Burning buildings, and a mob chasing her . . . It would seem that his Scrap was doing her usual best to raise chaos! And trust the dvergar to make his life complicated. He carefully scratched a set of symbols on the edge of the ridge. It would take a while for the spell to work, but such forces were intertwined. He'd laid the foundation for this spell on Morrisey Island years before. He changed and trotted down through the coppiced woodland to the path that they had been running down. It would take the citizens of Vorlian's demesne some time to recover from having their hair frizzled by a breath of dragon-fire above them. Vorlian was, by dragon standards, a very enlightened overlord, who generally confined himself to consuming their taxes, occasional livestock and miscreants. A strange dragon was going to have the locals in fits and squalling for their protector—who was conveniently absent. If Fionn was any judge, he wouldn't be flying back for at least three or four days, by which time Fionn had every intention of being elsewhere. He could hear them panting along so he sat down to wait. Then there was excited flurry of barking and the black and white sheepdog pup ran up to him and danced gleefully around him.
