Chapter 7

Written by: Ray Stone

“Give her wings that she may fly, danger lurks with Dog-Heads cry. Give her strength with potion’s power, let there be rescue fore moonlight’s hour. Know her the fragrance of Wergrantor, hasten her search for the magic flower.” 

Gacgon stood with arms raised and eyes closed. He chanted the incantation above a small steaming glass goblet of red liquid that bubbled and hissed. Behind him, Gretchin, the Femdrake, stood listening to her master. The dark green scales across her chest and shoulders gently rippled with an almost indiscernible wave-like motion as she breathed. Her yellow cat-like eyes narrowed as the old sorcerer turned to face her.

“Dog-Head,” hissed Gretchin. Her eyelids slowly closed as she spoke and then immediately opened wide, as did her mouth from which slid a long thick tongue between needle sharp fangs.

“No.” Gacgon raised his hand and pointed directly at her. “You are to avoid fighting the Ispolin Dog-Heads. Rescue Mrs. Ratleigh and Alwena. Bring me some Wergrantor so that we can complete the second half of the spell, for without the flower you will not have the strength of the wind to defeat our enemy.”

Gretchin took the goblet of red liquid from him and swallowed the potion. Within seconds she lowered herself to the floor and crouched with head bowed. Skeletal wing membranes, small at first but rapidly expanding, grew across her back and then unfolded as long black and green feathers sprouted from them until they were fully formed.

“Fly, Gretchin, fly,” cried Gacgon, wringing his hands. “Speed you on your way for you alone can save us.”


Long tendrils of foul smelling saliva slowly dripped and dribbled from the jaws of Sargron, the leader of the Dog-Head hunting pack. He towered above Mrs. Ratleigh, one four-fingered hand gripping her shoulder. Frightened, she looked up into his evil black eyes. 

“The old witch is already at our den and you will join her,” he growled. His long ears twitched as several of the hunting pack drew nearer, baying at his words. “Unless the femdrake is here by moonrise, your bones will litter the ground around the ashes of our fire by morning.”

Mrs. Ratleigh shuddered. “I have sent a message to Gacgon,” she pleaded. “It was all I could do.”

Sargron and the pack went quiet, raising their heads. From high above the trees of the Mithweld forest came a strange haunting cry. Mrs. Ratleigh’s heart surged. The cry grew louder. Sargron's tail swished back and forth and the pack became alarmed. They cowered as the cry pitched so hurtful to their ears that they ran in retreat. Mrs. Ratleigh heard it no longer but watched, amazed, as Gretchin appeared from above the trees and, with a flurry of giant wings, stood beside her. 

Mrs. Ratleigh hugged Gretchin with relief. “Quick, we must get to the den on Mendril Peak. Alwena is a prisoner there. Pray we reach her before the pack returns.”


This is a fabulous chapter. I loved the imagery and the starting chant scans perfectly. It is vivid and has a wonderful beat. But the story that followed built on the characters and the imagination. It is a great read. Well done!
Oh, wow, Ray, this is such a great chapter. Great descriptions like 'Long tendrils of foul smelling thick saliva slowly dripped and dribbled' made me shudder along with Mrs Ratleigh.
And like Suraya, love the chant. Very clever and very imaginative. :)
Thank you. I enjoyed writing this as it is not normally my best genre.
This serial is turning out so good!! I think Suraya should seriously think of publishing it as a novel asking the same authors to write a second chapter.
Ray this chapter is absolutely fabulous. It carries the reader away into a world which, although is make believe, feels real.
I agree with you Hemali. It is a really good serial and Ray's chapter is captivating.