The force of the lightning strike flung Tiernach backwards. A flicker of motion in the corner of his eye – Lanna. She fell behind him, making no noise other than the thud of impact upon the rocky ground. Was she...? Tiernach couldn’t move, couldn’t see, could sense nothing but the shadows among the rocks. Dark, hungry shadows that leapt and surged forwards, eager to embrace him into the nothingness of death...

“My Lord?”

Bolt upright in his bed, the leonin stared into the darkness. “Lanna?”

“My Lord?”

“Katrina...”

“Yes, my Lord,” she said quietly, her voice soft. She sat up behind him, putting her arms around him. “You were dreaming...”

“I know I was dreaming,” Tiernach snapped, his voice hoarse. “I know,” he repeated, softening his tone as he felt Katrina flinch at his anger.

“Does something trouble you, my Lord?”

With a short, bitter laugh, Tiernach rose from the bed, breaking her embrace as he reached for his night robe.

“The First will make an inspection today,” Katrina reminded him as he drew back the curtain, looking out at the ashen grey dawn. From the tower high at the side of Chasmhold keep, the surrounding countryside looked pallid and colourless. Far below, the iron grids that covered the great pits in the courtyard showed as dark, regular shadows upon the grey ground.

Now not just two, but three of them bore the marks of occupancy, scrapes and claw marks in the soil. The red dragon, the first to be tamed, still lay down there. The white, the fastest flier, patrolled the sky around Chasmhold. The blue, the latest ‘convert’ as the First would have put it, now swam the ocean between Lordenor and the Freelands, watching.

Unconsciously, Tiernach’s gaze was drawn to the table across the room behind him, to the parchment report upon it.

Aleana. Sighted, and detained. There had been one, glorious moment of relief as he first read these words – but it had been short lived. Escaped within hours of detention. Tiernach’s anger at this last still seethed inside. Did they not realise how important she was?

“She will be found again, my Lord,” Katrina said softly, still sitting on the bed behind him. “But she will be trouble if we do not find her soon... her only reason to be in the Freelands is surely to reach the king.”

Tiernach grimaced.

“It won’t matter. The armies will meet in a few days, and my father will be captured long before Aleana can reach him. She will have no choice but to turn back. We will find her then.”

“As you say, my Lord,” Katrina nodded.

Somewhere beyond the window, a bell sounded, signalling the changing of the watch.

“We should prepare,” Katrina said. “The First will be expecting too see his new soldiers.”

Tiernach nodded slowly, a faint shiver passing down his spine.

“Excellent.”

Shoulder to shoulder, broad, solid, and motionless, the results of Tiernach’s work stood in rank and file in the courtyard. Not hunched, or mishapen, or shambling like the first attempts, these stood erect, symmetrical, and quite colourless. Not a hint of the rich browns, russets, tawnies or pinks of life showed in the ranks. Not that they were dead, far from it, simply that something about the process they had undergone seemed to have leeched all colour from their bodies, leaving them a range of mottled greys.

It was the eyes which Tiernach found most disturbing. Black, and devoid of any spark or glimmer of light, seeming to absorb all that fell upon them, it was impossible to be sure which way they were looking.

“Excellent,” the First repeated quietly, pacing slowly along the line. “Their strength, endurance?”

“Considerably improved,” Tiernach stated.

“Intelligence?” the man raised an eyebrow.

“Basic, functional.”

“Loyalty?”

“Unquestioning.”

“Morals?”

“None.”

“Excellent. Side effects of the process?”

“It seems unlikely they will live as long as the host normally would have, the physical enhancement will probably burn their bodies up within a decade.”

“I see.”

Returning to stand beside Tiernach, the man cast back his hood, gaze roving hungrily across the grey ranks before him. Watching him, the way his lips parted in a thin and predatory smile, Tiernach could barely repress a shiver.

“Our loyal converts,” the man said quietly. “Well done, Prince Tiernach. You must be very proud.”

Tiernach did not answer.

“How rapidly can you process more recruits?”

“As swiftly as the maggots can be encouraged to breed. They could potentially double their numbers every eight to nine days.”

The First closed his eyes, a visible tremor of excitement running through him. “Then, Prince Tiernach,” he said slowly. “I hope they are feeling amorous.”

“Teleportation,” Tiernach stated calmly, his gaze on the dragon slumped in the dirt. “Tell me about it.”

The dragon blinked slowly, seemed to be thinking. “That would be unwise,” she answered simply.

“Unwise!” Tiernach exclaimed, taken aback by the unexpected response. “Listen to me, dragon, I have achieved this magic, I understand its secrets, its intricacies, its crafts,” the leonin stepped forwards until his boots were mere feet from the dragon’s chin as the great head rested on the ground. “I do not need your council as to the wisdom.”

“Then you were undamaged?” Orange eyes gazed back at him calmly.

“I... I was...” Tiernach hesitated. “Refinement is required,” he admitted.

“There is no refinement,” the dragon told him calmly. “If you have travelled the hidden paths of the backworld, and are alive, then you have mastered such travel as much as you may. The toll the journey exacted upon you can neither be prevented, nor undone. The damage is permanent.”

“Damage?” Tiernach narrowed his eyes as a cold prickle ran down his spine. “How much damage?”

“For a single passage through the backworld, limited, if you are lucky. But each time you travel those paths, the same penalty will be inflicted. Your body can only tolerate a limited number of journeys before you will become...”

“Injured?”

“Unrecognisable.” The word was spoken quite calmly, but it gave Tiernach a cold chill nonetheless.

“Do you still wish information about traversing the backworld?”

It was only a small hesitation, but Tiernach felt sure the dragon had noticed, and hated her for the question. “Of course. I want to know if a person can be brought to a location by the spellcaster.”

“No.”

“No?” Tiernach frowned.

“No. An object may only be sent through the backworld, not retrieved. That which the caster cannot see, the caster cannot affect.”

“That’s ridiculous!”

“It is logical,” the dragon corrected smoothly, and Tiernach wondered again just how strong a power he held over her. “How can you hope to accurately send something via the backworld if you cannot accurately locate it?”

“But... can you not...”

“You know the required level of accuracy.”

“I...” Tiernach paused.

“Why did you ask this?”

“How can you question me?” Tiernach countered, watching the dragon’s face carefully. Just how much under his control was she? Admittedly she had made no movement since he entered the pit, still lying where she had been, quiet, and docile. But to question him?

“I question you because you choose me to be able to. You are aware of that.”

Did he? Tiernach wondered. No, surely it was easier with the dragon silently obedient! Except... were she so, then she would be unable to warn him about the dangers of his research. She may already have saved his life once this day, prevented him from exercising the dangerous power at his control. Perhaps... deep down, he did prefer her this way. And so the fragment of the staff had commanded her to be. Still limited, but... freethinking.

“Hmm,” he grunted non-committally. “No matter. I ask because I wished to retrieve my father.”

“Then I am sorry. It is hard when our actions place a family member in danger yet beyond our reach. I am sorry, I cannot help.”

She means it, Tiernach thought. This dragon, this creature held in servitude and helplessness by his will... regretted that it could not help him.

“We have a strange relationship, you and I,” he said, without really meaning to.

“We do,” the dragon confirmed quietly, her breath warm against his legs.

“Do you... hate me for it?” Tiernach asked, unable to help himself.

For several seconds, the dragon did not reply, her crimson flanks heaving with her slow, steady breaths.

“I cannot hate one such as you. You do not understand your folly. You do not understand why I pity you.”

“Damn your pity!” Tiernach spat, anger surging inside him. For a moment, his hand closed spasmodically around the fragment in his pocket, a desire to hurt the dragon in his mind, but... no. Not this time. He turned his back on her, placed his hands on the ladder behind him. “I will keep you here until one of us is dead,” he stated calmly, looking over his shoulder. “If you won’t hate me, hate your captivity. But don’t you dare to pity me. You have no idea of what I am capable.”

Watching quietly as the leonin ascended, the dragon sighed. “Yes, I have,” she murmured, her words unheard in the darkness of her earthen cell. “You poor, poor young man.”