Calis shook his head in regret. ‘Great men once ruled the Kingdom.’
‘The conDoin name is still one to be honoured, but I fear we’ve not had a strong hand at the helm of the ship of state since King Borric’s day.’
‘I knew him, you know,’ said Calis.
‘Really?’
‘Not well. I was much closer to his younger brother, Nicholas.’
‘I’ve heard stories of the two of you.’
Calis sighed. ‘It was a long time ago, yet sometimes it feels like yesterday. I miss Nicholas. He died a hero’s death, but he died alone.’ He looked over his shoulder, as if he could somehow see through the boles of trees and leaf-covered branches to where his wife laboured or his sons hunted. ‘It’s a bad thing to die alone, Jim Dasher.’
‘I have no plan to do that, Calis,’ said Jim.
Calis said, ‘There’s someone in your life?’
‘If I have anything to say about it,’ Jim answered with a widening grin.
Tomas reappeared and nothing in Jim’s speculations came close to preparing him for his reaction. Tomas was resplendent in golden armour, and a white tabard and shield, both emblazoned with a golden dragon. His helm was fashioned to appear as if a dragon lay on top of his head, wings down on either side to form the cheek-guards. It also had a nose-guard to protect his face. The effect was to make his eyes even more vivid, and the already-powerful figure was now even more so in this extraordinary garb. He was a figure to inspire awe and terror in a foe.
Tomas said, ‘Are you ready?’
‘As ready as I can ever be,’ Jim replied softly.
Calis nodded and gripped his shoulder. ‘It’s good to see you again, Jim Dasher. You may not be much of a hunter, but you are among the best storytellers I have met. You must come again for a visit and soon, when the reasons for your visit are less dire.’
‘I look forward to that day,’ said Jim honestly.
‘Come with me,’ Tomas said, leading him quickly away.
Despite his size, Tomas was as nimble as any elf, and Jim was hard pressed to keep up without stepping off a pathway into thin air. At last he reached the ground safely and caught up to Tomas on the edge of a great clearing. ‘Prepare yourself,’ was all Tomas said, then he shouted something in an alien tongue, repeating a phrase three times. Then he fell silent.
‘Now what?’ Jim asked.
‘We wait,’ Tomas answered.
Minutes went by, and soon an air of expectancy grew. Elves all around them paused lingering to see what came next. Jim had no idea, but long ago had learned there were times when it was best to simply shut up and do as he was told.
The moments passed slowly, and just as Jim was starting to feel his patience wane, a distant sound of flapping wings could be heard. At first Jim thought it was some large bird – an eagle or vulture perhaps – but the rhythm was off, the beats were too slow and the sound was growing too loud, too quickly.
Suddenly a vast shadow appeared on the ground as a massive shape loomed overhead. Jim looked upwards and felt his throat constrict, for the first time in his life feeling close to panic. The creature that was landing – and from his point of view it appeared to Jim it was going to land right on top of Tomas and himself – was a dragon. Not only was it a dragon, it was a dragon the size of a small ship!
Like most citizens of the Kingdom, Jim had heard stories of dragons all his life, but he had never believed anyone who had told him that they had seen one.
Now Jim could scarcely credit his own senses. Softly he said, ‘No one will ever believe me.’
Tomas turned and smiled, the smile removing some of the awe he induced in Jim in his guise as a Dragon Lord. ‘Those who know the truth will, and that’s all that matters.’
A voice thundered from deep within the throat of the creature. It spoke a language Jim did not understand, and he spoke seven fluently and could puzzle out a dozen more. Tomas answered in the Common Tongue. ‘I seek a boon, old friend.’
The creature was ruby in colour, with highlights sparkling in the sun of, silver, gold, crimson, and even a flash of blue. The creature had a huge crest that began between its eyes and rose up and back, descending to just above the base of the neck, the colour shifting among reds, orange, and gold, looking like iridescent flame, with silver streaks along the base, and stood tall like a cockscomb. The dragon regarded them with eyes as black as onyx.
‘Speak your boon, Dragon Rider,’ it said.
‘To the Peaks of the Quor must we speed, to distant Baranor, for the sake and safety of all our peoples, eledhel and dragon-kin alike.’
The dragon lowered its massive head, which was easily as big as a farmer’s wagon. ‘Long have you been dragon friend, you who were once our master. Your word is bond and I shall carry you.’
‘And my companion,’ said Tomas.
Jim felt the colour drain from his cheeks. ‘What?’