The Flame Dragon

by J. R. Castle

  Desperately, he rolled under the grille, metal spikes plunging towards him. Thea grabbed his arm and pulled. His feet shot through just as the portcullis crashed down behind him. He felt the dry ground shudder beneath him as the spikes drove into the dirt.

  Thea pulled him up as the guards sprinted towards the gateway. Quinn didn’t know how long the portcullis would hold.

  ‘Come on!’ Thea cried, tugging at him.

  ‘Get back here,’ Goric spat. ‘No one leaves the Guard and gets away with it.’

  ‘We’ll make you pay!’ Rowena hissed, as she pressed her face to the metal bars.

  ‘We’ll see!’ Quinn taunted her, as he turned and ran.

  Quinn knew the Black Guard wouldn’t like being beaten by two trainees. They would be furious and humiliated. They would do anything to bring him and Thea back and make an example of them. They’d have to move fast.

  Together they raced down the dirt road, checking over their shoulders as they went.

  They had hardly gone half a mile, pumping their legs with all the strength they had, before Quinn heard the sound of screeching metal followed by hooves clattering on the road.

  ‘They’ve opened the portcullis,’ he said, panting for breath. ‘They’re coming!’

  It was too soon! Quinn had thought they might be able to get back to the village before the Guard got free; maybe they could lie low. There was no way he and Thea would get to safety, now.

  ‘Look, there!’ Thea cried. She grabbed Quinn’s arm and dragged him off the road, into a small, overgrown clearing. ‘We have to hide …’

  Quinn and Thea hacked their way through the prickly bushes and landed straight in a muddy ditch. Huge ropes of ivy dangled like a screen above them, and thick-trunked trees pressed in from all sides.

  Quinn pressed his face to the dirt. All sorts of insects crawled over him and the stench was almost overpowering. The summer sun was already harsh and the heat bore down like an iron fist.

  In the distance they could feel the horses thundering down the road and hear the guards hollering. Soon they came dangerously close, but the horses didn’t slow down and Quinn let out a relieved breath as he saw their dark, sweating flanks streaking past.

  ‘We did it,’ Quinn muttered.

  ‘See you later, Yaross Garrison!’ Thea smiled, breathlessly.

  Once Quinn and Thea had clambered out of the ditch, damp and covered in dirt, the pair made their way up and out towards the giant oak forest. The sun was high in the sky and it was well past midday when they finally found a thin trail that snaked its way through the trees. Climbing up the steep slope, they grabbed on to the gnarled exposed roots to help them. It was slow going, especially with the lush foliage encroaching on all sides. Quinn and Thea had to stop to hack away vines and bat away giant venomous insects. The dense forest was full of the calls of strange creatures, shrieks and yells of mysterious animals that scurried away in the undergrowth whenever they approached.

  Suddenly Quinn realised why Marta had always told him to stay away from this place. There was an eerie feeling in the dim forest surroundings. He and Thea steered away from the huge red plants, which turned their flowery heads slowly as they passed, as if ready to strike out, and they both tried to ignore the feeling that they were being watched from the trees.

  At last, they hauled themselves up onto a ridge and out into open terrain, where the trees were sparser. From this height Quinn could see the garrison building in the distance and Black Guard messengers darting back and forth. To the east the Floating Mountains sat in the sky, casting an ethereal shadow over the land.

  ‘Let’s rest for a second,’ he called to Thea, as he slumped down on the ground.

  ‘At last,’ she panted.

  For a moment Quinn could relax and breathe normally. The relief of being away from the Yaross Garrison was overwhelming. He’d told himself he wasn’t going to spend three years there and he was right. He breathed in the heady freedom and let the sunlight wash over him. It no longer felt oppressive and hot.

  Then, to the west, he gazed out and spotted his village, Rivervale, nestled in the crook of the River Yar. Near the far edge, just a tiny speck on the landscape, were the blackened remains of his aunt’s cottage. They’d never had much before, but now they had nothing. His calm evaporated, and he felt the familiar tight fury begin to build inside him once more.

  This is Goric’s fault, Quinn thought, all of it …

  As the rage slowly built, a sudden pain flared across his chest. It felt like a million hot needles were dancing all over his skin and burning right through it. Quinn lifted up his tunic and gasped. The skin over his chest had turned to golden scales. His dragonblood was starting to manifest itself.

  ‘Look!’ he whispered, as the pain ebbed away.

  Thea’s eyes widened with surprise. ‘You’re coming into your dragonform …’

  I really am turning into a dragon! he thought, as he ran his finger over the scales. They felt as smooth as stones in a river and they were hot and strong and strangely beautiful.

  ‘But how?’ Quinn asked.

  ‘Well,’ Thea began, ‘according to Telemus, dragonblood manifests itself at around your age. They used to say it was triggered by uncontrollable emotion. Anger, hatred, love: anything extreme.’

  That fits, Quinn thought. Whenever he thought of Marta and Goric the anger built inside him. That’s what had happened when the guards had burned his house – he just hadn’t realised it before.

  ‘Then, as you grow older,’ Thea continued, ‘you eventually learn to control it … hopefully.’

  Quinn looked down. His scales were starting to fade as his anger lessened, but he could still feel the strength in them.

  ‘And then what?’ he asked.

  ‘Then you get to be a real dragon,’ Thea said. ‘Like a sand dragon or a stone dragon … Not just a skinny boy with a scaly chest …’

  ‘Hey!’ Quinn laughed, shoving Thea. ‘You’d better watch out when I start breathing fire!’

  As he looked out into the distance, Quinn let his mind wander. Being a stone dragon would be awesome. He would be able to drive the Black Guard right off Yaross Island so they never hurt anyone again. A fire dragon would be amazing too. Even a sand dragon, whatever that was. He wouldn’t care what he was, as long as it meant he could fight the Black Guard.

  He caught himself. Only a few days ago, he’d thought that dragons were evil. Everyone else in Alariss still did. Anyone who saw him and his scales would report him straight away. He’d have to find a way to change their minds.

  ‘We should figure out where we’re going,’ Thea said, as they got ready to set off. ‘We can’t just keep running, and if we stay here too long, they’ll find us. Use your sword.’

  ‘Huh?’ Quinn asked.

  ‘Like in the tower room … It will lead us to the nearest Dragon Knight.’

  Quinn drew his sword and peered at the reflection of his dragonform.

  ‘Ignus,’ he said, uttering the first of the dragon names he could think of. ‘The Flame Dragon.’

  Immediately, the sword turned to point east. Quinn’s reflection faded and was replaced by the image of the giant blacksmith labouring away in his forge. Then that image faded too and Quinn saw giant floating mountains high in the sky.

  ‘That’s on the other side of Yaross Island,’ Quinn said, pointing. ‘It isn’t so far.’

  ‘It’s far enough,’ Thea said, peering into the distance. ‘If we have to walk, it could take days. How are we going to stay hidden that long?’

  Quinn peered out across the landscape. Lush green forest gave way to rocky terrain; a dirt road carved its way through the open plain, where the farmers and labourers of Yaross Island scuttled around like ants.

  ‘The road,’ Quinn murmured. ‘Follow me, I have an idea.’

  Quinn darted across the open hilltop with Thea close behind. He headed east this time, back down the hill and into the forest once more.

  The further the
y went, the stranger the forest became. Huge blue butterflies streamed through the trees like a fluttering river suspended in the sky. Strange multi-coloured insects followed them, as if expecting an easy meal.

  At last, when neither of them could walk or run any further, they slumped down by the forest edge. Quinn reckoned they must have left at least a few miles between them and the garrison, but it was hard to tell when they were moving through the dense forest. From where they stood, the great road curved beneath them like a dusty river.

  ‘We should keep out of sight,’ Thea said. ‘Just in case anyone’s coming this way.’

  ‘Someone coming our way is exactly what I’m hoping for …’ Quinn said.

  ‘Huh?’ Thea asked.

  ‘Look, there!’ Quinn pointed. On the road, a farmer was driving a spacious-looking wagon stacked with sacks. ‘If we hurry we can catch him!’

  They sprung out from the forest edge and down onto the main road just as the horse-drawn wagon came around the corner. They jumped and waved until the farmer brought the wagon to a stop.

  ‘We’re looking for a village with a forge and a blacksmith,’ Quinn said, breathlessly. ‘Do you know one?’

  The farmer scratched his head, looking them up and down. ‘Most villages have blacksmiths round here.’

  ‘We know,’ Quinn said. ‘But this one’s special. It’s in the shadow of the Floating Mountains.’

  The farmer scratched himself again. ‘Hillshade,’ he said, gruffly. ‘That’ll take you a few days’ walk at least.’

  Quinn noticed him look awry at their black tunics. They hadn’t had anything to change into since leaving the garrison.

  ‘We need to get there quickly,’ Thea said, flashing him a smile. ‘Do you think you could take us?’ She pulled out a small silver coin from inside her tunic and held it up. ‘We’d be really grateful.’

  That seemed to do it. The farmer finally softened and grinned, showing several missing teeth. ‘That’s the kind of gratitude I could get used to.’ He jerked his thumb towards the half-full wagon. ‘Make yourselves comfortable – I’ll have you there by morning.’

  Feeling a great flood of relief wash over him, Quinn helped Thea to clamber in and they lay back in the wagon. With the sacks all around them, no one riding past would see them hiding. Once again Quinn could relax and put all thoughts of Yaross Garrison and the Black Guard’s cruelty behind him. They were on the way to the Dragon Knights – and nothing could stop them now.

  CHAPTER 13

  THE BLACKSMITH’S FORGE

  Quinn, Thea and the farmer travelled for the rest of the day. Quinn and Thea hid in the back of the wagon by daylight, but once it was dark they let themselves ride openly, feeling the cool night air on their skin. They passed the night in the wagon, the stars above them in the heavens.

  By early morning they were on their way again and they soon came in sight of the Floating Mountains, hovering high above the ground, casting long shadows over the forest. Pink clouds wrapped around the craggy rocks like shawls.

  Thea looked at them curiously. ‘I’ve never seen anything so beautiful. We heard about them back home, but I never expected to see them …’

  For once, Quinn felt a sense of pride in Yaross.

  ‘How do they stay up there?’ asked Thea.

  Quinn wondered how to explain it. They’d been like that forever, as long as history. There were all sorts of myths and legends: huge battles between magical gods or weird seismic events that had thrown the mountains into the air.

  He vaulted off the wagon and ran alongside it. From the bank he wrenched a rock from the earth and let it go. It drifted slowly up into the air.

  ‘The rock is really light around here, so if you pull it out of the ground, it just floats away. I guess the mountains must have broken free, just like that rock.’ He shrugged, jumping back into the cart. ‘Or maybe it’s magic …’

  ‘Well, it’s certainly more dramatic than anything on the Rock of Sighs,’ Thea laughed.

  As the farmer’s wagon continued in the shadow of the mountains, the trees eventually made way for small cottages and fields of produce. Soon they were surrounded by life in a small, bustling village. Children played in the streets, which were full of market traders selling their wares. People actually seemed happy and safe – a far cry from the misery in Quinn’s village. Perhaps harbouring a Dragon Knight wasn’t as bad as people made out.

  ‘Hillshade, next stop,’ the farmer called. ‘You’ll find your blacksmith here.’

  As Quinn jumped down and walked in the direction the farmer had pointed, Thea flicked him a silver coin and thanked him. He frowned slightly.

  ‘Those black tunics of yours —’ he began.

  ‘None of your business!’ Thea replied indignantly, hurrying away from the wagon and down the street.

  ‘What was that about?’ Quinn asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Thea. ‘But we’d better find this Dragon Knight quickly. We don’t want to be wandering around looking like trainees for much longer.’

  They made their way down the street as the farmer headed back out of town.

  ‘It’s the same village we saw in the sword,’ Quinn said. The village was in far better repair than Quinn’s own. The houses all had iron bars on the windows and doors, and good, strong walls.

  I’d like to see Goric try to kick those doors down, Quinn thought.

  They followed the sword through the village as best they could. Quinn let it tug him in the right direction, holding it by his side so as few people would notice it as possible. The blacksmith’s shop was an unmistakable brick building in front of a public square near the middle of the village, with a tall chimney that was pouring out smoke.

  ‘This must be it,’ Thea muttered.

  ‘Let’s do this,’ Quinn said.

  He opened the door and an enormous wave of heat rolled over them. Sweat sprang out on Quinn’s skin in seconds, soaking his tunic and trousers.

  As they made their way inside, they spotted the blacksmith by the forge, hammering molten metal into submission. He looked even bigger in person than he had in the sword. His shoulders were as wide a bull’s, and his arms were so thick with muscle they looked like tree trunks. Black, bristly stubble jutted from a rock-like jaw. He was hunched over his work, his face almost touching the belching flames, as he hammered away at a gigantic sword. The smith reached down and pumped the bellows and the flames roared up. Armour and weapons hung from the walls. The noise of the place was so deafening that he hadn’t even noticed Quinn and Thea.

  Quinn tilted his sword so that he could see the smith’s reflection. ‘It’s him!’ he whispered. Quinn saw the reflection of a gigantic red dragon, in the same way he’d seen his own dragonform reflected back at him.

  As the light glanced off the blade the blacksmith noticed the disturbance and flicked his giant head round. Dropping the hammer and molten metal, he spun towards Quinn and Thea. His eyes widened and Quinn saw fire flash within them. He grabbed up a glowing poker and strode towards them.

  ‘Who are you?’ he growled, glaring at Quinn and Thea. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘W-we saw you in a sword,’ Quinn stuttered. This wasn’t the welcome he was expecting.

  ‘You’re guards!’ the blacksmith roared, seeing what they were wearing. ‘How did you —?’

  ‘No!’ Quinn shouted. ‘We were looking for you … for the Dragon Knights …’ The huge blacksmith looming over him was just as terrifying as any member of the Black Guard and he didn’t even have the magical armour.

  At the mention of the Dragon Knights the blacksmith turned red with anger. The fury in his eyes shone as bright as the forge.

  ‘You’ve got five seconds to explain yourselves,’ he roared, ‘or I’m going to throw you right out of that door.’ The giant blacksmith reached for Quinn with one enormous, hairy hand.

  ‘Dragonblood!’ Quinn burst out.

  ‘What did you say, boy?’ the blacksmith boomed.

 
Quinn knew he shouldn’t have said that, but it was too late. It was just like in the garrison: he was always saying things before he thought about them first. ‘I have dragonblood. That’s why we’re here. We escaped from the Yaross Garrison to find you.’

  The blacksmith froze, his fingers just an inch from Quinn’s neck. He stared down at Quinn with fiery eyes. Then he sniffed at him suspiciously.

  His face softened and he let his hands drop. ‘Then I guess we’d better have a chat,’ he said. ‘Follow me.’

  Quinn shot Thea a wary glance.

  ‘Sparky fellow, isn’t he?’ Thea grinned.

  ‘That’s one way to describe him,’ Quinn replied, sternly.

  Ignus led them to a small, ramshackle cottage set behind the forge at a distance from its fiery flames. As Quinn settled himself awkwardly on the edge of the bed that filled up almost half the cottage, the blacksmith bustled around, pulling out cups and putting a kettle on the fire. Ignus was so tall he had to bend his head to stand up, and his shoulders looked like they were going to smash through the walls every time he turned. Ignus demanded Quinn tell him everything, and soon Quinn found himself detailing the escape from Yaross Garrison and his run-ins with Goric.

  As he finished his tale, the door opened again, and a teenage boy and girl strode in. They looked so similar, with their long brown hair and stocky physique, Quinn thought they must be twins. They caught sight of Quinn and Thea and gave Ignus a curious look.

  ‘It’s all right,’ Ignus mumbled. ‘Show them what you can do, Areck.’

  The boy shrugged then walked over to the cooking fire. He waved his hands over the heat, and the flames flared up. Quinn gasped. The boy just laughed, and twisted his hands, making the flames jump and dance before them all.

  ‘Pretty good, huh?’ he laughed.

  He has dragonblood, too? Quinn thought. He looked over at Thea in amazement.

  ‘Areck and Alysa,’ Ignus said, introducing the twins. ‘They’re only just coming into their dragon powers.’

  ‘How?’ Quinn croaked. He’d thought all the dragonbloods were bound. He’d never expected to find them walking around freely. He’d thought he was the only one.