The Dragonskin Chronicles Bk. 01

"She's been with the Orcs since she was a child," explained Zyndyr, "I think she believes she is one of them; her half-Dwarf-half-whatever-he-may-be boy child is as Orc-like in his behaviour as one would expect him to be if that is the only life he has known since his birthing."

Zyndyr examined Korwyn's thigh wound, after ripping open the leg of his woven wool trousers, and made a poultice of astringent berries and clay, covered with wildvine leaves, binding it in place with knotted vines, all found near the brook. Then she refreshed him with a fragment of her berrypollen cake and a mouthful of drink from her flask, which tasted better than any wine or water he'd ever tasted. She sat and tended to her own wounds, laying on strips of what looked to Korwyn like spiders' webs.

"Your thigh wound is as much a freeze burn as a cut, Korwyn. There's more to your Dwarf sword than a simple weapon, the handle seems curious, too, as if it contains a device that would take time, that we don't have, to open and examine. It seems too small a weapon for you, Wyn. A broadsword would be more suitable."

"I had a broadsword once. I broke off the blade, stabbing that Black Dragon up through the soft flesh below its chin into its brain, the tip of the blade breaking on the inside of his thick skull."

"I see. So where did you get the Dwarf blade?"

"A Dwarf crone gave it to me on my way to the Palace. She addressed me by name, before I had even introduced myself at their court. She pressed this sword and scabbard into my hands and insisted I take it. Her eyes were unlike any other Dwarf I've known. I think she cast a spell on me as I accepted the sword and have not allowed it to leave my side these last five days since."

"A Witch! I thought all the Witches and Sorcerers had left this world after the Hawkshart battle. She must be a half-Witch-half-Dwarf, as the Sorcerers would only take the pure-bred with them."

"Where did they all go?"

"Back to their world ... also my world. We are not of this earth, Wyn, Man is the only native here among the higher forms, unless you count the Undead."

"Your world?"

"Our world would no longer support us, in fact nature revolted against our various peoples, earthquakes destroyed our civilisations, even the plants and the rain that fell became poisonous to us. We came here five thousand years ago, through Sorcerer and Witch magic to allow time and the magic we left behind to help our world to recover and repair itself. After Hawkshart we determined our time here was past, but we couldn't take with us or leave behind the Dragons, not after their treachery on that fateful day. They would have wiped you off the face of your own world."

"No, Dragons can be killed by man, if one is determined enough..." Korwyn began.

"Your Dragonskin cloak and boots, are testimony to that, Lord of Man. But all the Dragons are gone now."

Korwyn cleared his throat. He felt he had to ask, the Elf's state of near-undress had disturbed him more than he would wish while she had ministered to his wounds.

"Tell me, Zyn, your armour covers you completely when you fight the Undead, yet exposes your flesh almost completely when fighting Orcs, it appears to not work as right as it should."

She smiled, "Living armour is fickle, it is to be admitted. The truth is that once expanded it corrodes in contact with Orc blood, so it remains tightly closed to its basic form which has a thin shell of coating protecting it from harm."

"But what about you?" Korwyn asked, "you've been splashed with Orc blood, I know it burns my skin like acid does."

"Oh, Orc blood doesn't hurt my skin, see?"

She peeled back a web from the skin on her thigh and even the Orcblade cut, which he saw her cover up moments before, had disappeared without leaving a scar, her skin, taut across her long well defined thigh muscle, was flawless. He dare not look too long that he was slightly embarrassed and he always went red faced when caught out in something close to guilt. So he looked into her face, framed by her green hair, which somehow no longer seemed strange but had become part of what made her so spectacularly beautiful. They exchanged a long glance eye to eye, before looking away and making themselves busy in cleaning blades or adjusting various fastenings for looseness or anything to keep their eyes and hands occupied. It seems their initial distrust of each other was being replaced with something else, respect, perhaps, thought Korwyn.

As for her healed wounds making her perfect again, it was Elf magic, thought Korwyn, what else could it be?

"So, Korwyn, tell me, why do you so hate Elves?"

Her frankness startled him. Over the last few hours they truly had become companionable, even uncomfortably intimate, their lives recognisably held in each other's hands. However, he couldn't escape the fact that he had indeed stated his abhorrence so vehemently at their very first meeting. It required an explanation. He owed her that if only as she was now his tried and tested sister-in -arms.

In reply he simply pulled his shirt over his left shoulder, revealing a terrible scar. Although it was almost twilight, he knew that her Elf eyes would see it clearly for what it was.

"An Elf-arrow wound!" she gasped.

"Aye, I received this almost as soon as the Battle of Hawkshart Plain commenced, and my father was also wounded, maybe killed outright by an Elf shaft at the same time, while riding next to me, as we moved into position as reserves behind our King. We were not regular soldiers, but local militia, nothing but husbandmen, farmers and fishermen, who did part time defence duties. But we were well drilled for all that, my father always insisted. He and I had served our time in the Service of the King, my grandfather. My father had previously served several terms and was free of any further commitment, but I was two years into my second short service to the Crown. Our attention was taken when a Dragon poured fire on us from behind. At the same time the Elves opened fire upon us humans. I was thrown from my horse when the arrow struck me and I rolled away into a ravine, lost and forgotten. Before I lost consciousness, I saw Dragons hit us from the flank. The Dragon doing most of the damage was a dark black one with a missing toe, I will never forget that terrible image. I never saw the rest of the attack. They slaughtered my father and every one of our Militia with Dragonfire, men I had known all my life. We lost the King and Crown Prince, too, only my youngest uncle, unfit after being thrown from his horse days before, survived to be crowned King. I awoke in a field hospital, my wound roughly dressed, the surgeon left my mother this reminder."

Around his neck, attached to a leather thong, was an arrow-blade. It glowed faintly in the dark, ten years on still retaining some residue of Elf magic.

Zyndyr reached out with a hand to better examine it, saying, "We saw the Black Dragon attack the rear of our enemies and wipe out your reserve force. It was only a single Dragon, black from tip to toe, but the effect was so devastating that you might have thought that there was more than one dragon. We were shocked as we did not expect it, as much as you were. As you know, both sides agreed to meet at Hawkshart Plain for a parley, our single objective to agree a peace between all the higher people's of the planet. In the centre of the field was a long table presided over by the Sorcerers and Witches, those independent of warring alliances which had cursed us for many years, to arrange a truce between us and make judgement upon our various claims."

"Yes, Zyn, that is what we understood, too. If we had expected trouble, we Militia would have been at the front to bear the brunt of the first attack, while the Palace Guards would have been held in reserve. They were up front in all their plumed helm glory and light shiny, but rather ineffectual dress armour."

"Aye, the Elves, Fairies, Dragons, Spirits, and Eagles were ranked up on our side in a show of strength against the Dwarves, Gnomes, Trolls, Goblins, and Mankind upon yours. The Original Treaty of Hawkshart Plain, for possession of the open plains linking the mountains and their ores, the forests and the sea was never signed then. When the assault came, a few of us started cheering and loosening a few arrows at your side's forward positions. Then suddenly, the Black Dragon, your one with the missing toe, turned and attacked us, the Elves, supposedly their allies—"

She stopped in mid-sentence when they both heard a commotion from the direction of their charges.

The Princess and The Boy were wrestling over some object. Zyndyr leaped to where they were sitting, Korwyn following on more stiffly, his thigh still hurting, although a whole lot less than it previously had, he noticed.

By the time Korwyn reached them, Zyndyr had torn a severed Orc limb from the Boy and flung it to the ground by Korwyn's feet. He noticed in places the stinking raw flesh had been gnawed almost to the bone. The Boy had chewed through his web gag, in desperation to eat raw Orc flesh, like the savages they had both become under the guardianship of the Orcs.

The Boy leapt from his seat and crawled towards his 'meal', but Zyndyr held him fast with a foot on his back. Korwyn pulled The Boy up and sat him next to his mother. The Princess hadn't moved, her infant noisily feeding from her exposed breasts. Both The Boy and the Princess had Orc blood and gore on their lips, running down past their chins and dripping onto their ragged clothes. Their hands too, were covered in blood and worse. Both looked wild-eyed at the dinner denied them.

"This is disgusting," Zyndyr snapped.

"The Boy has been brought up by Orcs, while the Princess has been among the savages and the Undead for five years, they would have been used to Orc food, raw flesh. She must have hidden the severed limb in the babe's wrappings. She even seems to have lost the power of speech," Korwyn said, "all we have heard so far are grunts and squeals from The Boy and nothing at all from the poor girl. They do not act as though they have been liberated, but more like they are the abducted. You have lived with these Dwarves for four years, Zyn, your Dwarvish must be better than mine! Talk to her, reason with her why we are here and where we are taking her."

Her Dwarvish was a lot better, even Korwyn's untutored ear could appreciate that immediately. She spoke the strange tongue with the melodic fluency of a popular ballad. He even understood three-fifths of it, but the Princess did not appear to comprehend a word. She glowered at them for a moment, before settling back, contentedly suckling her child from her bare breasts, unaware of any need for modesty.

Zyndyr leaned forward and adjusted Myr's dress, to cover up the unused breast. Korwyn fetched water from the brook and wiped their mouths, chins and hands of blood, using a washcloth from his bag. He offered them a piece of meat pie each and they snatched it from his hands and began eating ravenously. Zyndyr buried the Orc arm out of sight behind some bushes.

Korwyn walked over to whisper to the Elf.

"Zyn, the Princess, she was supposed to have had her finger severed, yet I have washed them clean and all her fingers are intact. Is she the real Princess?"

"Aye, did you notice the webbing I put on her fingers?" She continued after Korwyn nodded, "she had a bloody rag around her little finger, the skin roughly torn no doubt to remove the ring. The web is repairing the damage. I imagine the finger sent to the king was some poor captive Dwarf or even an Orc halfling, I doubt King Kendrak would know his own daughter's hand if he could so easily give her up in the first place."

"But why offer a reward to Merks for a rescue attempt after all this time?"

"He has plans to marry her off, to strengthen his grip upon the seven crowns."

***

This weekend was Clive's turn to drive half the day there and back that it took to Carole's mum's house, where his wife was raised, with so many memories. The old lady's own memories were gone, however, she never recognised Clive and was only lucid with Carole occasionally. They looked at a local home with nursing care facilities while in the area. The decision to move the old lady was not far off being made, but Carole was too upset to decide on which one yet. Her mother had never liked Clive, so he kept out of her way most of the time. Cutting the grass was his first task, it having grown several inches since their last visit a fortnight before.

He welcomed the solitude in the quiet garden, it gave him time to relax and think, even day dream. Fast becoming Clive's only pleasure.

***

"I too, lost family and friends at Hawkshart." Zyndyr said, after Korwyn woke her from her nap for the second watch, "it was I that persuaded my Queen that the Dragons be asked to assemble on our side, against her better judgement. After they attacked your force with just the one Dragon, as a diversion, they waited until the lone one had sprayed us with fire before the rest of them hit us with their full force. We thought they had plotted to attack us to settle an old score from the Old Home World."

"I hunted down that single Black Dragon, for two years, from after I had recovered from my wounds. I would never have found him without a tip-off from another old crone in a dimly-lit tavern," Korwyn grinned without humour in the bright moonlight, "I wear his skin upon my back and wherever my feet tread, as a reminder that justice comes to all who persevere."

"I too, am known as Zyndyr the Dragon Slayer. Immediately after the battle I swore to avenge my fallen comrades and slaughtered every last one of them, except your Black One. It was only as the last one died that I learned ... well, what I discovered led my Queen to ban- ... send me to the Dwarf High King Court for the next decade. Wiping out an entire species, my Queen told me, was grossly exceeding my military authority."

"My lands were impoverished after the plains battle, with no one to work the fields or man the fishing boats. All down to that Black Dragon's attack from behind, where my father, my grandfather and two uncles perished. We were struck down by Elvish arrows at the start of the battle, when we had thought we were well out of range of your archers."

"You were indeed well out of range. But you survived that ordeal."

"Aye, thanks to the determination of the surgeon and my determined hatred of Dragons and Elves."

***

Clive took Michael to stock car racing on the Monday night to get him out of the house and give him a lift after the disappointment of the weekend at Carole's Mum's. It can't have been much fun for the kids. Carole was treating the girls to a Disney movie followed by a fast food treat.

Part of Michael's problems with school work was that he never socialised with other children, or had any outside interests. When at home he played racing games on the computer and Clive wanted to wean him off his obsession. They had an enjoyable night out eating junk food and pop, bonding once more as parent and son.

***

Just before dawn Korwyn was awoken by a rumble and explosion louder than any thunderclap that he had ever known. Zyndyr was standing next to the Princess, as if she had just jumped to her feet. There was a red glow in the sky to the north, the direction of the mountain they had been running away from. He noticed that The Boy had also been awakened by the noise. The Orc Baby had begun mewling, either frightened or hungry for the teat. The Princess cowered from the glow, comforting her little one and The Boy.

"What was that?" Korwyn asked.

Zyndyr leant down to hear what the Princess was muttering. Korwyn realised that Myr had overnight regained her power of speech and conversation. He recalled that when he first opened his eyes he thought the Dwarf Princess and Elf were deep in conversation together.

"She tells me it must be the father of The Boy, an ancient Sorcerer. After pleasuring himself repeatedly with her, she says he went down to a sleep chamber in the heart of the mountain to hibernate and resurrect his body, to become a young sorcerer again. The chamber is in a lava flow so he had to change his shape into a fireproof Dragon. Myr says that is why the Undead were 'modified' by him using spells, to take his orders and give them. The Orcs and Undead must have awakened him early, because of her escape, and he will be angry. She fears he will destroy us all, he was the most powerful Sorcerer, known as the Mad Wizard of Yandor."

"I thought you said all the Sorcerers went back to their, your, home world."

"They did, the last of them a year ago, but this Sorcerer, was disguised as a Dragon, and was in hibernation. It is also possible that he was only a half-Sorcerer, not pure bred. Only the pure were permitted to return to the home world."

The sky lightened, and not just with the approaching dawn. It looked like a new moon had risen in the north and rapidly headed south towards them. As it came closer, Korwyn could see that it was a huge white dragon, glowing like molten rock, a stream of white-hot ash trailing behind its long tail. As it flew, no doubt searching for them, it sprayed fire from its mouth, setting the forest aflame, flapping his wings and creating a raging fire which whipped across the whole width of the forest.

"We need to run, Wyn," Zyndyr cried, "if we stay among the trees we will be trapped by the flames, while south of us are grassy hills and streams, with rocky outcrops and lakes beyond. There we can make our stand."

Korwyn picked up The Boy, who grinned at him, quite a contrast from the previous day. He noticed that Zyndyr had collected the Princess. The Dwarf Princess was no longer passive, she clung onto the waist of Elf with one arm, leaving Zyndyr's arms free to fire the bow which she held ready in her hands.

Zyndyr led the way south. Now it was quite light and there was no need to keep to streams to disguise their scent on the way they were headed. They were anxious now to put as much distance between them and the Dragon that they could, or risk be trapped in the blazing forest.

"Looks like you didn't kill the Last Dragon after all." Korwyn panted.

"Aye, it seems that way. You cannot kill what is hidden from view in the roots of a mountain." Zyndyr yelled back as she leaped a fallen log. "There's an escarpment we are heading for, if we can make it."

"I think it's still looking for us as it is spreading fire right across the forest."

The smell of burning reached them as the wind picked up, generated by the wings of the White

Dragon and intensified by the heat. Soon glowing embers swept past them as the fire advanced faster than they could run. Zyndyr was soon well ahead of him but kept in view as she picked out a route that he could manage to follow. With her wings, even though they were tiny, she could leap over larger obstacles that he would have to climb over, but she was maintaining a low profile so that she wouldn't appear in the White Dragon's eye-line.

The Boy screamed in Korwyn's ear. He looked behind him and could see the White Dragon bear down on them. He pressed on, just catching sight of Zyndyr, ahead in the distance.

"Doran Ta!" cried The Boy, who had his arms around Korwyn's neck.

'Doran Ta?' Korwyn thought, 'Dwarf for 'Right'?' he said aloud, "Right!" he yelled as the meaning dawned on him and skipped a step to his right, just as The Boy screamed again and a spray of incredibly hot Dragon breath scorched the trees immediately to their left. Half a dozen desperate steps and Korwyn burst out of the blazing trees onto rocky grassland, and up a short incline.

"Doren Bé!" cried The Boy, still holding on for dear life.

This time Korwyn immediately leaped to his left and over the brow of the hill, skidding down the other side, as the grass where he had been running was scorched down to bare earth. Ahead of them, grazing sheep scattered in all directions, a Dwarf shepherd with a long white beard leapt off a log he was sitting on into a nearby brook to escape the edge of the flames. Meanwhile, the White Dragon flew past them, trying to sit upright, and flapping his wings desperately, to brake its forward momentum to relaunch its attack on Korwyn and The Boy.