They rose like a cloud to meet him.
Dragons! Dragons of all shapes and sizes! So many of them that they darkened the sky!
Arthur flinched at the sight of the oncoming horde and almost fell out of the sky in fright as they flew towards him. He’d expected a reception committee of some sort for he was quite sure that the Valley of the Dragons would be well guarded, but this was something else! There seemed to be hundreds of them and, he noted apprehensively, they didn’t look particularly friendly either for the silver-grey soldier dragons in the front rank were breathing clouds of smoke and great bursts of fire.
His eyes dilated suddenly when, at a signal from a very old dragon who seemed to be their leader, the mass of dragons split in two and, swerving to both right and left, swept round him in a mass of horned heads, steadily beating wings and ripples of fire.
The ancient dragon, whose scales had quite definitely seen better days, spoke in a somewhat wheezy voice. “I am Gladrin the Great, Lord of the Valley of the Dragons,” he announced. “Who are you and what is your name?”
“They call me Arthur, Milord,” Arthur replied.
The old dragon searched his memory. “Arthur?” he repeated slowly. “If you are the Arthur I have heard of then you must have travelled far …”
Arthur relaxed. He bowed his head respectfully. “Milord, I have come from Scotland,” he replied, his voice friendly but steady. “I bring a message from the Lords of the North who send you their warmest greetings.”
Gladrin’s expression changed. He had heard of the Lords of the North and if this was the dragon he’d heard tell of in ancient tales then they were, indeed, honoured; for Gladrin, like all dragons, was well versed in history and knew Sir Pendar’s story. He dipped his wings and bowed his head. “Welcome, Arthur,” he said graciously. “Welcome to the Valley of the Dragons.”
So it was that Arthur, escorted by Gladrin and a whole host of dragons, soared high over the dizzily towering peaks and pinnacles that guarded the fabled Valley of the Dragons and landed in quite the strangest place he’d ever seen.
Apart from the open stretch of ground where they’d landed, it was a place of light, cream-coloured rocks. Jagged hills and rocky ravines rose steeply towards the surrounding cliffs that stood, almost white, against a sky of the brightest blue. While the hills and high peaks blazed brightly in the sunshine, dark marks here and there indicated the presence of what Arthur thought might be doorways or entrances to tunnels.
And there were dragons everywhere.
Before the alarm had been raised, the Valley of the Dragons had presented a peaceful scene that hadn’t changed much over the centuries. Draped lazily over smooth shelves of rocks, the female dragons spent much of their day sprawling idly in the heat of the sun watching over their adventurous young in case they flew beyond the high peaks that protected them from the outside world. Now, however, they looked on, wide-eyed and anxious, as dragon after dragon soared in to land. They’d no idea what was happening. Visiting dragons were more or less unheard of, but of one thing they were quite sure — a stranger in their quiet valley meant that change was on its way.
Unaware of the consternation he was causing, Arthur was quite overwhelmed. The Valley of the Dragons was a fantastic place, he thought, looking round in amazement. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined it being quite like this. And if the cliffs were the homes of the dragons, there must be hundreds of them for the valley seemed to stretch for miles.
Bowing to Arthur, Gladrin gestured to Nestor, captain of the grey soldier-dragons who, carrying slender, spiky spears in their claws, immediately formed a guard of honour. Then, at a sharp word of command, they all made their way towards the high, steep slopes that fringed the valley.
Arthur had been right in his assumption that the dragons lived in caves and marvelled as he saw a myriad of openings hidden deep in the craggy clefts of the rocks. Gladrin escorted Arthur into what was, obviously, his cave. The opening, although wider than the others, narrowed quickly and the passage that sloped steeply downwards had walls that had been brushed smooth by the wings of countless dragons over the ages.
Gladrin’s halls, when they reached them, were not nearly as grand as those of the MacArthur but were stern and impressive in a dragon sort of way. Ancient hangings lined the walls but what took Arthur’s attention was the enormous fireplace that dominated one side of the hall, the iron baskets by its side piled high with logs. He smiled slightly for the MacArthur had told him that in winter the snow in Ashgar lay deep in the mountains.
The floor around the fireplace was scattered with a variety of rugs and cushions and it was here that the dragons settled, looking expectant and excited — for word had swiftly spread that their unexpected visitor was none other than Arthur, the legendary dragon of Sir Pendar’s famous story.
Once Arthur had been introduced to the notables of Gladrin’s court he looked at them all and lowered his eyes sadly as they waited expectantly to hear the reason for his visit. They were all so polite, so interested, so excited to see him and yet he knew that within the space of the next five minutes he was going to give them news that would destroy their nice, comfortable little world. Nothing would ever be the same again.
Perhaps the dragons sensed this for, as the silence lengthened and Arthur said nothing, Gladrin spoke gently. “You come bearing bad news, Arthur?”
Arthur nodded his head. “I do,” he said sadly. “It … it concerns Lord Jezail.”
The dragons stiffened where they sat and eyed one another apprehensively. Some of them hissed angrily, remembering how, in times past, the Dragon Seeker had hounded them from mountain to mountain until they had found safety in their precious valley. They blew clouds of angry smoke down their nostrils, but still no one spoke.
“We have the power to deal with Lord Jezail,” Gladrin frowned, looking puzzled.
“It’s a bit more serious than that,” Arthur said, unhooking a bag that hung round his neck. He pulled at it with his claws until it opened wide enough for him to tip the crystal ball it held, onto the carpet. “Lord Alarid wishes to speak to you personally, Lord Gladrin,” he said. “He wants to tell you himself why the Lords of the North have decided to declare war on Lord Jezail and why he is bringing an army to Ashgar.”
“War?” Gladrin looked and sounded astounded, as well he might, and a hiss of unease rippled among the assembled dragons.
“The Lords of the North will explain everything,” Arthur assured him. “It’s a long story. In fact, it started when Sir Pendar tried to kill me with Dragonslayer all those years ago …”
Dragonslayer! The very mention of the word sent a piercing stab of terror through the heart of each of the assembled dragons.
Before they could start asking him awkward questions, Arthur hastily placed the crystal on a cushion where it rested in full view of the dragons and, conscious that they were all watching him, passed a rather shaky claw over it. It was the first time he’d used a magic crystal and his heart beat faster than usual as he muttered the magic words and wondered what would happen if it didn’t work. The crystal, however, as if sensing his anxiety, behaved beautifully and glowed brightly.
The dragons gasped in awe and regarded Arthur with great respect; for a dragon to use a magic crystal — that was really impressive! Arthur, quite weak with relief, hid his trembling claw so that they wouldn’t see how nervous he’d been and smiled thankfully as Lord Alarid’s face appeared in the crystal.
Once the initial polite greetings had been gone through, Lord Alarid, in a sombre voice, told the dragons the story of the earthquake and how Lord Jezail had hexed Sir Pendar’s sword. He also mentioned Clara’s part in stealing the Book of Spells from the witches but, Arthur thought, it was doubtful if many of the dragons heard this part of his story as the thought of Lord Jezail and Dragonslayer had sent their minds into a complete spin.
As the enormity of situation dawned on Lord Gladrin, he looked at Lord Alarid with fearful eyes. “You must know that we are defenceless against the magic of Dragonslayer,” he said apprehensively.
“That’s why Arthur insisted on flying out to warn you,” Lord Alarid explained, “so that you would be aware of your danger.”
“We are more than grateful to him, Lord Alarid,” Gladrin nodded, “and you can be quite sure that we will welcome you and your army to Ashgar. Dragonslayer is a threat to us all.”