him within inches of Tolcan’s face.

  ‘Dragon,’ Orgvand said. ‘How can a child turn into one of you?’

  Tolcan raised his head, and as he opened his mouth, blistering hot air rushed out to dry Nogdo’s eyes. They felt like shrivelling prunes in the summer sun. He moaned and tried wriggle out of the hunter’s grasp. Seeing the butcher’s discomfort, Tolcan turned his face away.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Nogdo, and someone punched him in the lower back.

  ‘If a child, not yet developed into a man or woman, eats our flesh,’ said Tolcan, ‘he or she becomes one of us.’

  When Orgvand conveyed the dragon’s words to his followers, murmurs erupted from the crowd of hunters. ‘Is this child dragon like you, or is it faulty in some way?’ asked Master Orgvand.

  Tolcan exhaled with a sigh. ‘The child dragon is exactly like us, except he retains his human memories.’

  Orgvand’s mouth curled into a hideous smugness. ‘What luck!’ Then he turned to Nogdo. �
��You may live, butcher, for you have given me more than you know.’ Then he raised his hands to the sky. ‘Kill the dragon, cook his flesh, and salt it. Tonight, we capture children and create our dragon army!’

  Hundreds of men punched the night sky, cheering. Orgvand pushed Nogdo aside and raised his sword to the side of Tolcan’s neck. The dragon roared and thrashed about, desperate to free himself. More scales were uprooted now; blood dripped to the ground.

  ‘Wait!’ Nogdo shouted.

  Orgvand’s eyes snapped to the butcher’s. ‘Speak!’ he barked.

  If he didn’t save Tolcan, then Venussa wouldn’t give him her egg and Kibsigy’s life would be ruined. The butcher filled with hateful, awful regret at the next words he spoke. ‘There’s a hundred more children, like my son, already kept at an isolated encampment. They’re becoming dragons as we speak!’

  The hunters shuffled forward, their faces lit with sickening curiosity.

  Orgvand lowered his sword from Tolcan’s neck. ‘Why so many?’

  ‘Haven’t you heard of the famous Mountain Ox meat?’ Nogdo asked.

  Recognition filled Orgvand’s eyes as his eyebrows rose. ‘Aye. So that’s what the plague is.’ He stared at his sword for a moment. ‘It’ll be easier if we just capture the cursed dragon children.’

  ‘Grant me my life,’ Tolcan said to Orgvand, ‘and I will persuade those fledglings to follow and obey you.’

  Orgvand let out a short laugh. ‘Hah! Don’t mistake me for a fool.’

  ‘The Dark Times,’ Nogdo said ominously.

  The master took a swig from a pitcher of ale. ‘What of them?’

  ‘I know you got artefacts.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘The king of that time, his son turned into a dragon and burned Ashos to the ground. Can’t you see the danger?’

  The hunter shrugged. ‘I care not.’

  ‘We’re tired of horses,’ came a drunken voice. ‘We want to soar through the skies!’

  Orgvand grinned while raising his sword. ‘Well said.’

  ‘Dim-witted rats!’ Tolcan roared. ‘You cannot tame a dragon. Our respect must be earned. We cannot be saddled!’

  When the hunters broke down with laughter, Tolcan widened his mouth a crack, revealing a blazing light within.

  ‘Fire!’

  Everyone dove out of the way, including Nogdo. A thin and harmless fire stream singed a plate-sized patch of grass. The hunters rolled around on the ground with uncontrollable laughter. Humiliated and defeated, Tolcan lowered his head.

  ‘Let the dragon go,’ Nogdo pleaded, ‘you have no use for him.’

  Orgvand tapped the flat of his blade against the dragon’s nose. ‘Seems you made a friend.’ He turned to Nogdo, eyes flashing. ‘Tomorrow, you’ll show us where the children are kept. For now’—the master clicked his fingers, and made some gesture over Nogdo’s shoulder—‘you can wait here with your pet.’

  The barbarians took rope, wound it around Nogdo’s arms and ankles, and tied him to Tolcan’s front leg. The ropes were tightened to the point of chafing. From the corner of his eye, the butcher watched the dragon arch his neck to look at him. The beast’s steamy breath caressed the butcher’s hair. A splash of drool landed on his shoulder.

  ‘I saved your life,’ Nogdo said quickly, trying to rid the dragon of any idea of eating him.

  ‘I am not going to harm you, even though you deserve it.’

  A tear trickled down the butcher’s cheek. ‘I’m a wretched soul. I know. But can’t you see I’m tryin’ to make it right?’ Then his despair with the situation—his guilt, shame, all of it—turned into a kind of self-hatred. ‘If you won’t give me an egg, kill me. Kill me now.’ Nogdo balled his hands into fists, concentrating on the moistness of his palms and the beating of his heart. The time had come to die.

  Tolcan howled like a wolf. ‘I cannot slay you without cause.’ It seemed as if the dragon was sad.

  ‘Losing my son will be like death itself! It’s nothin’ to you, nothin’! So why not do it?’

  The beast’s bowels rippled. The dragon could scorch his skin and crunch his bones, for Nogdo no longer valued his life. ‘Coward. Fix this mess you have created and redeem yourself.’

  ‘Will you give me an egg, then?’ Nogdo asked.

  ‘I will not.’

  Then there was nothing left to be said. Tomorrow, Nogdo would try to stop the barbarians, and they would kill him. The thought of eternal peace calmed the butcher’s mind, and he drifted into a pleasurable slumber.

  * * *

  The dawn light, bright and offensive, made Nogdo scowl. Still alive, he thought miserably. It didn’t make sense that Orgvand hadn’t killed him yet. The butcher could only guess that the leader of the dragon hunters had some other use for him. The barbarians seemed capable of finding Fort Greystone all on their own. His arms and legs were numb, and what little he could feel ached.

  Tolcan shook his head, waking from his slumber. He yawned, revealing spider web saliva strings strung between sharp canines. A forked tongue flicked rhythmically. The dragon rolled his eye around to inspect the butcher, but said nothing.

  I got nothin’ to say to you anyways, Nogdo thought.

  The hunters had almost finished packing up the camp; their speed and efficiency annoyed him.

  Orgvand approached, his golden cuffs gleaming in the morning light. This time, he came wearing polished armour crafted from fine leather. In the centre of his plackart was a dragon sigil. Orgvand met Tolcan’s eyes and raised one arm high into the air. Twenty men rushed over.

  ‘I will set you free, dragon,’ Orgvand said. ‘But if I so much as hear the flap of your wings, or feel the cold brush of your shadow, I will slit this butcher’s throat. Understand?’

  Nogdo frowned. Why did Orgvand think his threat would work? Tolcan didn’t care about him one bit. Nogdo assumed the dragon would be disgusted by him. It was the beast’s pity that kept him alive. As soon as he was free, Tolcan would fly back to his cosy mountain home to nurture his offspring and continue to hate men.

  Every resident of the barbarian camp had taken up weapons, and they pointed them at Tolcan while he was being set free of his bonds. Metal spikes were removed from the ground, metal braces unclasped, and chains were thrown into a heap. Tolcan stayed very still. As the last tail brace fell, the barbarians cautiously stepped back. The dragon turned his head to lick his wounds before he stretched and experimentally flapped his wings a few times.

  He leaped from the ground, almost severing heads with his sharp wings as he rose. The men ducked and growled, but they didn’t attack. Tolcan soared through the valley…but then he circled back.

  Orgvand brought a dagger to Nogdo’s neck, yelling, ‘Leave, dragon! Or he dies.’

  Tolcan growled at the master of dragon hunters, sprayed a few carts with fire, then flew west in the direction of Dragon Cliffs. As his winged form disappeared over the valley bluffs, Nogdo’s heart sank. A part of him had hoped that the dragon might save him after all.

  ‘All right, we’re moving on. To Bolopsy!’

  ‘Bolopsy…’ Nogdo echoed, bewildered. ‘Why are we…?’

  The men laughed as they surrounded the butcher. They tied him up with rope and threw him onto the back of a horse.

  ‘Let’s go!’ Orgvand commanded.

  Nogdo spent that day trying to discover why they travelled to Bolopsy when Fort Greystone was situated further north. Maybe they didn’t know where the camp was after all.

  Five days of uncomfortable night-time travel saw them arrive at Bolopsy. Instead of riding straight into the town, they took cover in nearby woodlands. Soldiers regularly patrolled the roads leading in and out of the town, and seeing so many dragon hunters would raise a lot of questions as they typically travelled in groups of thirty to forty, rather than hundreds.

  ‘Looks pretty quiet to me,’ Orgvand said, and then he glanced at Nogdo. ‘Where do you live?’

  ‘I’ll not say,’ Nogdo declared.

  Orgv
and cut the rope from Nogdo’s wrists and shoved his face against the muddy ground. ‘Bring us your child and we’ll give you a dragon egg.’

  Nogdo was flabbergasted. ‘I-I don’t understand. You don’t have an egg, that’s why you had Tolcan chained—’

  The master of dragon hunters clicked his fingers and two men dragged the butcher to one of the carts. Orgvand ripped back a tarp, revealing two red dragon eggs identical to the ones in Venussa’s nest.

  Nogdo’s mouth fell open. ‘How did you…?’

  ‘Choose, butcher. Bring me your son, and he lives, or we kill your wife.’

  ‘Why?’ Nogdo shouted in dismay. ‘Why do you want him?’

  Orgvand cocked his head. ‘I wish to see his scaling. He will come to no harm.’

  ‘Swear it!’ Nogdo shouted.

  The master of dragon hunters covered his left breast with his hand. ‘By my sword, I swear.’

  ‘It’ll take me a half hour at least, and then I’ll come back.’ Nogdo glanced at the eggs again and felt his optimism renew. He desperately wanted to alert the soldiers to the dragon hunters’ presence, but they’d committed no crime. Besides, the hunters, though not considered civilised, had risked their lives to protect Bolopsy’s farms. Without them, the people would have starved. Nogdo’s crime was far worse, and if the people knew what he had done, they’d hang him.

  * * *

  ‘You’re back!’ Marella said, as Nogdo entered into his wife’s private parlour. ‘I thought you’d be wolf food by now!’ She put her arms around her husband and nuzzled into his neck, sighing with relief.

  Nogdo stroked his wife’s long brown hair. ‘Where’s Kibsigy?’ he asked.

  Marella leaned back, a frown on her face, and accusation formed in her sudden, rigid stance. ‘I can see it.’ She pointed at his face. ‘Trouble, right there in your eyes. Spit it out, what you done now?’

  Nogdo averted his gaze to stare at the floor. ‘Dragon hunters. They’re waitin’ for me.’

  ‘Dragon hunters! Has the madness taken you?’ Marella puckered her lips and puffed a lock of hair from her eyes.