Chapter 4Pettic, with a sigh, left the dragon's lair. At least he had escaped, but he had not got the things Monarlisk wanted. If he did not get them, then both he and Cledo would die at the big black dragon's hand, or perhaps talon would be a better word, he told himself. Still, whether hand or talon, he would be just as dead, and Prince Torren would remain lost.
As he made his way down the mountainside, he thought hard. This awful air seemed to make thinking more difficult. No wonder the people lived on the coast. Not only was the land more fertile, but the air was fresher too. The smell of sulphur still hung around there, but not nearly as bad. In the mountains the air was especially foul when the volcanoes erupted, as one had done just yesterday. It still belched fire and ash and the
