Thraxas and the Ice Dragon

"Will Baron Vosanos be going to war?"

"Yes."

"Will his steward Magranos be going with him?"

"I suppose so."

"If I meet him, I'll make him pay," says Makri, menacingly.

"Thraxas!" cries a loud, booming voice. "I hoped I'd find you here." Baron Girimos claps me on the shoulder. He's looking portly, healthy, and in the mood for beer. "Damnedest thing just happened. Was all dressed up for a wedding and then it was cancelled. Wife and her relatives are all complaining about it now, my house is nightmare. I had to escape. Waitress - beer, klee and the contents of your kitchen over here, if you please!"

The Baron has already met Lisutaris, and greets her politely. When he recognises Makri, he congratulates her very warmly on her victory in the tournament. "Good technique," he says. "Not surprised, with Thraxas teaching you. Good man, Thraxas. Fought with the Turanian Phalanxes at Blackwing Rise. Of course, he'd never have got out of there alive if my cavalry hadn't rescued him.

"Nonsense!" I exclaim. "My phalanx arrived just in time to prevent your cavalry from being massacred."

Girimos laughs heartily. "Your memory's shaky again. Look, we were here - " The Baron starts arranging pepper pots and cutlery to represent troop placements. " - and you were there. The Orcish Fourth Infantry were over there and the Sixth were coming up the hill with a dragon behind them - "

"That wasn't the Sixth Orcish Infantry," says Makri. "It was the Ninth."

"What?" We look at her in surprise. "How would you know anything about it?"

"My Orcish Lord was leading them," says Makri. "I heard him talk about it, often. Look - " Makri starts re-arranging the cutlery. " - I'll show you what happened. The Ninth Orcish infantry were here, at the river bank - "

"They can't have been there," says the Baron. "That's where the Turanian Sorcerers were trapped."

"I beg your pardon?" says Lisutaris. "Trapped? What's this about the Turanian Sorcerers being trapped?"

"They were pinned down by heavy archery," says the Baron. "I remember it well."

"Nonsense," cries Lisutaris. "Age must be affecting your memory. I was there that day as a young Sorcerer on my first campaign. The way I remember it, the phalanxes were hopelessly pinned down by dragons on the south of the slope, and the cavalry were trapped on the north by the Agban Orcish Sorcerers Guild. If I hadn't led the Turanian Sorcerers through the middle neither of you would ever have made it out alive."

"Led the Sorcerers?" I say. "I thought you were a young Sorcerer on your first campaign?"

"Our commander, Agbereth Red-Flame, was killed by a dragon so I took charge. I stepped up and told the other Sorcerers We're going up that hill or we'll die in the attempt!'"

"Your Sorcerers were trapped on the river bank till my phalanx saved the day!"

"Preposterous," says Lisutaris. "Give me that pepper pot, I'll show you what happened." She turns her head to call to the waitress. "Bring me another goblet of wine while I show these memory-impaired old campaigners how I saved their lives at Blackwing Rise. Better still, send over the bottle. It may take a while."

The End

Martin Millar was born in Scotland and now lives in London. He is the author of such novels as Lonely Werewolf Girl, The Good Fairies of New York, and Suzy, Led Zeppelin and Me. He wrote the Thraxas series under the name of Martin Scott. Thraxas won the World Fantasy Award in 2000. As Martin Millar and as Martin Scott, he has been widely translated.

Table of Contents

Introduction

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29