Privileged as the Foragers were, the Terrarchs would still take the cat to them if they thought them disrespectful, and no one could ever really be sure what one of the pointy ears would find an assault on his dignity.

The dry reptilian odour of their skin and the odd acrid stink of wyrm dung smote Rik’s nostrils as they approached the lair. He felt himself grow tense as he usually did in their presence. Bridgebacks were far less given to sudden blind rages than their winged draconic cousins or even other wyrms like ripjacks or shieldhorns, but he found them terrifying enough in their own way. He had always thought it best to exercise a healthy caution in the presence of a creature that could squash him beneath its taloned foot.

Each great scaly quadruped was as tall as a house. Their wedge-shaped heads were smaller in proportion to their bodies than a ripjack’s and their necks longer even than their upright hunting cousins. There was still a great deal of the dragon in them even if it was a dragon grown fat and slow and stupid. Their enormous beaked mouths, so like those of a snapping turtle, could take off a man’s limb as easily as a seamstress’s scissors snipped cloth.

There were about twenty of the great wyrms in this corral. Some of the females in must were leagues away in a separate corral lest their scent get the males all upset and fighting. The others were out on patrol or had been loaned out to various local farmers for work clearing the land of tree stumps and such.

The Queen’s army liked to keep its components busy, be they man, beast or Terrarch. And it liked those components to turn a profit if they could. It was an article of faith among the Supreme Command that war must finance itself. In peace too, an army must pay its way if it could. Of course most of the gold would find its way into the pockets of the officers but the Queen did not grudge them it. It helped pay for their fine scarlet uniforms and their truesilver blades.

Lieutenant Sardec strode forward and lectured the mahouts. Sardec made a point of letting everybody know he came of old dragon-riding stock, lack a dragon though he currently might, so his manner was frosty.

It appeared he was expected. Ten of the bridgebacks were ready, kneeling on all four great columnar legs, with howdahs strapped on their backs. The wyrm's heads turned to survey the Foragers as they approached. There was a strong suggestion of brute curiosity in their small reptilian eyes.

As the men got closer one of wyrms hissed like a boiling kettle steaming on a fire. It made as if to rise, and some of the Foragers flinched back and raised their rifles. Bridgebacks had been known to run amok. One of the drivers said something in the low secret language of his caste. The wyrm subsided again, and became peaceful save for the way it tasted the air with its long flickering tongue. Occasionally it felt for its drivers face with it, and he let it do so with every sign of affection. Rik was not sure he could have stood that himself.

“Mount up,” said the Lieutenant, and the soldiers swarmed up the rope ladders into the howdahs. Somehow a dozen got onto one wyrm and eight onto another and they spent a couple of minutes getting the numbers balanced while the drivers prepared their beasts for the off, snapping metal clips into place within the beast’s sensitive ear-holes. By pulling the reins attached to the ears and shouting commands they guided their massive charges to and fro.

The noise of the bridgebacks was so loud it almost drowned out Corporal Toby’s shouts. Eventually all the mahouts had taken up their position on the high partially enclosed prow of the howdahs, screened off from the soldiers within by thick wooden walls designed to protect them from enemy fire.

As they made ready to depart another figure appeared, one that Rik was not in the least glad to see. It was a Terrarch, dressed in a long jewel-buttoned red greatcoat, but even leaner and thinner than usual and with the top half of his face obscured by a moulded silver mask. Instead of having his white hair long and pigtailed, his head was shaven and tattooed with Elder Signs. They matched the inscribed bits of runestone that dangled from his neck and ears.

“Looks like we got ourselves a wizard for company,” muttered the Barbarian, as the newcomer joined Sardec in his howdah. The rest of the men groaned almost audibly. “Master Severin is coming with us.”

The mage’s presence made Rik nervous.