Dragon Line: A Novel by Owen Law

Dragon Line is set in Britain after the onset of a catastrophe or 'die-back', caused by the most adverse effects of Global Warming combined with severe energy shortages as a result of Peak Oil. The story is essentially a science-fiction hero epic, written to give hope and expectation to those who read it. There is a strong historical and legendary theme also running through the novel, which would become apparent to the reader more and more so as they progress through it!

As many of us know, there is on-going concern about the phemomena known as global warming or 'climate change', whereby the earth's climate is set to change radically as a result of an increase in the mean global temperature, leading to possible catastophic effects on eco-systems and our standard of living. These effects could cause major upheavals politically, socially, environmentally and economically, the feedback from which could lead to a major decrease in human population. Well, thats the worst case scenario anyway. Combined with this, there is the threat of resource depletion, as the world's production of fossil fuels reaches it 'peak', with a sudden consequence of demand outstripping supply. The influence of this phenomena would not necessarily diminish the onset of global warming. In may ways, it is argued that it would accentuate an already natural process, as nations burn even more fossil fuels (especially coal, which is particularly dirty) just to keep going.

The aim of the novel is not discuss the likelihood of this occurring. After all, there are plenty of non-fiction books on the market which debate these very issues. The point of my story is to examine what it may be like to live in a world after the effects of these twin catastrophes, so as to make the reader think as well as be entertained at the same time.

The story is set in Britain for a number of reasons. Its my home country and in particular I wanted to set it around the area where I come from - Shropshire and North Wales. The UK, apparently, will be one place which will be spared the worst effects of global warming and to which others will try to escape to in order to find sanctuary. This could create the potential for conflict in itself. Futhermore, and certainly at the time of writing more than ever, Britain seems to be facing a period of confusion and lack of direction. My hope is that, despite the fact it is fictional, it may remind those of us who live here about the importance of the institutions we have and the society we live in, and what it may be like if they are not there anymore.

There's also the link with Britain's legendary and ancient past flowing as a strong undercurrent through the course of the book, as mentioned above. Check out the Arthurian associations in the prologue of the novel on 'Authonomy' to see what I mean...

Dragon Line: Britain is a broken nation, a failed state in chaos with no leadership or direction, split up and divided into competing and feuding factions of warlord-type rulers. Now, there is a new dark force seeking to extend its grip across the once sceptred isle. There is one man who can stop it, and a legacy from ancient times which can give hope to all...

I've recently been working on some short stories that are in a similar vein to 'Dragon Line'. This is the first: 'Matilda Leviathan'. Set in the near future, against the back-drop of rising regional tensions in the Indian sub-continent due to resource depletion, a major terrorist has been apprehended. A CIA team has been dispatched to collect her. But not all is as it seems. Who is the real captive and captor?

(Click on the photo to read the story on my blog.)

An out-take from the first draft of 'Dragon Line' that (probably!) won't be in the final version. Lord Stretton, New Marcher Ruler of the area surrounding Church Stretton, is planning another of his 'celebrations'...

Too much indulgence was having an effect on Lord Stretton, at least, that's what his advisers were trying to tell him. But, being Lord Stretton, he very rarely listened anyway. Seeing as most of his retinue were spineless lackeys truth be told, none of them ever having the backbone to stand up to the decadent New Marcher Lord and worried about their own positions, they decided to let it pass again.

Belching crudely and slumped on a tacky-looking gold painted throne set on a raised wooden platform, Stretton ran a hand of chubby fingers over a balding head of flowing, grey hair and re-adjusted his over-weight mass in his seat. The weaselly Squire, who'd made the suggestive comment to which his Lord had so 'eloquently' replied, appeared sheepish as he stood before his master's throne. Adjusting a thick red cloak clasped on the right shoulder over a beige linen smock, the thin-faced vassal cleared his throat, wiped his mouth with his hand and replied.

'So, my Lord would like to organise another celebration for tonight?'

'Yes, Prescott, that's what I said! Another party!'

Lord Stretton had already held a small 'soiree' the night before in the great hall of his hill-top retreat, inside which he was still un-soberly slouched. It was early morning now, and Stretton had just finished a hearty breakfast, one which many of his subjects would have given their right arms for. High above a valley where lay the principal centre of his domain, Church Stretton - the place from which he took his name as a New Marcher Ruler - he'd constructed a fortress after his 'acquisition' of the territory when he was somewhat younger. In the years following the Collapse when Britain had become a 'failed state', men such as him had risen to the top and taken control in their respective fiefdoms as neo-feudal rulers. To protect their interests, many built fortifications in prominent locations, re-occupying old Iron-Age forts and medieval castle sites amongst others, sometimes for real security, sometimes as a visible reminder of power to their subjects. The one Stretton had built here fitted the mould in both respects, an ancient stronghold known locally as 'Caer Caradog' atop a conspicuous elevation, so-named because of its legendary associations with a British resistance leader against the Romans.

Stretton emitted another loud belch as he pulled himself upwards in his seat, straightening the stained crimson-red tunic and ermine cloak that that covered his tubbiness before continuing.

'One last fling before we finally succumb to the new era of 'austerity'. What d'ya say, Prescott?'

'An excellent idea, my Lord!'

Prescott looked warily at two worried and wistful-looking male contemporaries stood next to him before turning back.

'And what does my Lord intend to do at this 'final fling'?'

Stretton fingered the stubble on his chin tardily as he stared ahead of himself, a lustful expression on his face as he pondered his reply.

'Oh, you know...!' he began, 'The usual, along with the 'special entertainment'. One last crack of the whip, for old time's sake!'

The Squire looked once again to his even more pensive fellows with raised eyebrows, before replying once more.

'Sir, are you sure? Given the current climate and everything...!'

'Dammit!' snapped Stretton, raising himself quickly out of his throne and causing his advisers to flinch. 'Yes, I am! We might not be able to do such things for much longer, what with our new found 'allies' breathing down our necks and the like! But at least we can still make the most of the 'forbidden fruit' for one more night! Especially here!'

He gestured about himself at the fairly expansive interior of the timber-framed hall, the walls and dirt-covered floor of the wooden-raftered and once whitewashed interior, stained with dried wine and food from the previous occasions. His prized retreat was really not just a great demonstration of power or a place of security. It was somewhere that he and his close circle of associates could conduct their indulgences out of view of his down-trodden subjects, most often on the products of his own people's endeavours. Well, wasn't that what being a 'Lord' was all about?

'Of course' he continued, 'we'll need to tighten our belts and clear this place up, especially when we inevitably have a visit from some Ironside dignatories. I anticipate a visit from Lord Cromwell himself, one day! I guarantee, when that happens, we shall make him think that we are as pure and as devout as the purest of his 'Christian' soldiers...'

The mere mention of Lord Stretton's new allies and their highly feared leader was enough to make Stretton's advisers shrink back. He'd certainly made a wise move in terms of personal survival by switching his allegiance from the Duke of Shrewsbury to the New Parliamentarian invaders. However, there was a price to be paid in backing the self-appointed neo-puritan saviours of devastated twenty-first century Britain. That meant Lord Stretton backing away at some point from some of his more sordid, debauched practices.

'However' continued the Lord enthusiastically, 'at the moment, the Lord High Protector is still somewhat engaged with matters further south, whilst those of his army who remain here are tied up on the Welsh border! So tonight, we shall celebrate! You know what that means, Prescott?'

The Squire nodded purposefully, knowing exactly what was coming next.

'Yes, my Lord Stretton!'

'Go to the local villages! Gather enough 'provisions' for tonight's festival. And make sure there's enough for each of my guests to indulge. I want none to be left out!'

'Yes, my Lord!'

Prescott bowed compliantly. Inside, though he couldn't say it, he was rather gladdened that this would be the last time...

©2010 OWEN LAW

Patrick writes his last testament as the battle looms, on a scrappy bit of paper and with a stubby old pencil which he has found. He hopes to leave it somewhere for posterity. He doesn't know if anyone will ever find it or even be bothered to read it.......

I don't know if anyone will ever read this. I don't even really know why I'm writing this at all. I suppose it's so that I can tell something of my story, if anybody really wants to know or is interested. I don't suppose I've really got much to say. Who am I anyway?

My name is Patrick Kynaston and I'm 35 years old. I'm from this place: Shropshire, that is - or what's left of it! I was born here. And it looks like I'm going to die here as well. Me and all the others, cooped up in this old fort in North Shropshire which our Master, Lord Hodnet, rebuilt. We're surrounded. The Ironsides have finally come here and are outside, laying siege. They'll move in on us soon and we'll all have to fight for our lives. Perhaps it'd be better if we just surrendered and let them do with us want they want, but our Lord and Master won't let us. He's too proud. He's a Royalist through and through. He let the civilians go - all the women and children. A few days back, now. None of us know what happened to them. None of us want to think about it. We're all just sitting here, like rats in a trap, awaiting our fate. Some of us are praying, whether it's to God or something else. Others don't care. Some would join them. I bet that stinking git Ellis would, given half a chance. How, in God's name, did I ever end up here with him?

Sorry, you don't even know me. Do you want to know me? Do you even care? I was a Police Officer once. I served with the local force. I had a girlfriend and a kid once, too. Then the End happened, the Collapse, and it all went. They're no longer with me. Gone, in the plagues and famines. I suppose I'll be joining them soon. Perhaps the sooner the better. The Sergeant says we should fight hard for our Lord and Master when they finally attack. But I can't see why. I'll fight for sure, but for myself. Nothing or nobody else. There's no King or Country to fight for anymore, nothing really in fact, except survival.

I remember a poem I learnt about at school, by a soldier from my county who died in another war over a hundred years ago. That seems like a long time, it did so at the time I read it. But I know exactly how he felt now. 'Anthem for a Doomed Youth' I think it was called. I might not be that young anymore, but I know what it feels like to be 'doomed'. That's what we're facing now. There's no hope! Not anymore. I've survived this ten long years, through thick and thin, and its come to this. The end of the line. Finito. Caput.

I'm sorry if I'm depressing you reading this, if anybody ever reads this. If anybody cares, of course! This is who I am. This is where I'm at right now. I'm not a poet, like that soldier was. I can't express my words in the same way he could. But I can write what I'm thinking right here and now. This is me - Patrick Kynaston. What you see is what you get.

Thankyou for reading this and listening to me, friend. I wish you well - and long life!

Patrick Kynaston (probably deceased).

Sometime in April (I think!) - ten years after the End....

©2010 OWEN LAW

Tonight, I'll introduce you to Iolo - the leader of the Dragons. Iolo is something of a prickly character with a colourful background. Like Tewdur, he has strong nationalistic tendencies but these expressed themselves in more divergent ways in the past, in contrast to the latter's more distinguished background. Nevertheless, in the aftermath of the collapse he established himself as a Welsh militant commander and was instrumental in overthrowing the local despotic regime which had taken root in his part of North Wales, along with the assistance of Tewdur and his followers. He then became one of the dominant military forces in the area, based in Llanberis with its surviving industrial base. However, he is constantly engaged in some kind of dispute with one or more of his neighbours, and one or two of the feuds have been very long running!
A tall male in his 40s, with unkempt blonde hair which sits on his head like a mop, he is a man who is known to be both admired and mistrusted because of his past amongst other things. His disposition is often volatile, and his nationalistic tendencies often verge on the xenophobic. However, he has also been known to be pragmatic, and will happily accept English incomers who have escaped the troubles over the border but who wish to integrate into the Llanberis community.
His initial reaction to the arrival of Patrick is tinged by scepticism and suspicion (to put it mildly!) In fact, outright hostility is probably a more accurate description! As a result of the strange manner of Patrick's arrival, he initially believes the latter could possibly be an Ironside in disguise. He is persuaded not to take drastic action, but continues to maintain his doubts for a while after. However, circumstances and an initiative on Patrick's part cause him to change his perspective.....
Just as an aside, this is the eighth character feature I have posted and there are many more still to come. What do readers think of the overviews and the characters featured in them? Any comments would be welcome and I'd love some feedback!
Owen Law

The most recent activity I have been writing about in regard to my main characters is a tour of the hydro-electric power station at Dinorwig, Llanberis. Despite the collapse, it's still in use! Dinorwig was constructed during the 70s and early 80s on the site of the old slate quarry, which had closed down in 1969. It is what is known as a 'pumped-storage' power station, which means that water is stored at a height above the station itself in a reservoir on top of the Elidir Mountain, known as Llyn Marchlyn Mawr. Energy is generated by releasing this water down pipes which drive turbines inside the mountain, using the kinetic energy of the descending liquid to produce electricity. The water is then released into Llyn Peris below, where it is captured and pumped back up the mountain, where it is stored again. The advantage of this system is that Dinorwig can therefore meet surges in demand in the National Grid at a rapid rate, surges which would otherwise have to be taken up by conventional power stations. An additional capacity of 1330 to 1590 GWh would be needed each year to generate this power, which would mean even more carbon dioxide emissions from conventional power stations (according to Wikipedia). Originally, Dinorwig was supposed to be part of a brand-new network which would include newly-constructed nuclear power stations. As these are economically inflexible, as they need to run at full output all the time, the resulting power produced at night-time would have to be found a home. At present, Dinorwig buys up surplus power from the Grid during the night, and uses this to pump the water back up the hill by putting the turbines into reverse. However, the new nuclear power stations were never built, so now Dinorwig buys up power form the grid produced by the other types of 'hot' stations instead, such as coal, gas as well as existing nuclear power stations.

There are six turbines built inside Elidir mountain, all with a capacity of about 300 MW, able to produce a full power output of 1800 MW. All this was placed inside a huge man-made cavern, which is big enough to hold St Paul's Cathedral, plus about 16 km of tunnel network. I went on a visit to the site a few weeks back whilst on holiday - it's pretty impressive down there! The electricity generated to meet the surges in demand is converted by huge transformers into 400,000 volts, and then fed into the National Grid via a system of underground cable networks to the nearby Substation at Pentir.

One thing Dinorwig is unable to do is produce enough electricity from the pumped-storage process to pump water back up the hill. It actually uses 33% more than it produces to do this, hence the reason why electricity is bought in cheap from elsewhere. So what if the Grid was to break down? Well, there are diesel generators and large batteries on-site which can be used to pump-water back in the event of a Grid shut-down. Once water is pumped back, Dinorwig's power generation facility can be used to help re-start the grid. (According to Wikipedia, some of the other conventional stations can do this as well). However, in the long term, generating power from a diesel generator for this purpose is inefficient.

This leads me to the question which may (or may not) have sprung to mind. If the Grid has permanently shut down after the collapse, how come Dinorwig is still working? Well, the way I present it is that despite the fact that there is no external supply of electricity, the staff at the station aim to still keep it going by whatever means possible. Yes, there has been a complete breakdown, and the Grid could not restart because of the complete depletion of fossil fuel availability. The Government didn't build its newly planned nuclear power stations in time (as James Lovelock suggests it should), and what was in existence (including Dinorwig) couldn't take up the slack. What fuel resources the staff at the station had may have been enough to keep the station on tick-over, but not to generate enough electricity to supply the whole of the UK (not even Wales, though theoretically Dinowig could supply the whole of the country at full capacity if required). So its worst case scenario again. However, the dedication of the staff and newcomers from elsewhere means that they find inventive and novel solutions to maintaining this valuable resource for future generations. The description of how they do this is one for the book itself. After all, I wouldn't want to ruin the story for you!

Of course, what the characters see is the station being run for the benefit of the local population, both from a domestic and industrial point of view. What's more, they've found a novel way of selling on their 'product' in this energy deficient, resource hungry world.

Check out the links below to find out some more about Dinorwig. Also, if you ever get chance, go and visit the place. It's well worth it and makes a nice alternative if the weather is inclement in North Wales and you don't fancy getting drenched on the mountains!
Until the next time...(I promise it won't be so long this time either!)

http://www.fhc.co.uk/dinorwig.htm
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dinorwig_Power_Station

Okay, I should really have done something about this a week ago, but, hey, it's been a busy time after coming back from holiday! Besides, the weather since then has sort of borne out some of the predictions which were covered in the Government's latest report on Climate Change (covered in the Guardian , 19/06/09, David Adam). Basically, the forecast for the next 80 years is that it's going to get hot - very hot!

The study was produced by the Met Office, who calculated that the average temperature across the UK could rise by over 2 degrees C by 2050. By the 2080s, temperatures could reach 41 degrees C (glad I won't be around then!) There will be regional variations, of course, with summer rainfall in the Southeast of England likely to drop by 19% to 131mm per annum (this is projected on the basis of climate change brought about by medium emissions). There is a 10% probability that it will fall by 41%! In contrast, winter rainfall in Western Scotland is predicted to rise by 15%, whilst there is a 10% probability that it will rise by 29% over the next forty years.

A quick glance at the figures for the UK seem to suggest that we will face hotter summers and milder, wetter winters. The study is based on three possible variables for a carbon future, whereby emissions are either low, medium or high. In the worst case scenario, the Met Office calculates that where emissions are highest, there is a 10 % chance that the average temperature in London could be 5.9 degrees C higher, whilst in Wales it will be 5.7% degrees C on current levels. This is if international efforts to curb carbon emissions have little or no effect.

I'm reminded of James Lovelock's warnings in this respect. He stated that it won't make the slightest bit of difference what reductions we bring in, if I rightly recall. Due to the fact that the Gaia System works on positive feedback, the damage has already been done. Besides, it's not just carbon emissions from industry and transport which causes climate change, it's also the amount of carbon produced by the respiratory systems of humans and animals, and at present there is a lot of us on the planet, cultivating animals to eat as food through mass agriculture. I suppose this could potentially derail any attempts to curb carbon emissions (let's hope he's wrong!)

I'm reminded of the information I saw on the interpretational board last week in the Electric Mountain Visitor Centre, regarding the future climate outlook for Snowdonia. Basically, it said higher temperatures, lower snow cover, more intense rain and flooding. Looking at the figures for Wales and the West Mids by 2050 (the general area where the book is set) we're looking at +2.1 degrees C increase in average temperature (in comparison to the period 1971 to 2000) and a 17% decrease in rainfall. So there will be many hot days, and (I suspect) when it does rain it will bucket down. The worst case scenario is based on the 10% chance that the hottest 24 hours in Wales will be 27.1 degrees C, whilst summer rainfall could decline by -36%, in the West Mids the hottest 24 hours could be 29.4 degrees C, summer rainfall decreasing by 37%. Phew, this could be worse than how I envisioned it in the story, but I it seems like I was along the right lines! No wonder the people then could be more impoverished, with frequent drought and famine.

I noticed in George Monbiot's section (Comment, Guardian, 19/06/09), attached to the main article, that he mentioned that "the UK could be a second or third World country by then." He suggested that his could be as a direct result of our current economic malaise. My scenario takes into account the impact of Peak Oil production, so it could be even worse (then again, Dragon Line is a worst case scenario!) What are the likely effects? Declining public health (more heat related deaths; an increase in malaria bearing mosquitoes - though unlikely to be a major threat; increased exposure to UV light), changing agricultural practices, changes in wildlife distributions (including visits by Great White Sharks!!), climate refuges from Southern Europe and beyond (understandably escaping dreadful conditions in their own countries) heading this way and increased flooding. Apparently, it doesn't need the ice caps to melt to cause sea levels to rise. Basic physics - if temperatures rise, water expands, this could cause increased coastal erosion and inundation. The east coast and London could be particularly under threat.

Its an interesting, yet at the same time troubling scenario. Let's hope we change it before its too late (unless, of course, the idea of hotter summers appeals to you!) You can read more of the article and related subjects here:

http://www.guardian.co.uk/environment/2009/jun/18/climate-change-report