Are they even going in the right direction? And are the odds just too stacked against them?
And will Prince Regor, the last surviving heir to the throne of the True Dragons ever be born?
If not, then Planet Erf is doomed forever!
Get all the answers in the enthralling and action-packed adventures of ‘Dragon’s Nest’ – Book 4 of the exciting new Fantasy Series: ‘Dragon’s Erf’ –
The impossible is only something you haven’t experienced yet – experience it now!
– And discover a World unlike any other!
AN EXCERPT FROM DRAGON’S NEST
To whet your appetite!
It was barely mid-morning when they arrived at the beginning of the Deep Ford Creek. The open terrain had dipped downwards and they now found themselves winding their way down the side of a steep valley. At the bottom lay the Deep Ford Creek. This was in fact a short inlet from the River Tymes itself, that cut its way inland for barely a mile and then became the Ravensburn River, and in turn, from the Ravensburn, came Roger and Mary’s very own River Quaggy.
Roger was beginning to feel hot and sweaty as the sun rose in the sky. And now there seemed to be clouds of flies and midges all about them as they reached the bottom. There were great forests of reeds choking the waters of the Creek. These were humming with all kinds of insect wildlife.
Roger could see many, large and beautiful dragonflies, that he’d just love to be able to study. The place was teeming with butterflies, beetles, bees and wasps, he noted, as they trudged along in a line, above the creek’s muddy bank.
Soon they found that they had to climb down the bank itself in order to continue along the course of the creek. Somewhere, half way along it, the Green Witch had told them, lay the Palace of King Gorfgib. She had described this as a vast series of Lily-pads at the edge of the creek itself, underneath a complex of fungal terraces; platforms that projected out from the steep bank there.
“You can’t miss it when you see it!” she’d told them.
They were all busy searching and squinting through the fetid heat of the place and slapping away the buzzing flies. “By Darwin’s Dimples, we must be getting close by now!” Roger muttered.
Not one of them noticed the armed stalkers, silently closing in behind them, not even Regor; mainly because he’d taken the opportunity to have another quick nap.
All at once, they found themselves surrounded by a large group of angry-looking big green frogs. Each frog wore a brown leather jerkin and held a short barb-headed spear, pointed towards them. They were enormous frogs, each standing nearly as tall as Roger and Mary. Their leader, an even larger frog, who wore a red badge on his tunic in the shape of a crown, now stepped forward.
“What are you Humdrums doing blundering about in my kingdom? Speak the truth or you will quickly find yourselves being used as fish bait. I’m in charge now ‒ so croak up!”
This was not the greeting they were expecting at all. Roger quickly stepped forward and bowed.
“Pardon us please, Sir,” he politely replied, “but we’re seeking for the Frog King, Gorfgib, and we’re friends of the Green Witch. She’s sent us to seek your great King’s counsel and help.”
“Hmm, is that right? Well, my Dad’s not said anything about expecting any Humdrums, friends of the Green Witch or otherwise. And right now, I’m in charge see. I’m the Prince … but soon I’ll be the King. Gorfgob’s. away tending to trouble in the Eerie Marshes. So, you’ll come and await his return in one of our dungeons. We have no love of any Humdrums these days!”
Without further ado, the company of the Egg bearers were escorted at spear point a few hundred yards further along the creek. There was just no arguing with Prince Gorfgob’s suspicion and his determination to lock them up. Even when Grannie Maddam tried to speak and explain further, one of the Frog-men-at-arms just poked at her with his spear and cut her off in mid-protest. There was nothing they could do, nothing that wouldn’t just further antagonize the proud Prince.
Soon they had splashed their way around the next bend of the creek and there before them was the great Frog King’s Palace, just as had been described to them. At the edge of the creek lay a wide courtyard of floating, green Lily-pads, lying under a series of terraced fungi, protruding as balcony upon balcony, in tier after tier, up the side of the creek’s steep bank.
In between the huge fungal plates grew all sorts of waterside plant-life; some were in full bloom and gave off a heady scent. There were also many rivulets of water cascading down between the fungi balconies, splashing and sparkling as miniature waterfalls in the morning sun.
All in all, Roger thought it a most spectacular and very suitable place for a Frog King to have as his Palace. In other circumstances he would have loved to have visited. It was just a right Pain in Newton’s Neck that their expected friend and ally, King Gorfgib, wasn’t at home!
They soon found themselves being briskly frog-marched under one of the lowest of the fungal plates and entering a wide, sloping tunnel. This took them deep under the Frog King’s Palace. Here they were herded into a dark, damp dungeon. The round tunnel had been dimly lit with occasional torches thrust into the curving walls, but the dungeon itself had no such lighting.
“All right, me ducks, let’s not panic. First, let’s get some light on the situation, shall we? Juss pass me handbag over, will you, Mary dear?”
With that Gran rummaged around in the handbag, duly passed to her, and pulled out a few sprigs of old Moonberries she’d kept there. Miraculously they still managed to shed some light despite being several weeks old and a bit tattered and battered. (Much like the handbag itself in fact.)
“There we go, dears; leasts we can sees each other now as we plans our next move.”
“What do you we think we should do then, Gran?” Mary asked anxiously.
“Well I thinks we has to get away. There’s no knowin’ how long it’ll be before Gorfgib returns; an’ this Prince Gorfgob chap don’t looks to be a very pleasant character at all.”
“But how?” Roger asked. Hoping that the solution for their escape wasn’t going to be shoved onto his shoulders again.
DON’T MISS THE NEXT EXCITING INSTALMENT!
Dragon's Flight Page 19
