down in a complex spiralling motion, dropping even lower still and catching the burden as it was released. Errol’s heart lurched as he realized what that burden was.
Martha.
She was being passed from dragon to dragon in mid-air, hundreds of feet above the ragged mountains, tumbling from one set of talons to another like a child’s discarded doll, and all the while the dragons were screeching at each other in what sounded like hideous laughter. Before he could do anything, before he could even register that he must be dreaming, they had passed overhead, ignoring him completely, and were making the short trip across the
ravine to the massive castle. In only a dozen beats of their wings, they were there, passing over one of the high walls and disappearing from sight.
And then Errol was sitting on the castle wall, looking down over a wide courtyard laid with flagstones and neatly mown grass. The four dragons had landed, their captive now lying on the ground motionless. They bickered among themselves like crows dancing around a dead animal, so absorbed in their dispute that they completely failed to notice a fifth dragon approach on foot from a huge arched doorway that led into the building. It had to be a male dragon; Errol had never seen a creature so big and magnificent. He towered over the other four, making them seem like children, and he clipped them around the heads until they stopped their arguments and formed a sulky line.
It was so like old Father Drebble knocking a bit of discipline into his more unruly pupils that Errol almost laughed, but his voice choked off before he made a sound. The large dragon leaned down to inspect the still bundle on the ground, stooping further to pick it up and inspect it more closely. He turned away from the four youngsters, walked a few paces back towards the door, then turned and shouted something at them. As one, they leaped back, crashing into each other in their haste to get airborne. Errol ignored them, straining to see the older dragon and the too-still form of Martha as he carried her away towards the building. Was it his imagination? Was it just the rolling, bumping motion of the dragon’s gait, or did she move her arm to her head, like someone waking from unconsciousness? He prayed she was unharmed even as he knew she was in serious trouble.
He wanted to rush after her, follow as stealthily as he
could, find wherever it was the dragon was taking her and free her. They could escape together, if he could just get down to the courtyard. But it was a forty-foot drop on to hard flagstones. Behind, he knew without looking, it was ten times that on to near-vertical scree-covered slopes. To either side the wall snaked away, impossibly narrow, hitting him with sudden heart-stopping vertigo.
And then he was enveloped in noise, a terrible screeching as the first of the four young dragons dived at him, claws reaching for his head, talons outstretched. Instinctively Errol ducked and felt himself tipping over the wall backwards. Into nothing.
‘It is written that in the earliest days, when he still walked among his chosen, the Shepherd directed King Balwen towards fair Myfanwy and filled his heart with love for her as he filled hers with devotion to him. His blessing upon that union was the foundation of our people, the beginning of the Twin Kingdoms.’
Beulah tuned out the words, barely hearing Archimandrite Cassters’ droning voice as he worked his way through the marriage ceremony. She knelt on a hard cushion in front of the altar in Brynceri’s chapel, staring through her veil at the ornate carvings on the wall behind, at the archimandrite’s heavy silk robes, at her hands. Darting a quick glance sideways at Clun.
‘Our lord no longer walks among his flock, but he watches over us at all times. From our first breath he is there, even until we depart this life and make that final journey to the safe pastures. He is our guide through life, our protector from the Running
Martha.
She was being passed from dragon to dragon in mid-air, hundreds of feet above the ragged mountains, tumbling from one set of talons to another like a child’s discarded doll, and all the while the dragons were screeching at each other in what sounded like hideous laughter. Before he could do anything, before he could even register that he must be dreaming, they had passed overhead, ignoring him completely, and were making the short trip across the
ravine to the massive castle. In only a dozen beats of their wings, they were there, passing over one of the high walls and disappearing from sight.
And then Errol was sitting on the castle wall, looking down over a wide courtyard laid with flagstones and neatly mown grass. The four dragons had landed, their captive now lying on the ground motionless. They bickered among themselves like crows dancing around a dead animal, so absorbed in their dispute that they completely failed to notice a fifth dragon approach on foot from a huge arched doorway that led into the building. It had to be a male dragon; Errol had never seen a creature so big and magnificent. He towered over the other four, making them seem like children, and he clipped them around the heads until they stopped their arguments and formed a sulky line.
It was so like old Father Drebble knocking a bit of discipline into his more unruly pupils that Errol almost laughed, but his voice choked off before he made a sound. The large dragon leaned down to inspect the still bundle on the ground, stooping further to pick it up and inspect it more closely. He turned away from the four youngsters, walked a few paces back towards the door, then turned and shouted something at them. As one, they leaped back, crashing into each other in their haste to get airborne. Errol ignored them, straining to see the older dragon and the too-still form of Martha as he carried her away towards the building. Was it his imagination? Was it just the rolling, bumping motion of the dragon’s gait, or did she move her arm to her head, like someone waking from unconsciousness? He prayed she was unharmed even as he knew she was in serious trouble.
He wanted to rush after her, follow as stealthily as he
could, find wherever it was the dragon was taking her and free her. They could escape together, if he could just get down to the courtyard. But it was a forty-foot drop on to hard flagstones. Behind, he knew without looking, it was ten times that on to near-vertical scree-covered slopes. To either side the wall snaked away, impossibly narrow, hitting him with sudden heart-stopping vertigo.
And then he was enveloped in noise, a terrible screeching as the first of the four young dragons dived at him, claws reaching for his head, talons outstretched. Instinctively Errol ducked and felt himself tipping over the wall backwards. Into nothing.
‘It is written that in the earliest days, when he still walked among his chosen, the Shepherd directed King Balwen towards fair Myfanwy and filled his heart with love for her as he filled hers with devotion to him. His blessing upon that union was the foundation of our people, the beginning of the Twin Kingdoms.’
Beulah tuned out the words, barely hearing Archimandrite Cassters’ droning voice as he worked his way through the marriage ceremony. She knelt on a hard cushion in front of the altar in Brynceri’s chapel, staring through her veil at the ornate carvings on the wall behind, at the archimandrite’s heavy silk robes, at her hands. Darting a quick glance sideways at Clun.
‘Our lord no longer walks among his flock, but he watches over us at all times. From our first breath he is there, even until we depart this life and make that final journey to the safe pastures. He is our guide through life, our protector from the Running
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