‘Now,’ said the Dragon. ‘Let us talk about a few things.’

Chapter 2

‘Who are these Dragonene, then?’ hissed Sirendor.

Ilkar turned to him. ‘All mages. They have, I don’t know, an affinity, you know, with Dragons.’ He gestured uselessly.

‘No, I don’t bloody know! Dragons don’t exist. They are just rumour and myth.’ Sirendor’s voice was still barely more than a whisper.

‘Oh yeah? Well that’s one hell of a big myth I can see in there!’ Ilkar’s ears pricked.

‘Does it really matter?’ The Unknown’s voice, though quiet, still carried all its power. ‘We only have one question that needs answering now.’

The Raven trio and Denser were all crowded around the partially open door to the Dragon’s chamber, animosity forgotten for a while. Hirad sat with his back to them, his hands on the floor behind his back, and his legs drawn half up. The Dragon’s head was scant feet from the barbarian’s, the huge mound of its body resting on the ground, its wings folded. It was the scale of it all that Ilkar found so hard to take in.

Never mind that he had only half believed the books and the teaching. He had still imagined Dragons and he imagined they would be big; but Hirad looked so tiny in comparison that he had to look away and back before he decided that Sirendor was wrong and they weren’t seeing an illusion. And he still didn’t really believe it.

‘He should be dead,’ muttered The Unknown, his hands tightening and untightening around the hilt of his sword. ‘Why hasn’t it killed him?’

‘We think they’re talking,’ said Denser.

‘What?’ Ilkar couldn’t hear a thing. As far as he was concerned they were just staring at each other. But as Ilkar watched, his powerful eyes giving the scene complete clarity, Hirad shook his head and straightened his back so he could use his hands to make a gesture. He indicated behind him and said something but the mage couldn’t pick out the words. The Dragon cocked its head to one side and opened its mouth, revealing the massed ranks of its fangs. Liquid dripped to the floor and Hirad started.

‘What do you mean, “we”?’ demanded Sirendor. Denser didn’t reply.

‘Later, Sirendor,’ said The Unknown. ‘We have to think of something to do. Quickly.’

‘What the hell can they be talking about?’ No one had an answer. Ilkar looked back to the unreal scene in the huge chamber and a glint caught his eye. For a moment he assumed it was a reflection off the Dragon’s beautiful scales but it wasn’t a golden colour, more a steel or a silver.

He stared hard, using all the range that his eyes afforded him, and there it was: a small disc, maybe a palm’s width across and attached to a chain which seemed to be caught around one of the Dragon’s large hind-foot claws. He pointed it out to Denser.

‘Where?’ asked the other mage.

‘Its right foot, third talon along.’ Ilkar pointed the way. Denser shook his head.

‘Those are good eyes, aren’t they? Hold on.’ Denser mumbled a few words and rubbed a thumb on either eye. He looked again and tensed.

‘What is it? Don’t try to—’

‘Just pray Hirad keeps it talking,’ said Denser, and he began mumbling again.

‘What are you talking about?’ hissed Ilkar. ‘What have you seen?’

‘Trust me. I can save him,’ said Denser. ‘And just be ready to run.’ He took a pace forwards and disappeared.

‘Look, this is really hard for me to take in,’ said Hirad. The Dragon put its head on one side and stretched its jaws a little. A line of saliva dripped from a fang and Hirad moved his leg reflexively to avoid it.

‘Explain,’ ordered the Dragon, the word bypassing the barbarian’s ears on its way to thump through his skull.

‘Well, you have to understand that never in my wildest drunken dreams did I ever imagine I’d be sitting and talking to a - a Dragon.’ He gestured and raised his eyebrows. ‘I mean I . . .’ He trailed off. The Dragon flared its nostrils and Hirad felt his hair move in the breeze of its breath. He had to fight himself not to gag at the smell, rotten with that burned sourness.

‘And now?’ it asked.

‘I’m absolutely terrified.’ Hirad felt cold. He was still shivering intermittently and he felt as though his sweat was freezing on his body, yet the room was hot, very hot. Large fires crackled and snapped in ten grates set around the far half of the hall, surrounding the Dragon on three sides, and the beast himself was sitting in what looked like soft wet mud. He rested back on his hands once again.

‘Fear is healthy. As is knowing when you are beaten. That is why you are still alive.’ The Dragon twitched its left wing. ‘So, tell me, what are you doing here?’

‘We were chasing someone. He came in here.’

‘Yes, I thought that you would not be by yourself. Who were you chasing?’

The barbarian couldn’t help but smile; the whole situation was getting quite beyond him. Although he was, he was sure, talking to a beast he had only heard of in rumour, he couldn’t dispel the idea that it was all some kind of illusion. Something with a sensible explanation, anyway.

‘A mage. His men killed one of my friends. We want him . . . have you . . . seen anyone?’ said Hirad. It was simply too much. ‘Look, I’m sorry, but I’m having trouble even believing you exist.’

The Dragon laughed, or at least it was a sound that Hirad thought was laughter. It boomed around his skull like waves striking a cliff and he juddered and closed his eyes as the pain that followed smashed at his brain. And then those fangs were inches from his face and the nostrils blew gouts of hot air into his eyes. Hirad started violently but before he could experience the shock of the Dragon’s speed of movement, it twitched its head up, catching him on the point of his jaw. He was hurled backwards to slide across the tiles, coming to rest, dazed. He sat up and massaged his chin, blood running from a deep graze.

‘And now, little man, do you still have trouble believing I exist?’

‘I . . . No, I don’t think so . . .’

‘And nor you should. Seran believes in me, although he has failed me now. And your friends beyond that door. I am sure they believe.’ The Dragon’s voice inside his head was louder now. Hirad got to his feet and walked towards the beast, shaking his head to clear his mind of the fog that encased it.

‘Yes, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend.’ Hirad’s heart was pounding in his throat once more. Another sound from the Dragon. Perhaps another laugh, but this time it sounded dismissive, somehow.

‘But you questioned my very existence,’ said the Dragon. ‘Perhaps you are lucky that I am slow to offend. Or perhaps that I am slow to question yours.’ Hirad tried to slow his breathing and think, but there seemed to be no way out. The only question remaining was how long before the Dragon tired of the game and snuffed out his life.

‘Yes.’ Hirad shrugged and waited to die. ‘But you must understand that you were the last thing I expected to find here.’

‘Ah.’ Feelings of amusement arose in Hirad’s mind. ‘Then I have disappointed you. Perhaps I should be apologising to you.’ The Dragon laughed again. More quietly this time, more in thought than in mirth.

There was a faint rustling by Hirad’s left ear, then a voice, just audible:

‘Don’t react to my voice and don’t say anything. I am Denser, the man you are after, and I’m trying to help you.’ He paused. ‘So when I say run, run hard. Don’t argue and don’t look back.’

‘Now, little man. Ask me a question.’

‘What?’ Hirad blinked and returned his attention to the Dragon, amazed that he could forget, however momentarily, that it was there.

‘Ask. There must be something you want to know about me.’ The Dragon withdrew its head somewhat, its neck arching high above the mound of its body.