The Dark Taal

(Book 1)

Instinct, or it could have been acute awareness, caused Perak to look up as, with a crack, a branch split loose from above.

‘Aridain, look out!’ Grabbing his grandson, Perak leapt to the side as the large branch crashed down across the path. Helping Aridain to his feet, fear gripped him as Chipper growled ominously, and he stared in astonishment at a small, child-like figure that stepped on to the path from behind the thick trunk of an ash tree, its footfalls in the grass, where it brushed against foliage and grasped tree trunks, leaving dark cancerous stains. He realised, without knowing how, that it was this that had spooked the animals in the woods earlier, and now caused him to freeze in fear.

The small, stooped figure seemed to be coated in dull, black treacle and its undulating skin, instead of reflecting light, seemed to soak it up, as if attempting to suck the warmth from the world.

‘Grand Pop, it looks just like me,’ said a fascinated Aridain.

Despite his fear, Perak peered closer. Recoiling in shock, he said apprehensively, ‘Yes, yes it does.’ Then, ushering Aridain behind him, he backed away slowly.

‘What’s the matter, Grand Pop?’

‘What are you, and why do you look like my grandson?’ he demanded.

Through a dark tangle of straw-like hair, the Dark Creature opened its maw to reveal a mouth full of razorsharp incisor teeth. ‘Grraannddfffaatthherrr, Brrotthhherrrr.’

‘What do you mean, “Grandfather”? I’m not your grandfather, and Aridain, certainly is not your brother.’

Suddenly the creature shambled towards them with spindly arms outstretched and, opening its maw once more, emitted a mournful, ear-piercing shriek. ‘Gggrrraaaandddfathherrrr.’

‘Aridain, no!’ Perak watched in horror as Aridain’s, and the Dark Creature’s hands, touched. There was a resounding thump and a muted flash. Suddenly, Perak felt himself tumbling through the air and landed in the stream in a cascade of water. Before he blacked out, he felt the stream’s frigid waters closing over him.

The Shadow and The Shards

(Book 2)

‘A Cleaver tree,’ he despaired. ‘Why did the carriage have to settle against a Cleaver tree?’ As quietly as he could, he approached, meticulous in his foot placement, wincing at every sound beneath his feet. As he crept closer through the shadows, the final resting place of the school’s carriage became more apparent, as did the deep scars inflicted by the tree’s lethal spikes which peppered its framework. Then, peering to his right, he saw the destruction the carriage had wrought as it had careered through the thick undergrowth. Peering cautiously into the interior, he turned at an unearthly sound, his hand instinctively going to his sword once more; this in turn stirred the red tinted and streaked branches above his head.

Remember where you are Trover Born, this place is no different to the Wilds where you grew up so don’t provoke the Blinks’ wildlife, he thought, and quickly snatched his hand away. Opening the carriage door, he peered inside. Lying on the floor amongst the carnivorous plants, creeping inexorably over the ornate carvings and expensive trim, were the bloodstained remnants of clothing, ripped and torn as if some half-crazed beast had run amok. On further inspection, the rags turned out to be the dark green cloak, trimmed in white and gold worn by Almagest, but of the wizard, there was no sign. Probably taken by a beast of some kind, he thought. He turned his head at a low moaning sound, which was quickly followed by another. Spinning around, his nerves jangling, he peered into the shadows. Suddenly the water-soaked floor of the carriage, rotten with the escarpment’s infestations, gave way, and he fell against the tree’s trunk. Grasping one of the many invasive vines, he kept perfectly still as with a loud groaning sound a branch, tipped with jagged spikes, crashed through the carriage’s side, splitting it in two. Suddenly, one end of the carriage broke away and he felt himself falling with it. As another thick branch spiralled in from the side, it dislodged one of the carriage’s springs that boomeranged through the air, embedding itself into the trunk where he had been standing moments earlier.

Hauling himself into what remained of the carriage, 5 Trover Born he then leapt to the forest floor as another branch ripped through its remains, smashing it like tinder wood and sending it spinning into the ravine below. Without a backward glance, he ran as fast as his legs would carry him, stumbling and tripping through the dense foliage, following the carriage’s destructive path. To his relief, he emerged on to one of the many hairpin bends in the Gondarian highway that snaked its way down through the forest. Shaking his head and bending over to gain his breath, he heard the low moaning sound again, only this time it was much closer. Drawing his sword from the holster upon his back, he held it out in front like a talisman, ‘Show yourself, you cowardly creature,’ he growled as much from fear as from rage, ‘come sample my sword’s edge!’

The trees parted, and he stepped back in disbelief. Part abomination and part sapient, the dark, skeletal creature, a deviation from the natural order, sported Almagest’s face. It stared at him with eyes that had overseen countless negotiations and presided over many treaties; eyes that had seen over one hundred and fifty dawns. Bearing its sharp fangs from between thin, crusted lips, the creature shifted its attention to Vanir’s sword. Hissing frustratedly, it disappeared back into the thick undergrowth, leaving Vanir alone in the silence on the Gondarian highway.

Prophecy & Allegiance

(Book 3)

Soaring above the fields, the air was cold on his hot skin. It was the reason dragon kind loved northern and temperate climes. The cold felt so much more comfortable; the cold made you feel more alert, more alive. Revelling in the freedom of flight, Sabra, the dragonlet, dropped lower, skimming the earth towards a swarm of echo bugs. With a jet of flame, he opened his crocodilian jaws, scooping the incinerated insects into his mouth, startling deer and rabbits cropping on the grass, and scattering a flock of panicked wood pigeons into the air.

Licking his lips, Sabra followed the young Aridain as he led Kale eagerly through the trees, the rays of the noon-day sun causing the blanket of snow on the woodland floor to shimmer like diamonds. Settling in the branches above, Sabra, realising a worrying fact, warned, If he is an Animistic, youngling, then why can’t he hear us?

Sabra, now you’re just being silly. Perhaps he’s just not listening?

Unaware of Aridain’s and Sabra’ conversation, Kale, gazing around the canopy, said, ‘There’s an ancient magic here. It’s in the ground, the trees and in the very air we are breathing, can you not feel it, Aridain? I don’t suppose you know the reason for these changes?’

‘Of course, I do, so, do you?’

After a few moments of silence, Kale declared, ‘Of course, the sapphire sprites, I was there in the grove when you and the creature joined. Tell me, what does pure evil feel like, Aridain?’

‘What do you mean, Mr Kale?’

‘You know, when you and the creature merged, how did it feel?’

‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

‘That’s a shame. Joined, you must have felt powerful and unstoppable.’

‘Where’s the fun in that?’ said Aridain, looking up at Kale innocently. ‘The nasty died sad and lonely.’ Then more upbeat, Aridain said, ‘Come on Kale, I haven’t seen my friends in a while. You can meet them if you like?’

Sabra gazed balefully at Kale. It seemed to the dragonlet, almost as if Kale were convincing himself of his own words, as if he was listening to a separate voice in his head.

All too soon, they reached the grove and Sabra flew through the branches, watching. Closing his eyes and reaching out to the sapphire sprites as he always did, Aridain stood confidently beside the cherry tree sapling. However, his smile soon turned to a frown and, with a perplexed look on his face, shouted, ‘They won’t come down. I told them who you are, but they’re scared. They say you are different now.’

‘Different! That’s ridiculous,’ chuckled Kale.

Now more than ever, Sabra, convinced that something was amiss, shouted into the younglings mind, They don’t trust him, youngling. If you won’t listen to me, listen to them!

Ignoring Sabra, and mistaking Kale’s caution for disappointment, Aridain said, ‘Don’t be sad, Mr Kale. Grownups locked them away, and they were treated badly for a long time.’

‘Can’t you talk to them? Tell them I mean them no harm.’

‘It might be to do with my recent struggles with the creature, but I’ll try again if you like?’ said Aridain helpfully.

And I’m the spawn of a scarrion lizard, youngling! retorted Sabra.

‘It’s all right. This is my friend, Kale. He won’t hurt you!’ shouted Aridain into the surrounding trees.

When the sprite’s still failed to appear, Aridain looked disappointed. ‘My dad says I shouldn’t choose creatures over humans. He says sprites are scarce because their magic causes confusion and disorder, that they disrupt the natural order of things,’ said Aridain, carefully mouthing the complicated words. ‘But my grandpop says they are part of nature and that they make the world a better place.’

‘And what do you think?’ asked Kale.

‘I think my dad is very angry at the moment. He has a bad man inside his head.’

‘A bad man? What do you mean?’

Youngling, I implore you, don’t tell him another thing.

Be quiet, Sabra. Everyone keeps telling me what not to do, but Kale is my friend and he listens to me.

‘A bad man that won’t leave him alone,’ continued Aridain, juggling the two conversations simultaneously.

‘Remarkable,’ nodded Kale. ‘Have you done any other remarkable things recently, Aridain?’ asked Kale, following the youngster along the well-defined path.

‘Well, I found out I can fly with sparrow hawks and buzzards. Grandpop called it Trans... trans.. habit..’

‘Transhabitation.’

That’s right, and when I climbed Pellagrin’s oak tree with Duran, a strange woman talked to me.’

‘Strange woman?’

‘Yes, in a dream. She wore a mask and was dressed in long dark red robes and was in a large, round, blue and green room, but it wasn’t scary.’

‘Can you tell me more about this woman?’

Alighting on a branch above their heads, Sabra hissed menacingly.

‘Stop hissing Sabra, you’re being rude,’ admonished Aridain.

Your so-called friend is not to be trusted, Sabra hissed.

‘Ignore him, Mr Kale. He’s always grumpy. He is over a hundred years old, after all.’

‘Who is?’

‘Sabra.’

‘Is he really, although I am intrigued as to how he talks to us? They’ve never been known to obey humans,’ said Kale.

Did you hear that, youngling? What do I have to do to convince you?

‘Oh no, Sabra’s with me because he wants to be.’

His skin now a strange mottled greeny-red, Sabra demanded, As your guardian, I order you to stop talking to this human.

‘Intriguing,’ said Kale. ‘I’ll tell you what? When you’re old enough, you could help me learn about the creatures I keep and I could teach you magic. Would you like that?’

Sabra, his skin now a flame-red, indicating his level of frustration, watched as Aridain continued to ignore him. ‘Oh yes,’ Aridain said, nodding vigorously, ‘as long as they’re not in cages.’

‘Then it will be done,’ said Kale resolutely.

‘So where do you keep your animals?’ asked Aridain. ‘You don’t work at the school anymore.’

‘A secret place.’

‘What kind of animals do you have, Mr Kale?’

‘Unusual ones. I have piranha bats, Zircon worms and a woad spider.’

‘They’re strange things to have as pets.’

‘Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, Aridain. We like what we like. All animals, regardless of their tendencies, deserve to live.’

‘My dad says that some animals should be killed because they cause nothing but harm.’

‘We tend to attach human values to the creatures of the wild, when in fact we should see them for the way they truly are, wild and instinctive. Who’s to say what is good and what is evil? It’s all a matter of perspective.’

Sabra followed the pair to the stream, but no matter how many times Aridain asked, no sprites replied or appeared, apart from the occasional echo bug or mischievous woodland imp.

Turning abruptly towards Aridain, Kale squatted down in front of him, and searching his face, said, ‘We’re friend’s, right, and friend’s don’t lie to each other.’

Aridain nodded.

‘As you know, I was searching for the dark creature and now that creature is destroyed.’

‘Yes, I know,’ replied Aridain darkly.

‘It’s my belief that the creature pursued you for a reason. Do you know why?’

Aridain began to cry. ‘Yes,’ he said.

Sensing Aridain’s uneasiness talking about an experience he was trying desperately to forget, Sabra said urgently, Youngling, no, he cannot see the shards, no one can.

He won’t steal them, Sabra. He’s my friend.

Still oblivious to the secret conversation, Kale’s face took on a wistful quality. Then, smiling, he continued, ‘Lord Pellagrin himself entrusted me with your safety; if I’m to help you further, I need to know what the creature was after. Only then can I teach you how to protect yourself. Do you understand?’

Reaching into his inside pocket, Aridain said, ‘I would like that, because I don’t trust Auntie Magen.’

He then took out the silk bag.

Youngling, no!

Aridain looked up then as Kale reached for the bag. But Kale wasn’t quick enough as suddenly Sabra darted from the branch, snatching the silken bag from Aridain’s hand, before disappearing into the trees.

‘Sabra, what are you doing?’ shrieked Aridain.

What I must. He cannot have them, nobody can.

‘Sabra, give them back,’ demanded Aridain. When there was no reply, he screamed, ‘YOU NASTY DRAGONLET, COME BACK HERE!’

Children of The Stones

(Book 4)

Smiling in his newfound freedom, Ramus flew through billowing purple clouds, crackling with lightning and tinged with orange from the lava, spewing from the throat of a volcano roaring violently beneath him. He had no need for maps or landmarks. He could tell simply by the flavour of the ash which mountain it was.

‘So, Skulcsar, you vent your fury once more, no doubt as angry and ashamed as I at the ruin of our land and proud history,’ he roared.

Emerging from the ash cloud, and not far now from his family’s dragon sprawls, he soared high above the volcanic Zapatian plateau and the continent’s ancient pine forests.

Intrigued, he flew high above the volcanic plain, and what he saw shocked him to the core. The sprawls, far from teeming with a myriad of healthy dragons nursing eggs and young, now teemed with emaciated and anaemic females, chained to the rock terraces. People, like termites tending to a hive queen, scurried around the dragons tending to pipes that snaked from their hides to jars full of…, it was then that Ramus understood what was happening. The figures milling around the emaciated dragons were extracting blood.

Is this what you envisioned, Barons? Dragons, imprisoned at Kuelack’s whim, drained of blood so that the privileged and poor alike could indulge in euphoric visions of death and mutilation.

 So appalled and stunned was he, at the scenario playing out below him, that the silent attack from above caught him off guard. Banking sharply, he felt a dragon’s searing breath pass inches from his back. Completing his roll, he looked down upon a red and cobalt blue streaked dragon and its rider.

‘Gavail, Drakard, you’re both alive!’ Righting himself and gliding above the pair, the wind spewing from Skulscar mountain hot in his face, Ramus roared, ‘But I saw you both fall. How...?’

‘Our defence was a sham, a fabrication, as were our deaths.’

‘You were working with the Barons all along?’

‘You and your family, Ramus, they were already dead. It was only a matter of surviving the storm to come.’

‘You would be a party to what is happening below, Drakard. Our brethren, your mate, hooked up to blood pumps to feed the well-heeled in Aymara’s capital; all for the privilege of prolonging their lives; to look good when they finally join the gods they worship. We all come into the world naked, and naked we will die, no matter how you embellish it! What has happened to trustworthiness…, loyalty?’

‘You idealistic fool, don’t you see? What better way to control the powers that be?’

‘By making them dependent on dragon’s blood…!’ His mood turning dour, as he countered Gavail’s attempt to gain height above him, Ramus shouted angrily above the whistling of the wind, ‘So, what did Kuelack offer the Barons to make you break every vow you made to my father? You had standing, respect and esteem, and yet you chose to forsake all honour to be a tyrant’s pawn. Why?’

‘Your family for mine. That was my choice. It is better to be a pawn in the devil’s service, Ramus, than a fallen hero, incinerated defending a lost cause.’

‘Freedom and self-worth. These values are never a lost cause! Your words sicken me. They are not those of a dragon rider in my father’s employ.’

‘Outmoded sentiments. Times are changing, we are at war, and I have chosen a side,’ said Gavail, brandishing his spear aggressively.

Ramus watched guardedly as his former colleague tried to outmanoeuvre him, yet again.

‘You can either profit from war or become a victim of it,’ bellowed Gavail. ‘This is now Zapata’s course, its future. It is for our brethren’s sake that Drakard and I do this.’

‘No Gavail. This is not Zapata’s future. This is Kuelack’s future. He would plunge the entire world into darkness, and you would help him. You have sold your honour for cowardice, you both have.’

‘I have made my choice. My task now is to kill you, Ramus, now that you have returned. I do this for the lives below.’ Without warning, Gavail threw his dragon-forged spear that ripped through Ramus’s membranous wing, causing him to roar in pain and anger.

‘You fool, I have the advantage, I have the momentum, and in my heart, the righteous cause.’

Teeth bared, Ramus dived downwards towards Drakard, spouting white-hot flames, forcing the blue and white streaked dragon downwards. Flipping at the last second, Drakard, his skin smouldering in the cold northern air, presented his talons as Ramus slammed into the dragon, his momentum driving the two titans towards the tundra below. Ripping and tearing at each other, they tumbled onto the tree-dotted heathland.

Pinning Drakard to the floor, Ramus bellowed, ‘Stop this madness! There are too few of us left to be fighting amongst ourselves.’

Coughing blood, his body twisted and broken beneath Drakard’s armoured torso, Gavail croaked, ‘You know Drakard will not hear you whilst I’m alive.’

‘Then Gavail, you must die.’

Drakard suddenly inhaled, and initially, Ramus thought the blue dragon was attempting to burn him from his impossible position, but then Drakard clamped his jaws shut.

‘No Drakard, don’t do this! Think of your mate imprisoned in those sprawls. Think of spreading your wings and riding the winds, the skies can still be yours, you can still…’ Shaking his silvery head, Ramus spat, ‘Fool Drakard, you would obey this parasite, this traitor to dragon-kind?’

Ramus then took to the air as Drakard deliberately prevented the internal build-up of heat and flame from escaping. Heat permeating Drakard’s skin, he watched forlornly, helplessly, as yet another precious member of his kind turned himself and his rider to ash upon the tundra beneath him.