Chapter 11 - The Blue Mountains.
Jon arrived at the point he knew well, near the cave entrance where they had first encountered the Master. He mounted his staff and sped off across the mountains, down valleys and over crests in search of the lair of the King of the Blue Dragons. Blue Dragons are unique in having a king, all other dragons have very much a matriarchal setup and are ruled by a queen. Blue Dragons rose to meet him, curious as to what he was doing. None of them showed any sign of hostility or attack. Jon stopped in mid-air and spoke to one of the dragons.
“I seek King Eiddoel, King of the Blue Dragons, will you guide me?”
“How do you know of his name? Even we only speak it in hushed tones.”
“I’m not sure, I just know these things, I’m a Dragon Master.” Jon blurted out for some reason. Jon could sense something different about this Blue Dragon, he seemed intelligent, sharp, and in control.
“I will take you to the palace of the king.”
The pair then swooped low over mountain tops and into valleys eventually stopping at the head of one of the valleys.
Here is the palace of the king. Step carefully, you may, or you may not be welcome.”
“Thanks, I will,” Jon said, taken aback by what seemed like genuine concern for his wellbeing.
Jon walked down into the valley, he was surprised by how clean and tidy it was, he was expecting piles of dead, rotting, and half-eaten corpses like he had seen near the cave where they first met the Master. But it was nothing like that and looked in even better order than the valley of the Red Dragon Queen Aelwyd. The pathways were clear, swept, and clean, and the entranceway to the ‘Royal Palace’ was a huge wooden doorway of ornate carvings. Jon ventured in gingerly setting up a defensive shield around himself just in case he was attacked. As he entered, and unnoticed by Jon, the door closed silently behind him.
The huge hall had a familiar look, much darker than the Red Dragon Queen’s chamber, but hung with tapestries depicting royal battles, with the Blue Dragons on the winning side, piles of gemstones, gold and silver coins, massive life-size statues of past kings in a sort of very dark blue-black finish, they were of course solid gold which had been plated with black rhodium or ruthenium, which creates the almost black look. Jon was impressed. At the end of the hall was the throne, it looked to be made of solid gold with rich blue velvet coverings. On it, in the gloom, lounged Eiddoel, King of the Blue Dragons.
“Jonathan, son of Llewellyn the Brave, Dragon Master, step forward,” the king announced.
Jon knew the position and thoughts of every Blue Dragon for many miles. How, he did not know, but he did. All except one, Eiddoel, King of the Blue Dragons.
“Tell me, Jonathan,” the king said, “are you very brave or are you very foolish to come here after what has happened?”
I am neither brave nor foolish, I am sorry.”
“Sorry... Meaning?”
“I am sorry, grieving even, for the one thousand three hundred and twenty-nine Blue Dragons slain today. Not one survived, not even one to bring you the news of their demise.... and yet you know, don’t you?”
“Of course, I know, I saw each one fall and I know of every one of them as if they were my own, which of course they were. But unlike you foolish humans, I do not grieve at all, so please do not grieve for them either. There are secrets we hold that have never been told or held by any human wizard, in fact, you are only the second human to venture into this valley and survive, so far, anyway,” he said with great menace, “even that stuck up old Queen Máthair, Queen of the Golden Dragons the so-called mother of all dragons knows nothing of the Blue Dragons and their ways. We are not the stupid, ignorant dragons which you see and hear of, we are quite different and, in some ways, far crueller than you would imagine. The blue dragons you slew today, the twelve dragons you killed with your ridiculous Red Dragon Bevon, and the three you and your brother dispatched before that were nothing to us. They were not even proper dragons, they were what we call drones, the fighting classes. A form of dragon specially bred for servitude and slaughter in battle. Yes, I did say that, bred for slaughter, they have little magic, and they are slow of wing, wit, and mind, they cannot be trusted because they hardly have a mind to call their own. I’m afraid that the Blue Dragons you see, out in the field, as you say, are bred as cannon fodder. If you and your kinsmen all believe that they are typical of all Blue Dragons, then we are safe here in our little kingdom. No one bothers us as they fear us. It is a situation which suits us and our purposes.”
Jon was nestling his wand up his sleeve and out of sight as he considered his next move, drawing on the wisdom of the wand.
“I can see and feel every Blue Dragon for miles around, how come I cannot sense your presence even though I am standing here before you?”
“Simple, I am not here, what you see is an illusion. The one you spoke to earlier, that was me, but just to be extra safe, I am projecting my image directly into your mind, so you both see and believe I am here. You see, we Blue Dragons have more magic than any of you know.”
“But surely you know, when I return to Blaenoraid, I will tell them of all have seen and learnt.”
“And what makes you think you will return there?”
Jon tried to apparate, nothing happened.
“Did you think it would be that easy?” Eiddoel said with a sneer. “The mighty carved doors and the walls of the cavern are laced with cold iron. There is no easy escape.”
“It was worth a try,” Jon said glibly. He knew he was in a fix, but somehow, he felt no fear. He needed to get out but didn’t know how, he needed to get home. How wished he had never come here in the first place.
“I have you now,” said Jon, “You’re standing at the entrance of the great hall cloaked invisible.”
“Oh my, I am impressed,” sounding not dissimilar to Bevon, “no hiding from you is there. Jon, you are a very gifted and intelligent young man, we Blue Dragons are, for the most part, highly intelligent, magically powerful, decent and trustworthy, I am sure that under the right conditions, we could have become allies, friends, even.”
The illusion disappeared and Eiddoel took up his position on the throne.
“There, that’s better,” Eiddoel said, “much too draughty over by the door.”
Jon remembered word for word what Odgar Caddell had said when Tom and he had met him on their first trip to The Dragonlands, he had said, and he could hear his voice in his head, “Never trust a Blue Dragon, never, ever.” But he knew he had to play along if he were to survive.
“You said I was the second wizard to venture here, what happened to the first one?”
“Oh, him, he is still here, he comes and goes as he pleases because we have an understanding.”
“Who is he then, this wizard you have allied yourself with?”
Another voice spoke from in the gloom of the cave. A deep resonating West African accent. “Who were you expecting Jonathan son of Llewellyn?” said the Master.
“Well, I was sort of expecting you,” Jon answered.
As he spoke there came the sound of massive explosions behind him and could feel the distress of Eiddoel the king as the magnificent carved entrance to his lair disintegrated. There in the smoking remains stood his father, Flintock, Thomas, Faraji, and his mother. His mother! What was she doing here? His mother strode up to him and grabbed him by the hand, she was muttering something, it distinctly sounded like “Stupid boy!” As she did, a massive bolt of energy flashed across the hall towards them. She held up her hand as if to shield them from the bolt but instead, she caught it, held it, and then bowled it back towards the Master. He loosed another, she batted it back with her hand as if it were just a beach ball. A third came, but halfway across the hall, it turned and flew back toward the Master.
“Stop it Muenda, you know you cannot win against me,” she said to the astonishment of all around, “go now while you have the chance.”
“Oh Gwendolyn, after all these years, you have returned. But you still cannot bring yourself to kill can you.”
“I have no wish to kill you or anyone else. Now. Go!”
With that command, the Master, or Muenda Mwita Osei as we now know him, disappeared.
Eiddoel the king of the Blue Dragons, now on his throne for real, roared at them. “You vandals! You have destroyed my beautiful carved doors; this will not go unpunished!”
Llewellyn stepped forward. “Your beautiful doors, as you call them, prevented my son from apparating away to safety, which is why they had to go.”
They could see his firebox starting to glow, first red and then a few seconds later white with heat. He roared as a massive wall of fire belched up from his stomach. Gwen held up her hand and the fire hit a solid wall of force, bouncing back onto the king. The fire stopped at once. The king was hurt, severely burned by his own fire. The glow was gone, there was no more fire in him. He looked a sorry sight, smoke rising from his burned and battered scales, a large amount of patagium missing from one wing, both eyes scorched and shut, and he was writhing in pain.
Tom ran up towards him and surrounded him in a cocoon of healing, it was like a blue light all around him, pulsating, cooling, and curing.
Eiddoel spoke hesitantly and with pain. “Why, why would you help me? I just tried to kill you all, why are you helping me?”
Tom spoke. “We mean you no harm, our argument is not with you or with your Blue Dragons. Our enemy is Muenda Mwita Osei, the Master. The healing will take some time, then, when you feel better, we will talk. For now, sleep and let the healing take place.”
Tom moved his wand around him again and Eiddoel fell into a deep sleep.
Flintock apparated them all back to Blaenoraid. Back in their apartment, they spent the first few seconds just staring at Gwen, no one spoke. Gwen decided to break the silence.
“What? Why are you all staring at me, what have I done wrong?
“Mother,” Tom said, “I thought you were supposed to be a phobl? No magic or nothing.”
“Well, now you know, I might not be a complete phobl, and it’s no magic or anything, didn’t Mrs Glynn teach you any grammar?”
“Let me explain,” Faraji said, taking over the conversation, “years ago before your mother and father had even met,” he nodded towards Llewellyn, “Gwen and I, together with our Chinese friend and I’m afraid, my wayward twin Muenda were known as The Guardians. We were part of an ancient order of wizards based on Earth, originally there were seven of us, our job was to fight against all that was evil in the magicking world. We were dormant for many years and Gwen, and I became hidden wizards, suppressing our inner aura until we were needed again. I came out of hiding when Funsan was in danger from his own people. I brought him to England and then eventually to Wales. I introduced him to Gwen when he was starting university and told him then that if ever he was in trouble, he was to find Gwen. I’m afraid to tell you boys, your mother is not the phobl you thought, but an enormously powerful wizard, even more powerful than my brother Muenda.”
“Did you know all this da?” Tom asked.
“I do now, but only found out myself a few weeks ago after Flinty let me into his mind to see his hidden secrets. That was one of them, and it came as much of a surprise to me as to you two. The other big secret was that he knew who the Master was, however, that was wrong. He had the wrong great-uncle.”
“Then, if you knew, why did you tell mum that it was too dangerous for her to come to Trymyll with us?”
“Well, either I was still keeping up the pretence, or, I hadn’t yet gotten used to the idea that your mother was a Guardian Wizard.”
“Were there more secrets then?” asked Tom.
“That is between Flinty and me and is, as usual, privileged information.”
“I’ll take that as a yes then,” Tom said.
“When did you tell ma that you knew?” asked Jon.
“Yes, last week when we returned home and you two went off to see Mrs Glyn and have your chocolate fest, I said we had some catching up to do, well that was the main topic of conversation.”
“Ma, how could you lie to us for all those years, all our lives in fact,” Tom was getting emotional.
“I have never lied to you once. Did I ever tell you that I was a phobl? Did you ever ask me if I was a wizard?”
“No, sorry, that didn’t come out right,” Tom said apologetically, “but all the time we were here in Trymyll, you played with us, letting us do magic for you, never once telling us that you could do all those things, apparate and stuff.”
“Well, you never asked, did you. Anyway, now you know, and I’m sorry to say because this will be even a greater shock to you, I knew of all your little adventures with the Blue Dragons, and Arvel Mordecai, and all that happened in the cave with the Master, Toms encounter with the Blue Dragons in the entrance, and all about your battle with the Master and so on.
“How?” asked Tom.
“Because I can see deep into your minds, so when you were telling me all about it, well your carefully edited version of it anyway, your guards were down, and I could see every detail. I could see you and Jon with your dragons, Jon on the back of Bevon right in the heart of the fight and you Tom, taking off the master’s hand as well. That’s a trait you inherited from me Tom, we never go in for the kill, only do enough to make the enemy retreat. Whereas Jon is more like his father, not too shy about a direct hit. And Jon, your battle royal as you called it, the one you had when you were getting to know your Bevan, the one where you beat twenty or thirty Blue Dragons, well, you must have had something wrong with your eyes or your maths; it was twelve.” Gwen said with a howl of laughter. Jon just went slightly red.
“Right, I’ll put a brew on and get the cakes, then we must get back.”
“Get back where?” Llewellyn asked.
“Well, back to poor old Eiddoel, he’ll be fixed enough now for a chat, but not well enough for a fight.”
“Can’t we just leave him there?” asked Jon.
“No,” said Tom, “I put him into a deep sleep, I have to bring him out of it.”
“And then we need to have a little chat,” Gwen continued.
They tucked into the tea and cakes and carried on talking.
Jon spoke first. “We don’t know anything about Blue Dragons, they’re not how we see them. The dragons we see are what they call drones, specially bred for slaughter, more like slaves. They’re the ones we saw earlier today and the ones we come across generally. They have little magic, little brain, and little of anything else. The real Blue Dragons are wise, magical, intelligent and cruel.”
“Why cruel?” asked Flintock.
“Because they breed these drones as they call them as lambs for the slaughter. They do not mourn them, they don’t even care about them, they just send them out to do the fighting knowing they will all be killed. The valley of the Blue Dragons is pristinely clean, with no old bones and half-eaten carcases, no disgusting stench to make Tom sick. The drones, who are like slaves to them, see to that, they both bring in the choicest cattle, oxen, buffalo, and deer for the pure breeds and then clear away any leftovers and bones into the valleys far away. The disgusting mess and stench, that’s because the servant classes dump it all in the valleys around the Blue Mountains. There are not even that many of the purebred Blue Dragons, I could sense only about three or four thousand. However, there are thousands upon thousands of the slaves; and this is important, this is a secret they didn’t want us to know, so still, never trust a Blue Dragon.”
“Good point,” Tom said, “do we still have to go back?”
“Yes,” Gwen replied, “you have to finish healing him and he may have information that will be of use to us.”