The Enchanted Shield: Tales of a Dragon, #2

By Geoffrey Angapa

"You ought to have thought of that before. You are exiled from Newstead for ever. You are to leave the town by the morning. There is nothing that we can do. That is what the law says."

When Geoffrey is exiled from his village on a spurious claim, he turns to his old friend the Dragon; but the quest before them will be utterly unlike anything the two have ever encountered before. A journey stretching over vast and formidable distances, The Enchanted Shield follows their quest to find an obscure, mythical artefact and its elusive maker, while a shadowy figure looming in the background may threaten the very land itself and all they hold dear. Will they ever find it, and will Geoffrey ever return home, from the dear precincts of which he has been so wrongfully exiled?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Geoffrey Angapa
• Release date: Nov 1, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386548256

Book preview

THE ENCHANTED SHIELD

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The Enchanted Shield

BY GEOFFREY ANGAPA

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© Geoffrey Angapa 2017. All rights reserved.

First Edition, published first in November 2017

Cover designed with GIMP, using the painting Winter Scene in Moonlight (1869) by Henry Farrer; and the fonts Libre Baskerville by Impallari Type and Cormorant Garamond by Christian Thalmann.

Version 1.4

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Dedicated to my father,

Gerald Silas Angapa

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Note on the Text

If the text as it stands appears somewhat ragged and unpolished, I apologise to readers for that; and I promise I shall continue to work on the text, polishing it further, and bringing it as close to perfection as I can. I hope you enjoy reading The Enchanted Shield!

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Contents

The Enchanted Shield

Return to Wealdhall

Northward Bound

The Iron Fortress

The Iron Fortress: Continued

The Stockade

Snow and Danger

At the Giants’

Northwood

The Dismal Gate

Corridors of Ice

Corridors of Ice: Continued

Peril in the Dark

Moorton

Fields of Ice

Hephaestus’s Forge

El Sahra

The Town of Ouzera

Rasselas

The Prince and the Dragon

The Princess and the Prince

The Ruins

The Sand People

Danger and a Warning

The Adventure Pauses

The Shadow Fortress

Sana

The Singing Sands

Mizdah

The Stone Fortress

The Stone Fortress: Continued

The Citadel of Sands

Shadow Darkens the Land

Danger on a Hill-top

Rasselas Tells His Tale

More Learned

Hephaestus Found

The Search for the Three Princesses

Of the Shield Enchanted

Smoke and Shadow

Back Home

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I

The Enchanted Shield

ABOUT half a year had passed since I had got back from my adventure. I heard of quests and proclamations, but heeded them not. I took delight in simple things, and my work kept me busy and healthy. When I returned to Newstead the previous year, it had been the middle of autumn. Winter was now drawing to an end, and the first beginnings of spring were creeping over the land. The air still possessed a bracing chill; but each day the weather grew warmer and milder, and often got rather hot towards noon. The whole of Newstead seemed to be spring cleaning their homes, and that yielded a great deal of dust to the air. There were days when it felt as if it were summer (as much as there were days when it felt as if it were winter still).

Morning broke fair and bright upon Newstead. The sun was out, the mists had cleared, and the sound of birds’ tuning their notes could be heard throughout the land. I left home for the morning, and passing through the gates of Newstead, directed my steps towards Farmer Woodbine’s farmstead, which stood just outside the town. As I noted in the previous adventure, I worked as a cowherd. When I reached the farmstead, I greeted everyone I saw; and though it was only about half past eight, yet much work was already being done at the farm. Taking the cows, I led them to the fields so that they could graze.

What I found that morning was strange, or at least unprecedented, for the fields I always took the cows to—East-Fields being their name—appeared more yellow than ordinary, when only the day before they had been quite green. Odd, thought I; but not thinking too much about it, I decided to walk the cows to the other fields, of which there were several, that stretched round Newstead. When I got to them, I found the grass there was richer and greener, and so I let the cows graze in those fields, and the hours passed lazily enough. This week had been a drowsy succession of hot days, and that morning was no exception. Round about noon I wiped my forehead and had lunch. The cows relished both the grass and the weather, and wandered aimlessly hither and thither. Cows, said I, not that they could understand me, stay in one spot. Later, I took shelter beneath a giant tree in the field; and whether it was the food, or the heat, or the haziness of the air; or perhaps all these things together—which, I suppose, is nearer to the mark—I found I fell fast asleep against the tree. This had scarcely ever happened to me before. But that day, as we shall see, was an evil one, and I fell asleep. Upon awakening, I found a couple of guards standing near me. I recognised them from Newstead: the town-guard.

Good morning, said one of them, who seemed to be the leader. Do you know where you are?

Yes, I’m in Newstead. You recognise me? I live here. How do you do?

"This is Newstead, continued the man; but you have been very unfortunate in your choice of field, where you’ve let your cows graze. You’re in big trouble, and you’re coming with us, to the Council."

Council? said I, getting up from the tree and standing before them. What are you talking about? This is a Newstead field, and I can graze my cows anywhere I like.

East-Fields are for common grazing, said the guard; but you’ve entered fields out of bounds to the Common Folk.

Out of bounds? said I, getting rather angered, not to mention alarmed, by all this talk. That’s ridiculous.

Oh, ridiculous is it? You’ll see how ridiculous it is when we take you before the Council. These fields are forbidden, and that’s the law.

I knew no such thing, said I, and there wasn’t any such thing before. That new Council has been putting together its own laws.

That’s it! Let’s go! Keep your wit for the Council! Come with us!

I won’t go anywhere, said I. Besides, I’ve got to take the cows back to Farmer Woodbine. It’s getting late.

Very well, said the guard. You may take them back, but we’ll be waiting for you at the gates. Don’t think of going off; for we know who you are, Mr. Geoffrey, and have all your documents at Home Office. That’s right. Everyone’s documents are kept there, and there they shall remain. Once the cows have been returned, you shall be taken before the Council.

I tried disputing a little further with them, but try as I might, they would not budge. At length I agreed, so as to put an end to the argument; for it was growing late, and the farmer’s cows had to be returned to his farmstead. I got the cows together and proceeded thither, reaching it in a quarter of an hour. As it turned out, Farmer Woodbine was not there, being on a visit to his family at Montford, and thus I could not tell him about the incident; I sighed, for he might have aided me. The cows being returned to their places, I left and reached the gates of Newstead in half an hour; and there the guards stood waiting for me. We passed through the gates, while the light of the afternoon was fading round us, and then headed for the Council Chambers, as it was known. Once again I tried disputing with them, saying that I should not do that again, but the guards turned a deaf ear to me, and hauled me before the Council.

I stood in the centre of a circular room. Ahead of, and higher than me, sitting behind imposing wooden desks, were the members of the Council. My heart sank within me, as I threw round my gaze. We have been told by the town-guard—excellent guard they are—that you have committed a grave transgression, said one of the members. There are certain fields which are forbidden to the public.

Sir, said I, I knew no such thing. All the grass in East-Fields looked rather yellow to me, rather more yellow than ordinary; and so I took my cows to graze in better fields. I did no crime. I’m an honest citizen of Newstead. I do hard work, and never harm anyone.

Still, you committed a crime. Those fields are forbidden, and are not to be entered.

All right, sir, answered I; I won’t enter those fields ever again. I promise. I will keep to East-Fields and not stray from there.

It is too late. The deed has been done, and a punishment must be allotted to you.

This isn’t fair. I’m innocent. I did nothing wrong.

What is the punishment? continued the man, paging through a thick book, from which dust issued into the air of the gloomy chamber. Banishment it is. That is what the books of law say.

Banishment? But this is my home. I’ve lived here all my life.

You ought to have thought of that before. You are exiled from Newstead for ever. You are to leave the town by the morning. There is nothing that we can do. That is what the law says.

No, said I, this can’t be. I can’t be exiled from Newstead.

Whether you like it or not, you are exiled for ever.

Have mercy! said I. Please, sirs, is there no way that I can stay?

The chief member of the Council, who had been talking to me, looked into the book again, and flipped through the pages for a while. There seems to be a caveat, said the man at length.

What is it? asked I.

It is said, answered the man, of one who is sentenced to lifelong exile that, if he were to bring back from a distant land a strange heirloom, he shall be restored to his home.

What that heirloom is, said another member of the Council, is not stated; but custom prescribes that the Council shall determine what it is to be. We will decide.

Heirloom? said I, rather puzzled.

Yes, returned the principal speaker; we will decide what you shall bring back if you are to return.

The Council left the chamber, and were gone for about an hour. In the meantime I sat down on a chair that was near, and thought of all the evil that had befallen me. Time passed. At length the members returned, and took their seats again.

We have decided what the heirloom shall be, said the chief speaker. "You are to bring back to Newstead an artefact, an artefact known as the Enchanted Shield. Secure the artefact and return with it to Newstead, and your exile shall be dissolved forthwith."

The Enchanted Shield? said I. I’ve never heard of any such thing. Wait a minute! I’ve got an idea. I could return with the Golden Apple—the Golden Apple of Wealdhall—within less than two weeks.

No, the Enchanted Shield it is, and the Enchanted Shield it shall remain. Our meeting with you is over. You are to leave Newstead by the morning and are banished for ever; but if you were to return with the Enchanted Shield, your exile shall be reversed. Let us not find you in Newstead by ten o’clock tomorrow.

Led out of the chamber by the town-guard, and then left outside the Council Building, I proceeded, with heavy thoughts, home. Already it was night, and my mother was waiting anxiously for me at the door of our house. She had grown quite worried that I had not come home earlier; and upon seeing me walking down the street towards our house, she seemed overjoyed. But when I greeted her, and she saw that all was not well, she asked me what the matter was; and I, once we had gone within, and shut the door, told her all that had happened, and she was astonished, saddened, and angered.

That Council is evil, said she, as everyone in the town will attest. The old Council was never like this, Geoffrey. This Council finds fault with everyone in the town. You aren’t the first to fall prey to them, Geoffrey; and I daresay you won’t be the last. Almost everyone in Newstead has had an encounter with them. Even Farmer Wither, I heard. Just last week he was fined because of taxes or something. Mrs. Wither was telling me all about it the other day. Even Mrs. Milton, the baker’s wife, was complaining of the ill usage her husband has had at the Council’s hands.

This was all quite true. About three years ago, the new Council had replaced the old one, which, in contrast to their successors, had been a fair and just Council, listening to the voice of the People, except when the People were in the wrong; but through some kind of political machination, the old Council was taken down and another one set in its place; and it was widely believed across Newstead that the present Council was rather corrupt. In short, I was yet another casualty of the evil new system.

The next morning, after we had all eaten breakfast, my mother went to the Council Chambers, while I, packing what I could, remained at home. I had done much the same the night before, but there was still a great deal of stuff left to pack. My heart was heavy and I felt a burden on my shoulders, not from my pack, but from the troubles that had suddenly fallen on my life. But I remained as cheerful as I could, knowing that my return home would come. An hour later the door opened and then shut; and going to the sitting room I found my mother in tears. I hugged her, and asked her what had passed at the Council Chambers. They won’t listen, said she. They won’t listen to a thing. I don’t think they’ve got hearts, and I told them as much. Oh, Geoffrey! I tried my best to save you, but I’ve failed.

So I still have to leave, mother?

Yes, replied she.

What’s worse, mother, is that Sir Richard is out of town. Had he been here, he might have done something to stop that Council, I think.

I doubt whether Sir Richard, said she, would have been able to gainsay the Council. The Council do as they wish, and there’s little anyone can do.

You’re right, mother.

It was getting late; the town-clock had just struck nine o’clock; and I thought I had best leave Newstead before I was thrown unceremoniously out of it. Taking a last look at the rooms of our house, and fetching a deep sigh, I stepped out into the brightness of the town, and directed my steps towards the gates, my mother and brother accompanying me. The town-guard was stationed there, and one of them observed that I ought to leave the town (or well-run Newstead as he put it). I thanked him for his expressing the obvious, and I was going to say more, but thought the better of it and remained silent. I hugged my mother and brother, and hugged my mother again, assuring her that I should return to Newstead before she knew it, but the tears stood in my eyes, and my mother herself had been weeping since the morning.

"I will return home, mother, said I, aside to her so that the guards would not hear what we spoke. I will return home to Newstead. You can count on that. And that Council hasn’t heard the last of me! I shall get aid from my friend the Dragon, and together we will find this—Enchanted Shield. I do defy that Council and their villainy. I will come back, mother. I promise."

My mother wept; and again I assured her that I should return, and that all would be well. I took leave of her; and tightening the pack on my shoulder, as I did once not long ago, setting out to find the Golden Apple, I set forth for Wealdhall. If anyone knew what was to be done, it would be the Dragon.

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II

Return to Wealdhall

THE road stretched before me, as it had once before. The sky was clouded over, imparting a soothing shade to the land. The air was clear and not untouched by a slight coolness. The cold of winter was steadily fleeing, disdaining or rather fearing to linger about, for warmer times were advancing and threatening to usurp his throne. The deepening cover of the clouds suggested that rain might soon descend, and I hoped it would not, but stay as it was. The air, still at first, began to stir; and then I felt upon my head and hands the first drops of rain, which fell down rather strongly for a couple of minutes, but to my fortune, ceased as rapidly as it began and did not fall again. Not accustomed to hard travelling after returning to Newstead, all the walking speedily tired me, and it was not long before my legs were hurting. But the more I travelled, the easier and less strenuous it became, and I soon found I could walk without too much fatigue, as had been the case upon first setting out. The land was generally flat round Newstead for a couple of miles, but the greater region itself was full of hills, and this lent the region its name: the Land of a Thousand Hills. I passed several towns and villages, those of note being Sunnyvale, Hemel Hempstead, Chillingworth, Montford, Walthamstow, and Chatsworth, and also past the ruins of Castle Rising. (There was also the town of Hassle, so named because its markets were always too busy, making it such a hassle to buy anything there.)

I must here add something very singular I observed while travelling to Wealdhall. One morning, I saw at a great distance, behind the brown peaks that rose beyond the hills, a dark mist or cloud filling the sky. What it was, I did not know, but its appearance was somewhat like that of a cloud or a storm, though a rather strange assemblage of cloud, I thought. Yet this cloud, if cloud it was, moved in an uncanny, singular fashion, and, for a while, shaped itself into a form of some sort. But, continuing to look on, I saw the cloud beginning to dissipate, and vanishing by degrees. There was also this. Some fields I passed through, fields not very far from Newstead, appeared to have been burnt, and I was much surprised, this being a sight I had never seen on such a scale before. But it was intermittent and the rest of the land appeared quite ordinary. However, when I passed over these burnt fields, I noticed the effect seemed not to have been caused by fire: it had a strange appearance—more like it was withered, I should say—as if some other agency than flame had been the cause of it. While I directed my steps towards Wealdhall, I wondered about all these matters, but did not think too long or too much on them. Also, the dark cloud I never saw again, except once, three days after my setting out. Then I never saw it again. After about a week’s travelling I drew nearer to Wealdhall, and at length reached it.

It was a sunny day and round about nine o’clock in the morning. I travelled towards the Tree, the Tree of the Golden Apple, seeing it at a distance, not to mention a large figure sitting beside it, sometimes sitting, sometimes moving. The sound of birds was in the air, and the flowers of spring lent their fairness to the ground. The grass was green, and a pleasant haziness filled the air. I drew nearer to the Tree, seeing the Dragon sleeping or simply lying before it, and it was not long before the Dragon, descrying me from afar, got up from the ground, and dusted itself off. As I drew nearer, I could see the smile on the countenance of my friend. At last I stood before the Dragon and the Tree, and smiled as well.

The Dragon, stretching itself a little, and yawning a great big yawn, towered before the Tree, among the middle branches of which shone the Golden Apple. The Dragon’s tall stack of books stood beside the trunk, and a few books, some opened, some closed, were scattered here and there on the ground. What, what’s this? said the Dragon, much like it had done the first time I had encountered it not long ago. Are you an adventurer? Or a knight? Are you come hither to challenge me, adventurer? Adventurer I call you: for your trappings are not those of a knight, despite your boldness of demeanour. But knight or adventurer, prince or peasant, you shall be hard put to it if you persist in challenging me. The knights of today are not like those of old. Too many knights, too little challenge. I am not inclined to fight at present, but if you persist, I shall be constrained to enter into a terrible combat with you. And remember, Sir Knight—or was that Sir Adventurer?—remember that battling a dragon is no small matter. Not one to be taken lightly at all, not at all. Remember that, and all of you that challenge dragons. I should think twice, if I were you. So what would you have of me, sir?

The Dragon had no sooner finished speaking than it burst out into laughter, and so did I.

How do you fare, Dragon? Art well? ’Tis good to see thee again, my friend.

All is well. It’s good to see you too, lad. Where have you been all this time?

I’ve been back at home, Dragon, back at Newstead, and life has been good, and the weather is so fair these days. But a misfortune hath befallen me.

Misfortune?

Yes, I’ve been—how shall I say it?—banished, banished for ever. I’ve been exiled from Newstead, and that’s the long and the short of it.

Exiled? Banished? That doesn’t make a great deal of sense, my dear boy. How did all this happen?

Well, replied I, sitting down, I expect it would make a small tale in its own right, my friend. Here, Dragon, this is how it all began. So I recounted what had happened, and after my speaking, which took awhile, the Dragon was silent for a short space of time, musing on all that I had said.

That certainly isn’t just, said the Dragon, speaking at last. By the sound of it, this Council, as you have suggested, is indeed corrupt. I can tell you also this isn’t the first time we’ve heard of something like this. Ill weeds grow apace, and so do corrupt councils. But, lad, this Enchanted Shield you spoke of—I know something of it.

You do?

Aye, said the Dragon, nodding its head in assent; you see, it was crafted a long time ago by one Hephaestus, sometimes called the Northern Smith, though various other names there also are. Whether fact or conjecture, it is often said that the Enchanted Shield is in the smith’s possession still, though how true that is—or any of this for that matter—I don’t know.

Hephaestus? Where does he dwell, Dragon?

His dwelling is said to lie deep within the frozen reaches of the north, past the plains of Stavanger and the Icy Moors. Where it is exactly, I do not know. But it’s said many do travel to him, for the crafting of weapons and other things, and some serve under him as an apprentice. Those that learn the craft of ironwork from Hephaestus are said to surpass all other smiths in skill.

If I am to return home, I must secure the Enchanted Shield, and for that I will have to find this Hephaestus.

"It could be a wild goose chase, my dear boy. We don’t know where he lives, or where his forge lies, or whether he even exists for that matter; for some do say the Northern Smith is no more than a child’s legend, and the stuff of fairy tales. Well, I am considered little more than the stuff of fairy tales myself! At any rate this Enchanted Shield, or skjöldurinn as I’ve heard it sometimes called, may prove to be a mere fable after all, even if Hephaestus does exist; and even if one were to find him, I doubt whether he would just hand to the asker the Shield."

What’s to be done, Dragon?

I’m not sure, lad, said the Dragon, sighing. Well, I suppose we could look for him, though something tells me we’re making a mistake. All right, Geoffrey. All right. We’ll set forth in search of Hephaestus.

We ought to have thought a great deal more before running off on another foolish quest. What we ought to have done was travel to the King, Constance’s father, and appeal to him. For the King was a just and noble man, and would have set matters straight and vindicated me; but somehow the Dragon and I did not think of that. (Perhaps the heat had dulled our wits, or perhaps we were just too hasty.) My large friend and I had lunch, and in the meantime the sun rose higher and higher and the air grew warmer. By the Dragon’s estimation, the time was about one o’clock, when the two of us, dusting ourselves off, and addressing ourselves to our journey, set forth again, though the doubt that this adventure might in fact be a mistake troubled us somewhat. At any rate, we struck forward, though without any haste, and before long were on the road again.

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III

Northward Bound

THE day was quiet and somewhat hot, and a fair haziness, half blended with sunlight, filled the air. Though the treble chirps of the birds could be heard at times, yet it was silent for the most part; and it felt as if a drowsiness, stolen forth from the depths of ancient summer, had stretched over the land. The sky was clear, but obscured at places with giant clouds, causing the Dragon and me to travel in sunlight most of the time and then for short spaces through large patches of shade. The land rising on our left, we could see nothing at all in that direction, except clusters of sheep grazing here and there. But the land stretched for miles on our right, rising in slight hills at places, which were often half covered with trees. We travelled on and on, coming at length upon a short wall of ancient stone, which had crumbled at places and ran for a few miles along the side of the road. This hilly region became more open by degrees, allowing us to see further in all directions. Smooth and curving fields were partitioned into squares, while elsewhere the neat fields were broken by woods.

Look, Dragon. There to the north-west. We’ve been out so long in the wilderness, but there at last I see the roofs and buildings of a small town. Nice to see something else for a change. The sun had been out since morning, but round about three o’clock, the sky clouded over, and we wondered whether it would rain. The land, said the Dragon, is more visible in the shade. I can see everything round us much clearer now than I could before. One can now see the real colours of the land. This shade is capital weather! Well, let’s halt in this field here and have something to eat. So we did, and had some bread and cheese, and also some water from our bottles, and dusting ourselves off, pressed forward again.

It was hotter the next morning, not a single cloud to be found in the sky. We wiped our faces often, and drank a great deal of water. As we travelled on towards the northern regions, we found we were making good progress, though still a long way off. The days were almost always hot, and getting hotter, except for one day when it rained, causing us to take shelter. For some time it seemed as if the green temperate regions I was familiar with would never draw to an end, but it soon became clear that the character of the land was slowly changing, very slight at first