Chapter 11: Breakout

Clive travelled up to London by train for the interview and looked forward to meeting Deirdre for the first time. He wanted to put a face to the voice he looked forward to hearing again. He was twenty minutes early for his appointment, the receptionist told him with a welcoming smile. Lunch was on order for one o’clock, she told him, and summoned Becky to reception to meet and take him through to the offices. Clive was left with Becky for a few minutes to catch up on the job he was being interviewed for.

Becky told him the background about the company that had expressed an interest in seeing him, Acme International Inc. They were a California-based leading edge electrical, mechanical and IT engineering concern who have manufacturing plant in 55 states and countries worldwide and offices and warehouse and distribution centres numbered in the hundreds.

Clive found that he was quite relaxed, much more so than usual, as he really didn’t think he would get this job, the company was so different in scale to any other place he had worked. He assured Becky that he was relaxed and that he was mostly interested in the experience that this job interview could give him and he was impressed by the efficiency of Becky’s company as an employment agency.

Becky smiled at Clive, reassuring him in turn that he had nothing to worry about through the interviews to come, as Acme were only interviewed serious candidates, and as far as Becky was concerned, only seriously considered candidates ever reached this stage of the process. She pointed out to him that Acme was continuously expanding into new businesses and markets, that they really liked English and Scottish engineers and they were interviewing only three people in the UK for more than one vacant role. The forms he had filled in were designed to see how he fit into the company and the job, they had already taken up his references and that they had also included an element in the reference forms sent out to get the best information out of his referees. Tomorrow’s interview would be with both Brock and Deidre, she said, starting at 9am at their offices.

Clive smiled. “I’m really looking forward to this.”

Korwyn broke down the burning door with two or three kicks with his fireproof Dragonskin boot, and was out into the cold stone corridor, with the Red Dragon following immediately behind him. As Korwyn climbed rapidly up the dark, narrow staircase, that only a few hours before he had been ignominiously dragged down, he wondered how he would tackle any armed guard he might meet on the stairs. He slowed his progress slightly, as he climbed more stealthily, making as little noise as possible. He knew the guards would be aware of something being afoot down below, due to the surprisingly light plume of smoke from the fires below funnelling upwards ahead of him.

He heard the guards rapidly and noisily heading downwards before he actually saw them. There were two of them, judging by the sounds they were making, so he pinned himself to the inner wall of the circular stairs and waited. As the first Guard ran past carrying a torch, Korwyn kicked him in the side of the knee with the heel of his boot and flattened himself against the inner wall again. The guard screamed as his knee bent sideways, snapping the ligaments holding his joint together and his kneecap snapping in half. The guard’s head smashed into the opposite wall and he dropped his torch, which spun away down the stone steps. The second guard was half a dozen paces behind and he called out to his friend and slowed down to a cautious one step in front of the other, with his burning torch stretched out in front of him, illuminating the steps immediately ahead of him.

Korwyn first saw the light from the torch light up the opposite wall first, then the torch preceded the guard, too high for Korwyn to reach as it came into Korwyn’s view. The guard stopped in mid-step. In front of him, he could see his colleague sprawled down several steps away, but what made the guard’s eyes almost bug out of his head was the sight of a small red-coloured dragon sitting on the steps immediately below the fallen guard, blinking in the bright light. The guard let out a cry and turned ready to run back up the stairs, the light from the torch swinging out of the way,

Korwyn stepped out from where he waited, took a couple of steps up the stairs and reached out for the guard, fastening his grip on the back of the guard’s sword belt and, using the wall as a lever with his other hand, he sharply yanked the guard backward. With another cry, this time of helpless anguish, the guard dropped the torch as he scrambled to find a fingertip hold in the stone walls of either side of him, he was immediately unbalanced and fell backwards. Korwyn clutched the wall and kept out of the way and the guard fell back with no possibility of breaking his fall. He tried to bend at the waist, but all that did was force him to land on his arse first with a soft thump, his legs rolling upward so he rolled over and his head smashed into the stone steps with a sickening crunch which cut off his scream and then his limp body rolled on down past the other moaning body and the dragon, who turned its head to follow the rolling body down, around the corner and lost from view in the darkness below.

The torch the guard carried lay on the steps still alight. Korwyn picked it up and drew a broadsword from the scabbard that the first guard carried. The man was awake, his terrified eyes wide open in fear, and clearly wracked in pain from his knee but tried not to utter a sound in case the dragon attacked, killed and ate him.

Korwyn, with torch in one hand and sword in the other, stole up the steps, the red dragon following on behind, passing the frightened guard without touching him.

Korwyn hefted the sword, it was a light, cheaply-made sword, not particularly well balanced. He suspected it had lost the tip once and had to have significant reshaping of the tip end of the blade so that the hilt was now slightly too heavy. He adjusted his grip, so that his fist was towards the pommel and away from the cross guard, that felt better balanced but he preferred his hand to be closer to the cross guard, where the grip was wider and therefore more comfortable to hold.

‘Perhaps the next guard l tackle will have a better sword for me to take and use,’ he hoped.

He climbed the steep stone steps cautiously, but he could still hear the patter of tiny talons on the stone steps behind him. Curiously the dragon stayed behind him, probably unwilling to lose sight of its adopted parent yet, and apparently picked up on Korwyn’s cautious progress and refrained from flying up under his own wing power. There was very little smoke the further up they went, so Korwyn reasoned that there had been no hue and cry, that the guards were going down on a routine patrol and only hastened that last stretch because of the smell of burning rather than the appearance of actual smoke.

They reached the top of the steps, an open door leading out into the daylight of the guardroom that Korwyn remembered from his first time being dragged through to the dungeons. Korwyn placed the now redundant torch into a torch holder attached to the wall at the side by the door. He peered out cautiously, feeling the dragon at his feet also look out and around in close imitation of Korwyn’s movements. He looked down and smiled, amused at the action, which relieved the otherwise grim set of his mouth.

There was a guardroom on the other side of the door, which he also remembered being hauled through earlier, recalling that there was a courtyard ahead and the end of the castle wall, with steps leading up to the battlements to the right, while to the left, through the Lower Bailey, he could access the Keep and the main buildings in the Upper Bailey which contained the Royal Apartments. He was reasonably familiar with the castle from visiting and spending time here with his father and grandfather during his childhood, but he hadn’t been here for a dozen years and was unsure if there were many changes, certainly he noticed the new Barbican was a monstrous addition to the castle entrance.

‘I’m sure that the weasel Mantoule is in the Keep,’ Korwyn told himself. A look around showed the courtyard was empty, so he walked across, holding the sword pointing down by his left hip so it looked as if it was peacefully scabbarded at a quick glance. The Red Dragon followed him for a couple of steps, then, with the sheer exuberance of youth being out in the open air for the first time in its short life, it launched itself high into the air, and settled on soaring on the airwaves above the castle, but also careful to keep one eye on Korwyn and not lose him. Surprisingly, no hue or cry went up at the appearance of the dragon in the sky.

Korwyn entered the Keep and the Red Dragon swooped down to follow through the door which Korwyn left open behind him. There were a number of castle guards who were sitting inside eating a meal, Korwyn took in and counted fifteen of them sitting either side of a plain trestle table. It seemed to be a stew they were eating off their bread trenchers with wooden spoons and short cutting knives. It smelt good and Korwyn was reminded that he was hungry, very hungry.

‘An iron cauldron still suspended over the fire is a promising sign,’ Korwyn thought to himself, ‘After all, who would bother to hook an empty cauldron back up on the fire?’

“Hey, you fellows got a spare trencher and two more helpings of stew? A spare spoon would be handy. I’ve got my own knife,” he said as he lifted the borrowed sword and pointed it at them.

A couple of the guards stood up.

“No, sit comfortable, do enjoy your meal, I’m here only to deal with that treacherous rat Montoule.” Korwyn noticed a couple of guards’ eyes flicked upwards, involuntarily indicating the whereabouts of the devil who he sought.

Then the Red Dragon landed in behind Korwyn and all the guards reacted by getting up and panic running in all directions, although it looked like the doorway where Korwyn and the Dragon stood was the only way in and out of the building. They were also standing in front of the staircase leading to the next floor. Within seconds the guards were crouching behind chairs and the trestle table, trying to hide from the tiny but curious monster.

“Just a bowl and no spoon for the second helping,” Korwyn added, “you really don’t want to leave my friend here hungry, do you?”

“You!” came a voice from the top of the stairs.

“Montoule,” Korwyn retorted, looking up, “just the man I am looking for. I have a promise I made to you that I am anxious to fulfil at the earliest opportunity, and now seems to be an excellent moment.”

Montoule drew his sword from his scabbard as he descended the steps, “and I have a promise I made for you too.”

The Red Dragon behind Korwyn sensed the antagonism between the two men and he growled at the newcomer.

Korwyn spread out his left hand, softly saying as well as thinking, “Stay, Red, stay.” And took a couple of steps forward to the staircase as Montoule stepped cautiously down the stairway towards him.

“Where’d’yer get the little dragon from, Korwyn, eh? Has your Elf-bitch spawned her abominable winged child already?” Montoule taunted.

“I told you what was going to happen to you, Montoule, for betraying us, so come and get your portion of justice.”

Montoule lunged with the tip of his sword, doubtless hoping to use the advantage of height from his position on the stairs to get in an early blow. Korwyn parried with his poor borrowed sword and forced his enemy against the wall. As Korwyn closed in, the traitor recovered and threw in a desperate stabbing motion, which Korwyn easily deflected, twisted his wrist and stabbed Montoule through the heart with his sword. Montoule’s face contorted in both agony and amazement at his easy defeat. The dying man slipped to the floor, bleeding out, his limbs failing him. Korwyn turned to the guards, who slowly stood up, unclear of what to do.

“I’m ready for that stew now,” Korwyn said.

As one of them, probably the cook, rushed to fill two bowls with shaking hands, another among them spoke up.

“You’re Lord Korwyn, the general of the Dwarf Army that wants to bring King Goadrik to justice, accused of killing his own father, our old king?” he asked.

“I am, what’ve you heard?”

“That you’ve come to rid us of this King’s tyranny?”

“I do have that intention, yes.”

“Then we are with you, my Lord. It is all we have spoke of in hushed tones betwixt us these last few months as news of your advance began to come through and spoken quietly of. Then this morning news came of your army’s resounding victory over our army at Pylanatehk. Will you be our new king, Sire?”

“Nay, I’m no more a king than my uncle is. You have a Queen already, a child Princess and a Prince, too. One of them or all in turn will be queen or king by right of law before I would even be called upon to serve, which I hope will never happen. I am a farmer not a general and not a ruler and I long miss my home, my fields and my livestock. I am certainly no king, I seek only justice for my family and the many families across our world that have suffered since Goadrik’s treachery.”

“Korry, is that you?” a female voice called down from the top of the stairs. The Queen stepped into view down the steps.

“Aye, Your Highness, ‘tis I Korwyn ... are you all safe?”

“We are safe, all three of us. Our guards are loyal to us, which is why we moved into the Keep here from the royal apartments when we heard that our army was in full retreat this morning. Even in ordinary circumstances the anger of the King has to be seen to be believed, now in such a defeat that he considered inconceivable, I am sure his rage will be incandescent!” The Queen spoke with a firm voice. “Is that really a live dragon that you have with you?”

“Aye, Your Highness, the Red Dragon with me is still a newly-hatched baby and very clumsy and excitable, with much to learn.”

“I think Princess Glendora would like to see your dragon, she insists on me reading her dragon stories at bedtime and draws them in her sketch book all the time.”

Just then, the little princess Glendora, who Korwyn thought was only about 3 years old, looked around the corner and, as soon as she saw the baby dragon, she ran past her mother and down the stairs towards him, delight full and joyous in her face. Red was startled by the sudden movement, but saw no threat at all from the tiny girl and allowed her to put her arms around his neck and cuddle him. Korwyn moved quickly to the two youngsters and held them both gently in his carefully-placed hands.

“Stroke his head gently, Princess Glendora, very gently,” Korwyn said quietly to the excited girl and turned to the Queen, “He’s hardly house-trained, Your Highness, born only an hour ago and I really have no way to predict his actions or even how to control him, so I would hate him to harm you or your children.”

Red was relaxed and purring, and sniffed at the little girl, picking up her scent and committing it to a pleasant memory.

“Don’t worry, Korwyn,” the voice from Red said in Korwyn’s head, “this manchild is a baby just like me, we have much in common in our curiosity and inclination to trust all those who are kind to us. Like I trust you and you have trusted me, even with the safety of this child. We, this child and I, have no reason for one to harm or upset the other, so each know that we must be gentle and have each other’s trust freely given and accepted.”

Korwyn, not for the first time, realised that he knew nothing about dragons and he would have to ask Zyndyr for what she knows of these mysterious creatures. He patted the dragon in appreciation and not a little affection for the young beast’s reassurance.