The Dragon Master's Son 12 & 13

Chapter 12

“Where's my mother?”

Frustration seeped from John's every pore. His whole world, King Elfram's kingdom, was collapsing around him and he was hiding in this cavern beneath the castle. John sat down on a rock, then sprang quickly back up. He was still painfully saddle-sore.

'She hid herself with a concealment charm,' the dragon calmly repeated. 'No-one has found her and no-one is likely to find her.'

“What about Lujain?”

'Crispan's men are taking her to his ancestral home on the Hineshire Plain. As I said before, Crispan has informed the King that she will be safe there.'

“Do you believe him?”

'For the time being, yes.' The great dragon sighed. Human politics were really very tiresome. 'He would gain nothing from killing the princess, yet.'

“And Heilbronn?”

'The knight?' For once, the dragon's eye betrayed a hint of regret. 'I'm afraid he'd dead.'

John Stopped pacing up and down. He'd guessed as much, but now he knew. He wasn't sure what he felt, for the feeling was completely new to him. Death had been mercifully absent from his village. Old Ned had died the previous year, but he’d been ancient. People in the village had been expecting him to die for years. So, when he had finally passed away, it hadn't been much of a surprise. But Heilbronn, that was different. He was huge, fierce and immortal looking. Or maybe, not so immortal.

“Where have the Sharms got to?”

'Their army are following the Trond valley. They will soon reach Bayton.'

“And the Ipaceans?”

'Their army are coming over the Keyocks, through the Hepplestone Pass. They may reach Hepplestone itself by nightfall.'

John was getting angry now. “Why doesn't the King attack? Why doesn't he defend our land?”

The dragon shook its head. 'Because Elfram's army is small. He couldn't fight off one army, never mind two. He will mass his army on the banks of the Whund and use the river to hold their march towards Harburn.'

John seethed. “But he'll have lost half the country!”

'What else can he do?'

John sat down and, despite the pain, thought hard. The same thought sprang repeatedly into his brain. “The King has a dragon. You. You could fight off the armies.”

The Welsh Red looked at John with its usual knowing gaze. 'First of all, I'm supposed to be Crispan's dragon. And also, don't you remember what happened to me the last time I flew out of this cave?'

John sat in dejected silence, feeling impotent and unable to do anything to stop the armies invading his country. The dragon cleared its throat. John looked up at the red beast, who had a mischievous glint in his eye. 'Unless you could help me.'

John listened to the dragon's plan and magical instruction. Soon after, the cavern under the castle was echoing to the sound of experimental blasting.

Chapter 13

Climbing into the clear blue sky this time was exhilarating. Secure in the saddle, inside a protective dome the dragon had shown him how to construct, John gazed down in wonder at the whole of the Hineshire Plain below him. His eyes, free from wind stung tears, scanned the horizon for danger.

'Where are we headed first?' John thought. He wasn't sure if his voice would penetrate the dome.

'Bayton,' the dragon responded. 'Bayton is in the most immediate peril.'

One giant beat of its wings and the dragon gained height, cutting through the cloud line. They emerged into the full glare of the sun's light, with the full heat of the great fiery ball bouncing back off the fluffy white tops of the clouds. The sight, as wondrous as any new born lamb, stole the breath from John's lungs and for a second absorbed his thoughts.

'Focus, boy,' the dragon urged, 'we have company.'

John scanned the whole horizon but could see nothing. “Where?”

'On your left. Coming through the clouds.'

John swept his gaze over every cloud to the left of the dragon. Nothing. Not even a bird. Slowly, he scanned every cloud, tried to look through every cloud and, there! A scarlet spike began to appear above the cloud line. Suddenly, a giant pair of green wings appeared out of the clouds. They beat the air with immense power, lifting the gigantic green dragon clear of the clouds and level with the Welsh Red. The scarlet spikes ran from the leviathan's head, down its spine to the tip of its tail. The green dragon was almost twice the size of the Welsh Red and the look in those blood red eyes was murderous.

“It's a Harz Green,” John called out. “What's it doing around here?”

'I don't know,' commanded the thoughts of the Welsh Red, 'but now is the time to make him keep his distance.'

John looked down at his hands, recalling the incantation, wondering if a dragon would split like the rocks in the cavern. A sudden movement caused John to look up. The Harz Green was baring in on them at an alarming speed. Instinctively, John flicked his wrists in the direction of the green beast. The incantation, raw magical power, burst from him in a tidal wave. He watched as a wave of magic rolled towards the unsuspecting dragon. The wave smashed into the dragon, rolling it away through the clouds. John sat back silently in the saddle, in stunned awe.

'You can stop now,' came the calm voice of the dragon, 'he's gone.'

John closed his fists and sat further back in the saddle. A pair of green wings appeared through the clouds.

'Or maybe not,' the dragon groaned as the leviathan reappeared through the clouds. John readied himself, this time more confident in his ability to repel the dragon. The beast broke through the cloud line. It swiftly gained the same altitude to the Welsh Red though, John noticed, a little bit further away and behind this time.

'He got the message,' smiled the Welsh Red.

“What's he doing?” John sat in readiness, waiting to release another incantation.

'He's following us.'

“Why?”

The dragon thought for a second. 'To see where we're going, find out what we're doing. Remember, we're still in his territory.'

They flew on, tailed by the Harz Green, across the Hineshire Plain towards the Keyock Mountains. All the while, they followed the Trond as it wound like a blue snake through the green fields and forests of the plain. In the crook of one twist of the river, John saw the silhouette of a town. A few wisps of smoke ascended from a handful of chimneys. Otherwise, the town seemed deserted.

'Bayton,' the dragon informed John, a clinical edge now entering his thoughts.

Beyond the town, the land began it climb, up into the foothills of the Keyocks. In patches, the land was darker, covered in a seething, marching swarm.

'The Sharm.' There was a bite in the way the dragon pronounced the name. Was it some ancient hatred, or a premonition of the deed to come?

They flew over the advancing army. It was immense, stretching over the hill and down into the valley beyond. John finally understood why King Elfram could not face this army in battle. As they flew over the massed ranks, cheering rose up from the ground below.

John was confused. “Are they cheering us?”

'Maybe Crispan promised them dragons to help them win the war.' This time, the Welsh Red spat the words with a fiery fury. 'Well, if they want dragons, let us give them dragons!'

The Welsh Red swooped. The Green Harz followed. John held onto the harness like he'd held the reins of the horse. As the dragon accelerated towards the earth, John felt some wisps of wind penetrating the protective dome. The dragon's flight levelled out, parallel to the ground. Below, the faces of the Sharm army looked up in a mixture of shock and awe. The dragon drew back its head and, with a powerful forward thrust, released a stream of deadly flame.

The heat was intense, even behind the dragon's head. John's body broke into an all-over sweat. The skin on his hands and arms began to blister. John incanted and charmed at a rate he'd never before conceived, using all the magic in his body to strengthen the protecting dome before he was burnt alive.

When the dragon had finished, John sat back, unharmed but exhausted. He looked at the ground: no longer a sea of unturned faces but a scorched earth of blackened ash.

Another stream of fire struck the earth, but this time the flame hadn't come from the Welsh Red. The Harz Green was attacking the Sharm army.

“What's he doing?” asked John. “Why is he attacking the Sharm?”

'I have no idea,' replied the dragon, 'Maybe he thinks it looks like fun. Who cares? He can incinerate as many Sharm as he likes for all I care.' The dragon turned its long neck and head to look at John. 'Are you alright? Shall I continue?'

“I'm fine now. The dome will hold. Carry on.” John slumped down in the saddle, exhausted enough to sleep for a whole day. He watched through eyes that were closing to slits, as the two dragons worked in unison, setting the Sharm army ablaze. It wasn't long before the remaining soldiers were retreating back towards the Keyocks.

John rested his head on the saddle and plunged into a deep sleep, as the dragons flew on towards Hepplestone.

Next chapter: https://vocal.media/fiction/the-dragon-master-s-son-14-and-15