Dragons of Westermere Box Set

Book 1

Chapter 1

They were high in the troll infested areas of the mountain range, a dangerous place for a group of elves to be. Three archers and their leader. It was midday in high summer, but that only cut down on troll numbers, it didn't guarantee them safety by any means.

The leader of the band, a male elf with jet black hair and a lip curled into the snarl of someone used to barking commands and having them obeyed, was crouching at the base of a giant tree. He had dug a small hole and was looking at the roots within.

It'll be today, he said, staring at the root fibers. There was something strange about them. Though they were underground, they were writhing like branches in the wind. The forces are building, he continued.

The archers accompanying him were two female elves and one male. The closer of the two females edged up to his shoulder to look in the hole, I've never seen the like, she said.

You haven't seen anything yet, her leader whispered to himself, so softly she only just heard him. Over the next couple of hours the ground beneath their feet began to move, at first gently, then more and more forcefully.

The heaving of the ground became so bad that frightened woodland creatures were startled out of hiding and could be seen running hither and thither. It wasn't like an earthquake though, more like undulations, like thousands of snakes of various sizes were slithering beneath the moss and leaves of the forest floor. Then the mighty trees themselves began to sway backward and forward like old men building up momentum to heave themselves up from easy chairs.

The archers were petrified with fear. Their arms were shaking so badly that had they been called on at that moment to do their duty and protect their leader by shooting down his enemies, they wouldn't have been able to hit their target. Their leader himself on the other hand was exultant. And then the first tree ripped part of its trunk free of the earth, writhing roots trailing behind it, like a giant's leg. It took a hesitant step forward before ripping the trailing leg free. It began to march uphill as hundreds of other trees started to tear their way free of the ground and follow.

Soon an army of living trees was on the march, heading up the mountain and being replaced by an inexhaustible number coming up to replenish them from behind. The group stayed where they were hour after hour, as the forest moved around them, the archers gradually relaxing as the trees made no move to harm them. Darkness began to fall, and the trees kept moving.

For centuries we have been confined to the forests, the leader spoke again at last, but if the borders of the forest start to expand, and keep on expanding, that might not be the disadvantage it once was. The elves could once again steer the fate of the entire known world.

***

The trees holding up the elven city creaked gently in the wind. Rope bridges with wooden slats to walk on were swaying between the buildings, and the first lanterns had already been lit against the gathering dusk. All the lanterns had different colored glass and they danced like fairy lights in the wind. It was late summer and the air around sunset was chill, though it would warm again later no doubt.

Willowtide was standing on one of the city's longer bridges. It crossed the great divide between the northern canopy and the southern, dangling low over a chasm with a roaring river at the bottom. Willowtide loved to hear the river below her, almost drowned out tonight by the noise of the wind in the trees. It was the best spot for watching the heavens. She was waiting for sunset and the first stars to come out.

Her gaze wandered over the buildings visible to her left under the canopy of leaves. There was the huge library, ranging over four floors and reaching down half way to the forest floor. Beside it was a two story building housing the market hall. On the other side of the great divide were some of the best homes in the city. Her friend Palemoon lived in one of the buildings a few bridges further back, a fine dwelling built into the branches of a giant oak with room after spacious room.

Willowtide looked back towards the horizon through the gap in the canopy over the bridge as the sun started to set. She was alone on the bridge. Most of the city elves tended to prefer bright daylight and were already safely indoors. She was the only one looking up at the sky as a huge shape swept overhead, its huge wings beating. Willowtide had never seen anything more exciting than an owl, or perhaps a hawk or two flying over the small gap in the trees before, and she could hardly believe what she was seeing. It was dark and the thing was masked by the trees, was it a wyvern, a griffin, or even a dragon?

She watched it dwindling towards the mountains, and then her young eyes made out, she thought, the creature landing and then it was gone. Willowtide was entranced, she stared at the spot where the creature had disappeared, hoping to catch another glance of it. Sunset was long past, the wind was dropping, and still Willowtide kept her eyes trained on the same spot, and then she saw it again. A darker shape against the dark, rising into the air dwindling from view and disappearing entirely.

She watched the sky long into the night hoping for another glimpse, but the creature seemed to have moved on.

***

Willowtide went to see Palemoon early the next day. She recognized her friend through the small stained glass window in the door before it even opened. She knew her friend's movements and mannerisms so well her silhouette was enough to give her away. When the door opened Willowtide was pleased to see she had been right, it was Palemoon with her green eyes, translucent skin and long black hair. Palemoon was wearing her usual fine clothes, soft leather boots, and a sparkling belt with a gold design against the black leather. Willowtide was chatting to Palemoon as soon as she was through the door.

You'll never guess what I saw last night, she said, shrugging off her light cloak, worn against the morning chill.

If it's something that elf boy showed you, I'm not interested, Palemoon replied, taking the cloak off her and throwing it over a branch that reached into the room through the paneling of the wall.

Eew, Willowtide replied, No. Nothing like that. I saw a strange flying creature. I think it was a Wyvern or a Dragon. She pointed toward Palemoon's room and raised a questioning eyebrow.

Palemoon nodded and followed Willowtide as she went on in. You're kidding. her friend said, Are you sure it wasn't just a really big bird?

Of course not, she replied, I'm not stupid. But can I look at the pictures in your big encyclopedia, just to be sure?

You're such a kid, Palemoon said, although she was only a month older, If you wanted to look in the encyclopedia, why didn't you just say?

She went off to her father's library to get it, leaving Willowtide to absently gaze about the room which she knew as well as her own from the many times she had visited her friend over the years. There was a bed built into the wall on top of a huge branch, a little wooden desk and chair, a chest with clothes in the corner and two small windows letting in the deep green light of the forest. Palemoon returned with the book, and opened it on the desk in front of Willowtide.

It was a huge tome, and obviously very old. Willowtide was aware it was very expensive, having been told at one time, but was so familiar with the book now that she hardly thought about it. To her inquisitive mind it was a treasure trove, pure and simple. Willowtide started to leaf through it looking for the relevant entries, Palemoon looking over her shoulder. They paused at various interesting pages, one showing a picture of an astrolabe, then a strange tool for getting stones out of horses hooves caught her eye, and then they reached the section devoted to dangerous creatures.

There was a very detailed picture of a goblin, the artist had drawn every wart on the terrible little creature's long hairy nose, and the creature was smiling, exposing its collection of uneven and jagged teeth. This was followed by illustrations of various fairies and pixies with wings like dragonflies and butterflies. These had been Willowtide's favorites since she was a very small girl. The illustrations in the encyclopedia were mostly in black and white but she could imagine the beautiful colors of their wings. She had seen a procession of fairies in the distance not long ago and spent longer watching them than was probably wise, even though she had made all the right warding gestures and repeated the charms she had been taught to keep her safe.

They were both so enchanted by the pictures of fairies that they almost forget why they had opened the book, but then they came to a section called Terrible Lizards. This is the section we need, said Palemoon.

I don't think I've ever looked properly through these pages before, said Willowtide, They look terrifying. That's it. That's exactly what it looked like

Willowtide was pointing at one of the rare color illustrations. It showed a four legged beast towering over some fleeing humans, included to show the scale of the beast. It was covered in golden scales and had two huge bat like wings. It's tail ended in a sharp spike and it had horns like a ram and a sharp ridge running down its back. Its expression was cold, pitiless and proud.

The golden dragon. The most terrible of fire-breathing dragons, Palemoon read the caption below the illustration, You did not see one of them! Nobody else has said anything about it

This beast, Willowtide kept reading where her friend had left off, "spends most of its life sleeping on a giant horde of treasure that it typically collects as a young animal. It prefers the freezing surroundings of caves or the bottom of rivers for its lair, but will sleep almost anywhere. If encountered, do not wake this terrible creature, even very young specimens are very dangerous indeed. They can breathe a tremendous torrent of fire from their mouths.

They wake once or twice per year, usually either to eat or to find a mate. The female lays a single egg which it immediately abandons to its fate. These creatures are completely without fine feelings and lack even the most basic of maternal instincts. Oh that's sad

I don't know, said Palemoon, It must be hard to feel maternal about an egg. She started sniggering at her own little joke.

Chapter 2

Willowtide found herself returning to the bridge where she had seen the dragon again and again, although it never put in another appearance. She found herself worrying about something she had read in the encyclopedia, ‘The female lays a single egg which it immediately abandons to its fate.’

She was becoming convinced that the dragon had laid an egg and abandoned it to its fate. She couldn't stand the thought of any tiny animal having to fend for itself, all alone in the world. She wondered if the egg had already hatched yet.

Willowtide saw Palemoon approaching from the south end of the bridge. Palemoon saw her just a second or two later and came to lean at the side of the bridge with her.

Seen any more dragons, she asked.

You think I'm nuts, don't you?

Yeah, but in a good way, she replied.

That, Willowtide said, pointing at the mountain, is where the dragon landed. I think it probably laid an egg up there.

That's disgusting, said Palemoon, Who cares about giant monsters who could burn us all out of our homes laying eggs up on snowy mountains.

There's no snow on Balukin, Willowtide said, In fact, I'm thinking of going for a hike to take a look and see if that dragon egg is doing alright.

We'll you'll be on your own, Palemoon said after a short silence, I'm certainly not going with you, and I don't think anyone else around here cares one way or another what happens to a dragon egg.

Willowtide looked from the mountain to Palemoon, But what if it's hatched, she said, The poor little creature will be all alone.

Don't worry, Palemoon replied, I have a feeling that dragons can take care of themselves. When were you thinking of going

Tomorrow, Willowtide said. She hadn't got as far as planning her hike, and this was a spur of the moment decision, Before the weather turns and winter is upon us, she added as justification for her capricious impulse.

Forget it, Palemoon had stopped looking at the mountain off in the distance through the trees, and was now looking deep into Willowtide's eyes, Is this about your dad?

***

Willowtide was a city elf, but the journey to the mountains didn't seem too daunting. The days were still long and she was setting out early, so she thought she could well be home before nightfall, or at least shortly afterward. She was under no illusions though, the world outside the borders of the city was dangerous and she hefted her quarterstaff pensively before finally heading out the door. She was also aware of the unaccustomed weight of her backpack swaying clumsily behind her and the way the bridges and walkways creaked more than usual beneath her, and the extra weight of her rations and equipment.

Nobody took any particular notice of her, reminding her of her growing independence as she made the journey toward adulthood. She was assumed to be on some sort of errand for her parents, not a little lost child that had to returned to whoever was looking after her.

She took a direct route through the city to the north ramp. On the way to the north ramp Willowtide first had to go through the market, a tight network of intertwined alleyways and bridges in the center of the city, all suspended from the branches of massive trees by ropes that bore the weight of tons of produce, goods and equipment. The alleyways were lined with storefront after storefront, selling fruit, vegetables, clothes, weapons, luxury goods, like books and spices, and dingy places full of second hand shoes and other oddments, all cheek by jowl.

The walkways opened out after she had fought her way through the market place, bashing people with her backpack as she turned, having her traveling cloak stepped on, and holding her quarterstaff close to her chest.

She was now crossing the intricate system of gantries taking the devout into the different levels of the ancient tree. The tree was worshiped by one of the many religions plying their trade within the city, and the temple that had grown around it and within it's branches was magnificent. On an impulse Willowtide bought a small copper charm from one of the many stalls selling devotional paraphernalia and kissed it before hanging it round her neck on its leather thong, as was the custom.

Willowtide lived alone with her mother. Her father had been declared a wild elf and banished, though there was no longer the shame in that that there had once been.

When Willowtide reached the outer suburbs of the city, and knew the north ramp couldn't be far ahead, she could feel herself mentally stealing herself for the journey ahead. It all started to seem a little crazy, going to all this trouble because of a faint suspicion that a dragon baby might be in trouble. And dragons after all, with their huge size, fiery breath and fierce natures were almost as bad as the fire devils always lying in wait to burn down an unwary elven settlement, especially in the dry summer months.

The most fearsome devil in the traditions of the city was Basheeban the Fire Spitter, perhaps understandably for a people who made their home in wooden structures among the trees.

But when she thought about the poor little creature hatching into a hostile world all alone, she couldn't bare the thought that she had stood by and done nothing.

The bridges started to widen out, depending more and more on massive buttresses and arches to support them, rather than the ropes of the flimsier bridges deeper into the city. The flow of people had increased appreciably too, mostly heading into the city at this gods forsaken hour, with goods for the market piled high on hand carts and elves coming into the city on business from outlying settlements. There were some hunters and gatherers heading out with her to catch and pick a little something to supplement what they could get in the city.

At last the ramphouse came into view. It was an enormous structure supported by four old oak trees and numerous columns reaching down to the forest floor. There were two arches with portcullises made of metal, the left traditionally used by outgoing traffic. There were city guards here too, the first she had seen that day. They were mostly busy with incomers, leaning forward to smell the handcarts for goblins and other mischievous creatures that might try to smuggle themselves in, checking firewood for woodworm and bark weevils, making sure charcoal had paperwork proving it had been burnt outside the city limits and doing a thousand other petty tasks.

Only one guard was at the outgoing gate, being quizzed by the occasional hunter about the day's conditions and any reports of monsters or other uncanny perils.

Willowtide had never been confident talking to these rough elven men and women, with their unkind banter and sense of authority. She sidled up to where the guard, a young female elf with bark pattern cloak and silk shirt, a small pewter broach her only badge of rank, was laughing and chatting with an old male elf.

Goblin season, he said, You fine guardspeople bagged a few yet?

It's hard to tell them from some of you old hunters sometimes, she replied, causing the two more merriment, Shot two myself last night. They were close on the city limits about some foul business.

Willowtide felt the cold chill of adrenaline flood her system.

She was attentive at combat class, she practiced her guards and strikes assiduously, had even won some ribbons dueling with quarterstaff on the log, but she cringed at the thought of being confronted by a real life goblin, or worse a pack of them.

That's good, said the old hunter, a few casualties always makes the stinking curs a little more circumspect.

They both laughed again at the old elf's use of the ridiculously highfalutin word, circumspect.

Willowtide felt herself relax, relieved that at least the goblins today might be circumspect.

The old elf noticed her standing behind the two.

I haven't seen you out before young elfling, he said to her, If it's your first time out gathering berries there are a few tricks you should know that'll make your life easier.

Willowtide didn't want any questions about what she was doing, she knew how crazy and transgressive it sounded to be worried about a dragon of all things.

Wanting to decline gracefully she said, No thanks, I have to move fast today.

It was only when the guard started crying with laughter that she realized the insult she might cause the old man, suggesting he couldn't keep up.

He just smiled and waved her on her way however, and she virtually ran down the huge ramp.

Her feet felt the usual jolt of cold and strange dampness as they hit the unaccustomed earth. The trees looked different from the bottom of the ramp too. From down here they towered over her, the leaves and branches where the elves made their homes far above and out of easy reach.

There was no sign of the mountain, but there was a wide track leading away from the ramp that she knew would take her there. She was close enough to the city that she could jog quickly along the track with no real fear of meeting anything untoward. She glanced nervously from side to side, from time to time anyway, seeing ancient temperate rainforest carpeted in thick vegetation and acres of achingly green moss.

She met fewer and fewer people along the track, until a feeling of solitude began to set in. She started to walk more slowly and cautiously, and moved to the side of the road to be able to dive into the deeper forest if she spotted any danger up ahead, or felt it approaching from behind.

Old Balukin, the mountain, could be seen now and again through the forest canopy, each time a tiny, tiny bit closer than the time before. She knew that staring at it trying to work out how close it was would drive her mad. She just kept her head down and walked for a couple of hours and gratifyingly the next time she caught site of the mountain it had grown to almost fill the gap in the canopy she glimpsed it through.

She also spotted a village up ahead with its ramps down to allow easy access to passing elves on the path. She passed it by, not wanting to waste any time, secure in the knowledge that she had plenty of food and water and was making good progress.

She put her head down again, concentrating on just the track, the track up ahead, behind her and beneath her feet. After another couple of hours she became aware that the ground was becoming steeper. She was on the slopes of the mountain, which were still heavily forested. The trees didn't relinquish their hold on the mountain until about half way up its height. Willowtide was certain the dragon hadn't descended below the tree line however, so she just kept on going. She promised herself she would stop for her first bite to eat when she cleared the trees. She was looking forward to enjoying the view, a very rare treat for an elf of the city, hidden virtually their whole lives blow the canopy.

Chapter 3

Food always tasted better to Willowtide when she had built up an appetite with a long hike. She had one of the cheese sandwiches her mother had made for her while she got ready, and a handful of olives. She couldn't resist a bite of the rich fruitcake she found in the bottom of her bundle. It went with the cheese very well and Willowtide broke into a smile.

While she ate she looked at the view. It was every bit as impressive as she had been hoping. Even if she didn't find any dragon eggs, and she had to admit to herself that the chances of finding any such thing were vanishingly small, the trip would have been worth it just for the view. The mountain she was sitting on stuck up out of the surrounding forest, like a tooth from the green gums of a goblin. She smiled again at the thought of such a ridiculous comparison, she was thoroughly enjoying herself out in the wild on her own. She was more comfortable out in the wild than many of the other city elves, after many attempts to find or make contact with her lost father when she was younger even than she was now. A still raw pang of loss stirred within her after all these years as she thought about her father, but it passed, and she looked off toward the horizon.

Out in the very far distance she could see the line of the ancient aqueduct. The only landmark in a sea of trees. She packed her food away again took a swig from her flask and got to her feet. The bare part of the mountain above her was enormous, and was going to be very difficult to search. It was covered in hardy shrubs and animal tracks, and some gnarled trees were sprinkled here and there. But there was no obvious place to start searching.

Willowtide stared at the mountain, opening her mind to it, communing with it. She started to talk to it, to ask for any kind of indication about where to find the egg she had become convinced was hiding somewhere within its craggy folds.

Balukin, she thought, I'm not a common visitor to your slopes, but I have a favor to ask none the less. Show me where the dragon landed, give me a sign, for I don't want to tarry too long. I must be off home as soon as I can if I'm to be safe in bed by nightfall.

No answer came. Willowtide hadn't been expecting one, although she believed, as was common with the elves of the city, that great spirits akin to gods inhabited the landscape around them. The idea that Balukin was just a great big lump of rock would have surprised her with its poverty of understanding about the world.

Although no words came from the mountain, she studied its slopes, looking for the sign she had requested. That's when she saw the a flash of woolly hide and some ram's horns. Balukin's herald? A messenger? A guide? Or some hideous creature working up the courage to attack her? Was she supposed to flee back into the trees and forget the whole thing – she was sorely tempted – or approach the creature's hiding place?

She saw the woolly pelt again, this time further away.

It appeared she was meant to follow. Willowtide headed off after what she hoped was just a mountain goat, going thorough all the stories and lore she had ever heard about Balukin in her mind. Trying to work out if they painted the mountain as a good spirit, or a danger. As usual they were quite equivocal in their judgments.

After only twenty or so yards Willowtide was certain that whatever the creature was that she was following, it was no simple mountain goat. Its way of walking was too humanoid. Its body was so stooped and twisted that it almost looked like a goat, but it was walking on its two stumpy hind legs.

The world around Willowtide became dark and foreboding, colored by the fear rising within her. She quickly stowed away her quarterstaff in its special bag and strung her bow. She kept her eyes trained on the creature the whole time, even as she pulled an arrow from her quiver and took aim. The creature seemed unperturbed, and she caught a glimpse of its disturbingly human face, framed by its ram's horns, for the first time. It seemed to be snarling at her, or perhaps smiling.

She continued following, and the creature in turn resumed its climb. On and on the strange pursuit went, until the creature came to a much steeper, rockier slope, to follow Willowtide was forced to sling her bow across her back and replace her arrow in its quiver. The creature led on upwards to a sort of small ledge. By the time Willowtide reached the ledge the creature was already far above. The ledge looked strange, red stained, chipped, pummeled and covered in rubble.

Willowtide looked up suddenly very concerned, a terrible suspicion of what she would see. And sure enough, silhouetted against the sky was the creature, its arms raised above its head, and in its hands a huge rock ready to heave down at her. Willowtide was furious with herself, how could she have believed this creature was some emissary of the mountain. There was no time to dwell on it though. She was in extreme danger and somehow had to get herself out.

The creature threw the rock downwards with all its might and Willowtide jumped to the side, feeling the rock rather than seeing it as it came crashing down onto the ledge. She was hit by one or two little stones chipped off the ledge and thrown up by the massive impact. The creature had a surprisingly good aim, and she didn't know how long her luck would hold out trying to dodge the rocks being thrown.

She dragged her bow from her back, but before she could draw an arrow she was leaping to the side again as another huge rock came crashing down. As Willowtide dodged and attempted to notch an arrow to her bow, she thought about how hard her skin would need to be to survive a direct impact. She'd need a skin like iron, an idle thought as she finally saw an opening to strike back at her tormentor with an arrow.

She brought up her bow aimed and let fly in one fluid, well practiced movement. The arrow missed, bouncing almost comically from the crags above her. Bracing herself to fire had also made it harder to jump and dodge. The creature heaved another huge lump of rock down towards her. There was no time to jump. It was going to hit her whatever she did.

In the split second remaining to her she managed to raise her arms and her flimsy bow as some kind of barrier. An image of what kind of barrier she would really need flashed into her mind. She saw the sheen of two metal arms, like the arms of a statue, but like her arms at the same time.

She felt a sickening impact, felt the bow splinter and crack in her hands. The impact threw her backwards off the ledge. Bouncing down the mountain side. She was still conscious and it felt like she hit every rock on the way down.

The creature was still hurling rocks, which were bouncing around her ears as she tumbled down the slope. She slowed a little as the slope started to even out and managed to regain her footing, bouncing to her feet and hitting the ground running, going fast downhill. She looked to the left and right for some cover out of the creature's line of fire, and saw a patch of deeper shadow among the crags. It looked deep enough to provide shelter, and without a second's hesitation she hurled herself at the gap.

Her system was still flooded with adrenalin, but she had no illusions about what would happen when it wore off, her legs were already a little shaky and she didn't dare think about what had happened to her arms. They hung uselessly at her sides, having taken the full force of the blow from the rock. She ran deeper into the cave, and suddenly realized that it was open to the sky above. A long way above, probably almost to the peak. The shaft leading down to the chamber through the mountain was wide and straight, flooding the chamber with light. The sound of tumbling rocks had receded behind her, the inside of the chamber was peaceful and calm, as if the fierce mountain creature had been left behind in another world.

In the light streaming down from above Willowtide risked a look at her arms, one eye closed, the other squinting, terrified at the awful damage she was about to see. But her arms looked fine. There was a slight sheen to her skin, and her sleeves were ripped, but her arms seemed not even to be scratched. She tried bending her right arm, stealing herself against possible waves of pain, expecting that the bones inside her arms had been smashed to splinters, but the arm bent obediently, if slowly, and there was no pain. She was too tired to expend any effort trying to work out how this miracle had happened. Instead she just carried on taking stock of her situation.

The threat from the monster seemed to have passed, and she seemed to be in one piece, and just as she had predicted, with the immediate danger passed and the adrenalin leaving her system she suddenly felt very tired. She stumbled to a relatively dry and even part of the cavern and fell asleep on the cold damp surface.

Chapter 4

She awoke, and was very surprised to be on a hard stone floor, her bones chilled and her teeth chattering. How had she ended up here? And then it all came flooding back to her. The expedition to look for dragon eggs, the monster, the attack. She wondered how much danger she was still in, and looked around at her surroundings.

She was in a cave at the bottom of a huge shaft, the cave floor was quite even and the walls of the cave were hidden in darkness. Then she saw a rock at the center of the huge cavern that was lighter than those around it, and nearby the glint of metal.

She jumped up and moved closer to it, an irrational certainty about what she would find was already blooming within her. It was the egg, nestled atop a small pile of treasure, gold coins, silver, jewels, that had been heaped around it as if to stop it rolling away.

The mother dragon must have clambered down in here through the shaft in the cave ceiling and laid it. Willow was exultant, she'd been right all along. She craned her neck to look up, the light was blindingly intense compared to the dark cave, and her eyes had to adjust before she could make out details of the shaft walls, but once her eyes had adjusted and now that she knew to look she could see huge scratch marks and gouges in the wall, where the mother dragon had climbed.

She looked back down at the egg and the strange little pile of treasure caught her attention for a moment. It was a fortune, where on earth had it come from? Did the mother dragon regurgitate it from some kind of store in her belly?

Her conjectures were instantly forgotten when she suddenly saw movement in the egg. It was hard to see unless you were observing the egg closely but there was a shifting of light and shade, a slight movement.

Willowtide reached her hand out to the egg and stroked it's surface, hard and dry, but somehow smooth and organic, it was cold. She touched the pile of treasure and the rock floor beneath, all freezing cold, and wet, like tree bark after a winter frost. At that moment she knew she couldn't leave the little creature in these cold, dim and forsaken surroundings. She reached behind her for her backpack and discovered the mashed remains of a sandwich within, which she paused to wolf down. Apart from that there was only a warm waistcoat. She wrapped the egg in the waistcoat and stuffed the bundle carefully back into the bag.

The gold was tempting but something about it seemed cursed, as if the aura of the dragon were still somehow lingering like an invisible cloud, that even though it couldn't be seen could still be experienced as a darkness. She quickly turned her back on it and walked towards the cavern's walls, gathering up her quarterstaff from the floor where she had been sleeping.

She found her way out of the cave the same way she had come in. There hadn't been any other way out no matter how hard she had searched. There was no option but to emerge at the bottom of the slope where she had been attacked before. She was expecting rocks to start raining down on her again at any moment as she hurried down hill, directly toward the tree line, or worse for the hairy monster itself to pop up in front of her, or even a horde of them.

She didn't know how strong dragon eggs were, but she couldn't do anything but run as fast as she could over the hard knobs of grass and uneven mountainside. Her fear wouldn't let her slow down and the pack with the egg in it was thrown from side to side on her back, even when she thought she felt a presence stir within it and begin to restlessly toss and turn, no doubt awoken by the sudden change in the conditions surrounding the egg. She hoped against hope the egg wouldn't break and that the poor little creature would survive. Her thoughts seemed to act like a calming blanket on the presence, relaxing it.

Then she saw the creature again, appearing from behind an outcrop of rock, she was running straight toward it.

***

Elsewhere below the mountains the giant troglodyte king watched as his ranking minister spread out a giant map on the throne room floor. The throne room had no natural light, though that didn't trouble its occupants who could see very well by the light of the few chandeliers suspended from the lavishly decorated ceiling. The minister carefully placed intricately carved boulders at the four corners of the map and then lowered a giant chandelier on its long chain till it was close enough to the map to illuminate the entire surface. Giant gobs of wax fell onto the ancient and magical surface of the map, where they were quickly absorbed without leaving a stain.

A memory was triggered for the troglodyte king of how he had wrenched the map from the bloody hands of a titan prince. He had been more primal then, less evolved, he hadn't even really known what a map was. He missed those days long millennia ago before the stunted people had come, when the whole world was the domain of giants, titans, and dragons.

I hunger for war, he screamed at his minister, a brutish humanoid lizard of immense proportions, but nothing like as magnificent as the troglodytes of old. The king feared he would be the last of that kind. These times provide me no sustenance.

There will be war majesty, the creature promised, the elven mages have been persuaded to act. The minister pointed to the borders of the elven woods. The king stared where he was directed and kept watch with inhuman patience. The borders were moving, very slowly.

***

The creature had its head down and was running at her, ready to butt with its horns like a mountain goat. Her training took over and she immediately adopted a guard called ‘old father time’ where the quarterstaff is held aloft like a scythe, to sweep down on a charging animal. It was a very popular guard that she had practiced almost every week of her life in the weekly combat training mandated for all elves by the city council.

She had practiced using the momentum of the blow to move her sideways away from the target as she struck, and was confident of her timing. The metal shod end of her weapon connected with the side of the creatures head, and she sailed to the side with the momentum of the swing, too quickly for it to adjust its charge. It hadn't even touched her, and would have had its head bashed in if its skull hadn't been so thick and its horn hadn't taken some of the force from the blow.

Its momentum carried it on five yards past her, in obvious pain, squealing and shaking its head the way animals do, to shake off pain. It turned hesitantly and lowered its head for another charge. Now it was time to dominate the creature, just the way her weapons mistress always instructed.

Get thee gone vile creature, she shouted, the old words she used were memorized by heart. They were in a human language called Old Imperial. She could speak it, but it had always sounded barbaric and terrifying to her. She had been told the human words had the same effect on even the most unthinking of monsters. I shall smite thee if thou do not.

The creature raised its head again. The words had had their effect and made it baulk. Willowtide stared deep into the creatures eyes, hoping the pain in the side of its head from her quarterstaff blow was intense. The creature tried again to shake off the pain, as if in answer to her thoughts, whined softly, then turned and fled.

Do not relax, she heard the weapon mistress's words as if they were being whispered in her ear by the sprightly and dangerous old elf, unthinking monsters freshly routed are apt to return.

Willowtide carried on to the tree line, scanning her surroundings for signs of the monster's return the whole way, and then disappeared into the trees. Even though she was a city elf, it felt like melting back into her natural habitat.

Chapter 5

Darkness was starting to encroach when she was still a good three hours from the safety of the city and she jogged the whole way in a fog of fatigue and fear. When she reached the ramphouse the gate had already been drawn up for the night and she was gasping for breath as the sweat rolled down her face and slicked her underarms and back. She bent over, too tired to hold herself upright, but her stomach muscles were hurting so much from the running she almost immediately straightened up again, only to see one of the city guards standing three paces away bow at the ready.

Hold still, and drop that fighting stick, the guard called, Have you been out past your bedtime?

Thank Old Green Beard... she gasped, and tried to add something a bit more coherent, but couldn't gather together enough breath. She couldn't do anything but stand and grin and gasp for air.

The guard was smiling now too. Have you been running since nightfall? she asked. You poor thing. Come on up to the ramp house and we'll get you home as soon as we can.

It was at least five minutes before Willowtide was recovered enough to climb, but pretty soon she was sitting in a small room in the ramphouse that looked out onto the bridges and walkways of the elven city. The magical colorful lights were burning in the lanterns in the street and it was the most beautiful thing she thought she had ever seen.

Just got to check your bag and you can be on your way, said the young guard kindly, holding out her hand to take it.

The possibility that her bag would be searched had never entered Willowtide's head, although she realized now that it certainly should have. She handed the bag over with a smile, hoping the guard would somehow miss the egg.

The guard seemed confused, she was feeling around in the bag, only being able to find a jacket, but sure there must be something else in the bulky package. Heavy bag you have here, she mumbled, What's in here, gold?

Hey Elsheeba, a shouted voice from somewhere else in the building, a superior, Willowtide guessed by the expression on her face, I'm hearing talk of fresh goblin spoor out there, you see any.

This is just one big rock, Willowtide said quietly, trying not to draw too much of the guard's attention away from her boss and the problem with goblin spoor, letting her remain distracted, I thought it looked a bit like a giant egg, she added truthfully.

I guess it does, kinda, the guard said having finally succeeded in dragging it half from the bag. She looked at it a moment longer then let it fall back in, I'll show you out.

***

Tembline, her mother, was waiting for her when she got home, sitting at the card table in the front room. She jumped up as soon as she heard the door and ran to her daughter, embracing her and lifting her from her feet.

You bad girl, look at you, you look like you've been dragged through a hedge backwards she said, you said you'd be back before nightfall. I've been scared half to death, doing the cards over and over to try and find out if you were even still alive.

Oh don't be so melodramatic mom, Willowtide said, So what did the cards say?

Oh, you know the cards, her mom replied, they're always difficult to read. I'll make you something to eat, you must be ravenous.

If it's okay with you mom, I'd just like to hit the hay, Willowtide said.

They chatted a little while longer but Willowtide was in her room with the door shut ten minutes later.

She removed the jacket from her bag and made a little nest for the egg on her small table near her bed, then she took the egg from the backpack and placed it gently within the nest.

There you go little dragon cub, she crooned to it gently as the shape within tossed and turned, we'll soon have you nice and safe and warm.

Then she set up a ring of lanterns with colorful glass around the egg, being very careful to place them near enough to the egg to keep it warm, but not so near that it would cook. Then she just sat on her bed and gazed at this strange and wondrous thing that she had found. She reached out, stroked it, sang to it, painted a few runes of protection that she knew on it, and then finally as dawn was turning her window from a circle of dark to a circle of light, she lay down on the bed and slept and slept.

Willowtide's dreams that night were full of scaly flying creatures and monstrous brutal mountain creatures with horns and filthy wool, matted with blood, carpeting their bodies. The wild mountain creatures were above her on the mountain crags throwing rocks, and with her on a scraggly patch of mountain grass, lowering their heads and charging. They were nothing but evil.

The scaly flying beasts, the dragons, on the other hand played a more ambivalent role. The mountain in her dream was impossibly tall and sharp. The dragons as they flew were close enough to reach out and touch, and then she saw one of the wild and primal creatures run towards the edge of the little patch of flat ground. She couldn't work out what its intentions might be, but just as it was about to charge off the edge of the cliff it leaped.

It flew a huge distance, carried by its momentum, and landed scrambling and scratching for purchase on the back of a dragon. As Willowtide watched the dragon began to transform, hairs sprouted from between the scales of its back and thick wool grew into a mane around its head, then two magnificent horns sprouted from the side of its head, curling into the tight spirals of a rams horn as she watched, and the expression on its face changed too, from serene indifference to a malevolent cunning snarl.

The dragon's flight changed too, from gliding swoops into the jerky climbing and diving of a predator. At first the dragon and the creature on its back were distracted by other targets, diving on mountain goats and cattle, burning them in gouts of fiery breath or ripping them apart to feast on their warm organs while they were still alive. The wool of the dragon's mane was soon as matted and bloody as the pelt of its rider. But then their attention turned to her. She could see them as they observed and targeted her, then watched as they boosted into the air. She knew what would come next. They would dive on her breathing fire, or with talons bared.

Then she noticed the inquisitive glance of a dragon gliding nearby. She started running, jumped, and suddenly she was sailing through the air to land on its back.

Instinctively, she knew it would be an ally in the fight against the wild primal rider and its dragon mount, and more than that, she was curious to see how the dragon would change when she was on its back.

Staying on its back proved very difficult however. Its scales were smooth and glossy and she was traveling fast as she hurtled towards them. She hit the massive flanks of the creature with enough force to knock the breath half out of her. It was like jumping at the side of a building. She reached up for the ridge of spikes running down the dragon's back, but they were hopelessly far above her. With nothing to hang onto she simply slid off like a raindrop, seemingly beneath the huge beast's notice. She was falling, thousands of feet of nothing but cloud below her, and instead of the terror she should have felt at the prospect of being dashed lifeless on the jagged rocks below, the only thoughts in her mind were regret.

She knew she would have been the best dragon rider in the history of the known world, gentle, friendly and loving. She looked up at the dragon, imploring, reaching out with her soul.

As if in response to her thoughts it looked around in mid flight, made eye contact and changed course. It swooped in a massive curve, to come below her and scoop her onto its back.

***

At that moment, far away in a tall tower at the center of a mighty fastness, built atop a rocky prominence overlooking a bend in a mighty river, another dragon egg was incubating. It lay in a metal basket, atop a stone plinth in the rays of light coming from a single window glazed with glass as green and crystalline as an emerald. The shell had been graven and wrapped in gold wire in intricate patterns, and two people were hunched over the egg, studying it minutely. One of them, the elder, was making adjustments to the gold wires so fine that it was impossible to be sure if they had moved at all. Within the egg, behind the screen of its translucent shell, a malevolent shape could be seen thrashing, two green points of light sweeping this way and that.

It is entirely possible to mold a dragon, the mage said who was adjusting the wire, a handsome man in very fine clothes, though his gray beard and crows feet betrayed his age. He wore a dark blue cloak and underneath could be seen the metal glint of a coat of brigandine, Just think of it. To create such a sophisticated tool, shape it exactly to your requirements, make it both powerful and devoted, and utterly without scruple.

I agree old boy, the other said, a young woman with hair as black as interstellar space, accentuated by a net of silver wires and stars woven among her locks. Her clothes were simpler, more practical, in stark contrast to the intricacy of her hair, Never let it be said that I was against experimentation and learning, but I must urge caution. These creatures are uniquely dangerous, unknowably powerful and the rearing and training of them is a very theoretical business.

I agree, of course Demiana. I'm absolutely in complete agreement my dear, the man said enthusiastically, laying his tools aside on a little silver table, but someone has to be the first. Now let me talk you through my ideas. I'll get a few notes written down too while I'm at it. Documentation was never my strong suit.

I'd be interested to hear about your research of course, the young woman said, but I'm surprised to be included in your work at such an early stage.

There's a very good reason for that, the man replied, moving to the lectern and picking up a quill to jot down some notes in the huge book spread before him, "These beasts have a lifespan measured in centuries, longer for all we know. It doesn't make sense for it to be imprinted on an old coot like me. The dragon will never imprint on anyone as strongly as the person it first sees when if emerges from the egg. I'll have shuffled off this mortal coil before the creature is fully out of adolescence. I need young blood for this experiment, and you my dear are the only member of the magistracy that I trust.

Intriguing, the young woman replied, You always did think big, father.

Chapter 6

Willowtide was woken by the sound of the egg cracking. She jumped up in bed, instantly awake. She suddenly realized that she had no idea how dangerous dragon cubs were. Would the creature lunge at her the second it emerged? Something told her that it wouldn't. She watched as a small mark appeared on the surface of the egg, getting darker and bigger, then a crack, two, three, spiderwebbed across one side of the egg.

Then a segment of egg came away revealing a tiny scaled snout. The tiny creature worked away for a few minutes more before starting to wiggle free of the egg. Willowtide went over to the table and bent down over the little dragonling. It looked up and saw Willowtide, stopping its struggles to be free of the egg, and staring back at her frozen in place.

Willowtide held out her hand and the dragon, finally free of the egg, crawled on, fitting comfortably in her palm. The creature was only about the size of a kitten, but heavy, like a metal statue. It was obviously exhausted by its efforts and fell instantly asleep.

How are we going to keep you alive till you can fend for yourself little dragon? she asked it out loud, What do you even eat anyway?

She went to the kitchen and gathered together a selection of elven food. It was a little tricky using one hand, the other hand was cradling the dragon against her chest, especially getting some of the bigger jars down from top shelves and opening the lids. But soon she had a spread of food and a bowl of milk in her room all ready for the dragon to wake up.

It was two hours before the tiny creature was able to summon the strength to investigate the food, but it became very enthusiastic when it discovered the milk.

It stood with its front legs in the wooden bowl and lapped at the milk with a long tongue. As it drank, Willowtide studied the creature up close. It had four legs a long tail and two membranous wings that were beating slowly in pleasure as it tasted milk for the first time. It's entire body was covered in metallic scales that seemed multicolored in the light of the lanterns with their stained glass doors. It's eyes were different colors too. One was orange and the other turquoise, and they seemed to burn with an unquenchable magic fire.

The dragon noticed Willowtide staring at it and made a mewing sound of pleasure, before flying over to where she was sitting on the bed with a single beat of its wings. It landed on her lap, turned around three times, and snuggled down before immediately falling back asleep.

Well aren't you just the cutest little thing? Willowtide said, You're scales and eyes are so colorful, why don't we call you Harlequin.

Over the next few weeks the dragon grew a little bigger, and a lot stronger and heavier. The table would creak under its weight when Willowtide put a bowl of milk there for it. And there were a few close shaves when her mother almost discovered her new pet.

She also had to attend to her training – she would one day be a bard and was expected to attend her master's performances to memorize stories and songs he told her – and she didn't want to cage the dragon while she was away. Instead she sat the dragon down to have a talk.

OK Harlequin, she said when it had finished its bowl of milk, I have to go out today, and you can't come with me. Will you be alright if I leave you here in my room? As she talked mental images of attending her master at the academy of music, while the dragon stayed at home flashed through her head.

The dragon looked intently into her eyes, a noise like pebbles churning in a metal tin coming from its belly. Willowtide had decided this noise was like a cat's purring. Suddenly a mental image of the dragon sleeping flashed across her mind, and an image of her at the academy, but many of the details were subtly wrong, elven skin too scaly, smells too intense. She was pretty sure the mental images were coming from the dragon's mind, not hers.

The dragon then curled up on a blanket she had put in a little basket for it in the corner of the room. She bent over it and stroked the spiky ridge down the creature's back, the spikes folding flat as she stroked them so she didn't cut herself on their points, like dominoes toppling then righting themselves with a metallic zipping noise.

Amazing, she said out loud, and the pebble grinding, purring noise became louder. Those pictures in my mind came from you didn't they Harlequin? So I guess you'll be getting some sleep while I go learn my songs and stories.

***

It was only a matter of time before Willowtide showed Palemoon. She had a premonition that sharing her secret with other elves wasn't a good idea – after all dragons were regarded as little better than fire-breathing demons in elven folklore – but Palemoon was such a good friend, and they had never had secrets from each other, Willowtide just couldn't resist. She kept her secret to herself for months, while the dragon had grown to the size of a large dog, but in the end she decided to share.

Willowtide and Palemoon were walking the bridges, talking about nothing in particular when Willowtide impulsively decided to share her secret. She thought the best approach was to let her friend in on the secret gently.

Palemoon, she said, interrupting Palemoon as she talked about whether the elves should use powerful human and dwarven magic to supplement their ancient magical songs and charms. It had been a subject of discussion across the city for some months, a frightening controversy which the elves were equally divided on,

Do you remember when I saw that dragon?

Oh that, she said, Have you seen another one? There was a ridiculing, needling tone to her voice.

Something like that, Willowtide replied.

For Green Beard's sake, Palemoon cursed, You shouldn't be getting fixated on dragons. They're great big dangerous magical beasts that, by the way, breath fire.

I'm pretty sure they don't deserve their bad reputation, Willowtide said, ignoring the exasperation in her friend's voice.

How in the forest would you know that? her friend asked. What do you really know about dragons anyway.

Come home with me, Willowtide implored, and I'll show you.

Chapter 7

Palemoon screamed loud and long and piercing as a knife in the ribs. The dragon was startled and reared onto its hind legs, spreading its wings to make itself more fearsome looking. Palemoon's screams increased an octave and her voice began to crack and scratch. She fled the room with Willowtide chasing after her.

As Willowtide ran after her friend, she saw her mother coming out of