Dragonlinks by Paul Collins

It could be worn as a ring, Thull had suggested, but Daretor kept it in a pouch. Perhaps it was his right to wear it. The pair of them had equal chances to seize it against six of the King’s guards-men, but Daretor had snatched it from its ornate case first.
    The old man’s knowledge had gained the link, so why had he so readily allowed him, Daretor, to keep possession of the enchanted treasure? Perhaps the magic within the link bound it to whoever took it by conquest. Yes, that seemed highly possible! Daretor had seized it, so only he could hold it.
    Daretor’s face darkened beneath the cowl that shielded him from the stinging sand. How long would it be before Thull tried to win it for himself by conquest?
    The foothills of the Garrical Mountains loomed higher before them. Daretor sighed with relief, then nudged his gelding to a faster walk. The sooner he was out of thisaccursed place the better. Above the howling wind he heard Thull’s stallion whicker as heels met hide.
    The grass, trees and streams of the hills on the south-east of Dragonfrost were a welcome paradise after the bleak, dusty chill of the plain.
    The two riders soon stopped to rest their horses. Daretor had been thinking a great deal during the crossing of Dragonfrost, and now he had many questions for his enigmatic partner.
    â€˜We came by this link too easily,’ he said as he brushed down his horse. ‘It has the power to make and break empires?’
    Thull smiled. ‘So the legend goes,’ he replied smoothly. ‘But only with the other links of the mailshirt, of course.’
    â€˜If its powers are so great, old one, how did we drive off its guards so easily? I killed one and shouted my war cry, and that was enough to put the rest of them to flight.’
    â€˜Guard it with an army, and it would attract an army,’ said Thull with a dismissive shrug. ‘The Skelt King is nobody’s fool. Those poor yokels knew nothing about what they were carrying.’
    â€˜The Skelt King! They were in the middle of Baltoria when we ambushed them! They were two hundred miles from Skelt.’
    â€˜Royal guile is obviously beyond your comprehension. The King feared the link. He did not know how to tap its power so he tried to hide it far from his own kingdom. Together the links hold power beyond mortal folk’s imaginings.’
    â€˜Aye,’ Daretor said thoughtfully. ‘So do you have knowledge of such arts? Can you tap its power?’
    â€˜It’s not too difficult to understand ancient magic,’ Thull said guardedly, ‘but some things need help to become powerful. Your ring-link is powerful, but remember that it came from a whole mailshirt.’
    The man’s voice trailed off, a crackly monotone with a false lilt. Thull reminded Daretor of a lurking spider: ugly and dangerous, passive while lying in wait.
    â€˜You say this one link is so powerful, yet somewhere there is a whole mailshirt,’ he said in wonder. ‘What is the nature of its power?’
    â€˜The fighting skills of many thousands of dead warriors are trapped within its individual links,’ Thull said enticingly.
    Thousands! This took Daretor by surprise. ‘Or so your story goes,’ he replied in an unsteady voice.
    The mage smiled. ‘Without all the links, the mailshirt’s magic is diminished and the wearer is more vulnerable. Despite this, shall we say, flaw, the mailshirt still has extraordinary, unfathomable powers.’
    â€˜A gleeman’s fable, by the sound of it,’ Daretor said sceptically.
    Thull gave a thin laugh. ‘More than a fable, my boy. Come now, let me show you.’ He held out his bony hand for the link.
    â€˜Stay your distance!’ Daretor growled, but he was uncertain, like a cornered and dangerous hound. His hand had dropped to the pommel of his sword.
    Thull simply shrugged and sat back on the grass. Daretor could have sworn a bluish light flared about the