The Heart of a Dragon, Part 1

THE FIRE & ICE CHRONICLES: THE HEART OF A DRAGON
By Jake Collins

In a seemingly deserted cave far below the Valley of the Airwan, a human figure stepped into a small area of incandescent light.

  "Night-star!" Drago Lestrade called loudly. "Are you there, Great One? I am in need of your wisdom."

Almost immediately, Drago discerned a slow, deliberate movement in the shadows before him, as though the rocks themselves had come to life.

  "Ah, Drago, how many times have you come to me in search of wisdom, and how many times have you left this cave secure in the knowledge that the wisdom you sought has been within you all along?" a deep, rumbling voice questioned, filling the cave and echoing off the walls in a most eerie fashion.

  "Many times," Drago admitted, "but this time is different. There is a decision I have to make, Night-star, and I can't do it without your advice."

  "Drago, there is nothing in the world you cannot do, for you have the heart of a dragon," Drago's companion chuckled softly. "However, I do enjoy our little chats more than you can imagine, so I will gladly listen to the details of your predicament."

  "I… I'm not entirely sure I want to be part of the Airwan anymore," Drago confessed.

  "Dear me," Night-star rumbled. "Do you tire of tending to my kind?"

  "Oh no, it's not that I don't want to be among dragons," Drago hastily assured his companion. "I love dragons, you know I do, but… well, I just don't feel that I really fit in with the people of Airwan anymore. I don't… see the world in the same way they do."

  "Obviously not, since you are already on something of a stay of execution," Night-star remarked. "What exactly was the nature of your offence against the Elders? Something to do with illegal and dangerous alchemical experiments, wasn't it?"

  "There's nothing dangerous about my experiments," Drago pouted.

  "Are you quite sure about that?" Night-star chuckled. "Correct me if I'm wrong, Drago, but aren't the irises of most humans uniform in colour?"

  "That was… unexpected," Drago admitted. "But it wasn't dangerous. Anyway, those of us who are bold enough to push back the boundaries of science are bound to experience a few… side-effects from time to time."

  "I don't wonder the Elders put you on probation, if you explained yourself to them like that."

  "That's exactly my point – I don't think I can live my life by their rules any longer!"

  "A ticklish problem indeed," Night-star remarked. "Have you, then, been entertaining thoughts of leaving this place to join one of the two great factions of the realm of Knightmare?"

  "No, I haven't," Drago said decisively. "I wouldn't want to work for either the Powers That Be or the Opposition – neither of them is exactly…"

  "Singing from your particular hymn sheet?" Night-star suggested.

  "Yes, exactly!" Drago agreed. "To tell you the truth, Night-star, I feel completely lost. I don't want to sound like a braggart, but I have skills… skills that could make a difference to this world in some way - for better or for worse – if only I could find the best way to use them. I wish I knew what to do."

All of a sudden, a small jet of flame lit up the cave for a few seconds, as Night-star's enormous reptilian head descended from the darkness and came to hover just in front of Drago.

  "Drago, you do know what to do," the colossal dragon said soberly. "You have just told me what you are going to do. In your heart, you do not feel like a Dragon-Rider, you do not feel like a member of the Powers That Be, and you do not feel like a member of the Opposition. You should listen to your heart, Drago – it is telling you what you must do."

  "You mean… you mean it's telling me to leave the Valley of the Airwan and go off on my own?"

  "I mean it is telling you to follow your own path. You have the heart of a dragon, and so you will find your way."

  "Yes, it is telling me that," Drago agreed. "But I don't know if I'm strong enough…"

  "Of course you are strong enough!" Night-star roared suddenly. "A dragon's heart will always lead you right - follow it and you will find your destiny!"

  "Why do you keep telling me I have the heart of a dragon?" Drago queried. "I'm not one of you!"

  "You are not," agreed Night-star, "yet your heart is brave and pure and incorruptible. I know it is, for I have seen it! That is the heart of a dragon, Drago, and you are one of only a handful of your kind ever to have possessed such a rare treasure!"

  "I don't know about that," Drago laughed sceptically. "I know I said I have skills, Great One, but I'm not really anyone special."

  "I say that you are!" Night-star declared. "I have lived for many thousands of years, and I have seen so much, therefore I am a far better judge than you!"

  "Well, if you say so, I suppose I'll have to believe you," Drago laughed. "After all, I came here seeking your wisdom, and now…"

  "Now you are no wiser than when you first entered this cave," Night-star reiterated his earlier point. "You have merely learned to see more clearly. So tell me, son of the mountains, what is your next course of action to be?"

  "I shall leave the Valley of the Airwan at once, and set out to follow my own path!" Drago declared. "Wherever the road takes me, I know I'll be able to meet any challenge with courage and determination, thanks to my dragon's heart! But I… I can still come to you for advice, can't I, when I need to?"

  "As I believe I have already explained, Drago, you do not need the advice of an ancient relic such as I," Night-star chuckled. "This is very fortunate, as I fear my time is short now."

  "It is?" Drago queried uncertainly. "You don't mean that you're… dying?"

  "Ah, the naivety of humankind," Night-star laughed. "Dragons do not die, my young friend… at least, not in the same way as your race. As is the case with all living things, our bodies will inevitably wear out, in the fullness of time, yet we are creatures of magic, and we do not simply cease to exist when that time comes."

  "A lot people believe the same thing of human souls," Drago pointed out. "I've always hoped they're right."

  "Ah, but dragons have more than hope," Night-star replied, almost smugly. "We have knowledge."

  "Of course you do," Drago said wryly. "What happens to you, then?"

  "We… change."

  "How, exactly?"

  "When next you see a clear night sky, look to the stars," Night-star proclaimed. "There you will see the ranks of my departed brethren, whom I am soon to join. They offer comfort and strength in times of doubt, for those who know where to look."

  "Are you telling me that stars are actually dead dragons?" Drago frowned in confusion.

  "That is something of an oversimplification, but I suppose it is as much as a human is ever likely to understand," Night-star considered. "Perhaps you had not realised, Drago, but Night-star is not my true name… although it as close as the parameters of your relatively modern tongue would ever allow. Perhaps your race will never fully understand mine, but now you understand better than any to have gone before you. You should feel most privileged."

  "I do, Great One!" Drago assured his companion earnestly. "So… so if I ever need your advice again, all I have to do is look to the stars?"

  "Yes indeed, my friend," Night-star rumbled. "Look to the stars, and you shall always find the answers you seek."


As the sun set over the Valley of the Airwan that evening, a small figure flitted through the shadows of the towering mountains. Drago had filled a small knapsack with some meagre provisions, and armed himself with a shortsword and his Airwan-issue crossbow. Just as he was congratulating himself on his stealthy escape, a colossal shape flew down from a nearby mountaintop and landed on a flat area of rock nearby.

  "Drago!" the previously unseen dragon exclaimed jovially. "I've been looking for you all afternoon! Why are you wearing that knapsack?"

  "Lokie!" Drago reacted in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

  "As I said, I was looking for you," Lokie replied. "You are supposed to protect me, you know, Drago. Imagine what would have happened if Lord Fear and all his minions had chosen this very afternoon to burst into my cave and slaughter me in my sleep. Would you have been there to help me, like a good Dragon-Rider would have been?"

  "Hmm, yes, well, I'm sorry about that, Lokie, but I've been busy," Drago explained. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but the time has come for us to part company forever. I am no longer a Dragon-Rider. I have my own path to follow, and I am leaving the Valley of the Airwan forever."

  "Oh, right," Lokie replied levelly. "I'll come with you, then."

  "No, I have to do this alone," Drago frowned. "Don't you understand, Lokie? I'm releasing you - you're free!"

  "I have always been free, Drago, and I always will be," Lokie informed him. "I am a dragon."

  "Then go and be free, like a dragon should be!" Drago exclaimed heatedly. "You can make your own choices now!"

  "How gracious of you to say so," Lokie yawned. "In that case, I shall come with you and help you find your path – that is my choice. Perhaps you have misinterpreted our relationship, Drago. You're not my master - you're my friend."

  "But… but…" Drago stammered. "I thought dragons resented helping humans, and letting them ride on them, and being used as servants!"

  "Oh Drago, that really is terribly, terribly amusing," Lokie laughed heartily. "Do you imagine that any human could force a dragon to help them in any way if the dragon did not want to? The Airwan may think they have power over us, but they do not. If a dragon really doesn't want to do something, a human can do nothing to force it. But those of us who choose to cooperate with the Airwan know that there's no shame in serving others - helping others – if that is the individual dragon's choice, and it is mine. I am coming with you."

  "Lokie, I… I don't know what to say," said Drago, feeling more than a little teary. "I guess I'm not the only one with a dragon's heart. I'm more grateful for your friendship than you can imagine, and I'll be glad to have you with me… the only problem is, I'm hoping to travel without being spotted, and I don't think there's much chance of that with you flying overhead all the time."

  "There's no problem there, my friend," Lokie disagreed, as he began to flap his leathery wings. "I won't be there to give you away, but I will be keeping an eye on you. If you need me, just call my name and I will come."

Drago smiled as he watched his old friend rise into the darkening sky and gradually disappear from view. He reflected that Night-star must have been right about his heart being that of a dragon, for at that moment it felt as though it was flying as high as Lokie.


Drago had been walking throughout the night. As the first fingers of dawn began to snake between the trees of the Forest of Dunn, Drago knew that he would soon have to allow himself a few hours' rest. For the best part of an hour, he had been vaguely attempting to find the area known as Grimdale, an official sanctuary where he would be able to rest in peace. However, he could no longer ignore the fact that he had become more than a little lost. Just as he was considering calling for Lokie and asking him to scout around the local area, an unfamiliar voice met Drago's ears.

  "Stay right where you are, stranger!" the cutting tones commanded. "One false move and I'll jolly well skewer you!"

Drago peered into the semi-darkness before him to see an athletic female figure, which was holding something small and sharp in its raised right hand. Drago could not help but notice that his companion was wearing a very short, tight-fitting leather jerkin that left practically nothing to the imagination. He could not help but gawp slightly.

  "I don't know what makes you think you can wander through Powers That Be territory without permission," the female's clear, well-spoken voice came again. "Name yourself and state your business, quick-sharp!"

Drago frowned. "And what are you going to do if I don't?" he challenged.

  "This!" the unidentified warrior declared.

There came a sudden flurry of movement and a flash of metal. Drago felt something fly past his ear, and turned around to see a throwing-knife impaled in the trunk of a large tree behind him.

  "Okay, I have to admit I'm impressed," he confessed. "Did you say I'm on Powers That Be territory? I must have wandered into the Knightmare realm by mistake."

  "Save your excuses, stranger, and give me your name!"

  "That I will, but first I think you should give me yours. Don't you know how impolite it is to ask for someone's name without first stating your own?"

  "You have some bally guts on you, don't you?" the cut-glass tones half-laughed. "Very well then, my name is Stiletta, and I am here as a duly designated representative of Lord Treguard of Dunshelm, upon whose lands you are currently trespassing."

  "My name is Drago Lestrade," Drago replied. "I'm nothing more than a simple traveller passing through the Forest of Dunn."

  "Ah, but I only have your word for that, don't I?" Stiletta reasoned. "Sorry, old chap, but I'm going to have to take you in."

  "You don't need to do that," Drago said levelly. "I'm not a threat to the Powers That Be. I'm trying to find my way to Grimdale."

  "My dear Drago Lestrade, you are trespassing on Powers That Be territory, and you are a stranger with possibly hostile intentions. My orders are to take you in. Sorry and all that."

Stiletta made another sudden movement. Drago dropped into a crouch as two more knives flew over his head. In the blink of an eye, he had whipped out his crossbow. Stiletta yelped in alarm as a bolt slid past her left arm.

  "Now you've attacked a Powers That Be agent!" she declared. "Treguard won't be pleased with you!"

  "I only did it because you attacked me!" Drago pointed out. "Now let me pass, or… oof!"

Drago was knocked off his feet as Stiletta cannoned into him. He spluttered slightly as her long brown hair almost blocked his nose and mouth, allowing her the time to draw a large sword from her belt. Drago danced away from the blade.

  "Come now, my friend, why don't you make your life easier and give yourself up?" Stiletta laughed. "It would be a bally shame if I had to kill you… I've only just had this sword cleaned."

  "You shan't soil it with my blood," Drago glowered at her.

Stiletta grinned at him, before sweeping her sword towards him in a curving arc. Drago nimbly dodged out of the way, and Stiletta's sword crashed into the forest floor, her momentum pulling her off-balance. Drago took the chance to ram the pommel of his shortsword into Stiletta's right hand, causing her to release her sword with a cry of pain. Drago lunged for the weapon, but Stiletta kicked his feet out from under him. He grabbed her around the waist, and they both toppled to the ground.

  "This is a dashed fine ruck!" Stiletta laughed in exhilaration. "I haven't been grabbed like that for a long time!"

  "Did you enjoy it?" Drago asked facetiously, as he raised himself onto one elbow.

  "Don't flatter yourself, Drago," Stiletta shrugged. "It wasn't all that exciting. It seems to me that we are evenly matched. You may as well agree to come with me, otherwise we may find ourselves fighting here for all time!"

  "I don't think so, my dear Stiletta," Drago grinned. "I do have something that might tip the balance in my favour – LOKIE!"

There came a tremendous crashing of branches overhead as Lokie flew down through the forest canopy and landed – somewhat awkwardly – at Drago's side. He was wearing his fiercest expression, and fire was flickering at his nostrils. Stiletta could not help but screech in alarm.

  "Lokie, this Powers That Be lackey is in my way," Drago said confidently. "Would you kindly rectify the situation, please?"

  "Bad form!" Stiletta declared. "It's hardly a fair fight if you set a stomping great dragon on me!"

Lokie peered down at Stiletta, and shifted his feet self-consciously.

  "I am humbly sorry to have startled you, dear lady," the dragon said smoothly. "Tell me, Drago, where is this vile enemy you wish me to deal with?

  "Lokie, that's her," Drago explained patiently. "The girl with the knives and the… jerkin."

Lokie let out a rumbling laugh. "Come now, Drago, don't pull my tail so. This charming young lady is obviously no enemy."

  "Your dragon has far better manners than you, Drago," Stiletta remarked. "And he obviously has a lot more going on upstairs too."

  "My manners are impeccable, to those 'dear ladies' who don't threaten my life as soon as they meet me!" Drago defended himself.

  "I haven't threatened your life, and I don't intend to," Stiletta argued.

  "What about those knives you threw at my head?"

  "I was aiming for the tree, and – as you may have noticed – I never miss my target."

  "You tried to cut me in half with a broadsword!"

  "I was only trying to give you a slight nick, in order to subdue you. Just for precautions, you understand, hmm? While we're on the subject, I've noticed that you haven't tried to kill me at all. You had a clear shot with that crossbow of yours, yet you aimed for my arm."

  "I aimed for just next to your arm," Drago corrected her, "which is why that's where the bolt went."

  "If you say so," Stiletta smiled slyly.

  "Those knives are Warrior Thief-issue, aren't they?" Drago ventured. "I was a Warrior Thief… I suppose I still am, in a way… Second Level."

  "A piffling Second Level?" Stiletta laughed. "I'm a Third Level, and I earned all three the hard way. Still, I suppose you could say that we're comrades, in a way."

  "Yes," Drago grinned at her, "and surely loyalty to a fellow Warrior Thief outranks your allegiance to Treguard, doesn't it?"

  "According to the Code, it certainly bally well does! It looks like I'm going to have to let you go, then. Good thing too – you see, I want to let you go, really."

  "Does that mean you trust me now?"

  "As much as I trust anyone. You'd better be on your way now, Drago. As far as I'm concerned, you can wander wherever you like in the Knightmare realm, but if Treguard or any of his Rangers should happen to spot you, I don't imagine they'd be of the same opinion. My advice to you is to leave Treguard's lands as quickly as you can."

  "Thank you for your advice, Stiletta," Drago smiled at her. "I don't want to stretch the boundaries of our comradeship too far, but could you possibly see your way clear to directing me towards Grimdale, do you think?"

  "The quickest way is to head east from here, and follow the path through Wolfenden," Stiletta replied. "The only drawback with that is, you'll have to pass right by Dunshelm on the way. If you're spotted…"

  "Don't worry, I won't be," Drago said confidently. "I, er… I don't suppose you'd like to come with me and show me the way, would you?"

  "Sorry, handsome, but I'm already taking too much of a risk by letting you go," Stiletta said quietly. She raised two fingers to her mouth, kissed them, and pressed them to Drago's lips. "See you."

Stiletta took a few moments to retrieve her knives before darting back into the forest.

  "Wow, Lokie," Drago breathed, "that Stiletta sure is some girl."

  "She certainly is, Drago," Lokie agreed. "I have a feeling that your path will cross with hers again before too long."

  "I hope so," Drago could not help but grin. "In the meantime, I'd better try to reach Grimdale."

  "Do you need me anymore?" asked Lokie.

  "No, I'd better travel alone for now," said Drago. "But thanks for coming so quickly when I called you."

  "Don't mention it, my friend," Lokie rumbled. "Remember, if you should need me again, just give me a call – I won't be far away."

Lokie flapped his colossal wings and – with some difficulty – rose up through the trees and into the lightening sky beyond. Drago took a moment to cast one more longing look after Stiletta's receding form, before setting off in the direction she had indicated.


The towering fortress of Dunshelm loomed overhead, casting the surrounding landscape in early-morning shadow. The path through the forest took Drago right up to the edge of the treeline, far closer to the castle than he would have liked. Just as he was starting to wonder whether he should take the notorious risk of leaving the beaten path and returning to the deeper recesses of the forest, a gruff male voice met his ears.

  "Stay right where you are, stranger!" it commanded. "One move and you're dead!"

  "Not again," Drago sighed heavily, as his eyes alighted upon the one who had spoken. "I'll never get to Grimdale at this rate."

  "Raise those hands, sonny!" commanded the stranger. "I am Calwain, Chief of the Dungeon Rangers, and any failure on your part to obey my orders will be taken as an open act of hostility against the Powers That Be, and will be dealt with accordingly."

Drago considered his position. Calwain had a crossbow trained to his chest, so any attempt to draw either of his own weapons would probably prove to be a very bad move. He could call for Lokie, of course, but setting a dragon on a high-ranking Powers That Be agent just outside Knightmare Castle itself would probably cause a lot of problems in the long-run. Reluctantly, Drago raised his hands.

  "That's right," Calwain said approvingly. "Now, come into the light and let me see you."

Drago decided it would be best to obey Calwain, at least for the moment. Slowly and deliberately, he stepped out from between the trees and approached the Chief Ranger. Calwain's eyes roamed Drago's entire body, narrowed in intense concentration.

  "That's an Airwan-issue crossbow, isn't it?" Calwain remarked. "Yet you are dressed like a peasant. What is your name, stranger, and what are you doing here?"

  "My name is Drago Lestrade," Drago replied. "I'm just passing through."

  "Are you a Dragon-Rider?"

  "No, I am not."

  "Then where did you get that crossbow?" Calwain demanded.

  "I… I've just left the Airwan," Drago explained, trying not to give away too much information about himself. "I don't intend to stay in the realm of Knightmare any longer than I have to, so if you'll just let me be on my way…"

  "If you cannot give a satisfactory explanation for your presence here to me, you will have to explain yourself to Lord Treguard himself!" Calwain declared. "You will come with me."

  "Look, I told you, I'm just passing through," Drago growled. "I don't mean any harm to the Powers That Be…"

  "I'm going to need more than the word of a Dragon-Rider before I believe that," Calwain snarled. "I'm taking you in!"

Calwain made a sudden movement with his left hand. Drago noticed that he was holding a hefty cudgel, which had previously been hidden behind his back.

  "Lok…" Drago began to shout, but it was too late. He felt something very hard crashing into the side of his head, there was a moment of excruciating pain, and then he lost consciousness.


Drago awoke to find himself in a cold, dark room. He noticed immediately that he was lying on a hard, cold surface, which could only be stone. His head ached almost unbearably as he forced his eyes to adjust to the dim light. He soon realised that the dank room was a prison cell. Standing behind the wall of bars just to Drago's left was a tall, powerful, bearded figure in a red cloak.

  "You are back with us, I see," a deep, gruff voice boomed into Drago's fuggy brain, increasing his headache tenfold. "I was beginning to think you would sleep all day. I am Treguard, Lord of Dunshelm and leader of the Powers That Be, and I wish to have a few words with you, Drago Lestrade."

Drago forced himself to rise into a sitting position, which made his head swim alarmingly.

  "What's going on?" he asked uncertainly. "Why have you imprisoned me?"

  "Get on your feet, lad, so that we may converse as men!" Treguard ordered sharply. "And address me as 'My Lord' if you wish me to respond to what you say."

Drago rose unsteadily to his feet. He was forced to clutch at the stone wall of the cell for support as he fought to stop his legs buckling underneath him. With great difficulty, he raised his eyes to meet Treguard's stony gaze.

  "That's better," Treguard remarked, with a sinister smile. "Now, would you care to ask me your question again, Drago?"

  "Why have you imprisoned me, My Lord?" Drago obliged him.

  "Before I give you any answers, you must give me some," Treguard answered annoyingly. "You are of the Airwan, aren't you? Why did you come to my lands? Are your people planning some kind of hostile strike against the Powers That Be? Are you working with Lord Fear and his accursed Opposition minions?"

Drago glowered back at Treguard, matching the Dungeon Master's thunderous expression.

  "I don't really feel like answering those questions," Drago said obstinately, adding as an afterthought, "My Lord."

  "How unfortunate for you," Treguard said sombrely. "Then it is only fair that I should not answer yours. I shall return in the morning, Drago. Perhaps then your tongue will have loosened a little."

Treguard turned on his heel and strode away, his footsteps ringing out deafeningly. Suddenly brimming with anger, Drago ran to the bars of his cell and rammed his fists against the unyielding metal.

  "You can't leave me locked up here like this with no explanation!" he roared. "I've committed no crime! Set me free at once!"

But Treguard paid him no heed. Drago was forced to listen to the Dungeon Master's receding footsteps fade and then disappear, brimming with infinite frustration all the while.


A short time later, an obviously agitated figure burst into the Great Hall of Knightmare Castle. Calmly and deliberately, Treguard looked up from his magic pool.

  "Ah, Stiletta," he remarked, once he had discerned the identity of his visitor. "What can I do for you?"

  "I just heard a couple of Rangers talking and they reckon you've got a young man by the name of Drago Lestrade locked up in one of the cells," Stiletta gabbled. "Is it true?"

  "Yes, Stiletta, it is," Treguard replied levelly. "Does this snippet of information particularly interest you?"

  "Um, well, not really," Stiletta said, somewhat awkwardly. "I only wanted to know because… I say, that's him, isn't it?"

Stiletta darted over to the pool and stood on the opposite side from Treguard. She peered into the murky waters to see an image of Drago, pacing aimlessly and frustratedly in his cell.

  "I am keeping a very close eye on this prisoner," Treguard explained. "I am anxious to know what his intentions are."

  "Well, yes, one can never be too careful, I suppose," Stiletta said carefully. "I say, Treguard, would you like me to guard him for a while?"

  "Calwain is on guard duty tonight," Treguard replied, his voice still devoid of any sign of emotion. "Besides, as you have pointed out to me on numerous occasions, guard duty is hardly a good use of your particular skills, Stiletta."

Stiletta frowned deeply as her brain went into overdrive. She could not afford to make Treguard suspicious of her motives, yet she was not prepared to let the matter go just like that.

  "Why are you keeping him prisoner, anyway?" she ventured.

  "It goes without saying, I hope, that I am under no obligation to answer that question," Treguard frowned. "However, I shall consent to do so. This Drago has offered no explanation as to his reasons for coming here. He is a member of the Airwan, and owes no allegiance to the Powers That Be. For all we know, he may be planning to conspire with the Opposition. Perhaps Lord Fear is nursing thoughts of attacking us with red dragons, possibly on a grander scale than his previous attempt."

  "Dash it all, Treguard, you have no reason to suspect that!" Stiletta exclaimed. "Drago Lestrade isn't a threat to us - he's just a traveller passing through."

  "Thank you for sharing your opinion on the matter, Stiletta," Treguard said dryly. "If what you say is true then he will be allowed to go free, but I think a short spell behind bars should persuade him to be honest with us about his intentions, don't you?"

  "Well, to be honest, I don't think so," Stiletta replied, concealing a crafty smile. "He'd be more likely to talk if you let me have a word with him. I can use my feminine charms to get him talking, if you know what I mean."

  "Yes, I believe I understand the kernel of your plan," Treguard chuckled. "I suppose the idea has some merit…"

  "I'd say it's just about the only way you can get him to talk!" Stiletta pressed her advantage. "He hasn't responded to your threats, has he? I bet he'll respond to a more friendly approach… a very friendly approach."

  "Well, I suppose it would do no harm to try," Treguard mused, stroking his greying beard. "Very well, Stiletta, you may go and tell Calwain that you are to relieve him from guard duty on my orders. He can take the issue up with me if he has any objections."

  "Thank you, My Lord," Stiletta gushed, executing a slight bow. "I won't let you down."

Treguard watched Stiletta as she scooted through the Dungeon door at speed, and frowned thoughtfully to himself.