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High in the Iron Mountains, overlooking the City in the valley below is a cave. To the animals who visit the mountains for skiing and climbing today, it is just a little scrape in the rock, a rather dull divot in the mountainside. The locals know it better, they treat it with respect, for once it was... No, I am getting ahead of myself.

Many centuries ago, while King Theophilus was still waging his bloody war of unification, it was decreed that the House Ironmont should have its seat at the foot of the mountains from which it and the Kingdom took their name. The summer was hot and close, making the snow caps on the high peaks sparkle and dance in the eyes of the labourers below. One of those labourers could not keep his eyes from those gleaming summits, a young bull terrier by the name of Osric, apprenticed to a master mason. Barely older than a pup, he had found himself in the King's labouring gangs by accident, an apprentice by happenstance, and tired quickly of the hard and enervating work.

One evening, Osric took it into his head to wander into the Iron Mountains, the call of the unknown was too strong for his young will to master. Buckling on his belt and collecting his short dagger from where he had hidden it, the young dog took his way out of the newly built city. He strode confidently across the meadows that surrounded the city, his white, velvety fur shining in the moonlight. Every so often, he would laugh with the simple joy of his freedom; or stop and stare at some small, night blooming flower.

Some time later, the terrier splashed across a little stream; ice-cold, its waters flowing from a great glacier high above him. He shrieked at the cold, his thick and whip like tail sending spray all around him. Little did he know, but at that very moment, Osric had left behind the rule of animals and entered a realm that sat within Ironmont, yet was not of it. Perhaps, he noticed a change in the air, a cooling; perhaps, he saw that the flowers were fewer and further between, but it did not halt him: his lust after adventure was too great.

High above him something watched the stocky dog's progress. Something ancient and powerful, something that had not stirred in millennia. With deep and unblinking eyes - eyes that saw further than conceivably possible - it watched. It studied the movements of the terrier in minute detail. From its eyrie, the ancient being watched and waited. As Osric toiled up the moonlit slope, the being barely moved. Every so often a talon twitched, scraping on stone.

Some five hundred feet below the being, Osric was huffing and panting as the mountainside became steeper. In spite of the effort, in spite of his tongue lolling out of his muzzle, the terrier still smiled - the simple joy of adventure. After a few minutes, more of scrabbling and scrambling, he slumped down against a largish rock. Looking around and the silvery landscape, he grinned broadly and threw back his head, looking at the shining stars above him.

'Sod Ironmont.' He said. 'This is better.'

He smiled again and idly flicked a pebble down the slope. A few minutes later, Osric stood again, brushing the dust from his breeches and the fur of his lower legs. Looking around, the dog scented the air, his nose twitching. New smells filled his mind and inflamed his senses. Grinning even more widely, he began to jog up the slope. He barely noticed as the sparse grass gave way to bare rock. The slowly decreasing temperature barely registered with him as the air rushed through his fur. He only slowed as a great wall of bare rock reared before him, the path he had been following narrowing to a little track, clinging to the edge. Osric began ever so slowly to work his way along the mountainside.

Minutes passed as Osric worked his way along the track, inch by careful inch. Almost without his noticing, a mist began to descend, slowly enveloping the explorer in a world of white. He stopped, the smile fading rapidly from his muzzle, his ears sinking as he realised that he had been cut off from the world. Standing stock still, the terrier sighed. Suddenly, a new noise entered his world. A long and drawn out scraping. A sound not too unlike the familiar scraping of an iron chisel over unworked stone. Somehow, here, high above the world he knew, the familiar noise was full of menace. A quiet whimper escaped his muzzle. The whimper turned to a yelping bark of fear as a sudden blazing light illuminated the mist.

The light flared and died and as Osric's eyes adjusted to the darkness once more, he could just begin to discern a shape. A huge form, hulking above him; a heavy head looking down at him. All Osric could make out were a pair of massive nostrils, a huff of breath washed over him. The face loomed nearer, dull green scales and a pair of glowing golden eyes.

'What are you?' Rumbled a voice.

'Muh...' Replied Osric, his mind whirring, his ears flat in fear. One thought span round in his head: dragons cannot be real.

'Would you dare enter my world? Speak, puppy, from whence have you come?'

'Uh... Ironmont.' He mumbled, pointing vaguely back down the mountainside.

'This new city? I have watched its building.'

Osric nodded dumbly, regretting having ever slipped away from the safety of the city hundreds of feet below him. He closed his eyes, then slammed them open again, as the dragon began to speak again.

'I will visit this place, and you, little hound, will show me the hubris of your weak king.'

With a sudden movement, the dragon snatched hold of the scruff of Osric's neck and, with a flick, dumped the terrier on its back. Glancing from side to side, he watched in amazement as two great and leathery wings unfolded from the dragon's side. With a thunderous rush of air the dragon beat its wings, and launched itself out into the mist filled valley. A scream built in Osric's throat, his tail curling protectively against his body. The wind rushed past the pair as they dropped into the mist. Second, later they had passed out of the mist and were soaring in the clear night air, little villages rushed underneath, dark and sleepy.

The dragon turned in a slow and graceful arc over the slumbering landscape, slowly dropping towards the half-formed bulk of Ironmont City. With barely a bump, the dragon smoothly changed from flying to running along the gently sloping sward before the city.

'Get down, little hound.' It rumbled.

Gratefully, Osric slid down the dragon's towering flank and stood, wobbly-legged, on the blessedly solid and unmoving grass. With his paws on his knees, the terrier drew great heaving breaths, trying to steady his shaking nerves. Above him, the dragon's heavy green head moved from side to side, scanning the hulking outline of the city.

'You are so short on this earth, so fleeting; yet, you feel that you have to leave an indelible paw mark on the landscape. You hew rocks, raise towers and build walls. You shape and form the things of the earth into unnatural heaps. This is not why we dragons look over the land. This is not why my race took this burden of custody upon our wings. I should burn this aberration to the ground, leave it little more than a pool of molten glass. Yet... yet, all things strive, all things yearn to greatness, to something better than you now are.

'Tell me, little hound, do you have a leader?'

Staring up in surprise, Osric found that his entire world consisted of two deep golden pools, two intensely intelligent eyes. They blinked slowly, as he stood and gaped.

'W... we have a King.'

'Take me to him.'

Shaking slightly, his tail trying to tuck itself between his legs, Osric shook his head. The great eyes narrowed in annoyance.

'I... I'm just a mason; not even a mason: I'm an apprentice. I count for less than nothing in the city. I may not speak to my master without fearing a beating - how could I even think about speaking to the King?'

'You are in the company of a being that is greater than any king on this earth. You will be the ambassador of one of the ancient guardians of this land. You will carry the greetings of the true protector of Ironmont.'

Osric blinked a few times, scrunching up his eyes. He ground the heels of his paws into his eye sockets and, for the lack of anything better, stared at the dragon again. He found no comfort in the deep golden eyes.

'GO!' Roared the dragon. 'Tell your King that Felyn of the Iron Mount would speak with him!'

The terrier shot off, his tail between his legs. At any moment, he expected a lancing stab of searing heat and overwhelming pain to snuff out his life. He did not slow his pace until in sight of the castle's gate.

By now, he had a curious crowd of animals following him, those whose business brought them out of doors after dark: the nefarious, the drunk and the City Watch. Osric twitched his jerkin straight on his shoulders, took a steadying breath and marched up to the heavily barred gate. To all the knot of onlookers he looked calm and collected; only his ears, flat against his skull, betrayed the terror he felt.

CRASH! Osric let the great iron ring fall against the woodwork. There was a pause, a few minutes crawled past. Then a little hatch flew open with a bang, to reveal a pair of eyes glaring out at the world.

'What do you want, pup?' Growled the owner of the eyes.

Osric coughed and squinted through the hatch in the flickering torchlight.

'Erm... Felyn of the Iron Mount, true protector of Ironmont would see the king!'

A laugh bounced off the stonework.

'I know you, Osric, you're just Henry's apprentice, you're nothing! Why would anyone let you see the king?'

'But, the dragon...'

'Dragon? Are you drunk?'

Osric shook his head mutely, tears welling in the corners of the terrier's dark eyes. Just as he was wishing that the ground would open and swallow him there came an echoing sound and an intense flash of light. It was a sound that could best be described as foom. Silhouetted in the fireball was the graceful form of Felyn, rising on a thermal created by the ignition of a granary on the edge of the city. As the dragon turned over on one wing, there was a lance of pure white fire as Felyn flamed.

'Bloody hell!' Said the owner of the eyes. 'That's a sodding dragon! An actual fire breathing dragon!'

Suddenly, there came the sound of pawsteps running away from the castle gate.

Osric, do not doubt me. I will prove myself to all who would stop you from announcing me to your king. I hold the land in peace.

Osric shook his head and clicked the claws on his hand paws together.

'Where are you? How is it I can hear you?'

Do not underestimate the power of my race. We are in the rocks and trees, the mountains and streams. We choose our champions and are linked to them. Wherever you go in my service, I can find you, I can feel you, I can speak to you. Pay attention, the guard returns.

'You're to come in, Osric. The king wants an explanation.'

The gate swung open to reveal the owner of the eyes to be a lanky setter in poorly fitting armour. He swung his paw at Osric, who trotted through the gateway. The wound their way into the bowels of the castle. This was no luxury retreat, rather a working military base. To the north, the war still raged as the King's armies suppressed the rag-tag forces of the tribes and their princelings. All around animals in armour crowded the night time corridors, looming suddenly in the inconsistent light of torches set in sconces at regular intervals along the roughly worked stone of the walls.

With the setter hurrying ahead, the pair of dogs reached the King quickly. He was at the centre of a low-slung room, great sweeps of arches meeting in the middle over a rough wooden table. The athletic fox looked up, his mail jingling.

'Is this the dragon pup?'

'Yes, my lord.' Replied the setter, bowing his head.

The King looked Osric up and down, causing the terrier to tuck his tail between his legs. Theophilus scratched the tip of his muzzle with a claw.

'So, this is your creature that is setting fires in my city?'

'M...my Lord King,' Stuttered Osric, 'It is not mine, I don't think that the dragon is anyone's. It is its own.'

'Why is it burning my city.'

'It, sorry My Lord, Felyn of the Iron Mount requires your presence. Felyn has been watching the building of the city.'

'And what if I should refuse this, this _lizard's_requirement?' The King's voice dripping with scorn, his rusty brush waving threateningly.

Osric stared at his paws, an embarrassed blush showing faintly through his pale fur. He rehearsed what he would have to tell his King in the privacy of his mind. Across the table the King drummed his claws on the table and fiddling irritably with the grip of his sword.

'My Lord, I believe that, should you refuse to meet Felyn, it will burn the city to the ground!'

At that, Osric stumbled, clutching at his head.

It? Do not call me 'it'! I am Felyn, mother of dragons. Osric Canis, I am the mother of Ironmont!

'She, will burn the city, my Lord.'

A stare from the King caused the poor terrier to quake slightly. There was a soft sound as Theophilus laid his paws on the table, an ever so slight patting sound. As if bidden by God himself, the room fell silent. A sigh, a shuffling of foot paws, then the King looked calculatingly around his court.

'If that is so, I will go out to meet this Felyn. How is this meeting to take place, Ambassador of the Dragon?'

Osric started and looked blank.

Tell your King to walk to the ancient circle of stones on the plain before the city. You and you alone will accompany this upstart fox. You both will await me there.

'The stone circle, on the plain. I am to take you there, sire.'

It was a strange sight, one that remained in the memories of the animals of Ironmont City for many years. The King, bold and resolute - the fox who had melded warring tribes and squabbling nobles into a working kingdom with blood and sweat - following a young and terrified apprentice mason. The road out of the city was thronged with curious onlookers. Each and every animal lining the route would glance nervously skyward, fearing another actinic lance of fire from Felyn.

Outside the city walls, the crowd thinned to nothing, leaving Osric and the King alone. A hush had fallen on the plain, as if the entire kingdom was holding its collective breath; the only sound breaking the silence was the swish, swish of their paws through the short grass.

The ring of stones that sat in the centre of the plain was an odd place. Animals avoided it if at all possible, the road took a huge and meandering loop to pass round it. Even on the hottest and brightest of days the place felt cold and gloomy. The pair slowed their pace as they neared the circle, beneath their paws the grass thinned, and, after a few yards, disappeared altogether leaving nothing but bare rock. Theophilus shivered, his brushy tail fluffing up in agitation.

Some distance before the outermost stones of the circle itself, Osric came to a halt, the King standing behind him. The terrier sniffed the air and flicked his ears.

'She is waiting for us, my Lord King.'

'Where? How can a huge creature hide on an open plain? Are you fooling with your King, pup?'

' He is not.' Came a voice from the circle.

The fox's eyes widened, his tail dropped and his ears flattened. Instinctively, Theophilus reached to his belt, resting his paw on the pommel of his sword.

'Leave your weapon, little King.' Said Felyn, her voice dropping to a less threatening rumble. 'You cannot harm me with that shiny toy.'

As the dragon spoke, a glamour lifted, Felyn revealing her form to the King. She was some thirty feet long from nose to tail, her wings hulking high over her back. Theophilus let his paw drop back to his side, his muzzle gaping open.

'By all that is holy...' He breathed, 'Never would I have believed this, had I not seen it with my own eyes.'

The dragon let out a long rush of breath, causing the fox and the terrier to step back in fear. A thin smile played around Felyn's mouth.

'I will not harm you, little King. I will speak with you.

'For months now, I have looked down from my home high in the Iron Mountains. I have watched the ant-like toil of your subjects. I have watched as you scarred the land, but yet I did not come down to you.

'I had thought, little King, that your hubris would bite you. That is, until, this dog, this puppy, strayed into my realm. This young dreamer, his head so stuffed full with ideas that the world passes him by. What do you think of this, Osric, little King?'

The King cupped his paws together and fixed his gaze on the terrier, a toothy grin on his features.

'Lady dragon, he is impetuous, foolish and of little importance.'

Osric stared down at his footpaws, tracing random shapes and patterns in the dusty rock with his claws. He felt the shame rise in his gut: he had angered the King, had failed Felyn. Very quietly he let out a helpless whimper.

The whimper was cut short by a strange, rhythmic rumbling noise from the dragon. Around her neck, a great ruff of long green scales had flared out, and her depthless eyes twinkled in the summer sunshine. Felyn was laughing, the first time that any animal had heard one of the dragons of Ironmont laugh.

'Impetuous, yes. Foolish, maybe. But, my dear little King, Osric is not of little importance. Before I had the fortune to stumble across this little thing, I had in mind to do what my compatriots would have me do. To raze your city to the ground; to leave it little more than a lake of molten rock.

'The dragons view you lesser animals as a threat to the order of the world. Setting yourselves up as God over creation, paying lip service to the Church, waging futile and destructive wars. But... but, this little hound shows the boundless possibilities that your kind has.

'You look at me in wonderment, little King, and well you should. The dragons have powers far beyond your comprehension. Once, we had a different name aggelos, angel in your tongue. We can see and prove the hearts and minds of all the animals on God's earth. We link this world with its creator. We are given the honour and burden of holding creation in balance.

'This Osric's mind veritably buzzes and boils with ideas, with possibility. This pup is a genius. Listen to him, King Theophilus, listen to him well. We are not above the making of deals with mortals, so I will make you a proposition.'

Theophilus nodded mutely, glancing at Osric, who was, in turn, trying desperately to make himself less obvious.

'Good, my proposition is this: heed Osric's advice, make him part of your household. In return, I will guard this kingdom, I will guard house Berea and its successors. Ironmont will stand forever under the protection of the dragon.'

How can one argue with several tons of dragon? How can one argue with a messenger of God? The King did as he was bidden, Osric Dragon-lord led the Ironmont armies to their final victories over the tribes, and House Berea prospered. The dragon was true to her word, the constancy of House Berea and of the House of Ironmont were rewarded.

...So, my son, the next time you go climbing in the Iron Mountains, keep a weather eye open for Felyn's home. She may not have been seen in nigh on eight hundred years, but know this: God's angels, the dragons of our world look on us and protect us. You are Crown Prince, you will succeed me, but, to Felyn you will be as Theophilus was, a little wolf, and a little King, but loved.'