Tiernach looked up at the nobles seated in the senate chamber, his face composed but unable to hide the lines of sadness that marked his features.

“My lords,” he began, a catch in his voice. He cleared his throat. “My lords, and ladies. You have, I am sure, been made aware of the happenings of the past few days. My own brother, having spoken in contrary to the king’s orders, inviting acts of treason with refusal to obey, has left the city. This was neither with my knowledge, nor my approval, and it saddens me deeply. It is understandable that he found implementation of the king’s orders difficult. It is understandable that he question them. It is however, not permissible by law to disobey them. I want you to know, Lords and Ladies, that even a member of my own family, someone I grew up to trust and love, cannot be held above the law.”

The leonin bowed his head, leaning heavily on the lectern for a few seconds. A few whispers broke out around the council chamber, but they quieted as he raised his eyes again.

“To leave the city by such means, to escape the lawful detention that had been imposed, can only be interpreted as an admission of guilt. It had been my fervent hope that with time, and discussion, prince Kaja would accept the king’s orders, but alas, it is not to be. As much as I have a duty to protect him as my brother, my duty to the kingdom and the law must be placed first. With his departure, it becomes clear that he intends to pursue his defiance of the king’s law. The empty seats I see among you,” Tiernach’s gaze roamed over the dozen or so gaps. “Clearly indicate to me that he has begun a campaign of misinformation, one that puts the future of our kingdom at stake. Lords and ladies, at this time, we cannot afford such things!” A feline fist thudded into the lectern as Tiernach’s voice rose with passion.

“We are, lords and ladies, still at war. Now, more than ever, we must stand united! To be divided is to be conquered, and to be conquered means an end to all we have worked to achieve! An end to the safety of our children! I ask you now, not to be swayed by propaganda you may hear. Do not allow yourselves to be deceived. The king’s orders have never led us astray, through fifteen generations, and nor will they now. I ask you to stand beside me, and to stand beside the king, to show our enemies a strong and united front that can be breached neither by sword nor by word!”

A scattered applause began at the back of the chamber, swelling quickly until half of those present were on their feet.

“Thank you, my lords and ladies,” Tiernach looked quite overwhelmed by the reaction, motioning with his hands for calm. “I thank you deeply for your support. Together, we will overcome our enemies from without, and our minor squabbles within. I am going to issue,” he raised a scroll of parchment in one hand. “A warrant for the arrest and detainment of Prince Kaja. He will not be harmed, he will not be hurt. He will be returned to us alive at any cost. While his actions may speak against him, I cannot doubt that in his heart, he believes that they are justified. It is perhaps, partially my fault that I did not fully explain these matters to him. I ask your indulgence in this, lords and ladies. Help me to find him, and help me to show him how strong we can be by following the king’s orders. Help me bring him back, to stand by our sides once again.”

The applause was gentler this time, but lasted longer, many of the nobles grinning and nodding their approval.

“Again, my lords and ladies, I thank you,” Tiernach bowed to the room. “I thank you for your understanding, and for your loyalty, and I will see that you are rewarded with nothing but success. I have but one other matter I must speak of. I am going to absent myself from your company for a period not exceeding two days. A minor matter, have no fear, I simply intend to personally inspect Marshwall Keep. As you know, we are using Marshwall as a gathering point for our troops before they are allocated, and I feel it important to ensure maximum efficiency of operation.

“In the mean time, I am appointing Lord Blackwood,” he held out his arm to indicate the lupari standing up on the front row. “As regent in my absence. I ask you to show him the same degree of respect that you show me, and please try not to make him cry on his first day.” A small ripple of laughter passed across the chamber as Tiernach smiled. “Though I do not anticipate that you will encounter any great difficulty in such a short time,” he added. “If you will excuse me, my good lords and ladies, I do not wish to keep my coach driver waiting.”

With these final words, Tiernach bowed again to the councillors as they clapped politely, and left, a thin smile across his features. So they were still behind him, the majority at least. Good, perhaps the situation could be resolved after all.

Gritting his teeth against the flaring pain, Tiernach dug his fingers into the dirt, fighting the urge to cry out. To one side, the fragment of the Dragon Staff shimmered in the sunlight where it had fallen from his grasp, its glittering facets reflecting the light at unnatural angles.

With a curse, Tiernach spat onto the dirt. Yes, something was bleeding inside, but apparently not badly, and the shocking pain was fading now. The spell description had warned of discomfort, but that had been far beyond his expectations. A stupid mistake.

His breathing slowing, the leonin raised his head to survey the sunlit countryside. Clearly the spell had worked then, for scant seconds ago he had been in his workshop.

Instant travel. The ability to transport oneself between locations in a heartbeat, and the dream of magi for centuries. Apparently a dream not perfected, at least not by any writer in Tiernach’s collection. He spat again, noticing gratefully that whatever was bleeding had stopped. Pushing himself up onto his knees he surveyed himself. Everything seemed to be where it should, and now that the pain of the spell had faded he felt fairly normal. Good, perhaps there was some use in the experiment after all – if it could be made to work without the assistance of the Dragon Staff. He scooped up the fragment from the ground, dropping it into an inner pocket. Now, where was he? He looked around.

Leonin lips curled upwards in a thin smile of satisfaction. A little off target, but very close relative to the distance travelled. To the north, the craggy hills and cliffs of the highlands, the ground rising unevenly towards the horizon. And there, a mile or so away, his destination.

Once the greatest and most northerly fortress in Lordenor, Chasmhold loomed darkly over the surrounding lands. Spanning across the Chasmdeep ravine, it sat solidly between the rising bluffs on either side so that the only possible path in or out of the highlands for many miles around was directly under the keep’s great arch. A masterpiece of engineering, hundreds, perhaps thousands of tons of solid stone spanned the gap between the two halves of the keep, requiring no intermediate support.

Centuries ago, Chasmhold had been the centre of many a battle, been manned by thousands of troops loyal to the kingdom, proud to defend their homelands against the nomadic, barbarian tribes of the north. From the tops of the castle’s great ramparts, lookouts had given warnings of barbarian gatherings still miles away, sending the defenders scrambling to man their posts. From the vantage point of the arching Chasmspan, they had rained arrows and projectiles upon those underneath, defying once again an attempt to pass into the green shires of the kingdom beyond.

So strong had been the castle, and so determined its defenders, that in the end only one thing had been able to breach its walls. Peace.

In an unprecedented move, a young barbarian warrior by the name of Cane had carried before the gates of Chasmhold the flag of truce, claiming to represent his tribe’s desire to bring an end to the fighting. Though sceptical, the commander had brought him inside – unarmed –  to see what he wanted. It was the greatest, and last mistake of his career.

Unknown to the soldiers in the castle, but quite known to Cane, he had brought among them a plague that had been ravaging the highlands. Knowing that his time was short, knowing that to return to his tribe would be to bring death upon them, he had seized upon his last chance for glory. Not the honourable warrior’s death that the barbarians desired, but a victory against so many foes ensured Cane his place in song and memory. It also ensured that nobody from Lordenor was willing to set foot inside the fortress again.

It was a scant victory for Cane’s people. The plague continued unchecked across the highlands for years after his death, much to the relief of Lordenor, who had expected a barbarian outpouring and instead had a quiet decade.

Now, that was all ancient history, the plague times forgotten, and the barbarians numbers ever growing. Chasmhold had been claimed as theirs and, once the skeletal remains of the defenders had been cleared out, became the seat of power for the Chief of Chiefs, the one warrior who could command the respect of all the chiefs of all the tribes. It was a title that changed hands frequently, but after the sacrifice of the legendary Cane, Chasmhold had become almost as holy ground, and fighting within its hallowed halls was strictly forbidden. Under the control of high officers of all the tribes, the fortress stood firm as the greatest barbarian stronghold ever to exist.

The Brotherhood of the Eye however, had proven to be most persuasive, such that they now had the space, and the manpower needed to fulfil their task.

As Tiernach swept in through the front gate, he glanced at the guard. Large even for a leonin, he bore all the qualities that the barbarians prized – heavy muscles that were clearly outlined beneath tawny fur, a solid jaw and sharp, keen eyes that met Tiernach’s without the slightest sign of fear. An odd contrast between the two of them, Tiernach thought to himself. He the shorter, the slimmer, yet dressed in fine cloth while this barbarian wore only rough leather leggings and jerkin, with crudely made boots that didn’t quite fit properly. Held loosely in one hand, a massive battleaxe – quiet unnecessary within the walls of Chasmhold, but it seemed that the barbarians considered not being in possession of a weapon to be a sign of weakness.

At least, Tiernach noted with a twitch of one eyebrow, they had been trained to salute, even if it was a sloppy gesture at best.

It was only the wealth that the Brotherhood had brought that kept the barbarians polite, Tiernach knew. Though the tribesmen shared a love of steel and of crafted metal, the highlands were neither rich in ore nor in those prepared to take the time to properly smelt metal. When the Brotherhood had arrived bearing gold, and steel, and the promise of battle in exchange for loyalty, it had taken remarkably little time to persuade the inhabitants of Chasmhold to join their cause. Here, at last, was a chance to indulge the centuries old enmity between the barbarians and Lordenor, a chance for glory and power.

The daylight assassination of the chiefs of all the clans had probably helped as well. Used to rule-by-strength, none of the barbarians had even questioned the right to challenge, or the right of the victor to claim leadership.

Savages.

Necessary savages, but savages nonetheless, and he had little care for them. It would have helped if only they could be persuaded that washing would not make them lesser warriors. Tiernach’s lip curled as he passed the guard, proceeding into the outer courtyard, a giant space between the outer and inner walls of the keep.

Around him, the great walls echoed to the sound of footfalls and movement as people scurried back and forth along the walkways above the great pits below. Once designed as an area for the drilling of troops, the courtyard had converted quite efficiently to its new purpose. Now its circling walls towered higher than ever above the ground within, the digging crews having removed hundreds of tons of earth and rock to make the four huge pits that spanned the entire area.

Between each trench, a solid wall of earth ten yards in width, and above each a heavy lattice of steel bars. Massive winches had been erected upon giant gantries overhead, heavy chains descending to provide the enormous strength necessary to lift so many tons of shining metal. To one end of the nearest trench, a soldier in the uniform of a Lordenor sergeant – with the addition of black leather shoulder pads, upon each of which was embossed a crimson circle. The mark of the Brotherhood. So it had come to this, then, Tiernach thought somewhat bitterly. Even as he sought to swell the ranks of the Brotherhood by other means, they went behind his back to steal his own men. So be it.

“Open it,” he growled, walking towards the sergeant, looking down at the iron grid over the pit.

“Highness,” the man saluted, before turning to bark the order loudly across the courtyard. People came running from all directions, answering the summons with swift efficiency. Metal groaned under the strain as the giant chains were hauled over their ratchets, lifting the bars just enough for Tiernach descend into the pit via the ramp at the end. Behind him, he sensed several people looking at his back in concern and anticipation. None but Tiernach had ever dared enter the pit, and with good reason.

“There is an island four hundred and twenty one miles north west of this point. You will take me to it,” Tiernach stated calmly, his eyes glittering in the sunlight that filtered through the grid overhead.

The red dragon gazed back at him. Even lying down, the top of her head was almost on a level with Tiernach’s, but the orange eyes were dulled and placid. Around her neck, the dark band of the collar – the one thing that was keeping Tiernach alive. Despite the lack of motion, Tiernach felt certain he saw the faintest crease of a frown upon her scaled brow.

“Speak,” he told her.

“That island is... dangerous,” the dragon said slowly, dreamily. “We should... not go there.”

“That is not your choice,” Tiernach said.

“I understand.”

“What do you know of the island?” the leonin asked, curious.

“It is an... island of fire. The ground... melts... it is hot.”

“Can you withstand it?”

“Of course,” only the faintest note of surprise could be made out in the dragon’s voice, but Tiernach caught it none the less.

“Do you know why I wish to go there.”

“You wish... more of what you carry...”

Tiernach’s eyes narrowed, his hand instinctively closing around the fragment of the Dragon Staff that he had under his coat. “You know the location of other fragments?”

The dragon said nothing.

“Speak!” Tiernach demanded.

“I do... not,” the dragon shook her head.

“But you knew of the one there.”

“The island is not... friendly to your kind. You could have... no other desire to travel there.”

Tiernach glared up at the dragon, at the orange eyes that didn’t quite seem to be focussed upon him. Could she be withholding information? It wasn’t impossible, he thought. The Dragon Staff had the power to force a dragon’s actions, to dull its mind and make it compliant, but its power may not extend far below the surface. But then, the dragons had vanished with the destruction of the staff, how could she know anything about the locations of the fragments? There was no point in forcing further speech out of her on the matter.

“Where can I find others of your kind?” he asked instead, the thought dawning that this may be something she could know about. “Beyond those who were sealed in the cavern with you?”

No reply.

“You will tell me what you know,” Tiernach said softly, withdrawing the fragment of stone from his pocket.

“I...” the dragon’s eyes closed. “I do not... wish to...”

“You will tell me!”

Shifting slightly, the dragon raked the ground with her great claws. She shook her head, the shining metal of the collar glinting in the torchlight.

Tiernach focussed his will upon the stone fragment in his hand, ordering it to calm the dragon, to unlock her mind to him. He felt it warm in his grasp.

The dragon quieted, but her eyes were still open as her great head dropped to the ground, watching him.

“It does not matter,” Tiernach told her. “You two are sufficient to serve me for now. Four will be sufficient to conquer the world, used wisely.”

“I understand.”

Tiernach frowned, not quite sure if he preferred the dragon this docile or not. Walking forwards, he grabbed the side of the saddle upon the creature’s back and hoisted himself upwards.

The dragon had been right, Tiernach realised. It was hot. As they approached from the air – at the end of a journey that had taken even the dragon’s mighty wings almost a day – he could see that the entire island seemed to be wreathed in smoke. Thick columns of sulphurous smelling gas and ash belched from the side of one of the three mountains that made up the small landmass. Down its flank, a river of bright orange flowed, the heat perceptible even as they flew over it. Above the molten rock, the air shimmered, a curtain of heat rising upwards.

“It is dangerous...” the dragon informed him as she spiralled around the black peaks. “The island is... awake.”

“Understood,” Tiernach growled. “Where is it?”

“I can see it,” the dragon said. “Behind the third peak.”

“Take me to it.”

“As you wish.” The dragon dipped her head, spiralling lower, avoiding the poisonous fumes, swooping down to alight upon the black rock.

Tiernach climbed down, stretching his legs for a moment before looking around.

“Where?” he asked.

The dragon paused before replying, so much so that Tiernach was about to reach for his fragment of the stone when she finally spoke.

“Beneath.”

Tiernach’s eyes narrowed. “Beneath what?”

“Here,” the dragon indicated the ground in front of her.

The leonin growled. Well, he had expected something like this might happen. The only reason he had known about this fragment was due to an ancient text, written by a mage of long ago who located a fragment of the stone by accident. Realising at last its power, he had disposed of it as far from civilisation as he could, washing his hands of the matter and hoping, perhaps, that the fragment would be destroyed. He pulled the pickaxe from the dragon’s saddle, then looked again at the ground. Kicking his boot through the loose pebbles and ash, he swore as it scraped through to solid black rock.

“I cannot dig through this,” he glared at the dragon, who remained apparently uninterested, watching the column of black smoke rising.

“But you can,” Tiernach said coldly. “Melt it. Do not harm the fragment.”

The dragon sighed, her eyes flashing slightly, and once again Tiernach wondered just how far below the surface of her actions the collar around her neck was able to control. What was going on in the mind behind that scaled brow? Thoughts of death and dismemberment for himself, most likely.

He stepped back as the dragon studied the ground, then placed one great forefoot against the rock, claws scraping through the ash. The words she spoke were soft, and swift, and Tiernach strained to catch them, sensing the power behind the sounds but unable to follow the rapid recitation.

The rock glowed, swirling around a centre of a circle about ten feet wide, centred upon the tip of the dragon’s largest claw. She jerked her head, and the liquid rock rushed upwards in a wave, cresting in the air before showering down again as Tiernach dived for cover underneath her body.

“You...” Tiernach growled, half angry at himself for giving her such an opportunity. “Will never do anything that endangers me again,” he said, ensuring to make it an explicit order.

“I understand,” the dragon blinked slowly. “You should have moved away.”

Was that amusement in her eyes? Tiernach glared at her for a moment, then looked down into the centre of the depression left by the dragon’s magic.

There it was! Amid the rapidly cooling clumps of now semi-liquid rock, it glittered, clean and undamaged.

He paced around the perimeter of the hole for over an hour, waiting until the rock stopped smouldering before cautiously stepping down into the crater. Behind him, the dragon stood quietly, motionless but for her breathing.

“Now...” he donned a pair of thick leather gloves, and reached for the stone fragment, holding it up to the sky, marvelling at the way the light seemed to flow along the lettering carved into its surface. “Yes. Excellent. Do you see, dragon? Do you see this?” he held it high above his head as he climbed from the still steaming crater.

“I see.”

“Do you understand now that my plan will succeed?”

The dragon remained silent, regarding him expressionlessly. Thoughtfully, he sat down on an outcropping of rock and looked at her. As large as the proverbial house, and then some, he knew her body alone had the strength to flatten cities. The shimmering scales, as hard as the strongest armour, would turn any conventional weapon. But it was not the body that made the dragons truly powerful, not the mighty strength of bone and sinew, but the far greater strength of the mind, the natural and flawless grasp of the laws of nature that made them so proficient in the art of magic.

As she was, collared, and controlled, only a fraction of her strength could be used. The strength could be harnessed, the magic could be tapped, but the intelligence, the knowledge, lay locked inside.

“Do you understand that whether or not you resist me, the outcome will be the same?” Tiernach said quietly, gazing up at her. “Why do you fight me? You are powerful, as am I. Together, we could be more powerful still. Does that not sound preferable? Would you not prefer to work with me, voluntarily, of your own will?”

“No.” The answer was so simple that it made Tiernach blink a few times before he regained his track.

“Why?” he asked. “You and I could rule the world. You know we would have that power between us.”

The dragon stayed silent for so long that Tiernach began wrapping the fragment of the Staff carefully, preparing to hide it at the bottom of his bag, where he would not be tempted by it.

“You cannot rule the world. You are Tyrandius’ servant.”

A chill ran down Tiernach’s spine. Putting the silk wrapped fragment down, he stood slowly.

“What do you know of that?” he hissed.

For a moment, the orange eyes seemed to burn with hatred. “Tyrandius is an old enemy of my kind. I cannot mistake his hand overshadowing yours.”

She seemed to be speaking more freely, Tiernach realised. Perhaps because he had asked her a question, perhaps... his fingers closed over the fragment in his pocket.

“Nobody overshadows me,” the leonin growled.

“You speak from pride, not knowledge,” the huge head shook slowly.

“I speak from power!” As Tiernach’s eyes flashed, it was as if the dark smoke that issued from the mountain behind him pulled a veil across the sun, darkening the island, his voice echoing across the black rocks. “A power you well know, dragon!” Red light welled from between his fingers as he raised the fragment over his head.

The dragon staggered, as if hit by a great weight, her claws skidding through the black ash as her body scraped the ground.

“Do not mistake me,” Tiernach growled, striding to stand within inches of her head as her chin dug into the dirt. “Tyrandius is my tool in this. I use him for the knowledge he has, nothing more.”

Black ash coated her glittering red scales as she grovelled against the ground. When she next spoke, it was not in an angry tone rife with hate, nor the expressionless, flat voice that the Dragon Staff forced upon her. Instead, her voice carried with it a deep sadness, a profound pity. “You do not understand. You are so young. I am so sorry for you.”

Anger flared within Tiernach.

“You dare to pity me? You dare to do this?” His hand tightened about the stone and the dragon’s back arched in agony, the great feet scrabbling across the black ground. “You, who are bound by my magic, compelled to do my will? You who would fly into the storm until the lightning take your wings, because I wish it so? You, who if I commanded, would dive into the ocean until the depths crush you? You who have no power at all, you dare to pity me?” The last words were an anguished shout.

Panting, glaring at the dragon as she writhed on the ground in front of him, Tiernach held the fragment of the Dragon Staff up before her orange eyes.

“Do not ever speak to me again,” he growled. “If you do, I will destroy you.”

Spitting out a word of magic, he released the spell, the light from the stone fragment fading like cooling coals. The dragon shivered on the ground, her eyes closed, her twisted limbs relaxing as she breathed harshly, her red flanks heaving.

“We will leave, soon,” he told her. “Recover your strength and be ready to fly.”

Calinan peered out cautiously around the barn door, his eyes scanning the night sky. A cold north wind ruffled his dark grey fur, and stirred the branches of a nearby sycamore into rustling motion. Fifty yards away, the abandoned farmhouse sat dark and silent, the collapsed remains of its roof in silhouette against the stars.

“Is it clear?” Kaja’s hushed voice came from behind him, and the lupari nodded.

“It seems so. If it follows the pattern, it will be back in two hours. If we are swift, we can make Whitescar forest before it returns. It won’t be able to track us through there.”

“Right,” Kaja nodded. “Where the hell did that thing come from, anyway?” he asked suddenly, and with anger. “Two days it’s followed us. Why?”

Calinan just shook his head. Sighing, the leonin turned and went back into the barn, heading for a shadowy stall with a pile of straw. “Alley?” he said quietly, kneeling down next to Aleana’s sleeping form, holding his lamp to one side. “Alley? Wake up, we have to go.”

Aleana blinked as he shook her gently. “Mmm? Go? It’s still dark.”

“I know, but the dragon’s moved on and we have to go too. Calinan says we can make the forest before it comes back.”

“All right,” Aleana nodded.

Kaja stood up and leaned over the wooden wall to peer into the next stall. “Kennin?”

“I’m awake,” the vulpani answered, appearing around the corner, brushing straw off his jacket. He looked up as Calinan appeared from the far end of the barn, leading the horses.

Kennin held the carriage door for Aleana and Kaja as Calinan opened the front of the barn, before mounting his own horse.

“Ready, Highness?” Calinan called back into the carriage.

“Go,” Kaja’s voice came from the shadows.

With a flick of the reins, the lupari urged the horses out of the barn, and swiftly set them into a steady trot as Kennin kept pace beside them.

The road they followed was rough, and ill maintained, a sacrifice that Calinan deemed necessary in order to keep them away from the main routes which would surely be the focus of the dragon’s search. It was true, he reflected, that he had no actual evidence that it was searching for them, but under the circumstances it seemed extremely stupid to assume otherwise.

“Whitescar’s about two miles over the next hill,” Kennin said about an hour and a half later as he brought his horse cantering back from further along the road.

“Will we make it?” Kaja leaned out of the carriage.

“Just,” Calinan confirmed. He urged the horses to a slightly faster pace, but resisted the desire to push them into a gallop. They’d been working hard the last couple of days, with little rest, and were showing signs of exhaustion.

Reaching the brow of the hill, they looked down the incline towards Whitescar forest, which lay like a dark blanket upon the moonlit grasslands. Here and there, small clumps of trees dotted the downward slope. To the north end of the forest, a great hill rose high above the surrounding land, its rocky southward face shining bluish white under the moon. Heading south, the forest thinned towards the edge of Whitescar cliff, along whose base ran Whitewater river.

“It’s beautiful,” Aleana said, looking out across the darkened landscape.

“Yes, but that isn’t!” Kennin warned, pointing to the sky behind them.

Calinan followed the gesture and swore. “It’s early. Move!” he flicked the reins hard, pushing the tiring horses to a faster pace.

Behind them, the dragon soared through the sky, heading south west. Its rider yawned, raising a hand to shield its mouth from the biting wind.

There. That moving shadow in the roadway. What was that? The rider urging the giant mount into a change of direction, they swooped groundwards.

“It’s seen us!” Kaja shouted, leaning out of the window as the carriage thundered down the road. “Move it Calinan!”

“Don’t tell me, tell the horses!” the lupari snapped. “Highness,” he added quickly.

Kaja looked for a moment as if he was about to do just that, putting his hand on the door handle.

“Kaj!” Aleana warned him, and he stopped.

Still urging the horses on, Calinan glanced over his shoulder. For a moment, he couldn’t see any pursuit, but then the slowly drifting clouds moved away from the moon, and the dragon shone white in its light. Dark bands ran across its chest, looping up onto its back where a darker shape could be made out.

“That thing’s got a rider!” the lupari exclaimed, the wind whipping his ears.

“Who the hell rides a dragon?” Kaja leaned out of the window again, despite Aleana tugging at him to remain seated. “Calinan!” he continued, the dragon looming closer behind them. “Duck!”

The lupari complied just in time, throwing himself sideways in the drivers’ seat as the dragon hurtled overhead, great talons outstretched, clawing at the air where he had been.

“It could have crushed us if it wanted you dead! Instead, it just went for me!” Calinan shouted over the rumble of the wheels as the dragon banked in the air. “It wants you alive!”

“Why? Who would...?” Aleana watched the great form loop through the air to the north.

“Freelands?” Kaja asked, leaning over to Aleana’s side of the carriage.

“I think they’d prefer you dead, Highness!” Kennin called in through the window.

Aleana felt sick. “Tiernach,” she said quietly.

“Tiernach!” Kaja exclaimed, bracing one hand against the ceiling as the carriage jolted. “How would he have control over a dragon?”

“Do you know anyone else with mage training wants you captured?” Aleana demanded. “Duck!” she shouted out of the window as the whoosh of wing beats filled the carriage.

There came a clang from up front, the dragon’s talon bouncing off Calinan’s armoured forearm. Scrabbling to regain control of the reins, the lupari righted himself.

“Where did ‘mage training’ come from?” Kaja leaned out of the other window, watching the dragon circling around again.

“A man from the Order of Magi came to see me,” Aleana said breathlessly, leaning across the leonin as the road did it’s best to throw her out of her seat. “He said that he thinks there is someone else setting up the war with the Freelands, that it had to be someone in power, and with mage training!”

“And you didn’t tell me?” Kaja looked at her in astonishment.

“I didn’t want to believe it!” Aleana ducked as the dragon roared overhead, its talons raking great grooves in the roof, apparently having given up on unseating Calinan.

“We’re not going to make it at this rate,” Kaja leaned out of the window. Ahead of them, the road passed through a small cluster of trees, then it was about a mile of open grassland to the edge of the forest. “Kennin!” he scrambled over to the other side of the carriage, pushing past Aleana and shoving the door open. He could see the rough road surface passing in a blur of motion as he leaned out.

The vulpani closed the gap between his horse and the carriage quickly.

“Take Aleana, get to the forest. You’re light enough for one horse to carry both of you.”

“What? Kaj!” Aleana protested, tugging at his arm.

“Alley, shut up and do what I tell you,” the leonin grabbed her roughly, pulling her travelling cloak off the seat and fastening it around her shoulders. “It can’t follow us both. If we split up at least one of us will get away. Me and Calinan will go south, you go north. Meet up at the Oakroot estate later. You’re going to jump on with Kennin when we pass through those trees. The dragon can’t see you there.”

Aleana nodded as Kennin kept pace beside the carriage. Kaja stuck his head out of the window. About eight seconds to the trees. Six. Four. Two, he kicked the door open. One, he grabbed Aleana, swinging her out towards the horse beside them as the trees closed in around the road. She grabbed onto the vulpani’s shoulders, swinging her leg over the back of his saddle, dropping into place behind him with a skill that made Kaja grin despite the situation.

“Keep your heads down, ride fast, don’t stop until you’re under cover! Go!”

Breathlessly, Kennin nodded, digging his heels into his mount’s flanks, turning off the road and swinging towards the north, Aleana clinging tightly to his back with her cloak whipping behind her.

Standing, Kaja leaned out, grabbing hold of the luggage rail on the roof to keep himself stable as he watched the dragon. It seemed to hesitate in the sky as it saw its quarry split up. With a yank of the reins, Calinan sent the carriage lurching off the road and across the grass, putting greater distance between themselves and Aleana. Its wings shining in the moonlight, the dragon turned towards them.

“It was a noble plan, highness!” Calinan called to him over the thunder of the horses’ hooves.

“Thanks!” Kaja clambered up into the drivers’ seat. “But if it wants me alive, it better stop...” the rest of his words were lost in the roar of wings and the crunch of wood as the back half of the carriage splintered under giant claws.

“I don’t think it intends to stop,” Calinan suggested as a trail of splinters fell in the dragon’s wake.

Kaja looked to the north. “We can’t let it get us yet, it’ll have time to go after Alley.”

Calinan looked up as the dragon banked above them, then south. He tugged on the reins.

“I thought we were heading for the forest!” Kaja exclaimed.

“Backup plan!” the lupari shouted. “Duck!”

This time the giant tail came crashing against the side of the carriage, swerving it madly as Calinan grappled with the reins, the horses slamming into each other scrambling to regain their footing. Kaja turned his head to watch the dragon’s back as it soared up and away from him. Then Calinan pushed him off the seat.

With an exclamation off surprise, Kaja plunged towards the ground, finding his fall rudely interrupted by an oak tree. He gasped as the wind was knocked out of him in a rush, stifled a shout as he thudded against its knobbly roots, rolling into the deep shade of the copse of trees. Gritting his teeth as bits of him reported extreme pain, Kaja looked up at the stars through the leaves above him, trying to work out whether anything important was broken.

“And what was that?” he growled through his teeth as the shock of impact faded. “What the hell was that, Calinan?” his voice rose a little, but he resisted the urge to shout. Discovering that his legs seemed intact and working, he levered himself painfully upright, staggering towards a slim birch tree, leaning on it as he watched the carriage continue on its way. The branches above shivered as the dragon flew overhead, the downward sweep of its wings almost brushing the topmost leaves as it followed Calinan.

“No,” Kaja looked after it as it closed on the bumping carriage. “No, no, no! Calinan, turn! Turn, that’s Whitescar cliff! Turn!” Claw marks appeared in the tree bark as Kaja’s voice rose.

The carriage turned, swinging at the last possible second to follow the cliff, the dragon missing it by inches, soaring out into the dark sky.

“All right, all right, all right,” Kaja watched as the dragon arced against the stars. “Good, good, you’re nearly there. Head for the trees, you’ll make it!”

The carriage did not change course, however. Instead, it followed the edge of the cliff. The dragon swooped again, half turning it, but somehow it kept going, resuming its race along the cliff edge.

“What are you doing, Calinan?” Kaja asked through gritted teeth. “What are you doing, what are you doing, what...”

Diving in from the north, the dragon’s great talons connected again with the carriage, the wheels skidding over the stony ground, one slipping over the edge. For a moment, it hung at a crazy angle, struggling to stay upright as the dragon soared away, then toppled over the edge. Circling back, the dragon pulled up, hovering over the cliff edge. Following its gaze, Kaja saw nothing but grassland and shadowed forest. Aleana and Kennin had made it. They were beyond the dragon’s sight, and safe. As, Kaja suddenly realised, was he, in the deep darkness of the copse.

The dragon rider wrenched angrily on the reins, pulling the giant head upwards. The dragon banked westwards, powerful wings rapidly gaining altitude until it disappeared into the dark sky.

Calinan had saved them all, Kaja realised sadly. But at what cost?

Aleana watched, stricken, from the dark shadows of the forest’s edge as the carriage slipped over the cliff. For one wild moment, she almost ran forward, but a restraining hand on her shoulder held her back. Instead, she clung to a slender sapling as the dragon hovered in the air by the cliff edge, its blazing gaze seeming to start up the slope towards her.

It was only an illusion, however. The dragon did not see her, it did not come swooping towards them. Instead, it banked in the sky, and flew west, apparently deciding that there was nothing more to be done.

“Kaj...” Clinging to the sapling, she felt her knees buckle, sliding down the trunk, the bark biting into her palms.

“Princess Aleana?” Kennin’s soft voice came to her from the darkness. “Princess?”

“Kaj,” she bowed her head, kneeling at the base of the small tree, arms tight about it.

“Princess, I’m very sorry,” a soft vulpani hand came to rest on her shoulder as Kennin knelt beside her.

“Kaj... what am I supposed to do now? You were in charge, Kaj!” Aleana’s voice trembled as she whispered her thoughts to the night.

Kennin bowed his head. “Prince Kaja’s actions were noble, and fate has poorly rewarded him for his bravery. All we may do now is remember him in the highest honour. There is nothing you can do here, now. We should go.”

Swallowing, fighting back tears, Aleana nodded. After a few deep, shaky breaths she composed herself. Pushing against the sapling, and with Kennin’s hand on her elbow, she stood, shivering in the chill night wind.

“Here,” the vulpani shrugged his jacket off under his cloak, holding it out for her. “Your coat was... under the seat, wasn’t it.”

“Yes... thank you,” Aleana took the velvet jacket, slipping gratefully into it and pulling her cloak tighter about her. She looked back down the slope to the cliff, the waving grass moving darkly in the moonlight, and put a hand against the sapling again, feeling weak.

“Can you ride, Princess?” Kennin asked quietly. “I will lead Coppershine until we are out of the forest,” he patted the horse’s neck.

Aleana nodded vaguely, and distantly watched the vulpani help her into the saddle, taking the reins in his furred hand.

“Don’t worry, Princess,” he said softly, looking up at her. “We are only about a day’s ride from my father’s estate. If the dragon does not return, we will be there before nightfall tomorrow.”

“All right,” she said, vaguely, leaning forwards in the saddle, meaning to take some of her weight on her hands, but somehow it didn’t work properly, her hands going down the sides of the horse’s flanks. The blanket on the horse’s broad back looked very soft as it came up to meet her.

“Princess?” Kennin sounded concerned, but it didn’t matter, Aleana decided. The blanket was soft, and the saddle low at the front, letting her slump forward comfortably. That was the important thing. She closed her eyes, as the darkness of the night surrounded her.