Dragon Diary Saga: Extracts of a Witch Finder's Diary

By Michael Herbert

Dragon Diary Saga: Extracts of a Witch Finder's Diary

Jake and his brothers first must deal with the end of the world, before traveling back in time to the Sofala gold rush, and then back to a new life on a new world. Along the way, they must conquer their fears and battle dark forces intent on blocking their

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pen Culture Solutions
• Release date: Apr 21, 2022
• ISBN: 9781638122517

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Dragon Diary Saga

Extracts of a Witch finder’s diary

Copyright © 2022 by Merlin Turtle.

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-63812-250-0

Ebook ISBN: 978-1-63812-251-7

All rights reserved. No part in this book may be produced and transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Published by Pen Culture Solutions   04/02/2022

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Contents

World’s End

Chapter 1    Bard The Bear And The Druid

Chapter 2    Bird And The Maiden Fair

Chapter 3    Bard And The People Of The Stone

Chapter 4    Barnaby, Grizzle And The Barrel Rider

Chapter 5    Ragnarrok

Chapter 6    The Ogre’s Cave

Chapter 7    The Trojan Dragon

Chapter 8    The Unbidden Dragon

Chapter 9    A Long Moment Between

Chapter 10  The Quest

Chapter 11  Secrets

Chapter 12  Betrayal

Chapter 13  The People Of The Book

Chapter 14  Crusade

Chapter 15  Ginger  -H  elm

Chapter 16  Rigel’s Raiders

Chapter 17  The Orbital Tether

Chapter 18  The Wheel Of Life

Chapter 19  Three Weeks In Paradise

Chapter 20  Legend

Chapter 21  The Road Less Travelled

Chapter 22  War Begins

Chapter 23  The Spirit Of The Place

Chapter 24  Thermopylae

Chapter 25  A Black Night

World’s Old

Chapter 26  Eric And The Black Knights

Chapter 27  Excerpts From A Witch Finder’s Diary

Chapter 28  Beyond Time

Chapter 29  Discovery

Chapter 30  Sofala

Chapter 31  Gold

Chapter 32  Lycanthrope

Chapter 33  Dragons And Druids

Chapter 34  Nephilim

Chapter 35  Firestorm

Chapter 36  A Call To Arms

Chapter 37  The Crystal Menagerie

Chapter 38  Back To The Wheel

World’s New

Chapter 39  The Forgotten Wheel

Chapter 40  Holy War

Chapter 41  Nexyx

Chapter 42  Prophesy

Chapter 43  Return Of The King

Chapter 44  Paradox

Chapter 45  Inheritance

Chapter 46  Predestination Shirlee

Chapter 47  Battle Plans

Chapter 48  Vengeance

Glossary

World’s End

Chapter One

Bard The Bear And The Druid

Like many poets in the forest, Bard took guidance from an animal spirit; a bear. Bard’s bear was not a sweet cuddly bear, or even a compassionate bear; Bard’s bear was a warrior bear from the great northern plains, beyond the Green Mountains.

Bard stood six feet and four inches tall. His preference for a long-sleeved, ankle-length coat that shone like a moonless sky on a dark silent night gave him the appearance of a shadow, and in the shade, he was all but invisible. Under his coat he wore a simple hand-woven shirt, usually of dark green or light linen, long cargo pants with every pocket full of some rock or interesting plant he had found, and sandals made from woven flat-spine grass.

Bard’s Spirit-Guide had no height of his own. The bear had no dimensions in this reality at all, but his wisdom filled every corner of Bard’s mind.

By contrast, the druid was a shorter and stockier man; at five feet and seven inches, he was still tall by some measures. He wore a white robe that covered him from the hood over his head to his ankles. Bard did not know what druids wore under their robes, and he had never cared to find out. Unlike Bard, the druid made no claim to any one Spirit-Guide of his own, stating that he could call on any spirit as needed. However, Bard often thought of the druid as a badger, simply because he badgered Bard.

There are three levels in the druidic order. Initiates start as ovates (poets learning the mysteries of language). Ovates then progress to bards, learning the secrets of stories and legends. When a bard learns the magic between language and legend, they become druids. A Spirit-Guide chooses the initiate and many believe that druid and guide grow to resemble each other, in both mind and appearance.

In the forest, Bard took the role of sheriff and protector. It was his duty and honour to ensure that the forest and its inhabitants, alive and otherwise, were untouched by the worlds of lawless men. Men often imagined themselves as being above all others, though Bard knew that, like other beings in the forest, humankind made up just one part of the diversity of nature, no more important than any other aspect in the great tapestry of life. To Bard the diversity of the forest was healthy and natural, divine and sacred, with no one creature or aspect of it having supremacy over any other.

Like the druid, Bard loved nature and drew both inspiration and spiritual nourishment from it. Bard let his senses fill with the forest around him. He could smell the earth beneath his feet and taste its warmth on his tongue. He could hear the birds and the insects as they sought blossoms among the tree tops. And everywhere he felt the spirit of the Great Heart around him.

At evening tide when the day was still, and the heat of the sun radiated from the rocks, and the very air seemed to shimmer, Bard would move in the tall tree shadows to the edge of the southern forest, to the circle of standing stones, on the hill above the Bell stream. Here the animals and the spirits of the diversity would meet as the sun set, to discuss the events of the day that shaped and influenced the world. Some favoured a path prepared for the traveller, while others favoured a traveller prepared for the path, but all agreed in the existence of other realities beyond the path in this world we perceive as real. Not all animals could occupy these realities, but many found them in their dreams and meditations.

Unlike the scattered tribes of men living beyond the deep salt sea, with their human-like deities and sacred books of unchanging laws, druids are free of dogma, with no fixed set of beliefs or practices. Druids have no sacred books, yet all follow a fundamental spiritual path, with some common ideas.

Enlightened animals understand that while they are born once on this Earth, they also exist in all dimensions on some level, and their lives in other dimensions are just as real as their life here. Some druids however, maintain that life in this reality and in other realities are mutually exclusive.

Bard knew that the real value of any spiritual path was in how it helped with life; through inspiration, counsel, and encouragement. The philosophical posture of the druid was one of love and respect for all the aspects of life; he approached each aspect with reverence and awareness of the sacred.

The druid stood with his back to one of the great stones, facing the centre of the stone circle. He stood so still that he might have been one of the stones himself, though rather shorter. In front of him, the coals from a small fire glowed. Bard stood in the shadow of the same standing stone, almost invisible to those nearby. As Bard looked at the coals of the fire before the druid, he noticed the remnant bones from a meal, and speaking to the druid more rhetorically than asking a question, he said: "You teach us to respect the life of all creatures, and still you eat meat?"

The druid answered Bard, speaking softly without raising his eyes from the remnant fire at his feet. "When a mosquito bites, do you not kill it with a swat of your hand, without a thought for the life you take." Bard thought a moment, looked up from the hot coals and replied: "Do we call this realism? How then do we uphold our belief in causing no harm to any creature?"

The druid picked up a stick and began to stir up the coals, so that the fire burst back into life. Speaking softly once more he spoke: "We do not exist as isolated beings. Everything we do to others, we do to ourselves. Abuse and exploitation come from the illusion of separateness. Once you understand that you are part of the tapestry of life, and that all things are connected, the values of love, and reverence for life, naturally follow."

Bard stepped forward into the light and said: "Yes, I understand that, but how can you eat meat without harming both the life you take, and your own spirit? The druid took a deep slow breath in and out; he looked up into Bard’s dark eyes and responded: What we sow, we harvest. We consume not for abuse, but to live. We apologise for taking a life. We thank the spirit of that which we consume, and we thank the Great Heart for the sustenance of our own life."

The druid spoke now, in a loud booming voice, to all the creatures and all the spirits within the circle: "Seek to cultivate wisdom and creativity in all things, and above all, seek to love widely, and deeply. Bard stepped back from the centre of the circle, invisible in shadow once more and asked: Teacher, who or what shall we love?"

The druid placed another log on the fire at his feet. The light illuminated him from his feet up, so that his face remained in shadow within the hood of his robe. He spoke slowly, deliberately, and purposely to all with ears to listen. "Love the land, the Earth, the stars, and the wild. Love peace; be peace-makers and pray to the Great Heart for peace. Love beauty, it cultivates the poet and the artist within. Love justice. Give all creatures unconditional self-regard. Love story and myth; and recognise the power they have to heal and enlighten, as well as entertain. Love history; and have reverence for the ancestors. Love trees. Plant trees and sacred groves. Love stones. Build stone circles. Collect Oathing Stones, and work with crystals. Love the truth and seek truth in your quests for wisdom and understanding. Love animals, for their innocence makes them sacred. Love the body and gender, both are sacred to the tapestry of life. Love each other. Foster the magic of relationships and community, and above all love life. Encourage and celebrate your full commitment to the diversity of nature."

Chapter Two

Bird And The Maiden Fair

Bard had a son, who had been chosen by the spirit of a cockatoo. For this reason, Bard’s son was known throughout the forest as Bird. Bird wore a coat of white feathers that hung from his shoulders, over a pale blue shirt, and grey trousers. Yet what set Bird truly apart from others was the crown of golden hair upon his head. He was well liked by all the animals and spirits in the forest.

On the first day in the month before the Solstice, Bird saw a maiden clad in strange attire coming through the forest towards him. "Where have you come from, maiden? asked Bird. I come from the west beyond the great northern plains of the warrior bears, she said, where there is neither death nor sickness. There we rejoice always. We need no help from any in our joy, and in all our pleasures we have no strife. Men call us the Hill Folk because we have our homes in the round green hills."

Bard, who was nearby, was puzzled to hear a voice when he saw no-one, for only Bird alone could see the maiden. "To whom are you talking, my son? said Bard. The maiden answered: Bird speaks to a young fair maid whom neither death nor old age awaits. I love Bird and now I call him away to the green hills where there is no complaint or sorrow in the land. Oh, come with me Bird of the white feathers and golden crown. Come and never shall your beauty fade, or your youth, till the last awful day of the Earth."

Bard, in fear at what the maiden said, which he heard though he could not see her, called for his friend the druid. "Oh, druid of the many spells, he implored, and of the cunning magic, I call upon your aid. A task is upon me too great for all my skill and wit, greater than any laid upon me since I became king and keeper of the forest. A maiden unseen has met us, and by her power would take from me my dear, my beautiful son. If you help not, he will be taken from your friend by woman’s wiles and witchery."

Then the druid stood forth from the strand between earth and sky. Holding his staff above his head, he chanted his spells towards the spot where Bard had heard the maiden’s voice. Thunder rolled across the heavens and none heard the maiden’s voice again, nor could Bird see her any longer. However, as she vanished before the druid’s mighty spell, she took an apple from a hidden pocket in her strange attire and threw it to Bird.

For the rest of the month, until the Solstice, Bird sipped no sup and he craved no crumb, save only from that apple. But as he ate, it grew again and always kept whole, and all the while there grew within him a mighty yearning and longing after the love of the maiden fair.

When the last day of the month came, upon the Solstice, Bird stood by the side of Bard his father in the circle of standing stones, and again he saw the maiden fair come towards him, and again she spoke to him: "It is a glorious place that Bird holds amongst short lived mortals awaiting the day of death, but now the Hill Folk, the ever-living ones, beg and bid you come to the green hills, for they have come to know you and see you as a worthy dear friend."

When Bard heard the maiden’s voice he called to the animals about him and commanded: "Summon swift the druid, for the unseen maid has again this day the power of speech. Then the maiden said: Oh, mighty Bard, the druid’s power is little loved among the people over the deep salt sea. When they come with their book of sacred law, they will do away with the druid’s magic spells, and cast down the standing stones."

The druid stepped forward from amongst the trees of the forest into the circle of standing stones and again held his staff above his head. Again, the druid chanted the ancient spells and words of power. Thunder rolled across the heavens, and lightning illuminated the sky and the earth below.

The maiden, who had been unseen by all except Bird, now appeared to all the animals and spirits of the forest, and when Bard saw the beauty of the maiden his heart sank, for he knew his son could not resist her.

Then Bard observed that since the maiden fair had come, Bird his son spoke to none that spoke to him. So, Bard spoke to him: "Do you believe what this woman says, my son? It is hard for me, said Bird. I love the forest with all its diversity above all things, yet a longing seizes me to keep our truth in the safety the maiden keeps."

When the maiden heard this, she answered, and declared: "The Great Heart is not so strong as the longing in your own heart. Come with me in my solar cart. Soon we can reach the green hills. I see the bright sun sink, yet as far as it is, we can reach them before dark."

When the maiden ceased to speak, Bird rushed away from the animals gathered around him and sprang into the gleaming solar cart. Then Bard and his friend the druid, and all the animals and spirits, saw it glide away through the forest towards the setting sun, away and away, until their eyes could see it no longer. Bird and the maiden fair wended their way to the green hills and were seen in this reality no more.

When the people came over the deep salt sea, they placed themselves above all others and sought to place their deity above the Great Heart. Yet it is said that when animals dream, Bird can be heard singing the ancient prayers of the druids and telling their stories. In this way, the truth was kept safe from the devastation of the people who came from beyond the deep salt sea, and the spirit of the Great Heart was not forgotten by the animals and forest spirits. When humans once more seek the truth in the sacred groves and the circles of the standing stones, Bird’s song will be there to guide them.

Chapter Three

Bard And The People Of The Stone

On the cool spring morning of the equinox, Bard was searching for an Oathing Stone among the rocks and pebbles that littered the bed of the Bell stream. His coat hung over a nearby branch as he muddled his way knee deep along the stream. He would stop now and then to pick up a blue or green rock, hold it in his hands for a moment or two and then drop it once more into the water. An Oathing Stone needed a spark of the divine, and Bard would know it only when he held the right stone in his hands.

The morning felt unusually humid, and Bard imagined he could smell a distant storm on the wind, although it was not the season for storms, and the meaning of a storm today worried him. It was almost noon before Bard found an Oathing Stone to do the job. It was a blue stone with red flecks, about the size and shape of an apple. As Bard held the stone in his hands, he could feel the energy coursing through the power centre of his mind’s eye. He felt the familiar buzz that signified the stone’s spiritual importance. Yet something about this stone raised the hair on the back of his neck, and he felt uneasy.

As Bard sat on the bank of the stream, with his feet dangling in the water, listening to its laughter as it ran over the rocks, and moving the Oathing Stone from one hand to the other and back again, he noticed a distant shadow moving between the trees of the forest on the other side of the stream. As he watched the shadow, it became a figure clad in outlandish red garments moving through the trees toward him. A profound sense of Déjà-vu filled his mind as the stranger stopped and stood on the opposite bank. "Where have you come from, stranger? asked Bard. I have come across the deep salt sea, the stranger said, where the one true Goddess brings immortality. There we rejoice always. We sing in our joy, and in all our pleasure we have no discord. Because we keep the sacred word of truth in a book, men call us the people of the book. When Bard heard this, he replied: You are not the first to tell this tale. The fairy folk from the green hills make the same claim. However, you are the first to claim truth in a book, when clearly truth and beauty live within the diversity of the forest."

As he spoke, Bard stood up, turned his back on the stranger, climbed up on to the bank, retrieved his coat, and began to slowly walk up the hill through the trees to the circle of standing stones above. The Bell stream ran in a large semi-circle around two thirds of the base of the sacred hill. For this reason, it was also considered to be a sacred boundary by the animals and spirits of the forest, that none not worthy dare cross.

Bard entered the stone circle and moved through the gathering animals within, to place the Oathing Stone on the altar at the centre. The Oathing Stone enabled the people of the forest, and their animal spirits, to bring their ancestors into the equinox ceremony, and in doing so, honour them. For this reason, the people of the forest were also known as the people of the stone.

The stranger followed Bard into the circle, watching as Bard placed flowers and fruits on the altar, around the Oathing Stone. The altar itself was made of hundreds of previous Oathing stones, and united the animals and spirits present in the circle with their ancestral forebears. Having this connection and blessing from the ancestors was a critical ingredient to any important venture. Bard knelt before the altar and began to recite the Druids Prayer: "Grant, O Great Heart, thy protection; and in protection, strength; and in strength, understanding…"

However, before Bard could finish his prayer, the stranger pushed his way forward through the throng. With a single blow, he wiped the Oathing Stone and offerings off the altar, replacing them just as swiftly with a large red bound book. The assembly gasped. Some because of the insult to the ancestors, and some because the book seemed to be covered in blooded animal skin. All were struck dumb, except for Bard who got to his feet so quickly he seemed to fly up to his full height, and with his hands above his head and arms outstretched, he roared: "Stranger, you have insulted our ancestors, and insulted us. Why have you done this awful deed?"

With a righteous stance, the stranger shouted: "Idolatry is forbidden by the book. It is evil and ugly in the eyes of the Goddess. Many make claims that evil is ugly, Bard whispered, but it is more often clad in beauty. The greatest evil can be a lie spoken from a sincere face, as yours is."

Before the stranger realised that he had been insulted and could utter a word to recount, Bard spoke again. "Oh, druid of the many spells and great magic, hear my summons and move swiftly through the forest for thy king has need of your wisdom and grace." With a simple gesture, Bard directed the gathering to move back from the altar while the stranger remained in the centre of the circle muttering in an arcane language.

"Sometimes I’m not where I am, and sometimes I am where I’m not, the druid sang as he strode into the circle, but I am always at your call my king. Bard met the druid with clasped hands, indicated the stranger with a bob of his head, and said: I believe a dragon is called for. Without hesitation, the druid raised his staff above his head with both hands and began to chant: Rocks and stones are the ancient bones, power rises through the standing stones…" As the druid spoke, dark clouds formed above the standing stones and began to rage in picturesque disorder. Lightning flashed across the heavens, thunder like a roar of some ancient beast filled the air, and the wind seemed to beat down like waves crashing on the shore of the deep salt sea.

The stranger began to call the lightning down on the druid for his witchery, as if he alone controlled the power of the Great Heart, while the druid urged the gathering to touch the standing stones, lest they be taken by the dragon. "Touch the stones, the druid declared, feel the memory that stretches back beyond the history of the Earth, into the stars from whence we came."

Bard stepped forward and spoke directly to the stranger. "Reality appears to have one perspective from where you stand, Bard said, but reality has many heads. Pick up your book and leave now, lest the dragon take you. The stranger threw back his head and laughed. Life must have water to survive, claimed the stranger, and this book is water for your soul. It contains vast knowledge of all things good and evil."

"Knowledge is not wisdom, expressed Bard. It would be wise for you to leave now. As Bard spoke, the wind became harsh and began to beat down like the rhythmic beating of wings. The thunder seemed to echo off the standing stones with an angry roar, and the lightning illuminated the forest in exquisite detail. We will hear that echo again just once more," said Bard, as he moved back to touch the standing stone behind him. The stranger held his book in front of himself as though it were a talisman to ward off evil. The thunder roared once more as a green dragon landed lightly in the circle of stones, its wings outstretched to cover the stones as though protecting its nest, and with one bite it swallowed the stranger and his book.

The rain poured down, but all in the circle remained dry under the wings of the dragon as Bard moved back to the altar and again placed the Oathing Stone upon it. The druid stood once more by his king and his friend, his staff by his side. He shook his head slowly from side to side and declared: "Pride goes before a fall."

Bard began the equinox ceremony with the druid’s prayer, while the dragon purred and the people smiled, and the spirits and the ancestors blessed them all. "Grant, O Great Heart, thy protection, and in protection, strength, and in strength, understanding, and in understanding, knowledge, and in knowledge, the knowledge of justice, and in the knowledge of justice, the love of it, and in that love, the love of all existences, and in the love of all existences, the love of the Spirit, of the Great Heart."

Chapter Four

Barnaby, Grizzle And The Barrel Rider

It is a common belief among the people of the western plains that dragons breathe blue fire or red poisonous fumes, and this belief permeates their folk tales and legends. Dragons are commonly portrayed as reptilian, hatching from eggs, winged, and with scaly bodies and four limbs. They should not be confused with drakes which have all the same characteristics, but with only two limbs. What is not commonly known is that dragons may present themselves in human form. In this form, they are associated with wisdom, longevity, and commonly possess magic. It is also believed by many scholars that such dragons taught humans how to speak. Whilst the blood of a winged dragon will seep through iron and is poisonous if it meets the skin, legend states that the blood of a human form dragon has the power to render invincible, skin or armour bathed in it.

Barnaby sat with his back against a warm smooth rock, his legs outstretched before him and his hat upturned on his lap, full of blackberries. He watched the clouds float over the grass lands below as he slowly ate the blackberries, savouring each mouthful. From this vantage point on the high hill he could see over the fields, south-east to the smoke rising over his home in the village of Turple, on the edge of the Great Forest, and beyond the forest, a hint of the turquoise of the deep salt sea.

It had been an autumn day much like this one, not so many years ago, when Barnaby had been blackberrying with the other children from the village; that had changed his life forever. He was out on his own when he heard a strange sound and went to investigate. In the middle of a blackberry bush, in the brambles and thorns, he found a small creature. It was the colour of the sun in the morning when it first peeks through the trees. Its small wings seemed to shine in all the colours of the rainbow, but most dazzling of all were its large bright green eyes that seemed to know Barnaby’s mind. Barnaby picked up the small creature and took it home, to the horror of his father who immediately recognised it as a baby dragon and wanted to drown it in the river. Still holding the dragon in his arms, Barnaby ran from the house, deep into the forest. He could hear the village children calling after him, but still he carried the dragon deeper into the dark trees.

Only the week before, while exploring alone in the deep and hidden forest, he had been fortunate to find a standing circle of stones which now seemed to Barnaby the perfect place to hide the little dragon. Every day Barnaby would sneak a pint of goat’s milk, some cheese, and bread out of the house to feed the little dragon. But little dragons grow up and crave more than milk, and very soon there were no other animals in the forest. As the dragon grew, it began to take larger animals from isolated farms, and the farmers themselves. Quickly, Barnaby became the only person with courage enough to venture out of sight of the village.

Barnaby had named the dragon Grizzle, for the way it would grizzle whenever he was late with its food. The dragon grew quickly, and it wasn’t long before it stood ten yards tall at the shoulder, with a wing span four times greater, tip to tip. Grizzle easily dwarfed the buildings in the village, and effortlessly pulled them apart to find and consume its people. The smoke from the burning village could be seen clearly from the high hill and Barnaby imagined it might even rival the foundry smoke from the distant port town of Mordpath.

Mordpath, on the mouth of the Tyre river, was once well-known as a port for traders and merchants alike. Tall ships would sometimes be berthed five and six deep at the same anchorage, but that was before the opening of the freeway through the southern mountains, eliminating the months needed to round the eastern reefs by ship.

The warehouses that still lined the docks, and the town buildings public and otherwise, were all in need of more than a coat of paint. The big foundries, the importers and exporters, were all gone, and the town did little more than support a few local farms and provide a waystation for the ice-wagons packed with produce on their way south to the Three Cities. The only thing Mordpath still had of consequence was a garrison of dragon slayers. Like the rest of the town, the garrison had seen better days. There were however, still six knights ready to defend the realm against any dragon that dared approach from beyond the Green Mountains. Of course, no one had seen a living dragon in over two centuries, and the profession of dragon slayer was considered by many as little more than a joke. A profession for poor knights, supported by the Kingdom, that required no skill or talent, and somewhere a noble family could secrete a useless child.

Unlike normal fires, dragon fire burns blue, and the smoke from such fires is a bright red, which makes an unforgettable sight, if you ever have the misfortune to see it. A red plume of smoke rising over the great forest in the north-west was therefore unmistakably the first warning of a dragon on the sea-side of the mountains. The garrison bell rang for the first time in living memory, and it took more than a moment for many to realise what was happening. It took a full day further before all the knights were ready for the battle that would surely follow.

Six knights rode out of Mordpath, two by two, along the road through the great forest, each resplendent in their polished gold and silver armour, with sword, shield, and axe. Battle pennants flying, the horses champing, a trumpet announcing to the world their combat ready majesty. They were followed by a brace and wagon, heaped with supplies, including an extra-large barrel of mead, and driven by a single servant girl named Maud, with a battered trumpet.

The road through the great forest crosses the Tyre river three times before it reaches the grass lands beyond, with the last crossing at the Turple Ford on the opposite side of the great forest from Mordpath. Though the first crossing was barely four miles from the sea and Mordpath, the knights stopped to water the horses and make camp. It was the duty of the servant to set up camp, water and groom the horses, and prepare the meals. All of this she did without complaint or protest.

After the evening-tide meal, when the sun had set, Maud’s last duty was to polish each knights armour. She had barely started on Sir George’s silver helmet when the chaos began. At first it seemed as if a storm was approaching; thunder roared between the horizons, lightning like blue flames leapt from cloud to cloud and the wind beat down in rhythmic waves. A whirlwind lifted the horses into the dark sky, and the knights began to run in every direction, screaming in fear, and then it all went dark.

Maud awoke to find herself the only survivor. The horses, the knights, the stores, were all gone. Even the barrel of mead was empty. All around the camp, small blue fires seemed to have a life of their own. The red smoke dancing across the ground appeared to taunt and laugh at the battle-ready majesty that had been the camp. Maud knew that she must warn Mordpath about the dragon. But how could she make it safely without being seen. Of course, she knew the answer before she had finished asking herself the question. Rolling the mead barrel to the water’s edge, she placed Sir George’s silver sword, shield, helmet, and armour in the bottom for ballast, climbed into the barrel, and pushed off from the bank.

Grizzle lay on his back in a wide green meadow. The knights had been all fat and gristle, but the barrel of mead had made the whole venture worth the effort. Grizzle wanted more, but where to find it? "Barnaby might have known; it might have been a mistake eating him," thought Grizzle, as he picked a piece of bone from between his teeth with a sword and contentedly purred like a cat full of cream. The sun was high in the sky before Grizzle rolled over and stretched his wings, first the left, and then the right, and prepared for flight. His head still felt foggy, but it seemed to him that since the knights and their mead had come from Mordpath, that there must be more mead there.

The first crossing of the river Tyre being so close to the sea meant that the river was wide and slow. Maud had ridden in the barrel for what seemed like hours, and now found herself in the middle of Mordpath harbour, unable to attract any attention from the few people on the shore. Maud sat in the bottom of the barrel, holding Sir George’s sword for comfort. The bobbing motion of the barrel created a dreamlike state and Maud began to wonder if she had made the right choice.

Grizzle effortlessly glided over the port, studying its layout and watching the people scatter and hide. He was counting the warehouses along the dock, deciding on the best one to search first, when to his delight he noticed an extra-large barrel of mead floating in the harbour. He swooped down, picked it up gently with his talons, and took it back to his meadow to open it. To his horror, out jumped Maud, driving Sir George’s sword straight into his chest and piercing his black heart. In a last act of spite, Grizzle consumed Maud and the barrel with blue fire, leaving only ashes.

Days later, when the dragon’s carcass was found with Sir George’s sword through its black heart, and his armour and bones at its feet, it was clear to all what had happened. To this day, in the town square of Mordpath, there is a statue of Sir George killing the dragon.

The lesson is: history is almost always written by people who weren’t there.

Chapter Five

Ragnarrok

Grizzle deemed himself to be at the mercy of the wind where his body had died, but the wind had no more effect on him than the butchers that came to carve up his corpse for the meat, or the souvenir hunters that came to carry off his bones. He seemed no more than ego, paid by his own thoughts and deliberations. There were no others, only him and the woman who had killed him; and there was silence.

"When you killed me, I thought it was the end of everything, but it may be just the start," thought Grizzle toward the woman, Maud, beside him. Maud