Chapter 11: The last dragon
21 December, 2007 – 11:52 pm
It was midnight, and in the underground chamber below the barrow in the centre of Bracken Wood - encircled by the little red brick wall - something ancient slept.
Torfang, son of Brindall, the last great Fire Drake in the world, lay coiled like a huge serpent around the vast hoard of treasure that had been collected over centuries and which now lay buried beneath the barrow.
For decades the dragon had lain dormant, basking in dreams as old as time, as mankind hurried about its day-to-day business above ground, ignorant as to what secrets may lay hidden under Bracken Wood.
From the corner of the vaulted chamber, Hillary tapped his staff on the ground and coughed politely. Wendle cocked his head inquisitively before furiously scratching behind a flea-ridden ear. Eliza just stood there in silence with her arms crossed.
The huge dragon lying at the centre of the cave stirred, slowly opening a saucer-sized reptilian eye. A vivid yellow pupil stared straight back at the old man, and a voice like quiet thunder resonated around the chamber.
‘Who is that? Is that you Bellock?’
‘Yes.’ replied Hillary. ‘And Eliza.’
Wendle gave himself another good scratch behind the ear.
‘I was dreaming.’ said the dragon, wistfully. ‘Dreaming of the world as it used to be.’
‘Oh?’ said Hillary.
‘Nevermind.’ replied the dragon. ‘It matters not. Why have you awakened me?’
‘It’s the start of spring, time for you to wake and make the trees grow and the flowers bloom.’
Hillary tried hard to disguise the tremor in his voice.
Torfang opened his other eye and lifted his great head slowly.
‘Already?’
The great dragon reached forward with his huge talons and opened his mouth wide as if trying to stifle a yawn, which revealed a massive row of razor-sharp teeth that glinted softly in the low light. Then he stretched and flexed his great leathery wings, creating huge downdraughts that blew around the cavern.
‘Same as ever then Hillary?’ said Torfang smacking his chops.
‘I wish it were.’ mumbled Hillary, looking nervous.
‘Oh? Please tell me more.’ said the dragon, shuffling around on his great hoard of treasure as he tried to get comfortable.
Eliza turned to Hilary.
‘Something terrible is about to happen.’
Her words echoed around the cavern.
The dragon was taken aback slightly.
‘Something terrible?’ he said, craning his great neck forward and squinting. ‘By all means please elaborate…’
‘Two forces have arrived in Blakeby.’ she said. ‘Two children have moved into the village who I believe are special to us.’
Torfang narrowed his eyes. ‘Special? In what way?’
‘I believe they are the descendents of the royal line of Talistay.’ She turned to look at Hillary. ‘The line we thought had disappeared has returned.’
‘I see…’ said Torfang raising a leathery eyebrow in surprise. ‘And the other force? You did speak of two did you not?’
‘I’m afraid the other force is something altogether more ancient and diabolical.’ Hillary paused as if doubting the words he was about to speak. ‘The Brotherhood of the Fiery Brand has returned.’
Torfang coughed in surprise.
‘The Fiery Brand? Are you absolutely sure?’
Hillary nodded.
‘Even though I witnessed their fate in Acre in Palestine in 1291, I wasn’t entirely sure, and then Eliza found this in the Ketton library archive.’
He held out a photocopied newspaper cutting dated August 13th 1947. It read:
Exciting discovery in Palestine
After lying entombed in a ditch just outside the ancient city of Acre in Palestine for over six hundred years, British archeologists discovered the remains of four mummified bodies. It is thought that the mummies were holy men of some kind as they were excavated fully dressed in hooded robes - although this will require confirmation from experts in the field.
The remains are thought to be contemporary with the crusade of 1291 when the city was overwhelmed by Mamluk Turks under the leadship of al-Ashraf Khalil. First hand reports suggest that the bodies had been tortured and torn apart limb-from-limb – injuries that would be consistent with using a medieval torture implement such as the rack.
What makes the find even more surprising is that in each of their clenched hands was a single golden ring. It raises the question as to why the rings were not taken by the Mamluks before they were buried.
Further more, it has been reported that the four monks are in an excellent state of preservation, but at the time of going to press no such reports could be confirmed.
Efforts are now underway to bring the remains to the British Museum in London, where it is hoped they will be displayed at a later date.
Hillary held out another extract.
‘And then we found this. Dated just a year later…’ he said.
Break-in at the British Museum
The remains of ‘The Acre Four’ – the mummified monks who had been discovered dismembered in a ditch outside the ancient city of Acre in modern-day Israel last year – have been the focus of an intense investigation by metropolitan police.
It seems that the new exhibits which had recently been re-united with the rest of their bodyparts and put on display, have been stolen. The glass case that kept the rings that had also been discovered along with the bodies had also been smashed and the contents taken.
The police are continuing their enquiry.
‘They’d been lying there for 650 years in that damn ditch.’ said Hillary. ‘And if those archeologists hadn’t uncovered them, we would have been none the wiser and none of this would be happening.
‘The sultan used their powers to overwhelm the city but then became concerned about their abilities and had them assassinated… It would seem that because they had been reunited with their bodies, they were able to live again – if that word could ever apply to them – and resume their quest…
‘The point is that we’ve both had dealings with them,’ said Hillary, ‘although I have yet to meet them face-to-face so to speak.
‘They made an appearance six months ago, trying to intimidate Eliza into revealing the whereabouts of you. Fortunately she escaped in the guise of an Owl.
‘And just yesterday, one of them tried to steal my collection of notebooks.’
Torfang breathed deeply.
‘I see.’ he said.
The dragon hung his great head closer still.
‘I believe you Eliza.’ he said, with words as soft as clouds. ‘But after all these centuries I find it hard to believe that they are still clinging on to their shadow-like existence.’
‘Well believe it,’ she said, ‘because they’re here, and they’re looking for you.’
‘We know they want you for something, but we don’t know quite what for yet.’ said Hillary, elaborating.
Torfang looked puzzled.
‘What would they possibly want with me?’
‘We don’t know.’ sighed Hillary.
‘All I have is my egg.’
And then Hillary jumped up as if finally understanding.
‘Of-course! That’s what they want!’ he cried. ‘They want your egg! It all makes sense now. I must return to my library to consult my books!’
Torfang rolled over slightly. Lying on top of the hoard, underneath the dragon’s soft belly, sat a single glittering jewel-encrusted egg that shone with a strange translucent light from deep inside.
Hillary knew that a dragon egg had to be incubated for hundreds of years before it could finally hatch and Torfang had only just laid it when Queen Victoria ascended the throne – a little over a century and a half ago - which was absolutely no time at all to a dragon.
He also knew that there had never been male or female dragons to speak of - just one sex that never mated. They were notoriously long-lived creatures with enormous intellects, harbouring a worldly wisdom and great intellect, often existing for thousands of years at a time.
Yet, curiously over that vast lifetime never laying more than a single solitary egg.
Hillary knew that if the egg was taken, it would signal forever the end of dragons on earth, and who knows what that would mean? As far as he knew there was only one dragon left on the planet, and as long as there was one still alive, he would protect it no matter what.
He’d committed his life to preserving the last vestiges of the old ways, and whilst he was alive to do anything about it, he along with Eliza would remain the last guardians even if, at times, they didn’t quite see eye-to-eye.
‘Before they take my egg…’ the dragon growled, rolling back, little wisps of smoke rising from his nostrils. ‘I’m afraid I’d have to incinerate them first. I don’t think even they could possibly survive that…’
Hillary looked worried.
‘No doubt, but the question is: what do they want with you or your egg?’
Torfang sighed.
‘Who knows. What other events have been happening? Has anything strange happened that you’ve noticed?’
Hillary nodded. ‘Now that you mention it, a relic was stolen from a nearby museum – a petrified Wyvern’s egg. Although the general consensus was that it was always assumed it to be a fake – nothing more than a polished stone – it was nevertheless quite genuine. I can testify for that…’
Hillary laughed to himself.
‘I could kick myself now, but what made it stand out at the time was the fact that nothing else went missing from the museum.
‘And just last weekend a gargoyle was taken from St. Mary’s Church. But this wasn’t the work of vandals you see, they didn’t just take any gargoyle, they took the Ketton Cockatrice.’
‘Ahh, I see… and naturally you suspect something?’
‘The Ketton Cockatrice was turned to stone by its own reflection. I told the farmer how to defeat it all those years ago. And now I can’t help but think that there is some dark purpose behind it all.’
The dragon snorted and nodded its head slowly.
‘Hmm. A wyvern’s egg and a cockatrice…’
The dragon gave a deep sigh, and curled his tail around his body.
‘You don’t have to consult any of your books because I know the spell that these ingredients refer to.’
‘You do?’
Hillary felt the blood drain from his face.
‘Indeed. In fact, if this spell is cast, it will not just affect matters locally.’
The dragon closed his eyes and lowered his head.
‘My, my, no. This is very serious.’
Hillary looked expectantly at Torfang, waiting for him to answer.
‘If this spell is cast it will affect the entire world.’
‘Why? What would it do?’ Hillary asked weakly.
The dragon sighed deeply.
‘So dreadful is the consequence that it pains me to relay it to you.’
‘Nevertheless, tell us.’
‘As you know, our two worlds have been slowly drifting apart for centuries. There will come a time in the future when they will eventually part. Of this there can be no doubt. As the veil is severed, magic will cease and an ice age will begin as it did thousands of years ago before our two worlds collided.
‘What this spell will do is bring that day forward by a thousand years.
‘The fabric of magic would be destroyed totally and forever.’
Hillary looked dumbfounded as if trying to take everything in, and then he finally spoke.
‘But this is madness. There is no reason for it.’
‘Because Hillary,’ sighed Torfang, ‘the Fiery Brand are cursed. They are shades - ghouls - neither living in this world or the world of the dead, but a half-life somewhere in-between.
‘You forget, they are searching for a way to break the curse placed upon them by Loreilance all those centuries ago. They wish to become mortal once more and that is a powerful incentive indeed.’
The dragon sighed again.
‘But their curse is powerful. It cannot be undone by conventional means you see. The only way it can be dispelled would be to either destroy magic completely, or by the person who cursed them repeating the incantation backwards.’
‘But Loreilance died over a thousand years ago.’
‘Exactly, Therefore they have little choice but to continue along their current path of action.’
Hillary thought for a minute, going over some things in his head.
‘But that would be disastrous. I dread to think what would happen if they did it. It’s unthinkable. The ends do not justify the means.’
The dragon shook its head.
‘It is not unthinkable. It is very probable that an ice age would return like the last one. It took several thousand years for magic to return even then…’
‘The change in the weather would have terrible consequences for the entire world.’
‘I can’t believe I didn’t see this earlier!’ Eliza shouted in frustration.
Hillary tapped his staff on the floor hurriedly.
‘Listen! Just a minute, they need three eggs for this spell to work. They need a Fire Drake egg. We know they have the Wyvern egg, and they have the Cockatrice. But the Wyvern and Cockatrice are both petrified… and the more pressing question beyond the fact that they are stone is: how do you get an egg from a petrified Cockatrice?’
‘Hillary, come now. You know it is a simple matter to reverse the effect of petrification and no doubt the Fiery Brand has the means to do this. And a Cockatrice being a voracious pest, will start laying eggs as soon as it can. It’s only a matter of time. They are true aberrations of nature and it must be destroyed.’
The great dragon lifted its head to the cavern roof in thought.
‘The last ingredient is with me. They will try every means to get it. But I will be here for them Hillary. You can be sure of that.
‘It is imperative that we protect the children also. The royal bloodline must be protected at all costs. Bring the children to me tomorrow, we must tell them about their past and with it perhaps their future.
‘We must not let the Fiery Brand succeed.’
There was a small silence, before Torfang continued:
‘Even if I have to be destroyed in the process… These elements have been brought together for a reason. We must allow things to play out. We must all play our parts.’
There was a silence that seemed to last for an age, before Torfang lowered his head towards Hillary, ‘I also sense something else has happened…’
The dragon’s eyes narrowed.
Hillary looked confused for a while, thinking about how to phrase the words.
‘Something strange happened earlier this evening. I don’t really know how to explain it and I know it sounds ridiculous but I swear the mist outside the windmill was spying on me. Almost as if it was being controlled by someone.’
The dragon nodded and for a moment was lost in thought.
‘Without doubt there will be a mastermind behind all this, but it is difficult to see clearly - the way is shrouded.’
‘We must be careful…’
