Isle of Dragons

by J H G Foss

  ‘They are incorporeal, like smoke.’

  ‘Dragons then, but you can’t see them and you can’t touch them? That’s stupid!’

  ‘You didn't see me either until I wanted you too. Now I am fully present though, they will be able to sense me, I should imagine, so let’s not waste any more time.’

  Ophess stood and walked to the edge of the bed and Ghene held up a hand to help her down. She turned again though, torn between doing as she was told and further displays of defiance. If it had been Roztov they’d sent she would have fought him tooth and nail, but the elf she found somehow more commanding.

  Once again, Ghene’s plans were interrupted by doors opening. As they swung open, a mist blew in and whipped up into the rough outline of, then after a few moments the full form of a huge white dragon. Two more began to form behind the first.

  Ghene turned into a hippogriff just as the first dragon rushed him and pounced. He was smaller than the dragon, but faster. It tried to pin him with its front feet, but Ghene wriggled free and raked its neck with his claws. One of the others buffeted him aside with its wing and he rolled under the sofa, dodging further blows.

  Ophess was on the ground now and running towards the windows, screaming at the top of her lungs. Ghene scrambled to his feet and raced after her, but again was knocked aside by one of the dragons which then succeeded in pinning him to the ground. The third dragon landed in front of the girl, making her skid to a halt. In an instant the dragon’s swung its head down and with its jaws wide open it swallowed her whole.

  Ghene convulsed and threw the dragon that was holding him down aside and flew as fast as he could at the dragon that had just eaten Ophess. It met his charge and batted him to one side with its wings, throwing Ghene through the windowpane in a shower of broken glass.

  Ghene fell for a few dozen metres then unfolded his wings and banked to gain height. He screeched and swooped around on an updraught and was quickly back at the same level as the windows although he was now about a hundred feet away.

  He turned towards the Spire, but saw that two of the dragons were on the balcony preparing to cast magical spells. Realising it was futile to go back he wheeled around and headed back down into the forest.

  ‘Where is she?’ said Meggelaine, standing up as Ghene arrived at the camp.

  ‘Not good news, I’m afraid. She was eaten by a dragon.’

  Meggelaine cried out and collapsed back down by the fire. She began to sob.

  ‘What happened?’ asked Roztov.

  Ghene sat down by the fire beside his friend and wiped the blood from his face.

  ‘The whites found us, just as I was trying to get her away. I tried, but there was too many of them.’

  Meggelaine looked up and noticed for the first time that Ghene was injured. She tutted and started to examine his wounds. ‘Look at you. That’s a deep cut you have in your scalp there.’

  ‘Thanks, Meg,’ said the elf, tilting his head as she looked him over. ‘Etruna, there was nothing I could do. I was attacked by three of them. Ophess ran, but one of them got to her and just... just gobbled her up.’

  He went on to explain how he had found her and there was a long discussion on those events that included a lot of effort from both Ghene and Roztov to calm down Meggelaine.

  After that, he told them of his encounter with Dreggen.

  ‘Remember how we once talked about how bad it would be if the dragons of Tanud and Garumuda ever got together? Well, I don’t bring good news about that either.’

  He relayed the details of what he had learned from Dreggen.

  ‘How did you know about a message from you-know-who?’ asked Meggelaine.

  ‘I didn’t know, at all really,’ admitted Ghene, ‘but I remembered something that had happened a while back and took a stab in the dark. What Dreggen said fitted with the thing that I remembered, unfortunately. Well, maybe three years ago or so a flight of ten dragons went over Nillamandor. They had human riders, or so I heard. They flew east and were not seen for a couple of weeks, then they flew west again. What I heard was that on the way east they had flown over our ranger station east of Tygnz, and on the way back they were ready for them. Not a bad bit of multilateral planning I heard. The rangers at Lodz sent magical messengers back to the King in Bydgoszcz and he had his gryphon cavalry airborne by the time the dragons crossed his lands. We have diplomatic ties with Lodz, so I was able to read the dispatches about it. It did rather alarm me at the time, I remember, as there have not been mounted dragons over Nillamandor since the Empire. Nothing else like it happened after that though. I never got word of who they were or what they were doing, so since it seemed like a one off I didn't bother enquiring through our diplomatic channels. Dreggen must have been part of that flight, taken prisoner and then escaped.’

  'I don't remember that at all,' said Meggelaine.

  'You were in Tyra at the time I think, maybe missed it.'

  ‘Hmm,’ mused Roztov. ‘I maybe vaguely remember reading that in a chapbook in Timu. I just assumed it was bollocks though, as everything that gets printed in Timu is bollocks.'

  ‘I never verified it, just had one source, a single bit of velum delivered from our embassy in Bydgoszcz. I think at the time I'd also thought it possibly exaggerated. I mean, mounted dragons? Maybe someone saw a goblin riding a wyvern and everyone got a bit excited. Then a story gets cooked up to present the King of Lodz in a good light. The Council should have checked up on it, but you know what they are like. Lilly had other things on her mind. But now that we are so familiar with the manhunters, and then when I saw Dreggen again and looked at his wrists, it all slotted into place.’

  ‘Incredible,’ groaned Roztov, sitting back and rubbing his face with his hands.

  ‘All this time, what an idiot I’ve been,’ cursed Ghene. ‘We’ve been played for fools. Dreggen must have waited a year or more for a ship that was going as far west as us. Then he led us straight to this island. He must have laughed at us every single day. Oh, Etruna.’

  Roztov patted his friend on the shoulder and resisted the urge to say “I told you so”.

  ***

  Moments after Ghene had decided to fly away from the Spire, back in the room where the fighting had happened, the dragon that had swallowed Ophess regurgitated her back up.

  She skidded across the floor, curled up on her side, covered in thick dragon spittle.

  She coughed and spluttered, then managed to get onto her hands and knees. She coughed up a mouthful of liquid and spat it out onto the floor.

  She then looked up and saw three huge white dragons looking down at her.

  Chapter 12

  To the north

  They walked north for two hours, until it got dark, and then walked on for one more hour to where Ghene had found a cave. The druid’s expanded it somewhat, making a dog leg at the back as they had before to offer protection from possible dragon attack.

  Wood was gathered and a fire was lit. There was plenty of food once more, the druids gathered and hunted it as they went. There was no conversation until after the evening meal, everyone being lost in thought except for Meggelaine who was muttering to herself.

  Eventually Broddor threw his last bone into the fire and said, ‘has it been twenty days now? Since the shipwreck?’

  ‘Something like that,’ confirmed Roztov.

  ‘So what’s the plan?’

  The druids all looked at each other, then Roztov spoke again. ‘I’m toying with the idea of another madcap flight. Due north this time.’

  ‘Oh no!’ cried Meggelaine.

  ‘It’s just an idea,’ he said, trying to sooth his friend. ‘Probably not a good one.’

  ‘Definitely not a good one, oh please!’ she groaned. ‘How we survived that flight through the chasm I have no idea. At any time we could have met one of the big ones coming the other direction.’

  ‘I have to agree, Roz,’ said Ghene. ‘We had scouted the Chasm for days, so we knew where it went. We have little ide
a of what is to the north. We also had the Spire hunting grounds to hide in once we were clear of the chasm. We don’t know what’s up there. We wouldn’t have a place of safety to flee back to.’

  ‘Unless we came all the way back here.’

  ‘Not a chance,’ pleaded Meggelaine. ‘I’d never survive it.’

  ‘No, no, I see that,’ replied Roztov. ‘I’m just talking. It’s just, if we flew north and didn’t stop, then saw a boat and took it by force... No, you’re right, that would never work, we’d have a hundred dragons on top of us... or, maybe someone scouts first, then we know where to take everyone. It’s just we could do it in a day or two. I’ve a feeling if we stay on the ground we’ll be another twenty days on the island.’

  ‘What’s the big rush?’ Meggelaine said as she pulled herself in closer to the fire. ‘If it takes twenty days then it takes twenty days.’

  ‘Better to scout first, whatever we do,’ said Ghene. ‘I’ve no idea what is north of us. We should probably just edge forward for a bit. See how it goes. Scout and move, then scout and move. In truth, I’m surprised we’ve made it this far.’

  The next morning, Ghene was up before all the others and scouting ahead. Roztov took the front of the line as the group moved out and Meggelaine brought up the rear. With no Ophess to keep quiet Meggelaine was more at liberty to help out, so it was now her job to make sure they left no trail that could be followed by the manhunters. There was little talking, and what little was done was in a whisper. The lands around the Spire were so still that talking felt like an intrusion into the silence. The loss of Ophess also sat heavily on them, but as the party spread out along the trail, some quiet conversations eventually started.

  ‘She’s the first we’ve lost since the wreck,’ Broddor remarked to Floran as they walked together.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I can see the sailors have heavy hearts,’ mused the dwarf. ‘She was far from popular with them, but she was one of theirs.’

  Floran looked up ahead. The sailors were well out of earshot.

  ‘They will be wondering which of them will be next.’

  ‘Tup, you can sometimes say rather harsh things, and that’s coming from me,’ said the dwarf. He sighed then went on. ‘You are right enough though. Lucky for them they travel with us, I suppose. Oh, we’re stopping...’

  They were still in the forest, following a snow covered trail as it wound its way up through the lower slopes of a mountain. Through gaps in the trees and when the slope was at the right angle they could see down to the sea.

  The group came together and as Roztov approached, Broddor said, ‘Wherever are you leading us? I’m no expert lad, as you know, but it feels like we are going round in circles.’

  ‘Ah, yes, I expect it does,’ admitted his friend, ‘Let’s eat lunch here. We need to get around the edge of the northern spur of the chasm. Ghene is going to find the way.’

  ‘Righto.’

  ‘Let’s go down here. It will be nice to look over the coast.’

  He led them a few hundred yards to where a tight stand of trees stood at the top of a tall cliff. From here they could look down over a mile of forest that sloped steeply down to a narrow strip of beach and the sea beyond. The sea was dark and storm-tossed, what they could see of it, which was a thin strip of dark grey between the white of the sandy beach and the white of the wall of fog.

  Roztov and Meggelaine made a hide that sheltered them from the wind and from view. No fire was lit and they ate the leftover food from the evening meal. Roztov lay with his back to a rock, at the front of the hide, looking out across the shore as he chewed on a portion of smoked meat.

  ‘When you look at it, it’s incredible. A wall of fog, as far as the eye can see in either direction. Sometimes its out as far as a mile and sometimes its right up on the beach. It must shroud the entire island.’

  ‘Aye,’ agreed Broddor, who was resting against the wall of the hide. ‘I dare say.’

  ‘It’s hard to see how far back it goes. Druids can summon mists and fogs, but nothing as vast as that. It must be the work of powerful magic.'

  Thinking of the fog triggered memories of the circumstances of their arrival in Roztov and he continued. 'You know, I was below deck when we wrecked. What made the captain think it was a good idea to go into a fog bank with full sail?’

  ‘If the captain was alive we could ask him,’ replied Broddor dryly.

  ‘He was being guided by Dreggen, remember?’ put in Meggelaine as she sat down beside them. ‘He must have been aiming for the island.’

  ‘Well yes,’ said Roztov. ‘We know for sure Dreggen wanted to come here. I suppose he must have told the captain he knew there was nothing dangerous in the fog or something.’

  Broddor shrugged and everyone was lost in thought for a while. The dwarf could see that Meggelaine was dwelling on the wreck again so he said, ‘How long will Ghene be?’

  ‘Maybe another hour or so,’ replied Roztov. ‘He said he’d have a bit of a flap about. See if he could find the most sheltered trail around the side of the mountain.’

  ‘Well, tell us all a tale then lad.’

  ‘Oh, I’m not really in the...’

  ‘Somebody mentioned something about the Council outhouse a while back. I’ve not heard that one in years. Go on lad.’

  Broddor smiled and nodded his head to the others in the hide to get their attention.

  ‘Very well,’ said Roztov. ‘This story, well, it’s got bigger over the years, that’s safe to say. It has become a sort of cautionary tale I tell to anyone who ever expects the Great Forest Council to do anything in a hurry. Or to go at any pace faster than glacial, really. Firstly you have to realise that the Great Forest is huge and the biggest population is goblins. There are elven kingdoms hidden away in its depths though, also druidic enclaves and such like.’

  He addressed himself to the sailors, who with nothing better to do were now also listening.

  ‘Elves don’t really do towns. A family makes a house somewhere and as the family grows this might turn into an estate. Each estate is usually a mile or so away from any other estate, so elven settlements spread over tens of miles. For a council though, that’s impractical, so right in the middle of the forest is the nearest thing they have to a town. And in that town there is a big building where the druids of the GFC meet. The town, the settlements, the forest, it’s all part of an elven kingdom called Gressy. Well, calling it a kingdom is a bit much maybe for a collection of estates that spread over the entire Great Forest. Not very important to know that I suppose, as the town and the council building is run by a very powerful elven druid called Lilly.’

  ‘Etruna bless her,’ put in Meggelaine.

  ‘Yes, bless her cotton socks. Elven toilet habits, well I’ve never been able to work out what they do. I suppose they must go to the toilet, but it’s a mystery to me how they go about it. You’ll never hear an elf fart either. Ever. But it is a druid council, not an elven one, and there are a lot of human and fressle druids in the world. Other races too. We all poop they way everyone poops, you know? Fressles do it the same way humans do, just in smaller quantities.’

  ‘Most of them anyway,’ interrupted Meggelaine again.

  ‘Some exceptions spring to mind. Anyway, we needed a place to go do it. The first time I was there, I was much younger, I needed to, you know... go, and I was too embarrassed to ask one of the elves, so I turned into a hawk and flew out deep into the forest and did it there. I was only there for two weeks, so that’s what I did for the entire length of my visit. I wasn’t back again for about two years, and by then Meggelaine was permanently installed there. Since we are such old friends I asked her if she had worked out where the facilities were. It turned out she was doing the exact same thing I had done the last time I was there!’

  Broddor snorted with laughter, which set some of the others to chuckling.

  ‘Well, something had to be done,’ continued Roztov. ‘At that time, there were about a hundred perm
anent members of the council and about a third of them were not elves. So that’s thirty-odd people that had to wander off, deep into the forest, whenever they needed to go do their business. You really had to plan your day around it, it was absurd. So, someone braver than me eventually put it on the Council agenda to discuss the building of an outhouse.’

  ‘Here we go,’ laughed Broddor.

  ‘It’s simple enough right? I put one up at my own house in Angor in a day, bish-bosh job done. For a druid it’s the work of a moment. You would have thought it would be simple. Dig a hole. Construct a hide over the top of it. Have it a few dozen yards away from the council building. Well, what a fuss the elves made. Lilly’s reaction was like, well I don’t know, it was like we were proposing to all go poop in her bed.’

  Meggelaine gave him a look.

  ‘Oh she really was that bad, Meg. Meeting after meeting they had about planning permission for that infernal outhouse. The elves pushed it right back out into the forest so that it was completely impractical, but then there would be some horse-trading over other things and a non-elf would manage to bring it in a bit. I remember I managed to move it in by about twenty yards by agreeing to deliver a letter to the King of Styke. Something regarding elven rights in Tanglewood I think. Well, that year, I remember, I was back and forth running various errands and after that year the outhouse still wasn’t bloody built. To this day I’ve never used an outhouse at the GFC. Did you ever get it built Meg?’

  ‘Sort of.’

  ‘What do you mean, sort of?’

  And so the conversation continued into the trials and tribulations of planning bathroom facilities in elven lands. They were in a more relaxed mood when Ghene returned. Only Meggelaine remained anxious, but was at least now less withdrawn after the silly tale had cheered their spirits somewhat.

  ‘What are you all laughing about?’ Ghene asked as he sat down to admire the view.

  ‘Come on then. How do elves poop?’ asked Broddor.