DRAGONS
There were only seventeen dragons. This was not commonly known among humans, and the dragons wanted to keep it to themselves. In general, the dragons kept away from humans, occasionally flying high over a city to remind people that they existed, or diving out of the sky and flaming something as a reminder of how powerful they were.
The island of Dracondas was entirely the domain of dragons. The towns and cities had been in ruins for three thousand years, and the only humans who ever saw the place were occasional visitors to the port city of Wylver. One ship at a time was allowed to sail there, and from that ship, one visitor was allowed ashore. That visitor could go only to the great circular Plaza of Wings in front of the old palace, and some dragons might be present for a meeting. If not, the visitor had to leave in a hurry, for death was the penalty for being in Wylver after sunset.
What humans did not know was that dragons held courts and inquisitions at the Plaza of Wings. The plaza was ringed by twenty-seven immense statues of wyverns, winged reptiles of an unmagical type that had once been in the service of the Dracondas kings. These creatures had carried warriors of the air who fought battles among the clouds and were the terror of all other kingdoms. Then, in a single night, humans vanished from the island of Dracondas. Its new rulers, enormous, fire-breathing dragons, did not encourage visitors.
Eleven dragons sat perched on the statues of wyverns surrounding the Plaza of Wings. Once stone warriors had sat astride them, but these had been smashed off thirty centuries earlier, and they now lay broken, smothered in vines and bushes.
The female dragon Videnveld reared up on her wyvern statue and spread her wings for attention.
‘I am newly returned from the city of Merk,’ she announced. ‘I have discovered that human warlocks have been dabbling in the four magics. A dragon chick exists.’
‘Have you learned anything of the fate of Fernveld?’ asked the Dragon Inquisitor, who was perched on the palace roof because he presided over meetings.
‘Nothing,’ replied Videnveld, lowering her head.
‘But I suspect that Dravaud may have learned something before he died.’
‘Can you confirm that he died in an accident?’
‘Stormvaud and I questioned the Savarian king on this, and there was no guile in his account.’
The dragons hunched down and thought about what had been said. In a sense the meeting was being conducted in silence, for the dragons spoke with their thoughts. Any humans nearby could hear those thoughts, but the nearest humans were three hundred miles away, on a fleet travelling between Savaria and the island of Morticas. They were definitely out of range.
The Dragon Inquisitor spread his wings for attention.
‘In the eighteen years past we have lost two of our number, one vanished and the other dead. From nineteen, we have been reduced to seventeen, yet now there has been a birth, the first such birth for three thousand years.’
A dragon named Lashveld spread her wings.
‘Sister Videnveld, why did you not pluck the dragon chick out of the human city and bring it here?’
‘Have you forgotten our origins, sister?’ asked Videnveld. ‘Over three thousand years ago the warlock kings of this island created us from their tame wyverns. For three and a half centuries they created us, one dragon every thirteen years, immortals, hatched to live in slavery forever. When we broke free of our bonds and slaughtered every human on the island, we killed our creators as well. Humans made the original twenty-seven dragons, but only after we freed ourselves did we realise that they created us sterile. We lay eggs, but they never hatch. Slowly, through accidents and combat, our numbers have fallen, yet now there is a dragon chick. It seems that humans have rediscovered the art of creating dragons.’
Again there was spreading of wings and exchanges of glances.
‘Do we have names?’ asked the Inquisitor.
‘The warlocks Calbaras and Torvoran are known to have experimented with the four magics,’ said Grimvaud.
‘They think that we do not know.’
‘Why have they not been burned to ash?’ asked Lashveld.
‘Because we have been tolerating them, sister. Humans created us, humans may create us again.’
‘Brother Grimvaud, this is a dangerous situation,’ said the Inquisitor. ‘If warlocks have indeed rediscovered the arts of creating dragons, they will have unimaginable power. They could create and raise those chicks as our enemies.’
‘If they know that we are sterile, the warlocks can force us to perform services for them, in return for dragon chicks,’ said Grimvaud.
‘Do they know this?’ asked Stormvaud.
‘If they do, we can expect them to send a demand,’ said the Inquisitor. ‘Videnveld, return to the dragon chick, study it at a distance. If you learn who created it, protect that warlock as closely as you guard the chick.’
With the gathering over, the Inquisitor watched as the dragons sprang into the air and flew away in order of seniority. Videnveld was last, but before she left she held up her wings, gesturing that she wished to speak.
‘I feel great responsibility,’ she said. ‘I was but a chick when the great rebellion took place, and I was raised by Fernveld and Dravaud. I think of them as my parents. We were the only dragons ever to know the joys of being part of a family. They sent me into human cities to spy on them and tease them with tricks. Those were such happy times.’
‘Might Fernveld have longed so much for those times that she entered some pact with a warlock to create a new chick?’ asked the Inquisitor.
‘I both fear and hope that you may be right.’