Determined to find Birgith, Nikulas searched for several more days. The more often he was spotted, the more reckless he got. He ventured out before the sun completely set, and hunted animals closer to houses.

The further he travelled from the river, the scrubbier the brush became. Trees gave way to grasslands and fields, making it harder for him to find places to hide. He took refuge in a few ruined buildings or scant copses of trees.

One evening, the scent of blood drifted to where he hid in the underbrush. As dark fell, he took to the sky, following it to where two animal carcasses lay. One like the creatures he had been finding to eat, the other a large cat. Blood and guts spread round from what looked like a fight between the two. It must have been a desperate hungry cat to continue when the other, normally placid, creature fought back so hard.

Nikulas frowned. The larger animal must have died from blood loss to not make it away from the fight. He glanced around for other predators wanting to scavenge the remains. Despite the strong scent and easy access of the recently cleared earth, Nikulas saw no sign the carcasses had been disturbed in the past few hours.

He sniffed the air. The fresh blood blood filled his nostrils. Short of a dozen scrubby bushes, there was no place for another predator to hide. Tonight’s dinner would require no hunting.

He back winged quickly, landing beside the carcasses. Hooking one claw round the smaller, meatier of the two, he attempted to fly away with it.

Music sprung from round him, loud and strident. His body froze. Only his eyes could move as men rushed out from under the bushes. A large net dropped over him, squashing his wings to his sides. His heart raced. He tried to flex his wings, to strike out at them with his feet, to roar. But only saliva dribbled out of his mouth. He couldn’t even swallow.

The music shifted. Nikulas rose into the air. Men tossed collections of scrub bushes aside, revealing a wooden cart. He floated over to it. When part of the music paused, his body dropped onto the cart, one leg crooked underneath him. Unable to move, he couldn’t right himself, try to escape the net, or make himself more comfortable. All he could do was glare at the people working round him. Some fastened the net to the wagon, while others fetched horses.

His hopes rose when the horses resisted being hitched, but their handlers persisted as the music played on. Eventually, they set off. A second wagon rode next to them, loaded with the musicians who somehow kept Nikulas frozen. Raging inside, he was forced to wait and see where they took him.

The wagon rumbled along for hours while the music continued. A second group took over, without a pause in the sound, when they reached more solid roads. Nikulas was glad, as the flatter surface meant he rocked instead of bounced. Still, he grimaced as his muscles cried out. His leg would be bruised tomorrow.

On the flatter surface, the horses picked up speed to a trot. Hopefully they’d arrive soon wherever they were headed. He spotted the mountains as they approached. Somewhere between those peaks, his Mam would be furious, if not frantic. Would she allow his brothers to leave to find him? Or were they now bound to the valley?

Nikulas slumped in on himself. He doubted anyone was coming to rescue him. He had to escape. At least, as soon as he could move.

He tried to find the good in his predicament, but the only positive was they were headed a different way than where he’d already explored. Maybe he’d find his sister, though even that was more of a vain hope than it had been before. His failure washed over him. Not only had he not found his sister, but he’d been captured. Now the humans knew there were still dragons.

He beseeched the Great Squirrel to protect his mother and brothers. The valley had kept them safe for so long, but partly because the humans didn’t know dragons still existed on Kaistud. No doubt they would now band together to ensure no others remained hidden.

“... but the Conservatoire is the only place we can be assured it won’t escape.”

A commanding voice from one rider in front of him caught Nikulas’ attention.

“Don’t fear. Once it’s installed in the tower at the Castilion, my guards will keep it there,” a regal-looking lady replied. “All your musicians need to do is to lift it up, then we will take over.”

“But what if it attempts to do anything? You’ll need a team of Conservatoire members available all the time, just in case.”

“As you assured us, without the grass, they can’t flame. So, as long as we keep it chained, and my blacksmiths are working on the strongest one they can create, then we can stay out of reach.” She smiled condescendingly. “Your aid in this matter is much appreciated, Grand Master, especially given the short notice. But once it is installed, I will take responsibility for it.”

He snorted, obviously unhappy but unable to contradict the woman.

Nikulas studied the two riders.

The overweight man’s hands gripped the reins so tight his knuckles turned white. His eyes sunk into his face and his lips pursed. Sitting tall in her side saddle, the lady rode alongside him. Her hands rested lightly atop her knee, with her brown skirts falling from a high waistline as she watched everything. A small dark orange hat with a border of netting perched on one side of her head.

She caught his gaze. Nikulas struggled to tear his eyes away from her. Something about her called to him. He’d never felt like this before. Despite their situations, he wanted to get close to her, to understand her, to help her. What was going on with him?