Deidre.

Deidre knew she should have left earlier that evening. It was a long walk back from the village to her farm and as the light began to fade she suddenly felt extremely vulnerable. She clutched her basket close to her as she strode quickly along the path that led to the copse; she knew that once she was through that, it was only a short way from the safety of her farm house. She pulled her cloak hood up and gripped it firmly in place with her spare hand, shielding her from some of the cold of the late evening. It was then that she noticed how quiet everything was. There were no bird calls or animal noises and it even seemed like the trees were holding their breath.

Deidre quickened her pace and almost broke into a jog. Her heart was racing and she knew that something wasn’t right… then she heard a low, booming growl that set the hairs on her neck on edge. She immediately dropped her basket and ran towards the copse and as she did so the growling moved from her right to her left, keeping pace with her. It seemed so close but she kept running. The copse was only a few metres away and she knew that once she was inside it she would have a chance. She reached the edge and thought she had made it until she tripped and tumbled roughly to the floor. She immediately tried to regain her feet but she was trapped; her ankle was caught firmly in the grip of a tree root and she reached down to free herself. When she touched the root, she froze; it was covered with smooth scales. She tried desperately to prise her ankle free but the more she struggled the tighter the grip became.

Deidre started to cry with panic as she struggled in vain to free herself. Then she heard the deep, booming, growl again and turned sharply to face it. At first she could see nothing but then two fiery orange eyes appeared from behind closed eyelids and stared directly into Deidre’s soul. Deidre’s eyes opened wide and her mouth opened in shock as she stared into the Dragon’s eyes, the low resonating growl rumbled through her body as she finally gave way to terror and wet herself. She couldn’t even bring herself to scream as the Dragon tilted its head to shift its view of her. She noticed every tiny detail of the Dragon’s face; the dark shiny scales, the rough texture of its eye lids, the flicking, forked tongue but mostly the fiery orange eyes. The Dragon almost seemed to be grinning…

… Suddenly Deidre felt the grip on her ankle loosen and instinctively pulled herself free and dashed into the copse. There was a well trodden path and she rushed, headlong down it, as fast as her feet would carry her. She could see her heavy built, stone house in the near distance and she knew that once she was inside, she would be safe. Without thinking, she burst from the copse and continued her panic-stricken run towards her house. She was wailing and screaming as her tears streamed down her face. She was so close that she could see the dim light of the fire through the window and smell the animals in the yard.

Without warning she felt a heavy blow down her left side and she was thrown from the path and landed in a heap on the grass. She hurriedly found her feet and although she was in pain she continued towards her house crying uncontrollably. She got another few metres before another heavy blow threw her across the path in the opposite direction. She landed heavily and was winded. Her ribs and thigh were broken and she couldn’t get back to her feet. She rolled over onto her back and opened her eyes. There was a pair of fiery, orange eyes staring down at her. The deep vibrato growl rumbled in the background as Deidre realised that there was no escape. She felt the dragon's rough tongue slide up her torn dress where her ribs had bled and closed her eyes tightly. The last thing she ever heard was a triumphant roar before the Dragon tore her head off.

The Fell Drake of Mount Amber.

There was once a time when travelling around Mount Ember was a pleasant experience. The rocky slopes were littered with tightly cropped vegetation and the air was filled with the scent of the wild plants and herbs that grew there. Often, the mountain goats would venture close enough to be hunted and occasionally, if you were very lucky, you would see a Goblin in the twilight who was out gathering herbs. 

Everything changed when a young Dragon arrived and took up residence in a cave at the base of the mountain.

The Dragon was a young Drake (a male Dragon) with dark grey scales and fierce green eyes. His crest, when flared, was a bright red and he was as lithe and cunning as a weasel. When he turned up, he had come from a victory and was smeared with the blood of a fellow Drake who he had slaughtered on the plains. He was tired from the fight and found sanctuary in the mouth of a mine after ruining the entrance so that nothing could emerge from the depths of the mountain. When he was happy with his cave, he slept for a week. 

The first anyone knew of the Drake was a terrible roar from mountains and over the following weeks, the animals disappeared from the slopes and the birds fell silent. The grasses began to grow long and the sweet smell of flowers was replaced by the acrid stench of death and Dragon sign. Hunters stopped going to Mount Amber and the area was deemed too dangerous to approach. 

Over the years, many a slayer went to the cave to kill the Drake but when they arrived he could rarely be found and if he happened to be there when they arrived, he soon departed before combat could be initiated; often lashing out with his tail as he flew past to unseat a horseman or knock a Slayer to the ground. 

For twenty years the slayers have been thwarted and to this day the Drake haunts the mountain. He is widely recognised as the Fell Drake of Mount Amber but the Slayers know him as the Dark Fox of Amber, the Shadow of Amber or the Black Wraith of Amber. Amongst the Slayers, his Fire-Stone would be the prize of their collection although it would be a wily Slayer indeed to actually claim it.