Isle of Dragons

by J H G Foss

  ‘Well, new evidence has come to light. It is thought to exist west of Pehque Island.’

  ‘You know Pehque itself is mythical, right?’

  ‘That’s why we need you on this trip, insights like this are what we need,’ Ghene said with sarcasm.

  ‘Well, thank you, but from my point of view this sounds crazy. A voyage out into the unknowns of the Diamond Sea, an area infamous for its many dangers, dreamed up by the GFC, an organisation that meets in a hall that is five hundred miles inland. Do you see what I’m saying here?’

  ‘I see what you are saying, but I have seen the evidence and it is compelling. Let’s not say Pehque then. West of Grenos.’

  ‘Right, I see. I can think of three other islands west of Grenos and none of them are Hanna.’

  Meggelaine sat forward and chimed in, ‘I’ve not seen the evidence, but I trust Ghene on this. Even if it is nothing - think of it! The mythical kingdom of Hanna. If we could make contact with them it would change Nillamandor forever. Potentially even bring back the Dynar.’

  Roztov sighed, it was politics like this that made him keep away from the Council.

  ‘But where would you put them? The kingdoms of man are spread all across the continent now.’

  ‘The current thinking is Lunaria,’ said Ghene into his ale.

  ‘I’m glad you don’t have the nerve to do anything other than whisper that,’ snorted Roztov. ‘They may be warmongering savages, but they are still people. We saw them in the highlands, they have women and children like everyone else.’

  ‘Well, why not the Hook?’

  Roztov laughed again. ‘Now I know your joking. I also like that you are happy to carve off a portion of my homeland. Besides, it would be too small.’

  Ghene, trying to be as reasonable as possible, ‘but it used to be the centre of the Dynar nation. It saddens me that the ruins of their cities are now nothing more than warrens for tribes of goblins.’

  ‘Tribes of goblins that have lived there for a thousand years. Tribes that it’s taken me, personally, years to make peace with on behalf of Styke.’

  ‘Very well. Gnarlwold then.’

  Roztov put down his drink and rubbed his eyes. ‘Have you been to Gnarlwold, do you know what’s happening there?’

  ‘Surely you are now not going to argue that the undead are “just people too”…?’

  Meggelaine cut off the rest of the conversation, ‘It doesn’t matter!’

  ‘Listen Roztov,’ she went on. ‘Do it for the adventure only. Imagine being the ones that find Hanna? The stuff of legends. If by some miracle it does exist and that we do find it, we can leave what to do after that for a later discussion?’

  ‘Yes of course. And if we do find them, then I should imagine that after a thousand years they are probably fairly settled where they are. What else do you know of how to get there?’

  Ghene began drawing a map on the table in spilled beer.

  ‘Apologies, my charts are still in my baggage,’ said Ghene as he drew. ‘Well, from Grenos, take a bearing from Port Shendy between the two rocks Mede and Boromad. Continue straight from there until Pehque, then turn north and west.’

  ‘Hmm, that’s into the area on most maps marked “Here Be Dragons”.’

  ‘Oh, you know, they just put them on maps to decorate empty spaces.’

  ‘Says the elf from a forest hundreds of miles inland. Those are dangerous seas in that direction and there is a reason people don’t go there.’

  Ghene put his hands out, palm up. ‘But that is where we must go, if we are to find Hanna.’

  Once the meal was finished, they went upstairs to their rooms and sat together by the guests’ communal fire.

  ‘So you will come with us then Roztov?’ asked Meggelaine. ‘We have already chartered a ship.’

  ‘Yes, I’ll come. I’d better write a letter to my wife to not expect me home for a few months. And on reflection I think I’ll send word to Broddor, I’d like him to come along too.’

  Meggelaine seemed happy at this, but Ghene a little less so.

  ‘Why would he want to come?’ he asked.

  ‘He wants to. Said he was never satisfied that he’d gone far enough west in his life, considering he had been as far as it is possible to go north, east and south.’

  ‘Nobody has ever gone as far south as you can go!’ said Meggelaine with a laugh.

  ‘We did.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Long after you left the company, we took a ship to Al-Hamdalla, and visited Tup’s home town. We then sailed as far down the Ojumf as we could.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘What did you see?’

  ‘I wrote you a letter about this didn't I?' grumbled Roztov. 'Well, it was pretty grim to be honest, the further down you go, the sandier it gets. There are very impressive pyramids but they are full of undead. You know, there is a Remomian crusade going on down there, knights and soldiers from Ferron mainly. Hundreds of them, fighting for, well sort of, for Joppa.’

  ‘I’m confused,’ said Meggelaine. ‘Joppa is that country near Vegas isn’t it?’

  ‘Oh right yes. The Kingdom that wanted the Moon Marshes tamed, aye. There is a place called Joppa in Fiarka as well, though.’

  ‘I have heard of it,’ put in Ghene. ‘It’s known as El-Joppa in the books I’ve read.’

  ‘Well, I don’t know Roz,’ said Meggelaine, speaking more for Ghene than herself. ‘Maybe it will feel a bit weird, back on another adventure with Broddor. He was our leader. He never said anything bad to anyone when we disbanded, but you know, it was a tense time. Also, he won’t be in charge, this is GFC funded, it’s their voyage.’

  ‘I’m sure he’ll understand that.’

  ‘I’m just surprised that he would want to come with us, what with everything that’s happened.’

  ‘I’ve not thought about it too much, maybe he has his reasons. The reasons he gave me are nonsense anyway, there is much more east of here we’ve not seen either, but don’t tell him that. If he wants to come though, we should take him. He’s a powerful warrior and he knows the region. He’s no sailor but he’s been there before.’

  ‘He went with you, when you went?’

  ‘Aye. Just like this, it was some harebrained scheme to find a mythical island. It was financed by a prince of Elbonia. He fancied himself as a great navigator, but we mainly just sailed around in circles. The islands that we did see were fascinating though, there were hundreds of species that I’d never seen before…’

  From here the conversation devolved into discussing the flora and fauna of the Diamond Sea, something of great interest to Roztov and all other druids, but which he would leave out of his tale when he came to tell it to his wife.

  In the morning a letter arrived for Meggelaine and once she had read it she passed the information on to the others.

  ‘Tuppence is going to join us, but he’ll meet us in Elbonia.’

  Roztov was somewhat confused and said, ‘it will be great to have him, but why on earth would he want to leave Hyadna?’

  ‘Women trouble I think. You know what they are like down there.’

  Roztov did indeed know what they were like, his first wife had been Hyadnian and it had not ended well. Meggelaine noticed his silence and with her small hand on his arm said, ‘oh! Sorry Roz! You know what I mean, I didn’t…’

  Roztov patted her hand, ‘Don’t worry about it. That was a long time ago. Good news though. It will be nice to see him again if nothing else.’

  The ship that the Great Forest Council had hired was the Red Maiden, an ocean going full-rigged pinnace built in Tomsk, not fast, but sturdy.

  They set off from Tullis, just as winter was turning to spring and arrived in the port of Oban in Elbonia twenty days later. Roztov enjoyed the sea and while the weather was rough at this time of year he found is bracing. Meggelaine and Ghene had less experience of the sea and found the going easier up on the deck where they could get fresh air
.

  For a change of scene sometimes all three of them would turn into eagles, buttums or gannets and fly above and around the ship. Broddor would look up at them with jealousy. Dwarves were generally not good sea travellers and were prone to get sick. The druids could turn into creatures large enough to carry him if he had wanted it, but miserable as sea travel was to him, it was still preferable to the terror associated with holding onto the feathers of a giant owl half a mile in the air.

  The druids could only change their shape for a few hours though and spent most of their time on deck or in their cabins. Mostly they tried to keep out of the way of the crew as they went about their jobs. In the evening they dined with the captain, the first mate and the bosun. Occasionally the captain’s daughter would join them for a while before being sent to bed.

  As arranged they picked up Floran in Oban. The largest port in Elbonia, like most of the towns on the island was tastefully built in ornate stone, built with money brought in when Elbonia had once been a great trading nation. They didn’t stay long though, Floran had been waiting for a month, was bored and anxious to leave.

  He stashed his bag in the cabin that the three druids and Broddor shared and joined them on deck as the ship sailed out of the harbour.

  ‘I have this feeling in my stomach,’ said Floran. ‘Like the old days.’

  ‘Just the five of us, but imagine if we find Hanna,’ Meggelaine said as they all watched the harbour walls slowly go past. ‘It’ll be pies and gravy for life.’

  ‘We will never find Hanna. I think it is just a legend.’

  ‘How can you say that, Tuppence?’ asked Ghene. ‘Why do you come with us if you believe that?’

  ‘My family would have me married. I found myself wanting to leave Hyadna. So I come for the adventure only, and to be with my old friends.’

  ‘Me too!’ put in Broddor slapping the rail firmly.

  Just as Roztov was about to speak, a big lass, one of the crew, approached them with something in her hands.

  ‘Beg pardon, ah, my lord. You dropped these as you came onboard.’

  She extended her hand and held out a pair of reading glasses.

  ‘Oh!’ explained Floran. ‘Thank you ever so much. Here...’

  Floran began to hunt for his coin purse in his robes, but she held up her hand and smiled.

  ‘No need my lord, my pleasure.’

  She bowed and went back to her work. She was a buxom raven haired woman in her early twenties. Since she was so strong it appeared her main job was pulling on ropes.

  Floran watched her go, then realised Roztov, in turn was watching him. When he caught his eye, Roztov gave him a wink. Floran blushed, he was timid of the opposite sex, and turned to put away his glasses.

  Meggelaine rolled her eyes and Broddor snorted. ‘Bit on the big side for me.’

  A good wind blowing from the south-east pushed them all the way to Grenos, it was a greater distance than Tullis to Oban, but it took the same time due to the favourable weather. Grenos was a small island and once had been used as a place to dump lepers and convicts from all over Nillamandor. The main port was kept clear of the diseased though, so that traders would come. Roztov had been here before and knew that Meggelaine’s heart would break when she saw the level of poverty and suffering. So much so in fact that she might want to stay and help.

  Roztov’s realised his pipe was out, so his thoughts drifted back into the present, sat as he was on a log in the dark alone on a dragon infested island. He was still alert, but there is nothing more light of step than a fressle druid, so he was caught by surprise by Meggelaine when she hopped up onto the fallen tree beside him.

  ‘My turn on watch!’ she whispered loudly.

  ‘Oh yes, of course,’ said Roztov as he looked down at his cold pipe. ‘I was just thinking about the voyage.’

  ‘It was all going great wasn’t it? Until, you know… dragons!’

  Roztov laughed politely at her attempt to amuse him.

  ‘I could perhaps smoke one more pipe…’

  ‘You don’t have to keep me company you know. You can go sleep, if you like.’

  Roztov looked around at the near total darkness, feeling only half awake.

  ‘Yes perhaps I should… What was that?’

  They had both heard something and at once they both stood up.

  ‘I hear… the beat of leathery wings, high and to the north.’

  ‘Wake the others, I’ll go take a look.’

  Roztov turned into an owl and swooped up into the trees.

  Chapter 3

  Manhunters

  As soon as Roztov had cleared the trees and was in the air he had to dodge frantically as a narrow jet of flame lanced towards him. By the moonlight he saw dozens of dark winged shadows above him, swooping down.

  He spiralled and soared upwards as two more jets of flame were aimed at him. By the light of the flames he got a split second look at one of them. A young dragon, he judged, and possibly with a mount.

  As he considered this, one he had not seen previously shot right past him and as he weaved up above it he saw the dragon was mounted by a man, or a man-shaped being, in black plate armour and a helmet in the shape of some sort of snarling beast with bulging eyes.

  The other dragons, seemingly unconcerned, flew past him to then breathe flames down into the trees. They were clearly attacking the camp and had probably only aimed at him for sport, he realised, having mistaken him for a real owl. He dove back down into the forest, landed on the pine needle coated ground and met Broddor as he came to the entrance of the cave. The trees all around it were already on fire, in the canopy above.

  ‘Owl Roztov?’ asked the dwarf.

  Roztov shook his feathers and changed back into a man. As he was about to speak the trees directly above them lit up, as fire rained down from above. Both of them instinctively ducked as the flames crackled and sparked through the branches.

  ‘There are about twenty young dragons with riders up there. I’m going back up to fight them. Send out Meg and Ghene. You and Tup defend the cave.’

  Broddor didn’t question the order and ran back to the cave entrance. Roztov changed back into an owl and swooped back up into the trees, finding a path through the fire. Once aloft he soared up on the hot air from the flames, well above the dragons and the burning forest.

  He then stooped, swooping down into their midst again and just as he descended onto the back of one of them he changed again, into a hippogriff this time, and crashed into the rider with the full force of his new weight. The rider was tossed from the dragon's back and plunged screaming into the trees. The dragon tried to twist its neck around to bite or breathe fire onto this new sudden enemy, but Roztov’s claws and huge beak had dug deep into its scales.

  The other dragons reacted with confusion. Two breathed fire at the entangled combatants and one of the narrow jets hit both friend and foe alike. The dragon crashed into the trees as the hippogriff screeched and released its prey. With smoke streaming from his tail, Roztov beat his wings furiously to gain height again, and again the dragons acted with confusion, some trying to catch him while others headed down into the burning trees.

  Once he was high enough, he swooped down again. He saw another hippogriff appear from nowhere and crash headlong into a startled dragon. Together they spiralled down into the forest. A puzzled looking owl glided past him, did a somersault then turned into a rather kittenish griffin before pouncing on the nearest dragon. He lost sight of her as she and her victim tumbled off into the darkness.

  Roztov found another target and crashed into them. The rider managed to stay clinging to the dragon, but Roztov gripped him around the waist with his claws and ripped him off, both of his boots flying away into the night. Roztov then tossed the rider after his footwear.

  Down on the ground, Broddor had spotted that some of the dragons had landed, or rather climbed down through the trees, and their riders had dismounted. He turned to Floran, who stood nearby and said, ‘guard th
e cave. I’m going to cause some injuries.’

  The wizard nodded and began to chant, cupping his hands together as if holding a moth.

  Broddor held his sword, Gronmorder, a heavy two-handed weapon above his head as he charged into the armoured men. He had been sleeping in his plate mail, as he always did when camping in dangerous areas and he also wore a full face helmet of dull steel. The men seemed confused to be meeting such a short, but ferocious foe and one of them was as dead as a doornail, cut near in half, before the others reacted and started stabbing at Broddor with their spears. The dwarf swung his claymore, fending off their weapons artfully. As more of the hunters joined the battle against him he swung faster, with apparent boundless energy. He had no opening to slay any more of them, but neither could they land a spear on him heavily enough to do any damage.

  Salveri, Arrin and Tankle watched from the dog-leg at the back of the cave. They couldn’t see the druids, but they could see the light of the flames and hear the screeches and snarls of the winged creatures above. Neither could they see Broddor, but they could hear the clanging of metal on metal from beyond the cave mouth. The only person they could see was Floran, standing with the hood of his blue robe up, silhouetted against the light.

  Floran was chanting now, and clinking his rings and amulets, rubbing them and making them glow with a pale red light.

  Arrin tugged at Salveri’s shirt.

  ‘What is he doing?’

  ‘Southern magic.’

  Salveri stepped out of the narrow dog-leg and into the main cave.

  ‘What are you doing?’ hissed Arrin.

  Salveri went over to one of the sealskin bags that were piled at the side of the cave and pulled out a short sword.

  ‘I’m not going to stand idly by, cowering in the cave like a child while everyone else fights.’

  ‘It’s all fire and dragons out there though, Sal. What use would we be?’

  ‘More use than being in here.’

  Salveri gripped the sword and advanced to the mouth of the cave. Arrin gulped and took a weapon.