With a princess killer to catch, a host of fairy-tale characters to wrangle and a crumbling career to resurrect, fallen hotshot Agent Fields has his hands full. And that's before the case leads to a story-obsessed, dimension-hopping scientist, hellb...
In something of a contrast to the no-nonsense, sober-sided, factory-standard, default-model adult he'd become, Fields had been a bit of a fantasy-head as a kid. And as fond as he'd been of goblins and gremlins, of wargs and wights, of wizards and warlocks and witchery of all types, his particularly soft spot had been reserved for anything involving dragons.
Whether they be in The Lord of the Rings or The Dragonriders of Pern, from Hungarian Horntails right through to Night Furies, if they had wings and scales and high-temperature halitosis, then the gangly, pre-teen Fields was on board.
Or at least, he'd imagined he was. In the febrile, fertile fields of his immature mind, there had been no greater dream than to ride a dragon. To flame the Thread, to retrieve the egg, to save the day on a dragon-wing and a prayer, such were the fabulous fantasies that fired the fledgling Fields' fevered imagination.
Although it as it turned out, he reflected, watching the arid undulations of the desert landscape flashing by far below him, it wasn't quite what he'd expected.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Climb on board," Ken/Al/the dragon had said, just minutes earlier. Although as far as Fields was concerned, 'said' was at best a loose approximation of the actual experience.
He gave his head a vigorous shake. "How are you doing that?"
"Doing what?"
"Talking inside my head! It's like telepathy or something."
"Like telepathy? Fields, it is telepathy. Given I can occupy minds, you can't seriously be surprised I can communicate with them too? As my new host doesn't have vocal cords, I don't really have much choice."
"Cool," breathed Peregrine.
"Anyway, climb aboard. From what I overheard, I gather we need to catch up with somebody, so no point dilly-dallying. You can fill me in on the way."
"I...but...how...?"
"Ah Fields, as erudite as ever, I see. Peregrine, given your partner appears to be a little dumbstruck, possibly minus the struck, perhaps you might like to do the honours?"
"You got it, Al. Er...Ken? Um, what do we call you now, anyway?"
"Well, after a little preliminary mental digging, the best translation I can come up with for a name is something like Raaargh-raaargh-burny-burny-cop-that-you-pathetic-non-dragon-thing-roar-roar-ooh-now-you-are-crispy-just-how-I-like-my-snacks-munchy-munchy-there-better-not-be-any-bloody-princes-around-here-grrr-grrr-otherwise-I'll-get-quite-cross-flamy-flamy-singe-oh-wow-I-really-am-super-awesome-just-truly-the-bestest-raaaaarrrgh."
"Er, right."
"Needless to say, this fellow had quite a high opinion of himself. And didn't have too many friends. Anyhoo, I think it might be best if you just call me Graham."
