Paul Cude
A Threat from the Past
To Rachel, Jaina and Poppy – the best family anyone could ever wish for. Thank you so much for your love and support, without which this book would never have been possible. The three of you make me feel like the luckiest man alive.
And to the real Alan Garrett - thank you for letting me use your name, and for your friendship throughout the years.
A long time ago, through a stroke of luck, I was introduced to the sport of hockey. It changed and shaped my life beyond measure. Those of you who play any sort of team sport will undoubtedly know what I’m talking about. Those of you who don’t, should try taking one up - you might like it! To players of all team sports everywhere... this book is dedicated to you. Hope you enjoy!
Paul Cude
1
Dragon Sleighing
(And Yes, it’s supposed to be spelt that way)
Mystical power and pure, unadulterated magic have long since infused our world and those that reside there. All this has been going on since at least the prehistoric. Speaking of which....
Plumes of dark smoke billowed into the air across the broken and battered city as the sickly smell of death wafted on a gentle breeze across the market square, tugging at the canvas of the overturned market stalls scattered haphazardly amongst the raging fires and ruined buildings.
Off to one side stood the giant archway, which for hundreds of years had been regarded as the main thoroughfare to the city. Normally a giant monster of a retractable drawbridge with a thick steel portcullis hung, attached to the weathered archway, providing a reassuring air of safety to all the residents within. Fifteen minutes ago, that illusion had been shattered forever. All that now remained was the splintered outline of a ferocious beast, where it had casually walked through both drawbridge and portcullis, as a knife would slice through butter. Darkened steel had melted in places from the heat that it had radiated, the metal now looking like wax running down the side of a candle. It was odd that the creature had decided to do this; after all, it could have just flown over the walls and landed with ease anywhere it had wanted to. Currently the citizens had far too much on their minds to worry about details like that.
Steam rose from the dark cobbles of the square, the occasional one or two glowing bright orange from the heat. A faint trickle of water could just be heard from a pile of debris that not ten minutes ago had been an ornate fountain. Despite the burning buildings, the casualties and the corpses, those left alive were all mesmerised by the sight before them.
Near what was left of the drawbridge and portcullis, surrounded by piles of smouldering wreckage, hovering a few metres in the air, a gigantic, menacing dragon surveyed all the damage it had previously wreaked. Matt black all over, it seemed content enough with its progress to let snaking lines of flame dribble down both sides of its colossal jaws.
In spite of its size and formidable presence, it was clearly agitated, roaring occasionally, raking its talons along the top of the surrounding rubble and banging its tail into the ground with such force that the shock wave could be felt over a quarter of a mile away, terrifying residents trapped inside quaking houses and shops. The object of the dragon brute's agitation stood on the opposite side of the colossal square: out of breath, clad from head to toe in chainmail armour, clutching a rusty shield in one hand and a rather large, ordinary, dull blade in the other, the knight was sweating profusely. Random parts of his armour were blackened from fleeting encounters with the dragon's flame over the past few minutes. Onlookers couldn't decide if both were either having a rest, or had indeed reached a standoff. It didn't seem possible for that to be the case, but most would have said that for the knight to survive as long as he already had was nothing short of a miracle. Fear and terror gripped most of them, having lived through the nightmare that had come out of nowhere only a short time ago. But macabre as it may have seemed, they desperately wanted to witness the outcome of the most one-sided fight in history, despite knowing that the knight yonder had absolutely no chance at all.
His armour feeling mighty hot in places, the scorched knight seemed to have spent the last few seconds deciding on a course of action and, in one swift motion, dropped his rusty shield and pulled off his helm, tossing it far off to his right, revealing long, straggly, dark locks of hair. As if an almost everyday occurrence, he casually removed his gauntlets and the armour around his feet. Stifling a gasp, the entire crowd were unaware the best was yet to come. Waving his heavy sword around his body with such speed and athleticism that the blade was a constant blur, silently he mouthed a challenge to the, by now, very disappointed scaled monster. Impossible as it may seem, the beast appeared to understand the knight's whispered challenge from over four hundred metres away and with one huge flap of its wings, propelled itself forward, creating such down force that dust, stone, wood and even dead bodies scattered into the air in its wake. At exactly the same time, the knight started sprinting towards the dragon, with most of his armour removed and just his two handed sword for company. City folk collectively held their breath.
Time slowed as the speeding dragon travelled towards the knight, just above the ground, emitting a thunderous cone of fire out in front of it. Everyone was of the same opinion: the knight would be obliterated by the mighty dragon.
As the inevitable drew closer, the sprinting knight, arms and legs pumping, face full of anger and passion, managed to find just a little more speed, and at the split second before hitting the tip of the fiery cone, dived headlong towards the cobbles. Miraculously the knight's extra speed had caused the dragon to miscalculate and as the knight rolled underneath the dragon's exposed belly, he managed with all the dexterity and agility of an Olympic gymnast, to thrust the heavy two-handed sword into the beast with just one hand.
An almighty gurgle reverberated across the square as the flames instantly died away and the dragon thudded awkwardly to the ground, its massive body narrowly missing the exhausted knight. City dwellers covered their ears as the BOOM from the impact shuddered across the city. Massive cracks in the cobblestones rippled out from beneath the beast's body as a low-pitched holler echoed from the depths of its very being. Painfully the knight hauled himself up from the ground, visibly panting as he did so. Slowly, he strode along the side of the dragon as if inspecting it, only stopping when he reached its head. Kneeling, he started to recite the words of an ancient tongue, so that only he could hear.
Meanwhile citizens appeared to be recovering from the shock of the dragon having been defeated, rushing to the aid of the wounded, putting out fires, rescuing animals and comforting those mourning the loss of a loved one.
From out of a darkened alleyway between two of the remaining shops on the far side of the square, a small group of people led by the mayor, headed towards the knight, meandering through the burning rubble, the pillars of thick black smoke and the numerous cadavers. As they approached, the knight finished uttering the mysterious words, words which had caused a soft purple glow to spread from its head to the tip of the tail, finally encompassing its entire body, barely noticeable against the space-like black of the dragon's scales, but it was there.
Ignoring the people heading towards him, the knight walked back to the dragon's belly. Crouching, he put two hands on the hilt of the massive sword, and yanked it free. A dozen tiny scales, about the size of a man's fingernails, clattered onto the cobbles from around the entry wound that the sword had been pulled from. With a sleight of hand any magician would have been proud of, the knight scooped up the scales and poured them into a silk bag that hung from his belt. Sheathing his sword, he turned to face the newcomers.