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Tom didn’t waste time sleeping, or even heading to the House of the Beloved. He was going to the Realm of Fire and the dragon.
The second he’d heard the dragon say “Galatine”, something had triggered a warning in his head. He could hear it for a reason. It had recognised Galatine. Why would a dragon recognise Galatine unless it had seen the sword before? Unless it had made it.
He had no idea how Giolladhe had become a dragon, but he knew beyond doubt it was him.
Tom still couldn’t understand animals, even now he was possessed by a supernatural boar, but he had inherited its strength, and its ability to hear and see far beyond normal human abilities, and this gave him an advantage. He aimed to make full use of that.
He passed down the path to the main road behind Raghnall’s house, and then up on to the shoulder of the mountain, avoiding the short cut they had found on the other side of the grove. He had deliberately said nothing to the others. This was his fight, and he didn’t want them helping. Even his closest friends. Every single one of them would have insisted on coming, but he didn’t want them to. A dragon was deadly, and no-one else should risk their life for him. He wondered if this was the bravado of the boar.
He was worried that he wouldn’t find the workshop in the night, but he shouldn’t have doubted himself. The Wolf Moon gave him good light, and his eyesight and sense of smell quickly identified the path to him. Soon he stood in front of the copper doorway, looking black in the shadows. Tom opened it – it hadn’t been locked – and passed down the passage and into the workshop. He didn’t even need to light a lamp, his ability to see in the dark was so good. He carried on past the chimney looming huge in the centre of the room, and through the door at the back, until he reached the cupboard and the hidden portal.
He paused for the briefest of seconds, wondering if the lava had swallowed the room and he would be passing into a fiery death, and then stepped through anyway, arriving with a thump in Giolladhe’s other workshop.
Tom felt the beast surging within him, straining against his physical dimensions, as if it couldn’t wait to burst into its natural form. He breathed deeply in an effort to subdue it, almost choking on the smell of sulphur, and took his bearings.
The lava pit still bubbled in the centre of the room, the blackened pools around it showing where it had overflowed, but the floor was otherwise undamaged and he could walk over it. He sighed with relief. So far, so good. But best of all, a huge hole had reappeared in the collapsed rock wall, high up towards the roof. The rumbling eruptions must have dislodged the rock. Either that or the djinn had made it.
He scrambled up the rock wall with ease, and looked through to find the other half of the cave deserted. He slid to the floor, kicking up dust as he went, and stood at the entrance to the cavern beyond. In front of him was a scene of chaos. The rivers of lava that had punched through the walls and windows had widened, and they fizzed and hissed as they wound sinuously around fallen lumps of stone, leaving islands of untouched floor in their wake. There was no sign of the dragon or the djinn. His heightened hearing detected a slither of movement in the city beyond, but whether it was lava or dragon, he couldn’t tell.
Negotiating the path out to the city was going to be more difficult than it had been days earlier; his jumps needed to be longer and higher. It meant testing his new-found strength. Oh well, better to test it here first than wait until he met the dragon.
Finding the closest place to leap to, he took a deep breath and a running jump. His legs flexed beneath him and he covered the space with ease, shocked at how far he travelled, almost overshooting the island and landing in the lava on the other side. He stopped just in time, perfectly balanced. Wow. That was intense.
Sweat was already beading on his face and down his neck. He could clearly see his path through to the arched entrance and the city beyond, so he pushed on, leaping from island to island and stone to stone, until he landed safely on the other side. He looked back, wondering how he would ever return to the portal if he killed Giolladhe, because his super strength would have gone. He shook the thought out of his head. Too much to do before then.
The shadowy half-collapsed passageways stretched away on either side, and he listened, detecting a slither away to the right. Beneath the smell of dust and sulphur he detected something earthy, a strong musky odour.
Dragon.
He followed the sound and smell along passages he hadn’t seen before. The tunnels here were bigger – this must be why the dragon was in this part of the city.
Every now and again he stopped and listened and adjusted his path, crossing collapsed rooms barely lit by smouldering trickles of lava. It was a labyrinth.
And then Tom heard the slow hiss and slither of dragon, but much closer this time. A movement to his left made him spin around and he saw a mammoth wall of flame hurtling towards him. He rolled out of the way into the nearest room, and flattened himself against a wall. A huge roar echoed down the passage, chilling his blood.
Enormous footfalls thudded down the passage, and Tom looked frantically for his best way out. His most effective form of attack would be to circle around behind it, but that was impossible from here. The only way was forward. He ran to a gap in the collapsed wall and passed through to the next room. Another jet of flame followed him, and another roar. He flattened himself along the floor, breathing heavily. He hadn’t even seen it yet.
The dragon laughed and then spoke, its voice deep and gravelly. “I know you’re there, boy. I sense Galatine. It has been many years since I have seen it.”
Tom jumped to his feet and ran into the next room, looking for a way to circle back. He shouted, “Are you Giolladhe? Hiding here beneath the desert like a worm?”
The thump and rumble of dragon’s feet stopped. “How do you know my name?”
“Because it’s my business to know it,” Tom yelled, trying to gauge where the dragon was. He stood at the entrance to the main passage and saw another room opposite. “Any reason you’re trying to kill me? Wouldn’t you like to chat first? Catch up on old news, find out why I’m carrying Galatine?”
The dragon’s voice echoed around him. “If you’re carrying Galatine, you’re here to kill me. How did you find it?” he growled. “I sent it far from here.”
Tom took advantage of the break in fire, and ran across the passage into the room beyond, cursing as another jet of flame followed him. He had to keep the dragon talking while he tried to find a way to attack.
“Your friend Raghnall had it in his weapons collection,” he yelled back, running into another room.
The dragon roared, “He is no friend of mine.”
“Then you’ll be glad to know that we killed him. And then we met your brother!” Tom yelled back, curious to see how that would provoke Giolladhe.”
The dragon fell silent, and all Tom could hear was the thumping of his own heart. “Is that a surprise? That he still lives? We’ve saved him from your curse.”
At this Giolladhe laughed, deep and guttural. “So then you are cursed, boy. Now I know why you are here and not Filtiarn. You should run, for I am stronger than you.”
The rumble of feet headed towards Tom and he darted through another room, finally spotting a door that would allow him to circle back. He scrambled through fallen masonry and caught a glimpse of the dragon through a gap in the wall. It was the colour of sulphur, with deep red flashes of colour along its scales and wing tips. As yet he couldn’t see its head. Without hesitation he ran forward, dived through the gap and stabbed Galatine deep into its side.
The dragon howled and roared and whipped around, throwing Tom against the wall, masonry and sand falling as the dragon struggled to manoeuvre in such a small space. Tom scrambled free and ran back along the passage, diving into the first available doorway.
He waited for the sound of falling stone and sand to stop, hoping the entire city wouldn’t fall on his head before he killed Giolladhe and got out. Spying a gap at the top of the wall, he scrambled up to look through to the passage beyond, planning to leap onto the dragon’s back, but it had disappeared.
Tom saw a flicker of dragon tail heading into a room further along. He leapt down and ran towards it, following Giolladhe into a much larger space with a domed ceiling and beams running under it. Now he could see him fully, his nerve almost failed. Giolladhe had turned to face him, and he was huge, his head bristling with sharp spiky scales, his eyes red and burning. He flexed his wings, smacking them off the walls. Lowering his head, he opened his mouth, giving a glimpse of razor-sharp teeth before spitting a wall of flame.
Tom dived out of the way, and taking advantage of the ruptured walls, scrambled upwards, grabbing a beam above his head and pulling himself onto it. He raced along until he was above the dragon and out of his line of fire. He was just about to leap onto the dragon’s spiny back when a swirl of dust and sand rose in front of him and the djinn appeared, settling on one of the beams.
“You need to stop, boy,” the djinn said, looking regretful.
Beneath him, Giolladhe roared, flexing his wings as he tried to turn and look upwards.
“Why?” Tom demanded, frustrated he would miss his chance.
“Because I can’t let you kill him.”
“Well that’s just tough, because I have to kill him. He’s cursed my sword, and now me.” Tom launched himself onto the dragon’s back, bringing Galatine down with enormous force, puncturing the dragon’s wing and piercing his thick scaly skin with a satisfying crunch. As it flexed and howled, Tom fell off, slithering to the ground, where the edge of a wing caught him, throwing him across the floor. He rolled to his feet and found the djinn in front of him. He picked Tom up and flung him across the room and into the wall, where he landed with a crash.
Adrenalin surged through Tom, dulling the pain. He staggered to his feet, furious. “What are you doing?”
“If you want to kill the dragon, you have to kill me first.”
Tom pointed Galatine at the djinn. “Why in the Realms do you want to keep that thing alive?”
“Because it was us – the djinn – who turned him into this creature, as a punishment for many transgressions. It is my job to keep him alive so that he suffers here forever. I will not let you kill him and relieve him of that torture.”
Tom couldn’t believe it. “I hate to break it to you, but he seems pretty fine with being a dragon. He’s not exactly letting me end his years of torture.”
Giolladhe sent a blast of flame at the djinn, causing him to dissolve into sand and whirl across the floor. Tom ran headlong at the dragon and again plunged Galatine deep into his side, before ducking out of reach of his giant wings. Giolladhe’s roar thundered around the room.
The djinn reappeared, lifting Tom up around the throat with his hideous long clawed hands, until he was at eye level and Tom’s feet were dangling in the air. “If you don’t stop, I will have to kill you.”
“Then you’ll have to kill me,” Tom managed to say, struggling to speak. And before he knew what he was doing, Tom thrust his sword at the djinn, feeling the slight resistance of flesh, before the djinn turned into sand and dropped Tom to the floor.
Tom ran for the wall and bounded up, his feet easily finding footholds, and then leapt onto the beams overhead. He couldn’t believe he was having to fight a djinn and a dragon. Fortunately it seemed the more he fought, the stronger he became, the wild power of the boar within him raging with strength.
The djinn reappeared, clutching his side, dark green blood leaking onto his clawed hands. “You struck me!” He was more puzzled than outraged.
“You won’t stop me,” Tom said, surprised by how calm he was feeling. He had never felt so determined. It was as if he stood in the eye of a storm. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if you don’t walk away.”
For a second the djinn hesitated. “You are not what you appear. You are too quick. Too strong.”
“You better believe it.”
Beneath them Giolladhe turned and twisted, furious at being attacked. Then he looked up, and was about to send a burst of flame at Tom when Tom dived over his head and landed on his back. Shocked at his own agility, he again plunged his sword through the scales and between the spines that ran along the dragon’s back, feeling the crunch of bone. He pushed deeper as the dragon howled in pain, and Tom felt something snap as the dragon’s neck flopped downwards.
If dragons had a spinal cord, Tom was pretty sure he’d just severed it. Galatine was buried up to its hilt in the dragon’s back, and he wrenched it free then slid down the side of the dragon onto the floor. He glanced up at the djinn, but strangely the djinn didn’t try to stop him; he just watched, green blood dripping down his side.
Tom circled to Giolladhe’s head. The dragon was struggling to keep his eyes open. “What have you done to me?” he grunted, his guttural voice becoming more difficult to understand.
“What I had to do,” Tom said, feeling regret at the situation he found himself in. “Filtiarn was your brother, Giolladhe. He trusted you. How could you do that to him?”
“Because he would have ruined everything.”
Tom wanted to ask so many more questions, to try and understand, but he didn’t think he ever would. And Giolladhe, even now, didn’t seem to have an ounce of regret. Tom looked in wonder at the huge bulk of his body, the slow heave of his chest, the wings collapsed at his side, and felt an overwhelming sadness. He readied Galatine, raising it above his head.
“I’m about to release both of us, Giolladhe. You may not deserve it, but I know I do.”
He brought his sword down and sliced through sinew and bone, taking off Giolladhe’s head in one clean cut.
