Fandri and his fairy rushed out from the hall, first to arrive in the courtyard followed by a wary-eyed Varl.
“Fandri, be careful.”
His heart beat fast at the sight of an enormous dragon rearing its spiked head at them. The grey beast stood as tall as the castle itself, with an emerald-coated wingspan that broached both sides of the courtyard. A line of razor-sharp spikes ran along the length of its spine from the horned head to barbed tail. This was surely a fearsome fighter.
Fandri stopped mid-stride as though his feet were rooted to the floor. The dragon turned to him. His tail whipped around, knocking the unfortunate halfling sprawling across the sand-covered bricks.
“Oof.” The air was knocked out of his lungs. Fandri was winded. A strong pain across his chest made it hard to breathe.
Fandri-La dropped to the ground like a stone.
Varl raced out after them; scooped up the fairy and stood protectively over Fandri as though he could prevent the enormous dragon from attacking again.
The squire drew his short sword and thrust it at the dragon.
The beast growled a low rumble and swiped the boy with the back of his claw.
The squire sprawled on the ground. His sword flew through the air and landed near the dragon’s foot, which he placed upon it. The powerful dragon could have easily killed Varl, but had only expended enough effort to neutralise and frustrate the boy.
Fandri watched as with a face reddened with rage, Varl shook his clenched fists at the dragon. “You are a coward to disarm me in thus fashion. Why do you not face me on equal terms as a man, you mountain scum?”
The dragon laughed a deep, menacing chuckle that rumbled up from its chest and erupted from its scaly muzzle. “Boy, you be no challenge for one such as me. Go and tend your herds for my dinner. I have no quarrel with you.”
Varl turned his back to the beast and checked on his friends lying on the ground. He spoke in a low growl. “I still have a quarrel with you, but I will bide my time.”
The dragon appeared not to hear him and gave a loud rumble to the castle walls. “I be charged with carrying an elf to the West Lands. Feed me meat and water and we be on our way. I care not for these inhospitable sand winds.”
As Varl sat up the dazed halfling and his fairy, the queen and prince emerged through the doorway.
Liara-Star nodded. “Greetings Aram Grey. It has been long since we last met and little has changed. The invaders continue to trouble our allies.”
Aram grunted and a wisp of smoke curled up from his muzzle. “There be no signs of the Vergai returning, Mistress. Perhaps your foresight is mistaken. I think it just be that the West Lands will never be big enough for the mountain folk and plainsmen. The men should either concede the Disputed Lands or agree to pay a tithe of cattle for using the land. My people cannot survive on barren mountains for food.”
The knights followed the elves into the sunlight. The look of displeasure on their faces spoke volumes. Sir Rawlan spoke in a voice dripping with distain. “I believe our dispute would be solved if you no longer ate at all, you mountain scum.”
Behind the knights came the two white haired wizards. Grand Mage Nnarndam gave a cheeky smile, enjoying the conflict the dragon had caused. “Come Aram, tell us what you really think,” he goaded.
The dragon answered with a roar and launched into the air, his flames spewing forth upon the castle battlements, causing the allies below to cower from the extreme heat. Flakes of ash rained down upon them.
“Do not tempt me Wizard, I be feeling the need for some bones to gnaw upon and I would not be averse to smoked wizard for my luncheon.”
“My dear mountain man, I fear you forget who you are speaking to.” Rather than cowering with the others, Nnarndam stretched his chin high with a defiant gleam in his eyes.
The mage jumped into the air, transforming into a purple dragon as he rose up to meet the great grey. With one great flap of his wings, Nnarndam brought himself up to the dragon’s eye level. His voice was a baritone rumble. “Now young whippersnapper, whose bones were you wanting to gnaw on?”
Aram stared into the indigo eyes and drew back from the steely gaze. The young grey was not often afraid, but in the presence of a centuries’ old mage, his cockiness crumbled. “On second thoughts, I think I be losing my appetite for wrinkled, old flesh.”
Both dragons returned to the courtyard where trembling gnomes bowed before them and proffered large basins full of meaty stew. The feast was downed in an instant.
“Thank you gnomes.” Aram wiped his chin with a curved claw and belched with contentment.
“Eww!” whispered Fandri-La. “That dragon has terrible manners.”
Fandri put a finger to his lips. “Hush, sweet fairy. Dragons seem rather bad tempered and I doubt he’d think twice about crushing us to death or eating us alive.”
Aram gave them a yellow-eyed glare as though he had heard them, before he was distracted and looked away.
The queen and her brother strode out into the sunlight to address the dragon. She gestured towards her brother while speaking. “Aram Grey, here is Crown Prince Celdar-Moon. I charge you with his safe delivery to the Western Outpost.
The dragon raised a scaly eyebrow, but nodded in agreement. His voice rumbled. “Come then elf, gather your belongings and we shall depart. My wings long for cooler skies than these.”
Celdar-Moon looked about to give his usual snarky reply, but the intimidating dragon made him hold his tongue. “Very well. Farewell my sister; I hope the remainder of your journey is less a burden than thus far.”
The elf jumped lightly onto the dragon’s neck and winced at the painful spikes. A gnome handed him a blanket for padding and a rope to lash himself on. Celdar-Moon started to pass the rope around its neck when Aram leapt into the air.
As they rapidly rose into the sky and banked to the west, the elf’s insults could be heard loudly and the dragon gave a booming laugh in reply. Flames were seen before the two of them disappeared from sight.
“Jolly funny. They are both as stubborn as each other and I fear their journey will be a humourless one. Good riddance to them both.” Varl looked amused at the elf’s discomfort and Fandri was reminded of the hostility between dragons and knights.
“You guys really hate each other, don’t you?”
“With a passion.”
Sir Rawlan loomed large in front of the halfling, his face was flushed from the sun and his brow creased with irritation at seeing the boys beside each other. “Squire Varl, get a feed and practice your forms. You’ll need to strengthen those muscles to have a hope of fighting the coming battle with Flame Mountain.”
Varl sighed a little and his shoulders dropped with weariness and the heat, but he practised his fighting techniques in the shade for the next hour without compliant. Fandri practised a short distance away from him and Fandri-La could appreciate how much they were both improving. She also felt the tiredness through the halfling bond, so rested in a shady spot against the thick castle walls.
Artwork: ‘Elf Queen’ in coloured pencil by Brighid Walton