Spark the Fire

by Melissa McShane

  A high-pitched chattering echoed off the distant walls and ceiling, rapid like birdsong. It took Lamprophyre a moment to realize she was hearing speech. Mesmerized, she walked forward until the words became clear:

  “…and I want to see the trees and the birds and the rocks and the everything, yes, Mama and Papa? There are so many trees and they grow taller than us and they’re green, and not many dragons are green, they’re red and blue and purple and bronze and black like that dragon, she’s really big, bigger than Mama. And Mama is bigger than Papa and Papa is smaller than that one—”

  The dragonet was no bigger nor smaller than any other dragonet. Her scales were an unsurprising gray; her adult color would fade in over the first ten years of her life. She looked up at Lamprophyre with eyes that were pure liquid gold, and her flood of words cut off. Lamprophyre gazed at her, speechless.

  Finally, the dragonet said, “I remember your thoughts. Blood and death and fire. You killed humans.”

  It felt like a blow to both stomachs. “I thought I hadn’t,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

  “I remember death,” the dragonet said. “It hovers over me and if I talk it floats away like a boat—what is a boat?”

  “It’s…a human thing that floats on water like a leaf, but it’s made of wood.”

  “I thought it was a living thing.” The dragonet yawned. “If I sleep, will I still hear screaming?”

  Lamprophyre felt like screaming herself. “I don’t know.”

  “I hope so. The screams are like a song.” The dragonet clambered over the lip of the hatching nest and snuggled between her father’s knees. She yawned again and lay still, a little gray ball that blended with the stone floor.

  Lamprophyre looked at Hyaloclast, her eyes wide. “I’m so sorry,” she began.

  “Her memories will dim as time passes,” Hyaloclast said. “Already she thinks of her experiences as a bad dream, though a vivid one. I don’t think the effect will be permanent.”

  “I swear I tried not to kill them. I really don’t remember—”

  “Enough, Lamprophyre,” Hyaloclast said. “The blame lies with the humans who stole her. But you will need to stay well away from young Opal until she heals. Contact with your memories will lengthen her recovery.”

  “Of course.” Lamprophyre dared to look at Fluorspar, who regarded her with the look of a parent who sees a threat to her child and wants it gone at any cost. “That makes sense.”

  She hurried back outside and took to the air, with no particular destination in mind, just filled with the desire to fly and fly and never come down to earth again. They were right, it wasn’t so bad. Opal would live. She might even turn out sane. If Lamprophyre had only been able to eliminate those bandits, everything would be…well, not perfect, but better than all right.

  She soared over the peaks toward Mother Stone, who rose endless and mighty over the lowlands. If she dared, she might fly higher, where the air was too thin to breathe and the cold could freeze your eyeballs. She might find the final resting place of all dragons, where the old and sick journeyed at the end of their lives. But that would mean the end of her own life, and she wasn’t so discouraged and low as to want that. She flipped a lazy roll in midair and headed for home.

  As she neared the flight’s caverns, movement on the lower slopes caught her eye. She swooped lower to examine it—a large deer, or a mountain lion, perhaps? Whatever it was moved steadily in the direction of the caves, and no animal would do that. Then she gasped, and dropped out of the sky to land near Rokshan. “What are you doing here?”

  “Wishing I had the wings of a dragon,” Rokshan said. “Will you give me a ride? I didn’t realize how long a journey this would be.” His normally brown skin was flushed ruddy with exertion, and the hair over his brow was matted and damp with sweat.

  “Give you a ride where? Rokshan, why did you come here?”

  Rokshan squatted and drank from a waterskin at his hip. “I told my father about you. All of you,” he said. “About how we’re wrong to simply come into your lands, prophecy or no. That we should treat you as we would any other kingdom, with respect. He’s authorized me to bring our requests before Hyaloclast.”

  “She won’t listen. You’re wasting your time.”

  “Lamprophyre,” Rokshan said, tilting his head to look up at her, “I have to take that chance. You don’t understand our position. The last time humans ignored a prophecy of this nature, thousands died. We don’t want to impose on you, but we must move north. I’m counting on being able to explain this to her.”

  Lamprophyre regarded him steadily. Rokshan’s expression was as incomprehensible as ever. “Fine,” she finally said. “But I still say you’re wasting your time.”

  “Then I waste my time. But if it means spending more time with you, I can live with that.” He hauled himself into the notch before her wings.

  “With me? Why would you care about that?” Lamprophyre launched herself into the sky.

  “Because you’re interesting. Because we’ve fought together, and saved each other’s lives. Among my people, that makes for a bond that isn’t easily dismissed.”

  “You’re strange. I’m a dragon. You’re a human. How much in common can we have?”

  “We both want humans and dragons to live in peace,” Rokshan said.

  That startled her. She’d been so intent on impressing Hyaloclast she hadn’t really cared how she might impress her. Solving the human problem had simply been a means to that end. But after meeting Rokshan, and fighting those bandits…humans weren’t just a faceless mob anymore. And she discovered she agreed with Rokshan: their two peoples needed to learn to live together, not humans invading dragon territory or dragons scaring humans away.

  “Did the dragonet hatch?” Rokshan asked.

  “This morning. She’s…well, she’s not entirely well, but she’ll recover. It’s better than death, or whatever fate those bandits had in mind.”

  “I’m glad. I took my men hunting those bandits, but they’d already fled downriver. Probably went to ground in Kolmira—that’s the next big city to the south along the Rindra River. I’m sorry we couldn’t catch them.”

  Ahead, the ledges of the flight’s caves loomed. It reminded her so much of that day a twelveday ago when she’d brought Rokshan so triumphantly to meet Hyaloclast she almost veered off and flew away. The thought of being humiliated once again curdled her second stomach. She could already feel Hyaloclast’s disdain. This was idiotic. She would never listen to Rokshan, might even decide to kill him, and his death would be on Lamprophyre’s head.

  But she knew Rokshan well enough—how strange, to think of knowing a human at all—to realize if she refused to take him, he’d come on his own, and Lamprophyre would be a coward as well as a fool. No, she owed it to both of them, and to all dragons, to see this through.

  She settled lightly on the outermost ledge and leaned over to help Rokshan dismount. “Wait here,” she told him, and climbed to the royal cavern. As she’d hoped, Hyaloclast had either seen her approach or been warned, and the queen waited outside the cavern for her. She caught a breath of Rokshan’s thoughts—big dragon could crush me like a bug—before shutting them out. The drifting thoughts of the flight were enough of a distraction.

  Hyaloclast regarded her closely, her nictitating membranes half-lidded in deep thought or disdain. Lamprophyre controlled her impulse to grovel and said, “The prince has returned with a request to negotiate.”

  Hyaloclast looked past her to where Rokshan stood. Lamprophyre risked glancing at him over her shoulder; he stood straight, his head bare and his feet planted securely as if he expected a stray gust of wind to knock him over the edge. It filled her with fear for him, and she resolved in that instant to carry him to safety if this went wrong as it surely would.

  “Negotiation is for those who want something,” Hyaloclast said. “We have nothing we want from the humans.”

  “But they want to live in harmony with us,” Lamprophyre
said. “Our oldest stories say that was once possible. Why can’t it be again?”

  “Because they have nothing to offer.” Hyaloclast continued to stare at Rokshan. “Take him back where you found him.”

  “No.”

  Hyaloclast’s gaze snapped to Lamprophyre’s face. “No?”

  Lamprophyre swallowed. “No. You need to talk to him. Maybe there’s no chance for an accord, but shouldn’t you find that out rather than assuming it’s impossible?”

  “You dare challenge me?” A jet of white smoke shot from one of Hyaloclast’s nostrils.

  “It’s not about me. It’s a reminder of what’s true. Of what the queen owes her people.” Lamprophyre dropped to her knees, an uncomfortable pose for any dragon. “Please. Mother. Just listen to him.”

  More smoke rose to wreath the queen’s head. “You choose to trade on our relationship for this human?”

  “I won’t ask for anything ever again. That’s how important this is.” Lamprophyre’s knees ached and her thighs burned with the effort of staying upright.

  Hyaloclast looked at Rokshan again. “He has until midday,” she said, leaping down from the ledge to land lightly in front of Rokshan. Lamprophyre got to her feet and followed, ranging herself behind Rokshan. She hoped she didn’t look too much like she was poised to flee.

  Chapter Six

  “Young prince,” Hyaloclast said, looming over him. She was nearly three times his height, but Rokshan stood unmoving, and that was body language even a dragon could understand. “You come as an emissary from your father the king?”

  “Yes, your majesty,” Rokshan said. “I apologize for using human terms of respect, but I’m afraid no one in the human world remembers how to speak to dragon royalty.”

  “Rational creatures do not take offense where none is intended,” Hyaloclast said.

  “I wish that were true of humans,” Rokshan said. “Your majesty, my father asked me to explain our situation and ask for your wisdom in solving our mutual problem.”

  “I see no problem for dragons,” Hyaloclast said, “but I’m willing to listen.”

  Lamprophyre cast an eye on the sky. It was already past mid-morning, and if Rokshan only had until midday, he had better talk fast.

  “I don’t know if you know anything about our religion,” Rokshan said. “Until I met Lamprophyre, I believed all thinking creatures shared the same faith. But you have to understand something of what we believe for this to make sense. The power that fills the universe, the Immanence that gives life to everything, communicates to our ecclesiasts through Jiwanyil, the Immanence given human flesh. He gives them glimpses of the future that he intends us to act on. About a hundred years ago, there was a prophecy that told the people of one of our largest inland cities to build boats. Boats on dry land. The people scoffed and ignored the prophecy—and were all drowned when their valley was flooded by a dam bursting. No human has ever forgotten that prophecy.”

  “Interesting. But it has nothing to do with us,” Hyaloclast said.

  Rokshan shook his head. “Seven months ago, the ecclesiasts received another prophecy in response to my father’s request. Tensions are high between Gonjiri and Fanishkor—that’s a kingdom west of Gonjiri. He wanted guidance as to how to deal with them. And the ecclesiasts told him he was to begin settling the wild northern lands. Nobody knew dragons still existed or that this was your territory, or we would have acted differently. We began settling, and you dragons scattered us. Reasonable, considering that we came upon you without warning. On behalf of my father and his people, I apologize for that intrusion.”

  Hyaloclast inclined her head. “I accept your apology, prince. Provided it does not happen again.”

  “I wish I could make that promise,” Rokshan said. “As I said, we don’t ignore prophecies anymore. We have to continue settling here.”

  “That’s foolishly confident of you. And when dragons raze your settlements to the ground, what will you think of your prophecy then?”

  “That this must be what Jiwanyil intended.” Rokshan tilted his head to look the dragon queen in the eye. “We will abide by whatever rules you set. We will pay whatever tribute you ask. We ask only that you allow us the use of parts of your territory. No human will encroach on your mountains or go anywhere you tell us to avoid. Name your price, and we’ll pay it.”

  Hyaloclast’s lip curled in a smile. “You are a terrible negotiator.”

  “Negotiations are for two people who each offer the other something. We come before you as supplicants. What we ask is for your help in saving our people from whatever disaster this prophecy is meant to avoid.”

  Lamprophyre held her breath. Her fingers twitched in preparation for hauling Rokshan away from Hyaloclast’s fire or claws. Hyaloclast gazed down at Rokshan. “You are correct,” she said. “You have nothing to offer us. We are stronger, wiser, better armed, and have a good defensive position if humans choose to attack.”

  Lamprophyre’s shoulders ached with tension. Rokshan sagged a little. “Your majesty,” he began.

  “But that does not mean we cannot treat together as rational creatures,” Hyaloclast continued. “We don’t worship your God, but we know what it is like to live in the shelter of someone greater, and we understand your predicament. It would be cruel of us to deny you survival.” She sat back on her haunches. “We’ll allow your people to settle in the lowlands, provided they do not spread beyond the mark I will give you. But the land will be under dragon rule, and their settlement will not be considered part of the kingdom of Gonjiri. This is not a thing I will make an exception for.”

  “I’ll present it to my father. He won’t be happy about it.”

  “If he’s truly only interested in the survival of his people, he will accept it. And you will not present it to him. My emissary will.”

  Rokshan’s head came up. “Ah, your majesty, an emissary? You mean, a dragon living among humans?”

  “I do. I will insist on one of my people receiving the honors due an ambassador. She will be my voice. And I hope she will begin a new tradition of mutual respect between our peoples.”

  The moment Hyaloclast said “she” Lamprophyre’s heart sank. “Hyaloclast,” she said, “an ambassador?”

  “You’ve already championed this relationship,” Hyaloclast said. “Are you not committed to your proud words?”

  “I am,” Lamprophyre said. “But—” She found herself unable to remind Hyaloclast of her earlier humiliation, but that didn’t make it any less relevant now. She was foolish, young, brash. Hyaloclast couldn’t possibly think she was a good choice for ambassador.

  “You have made many mistakes,” Hyaloclast said, pitching her voice so everyone could hear. “You were too quick to act and you made foolish decisions based on not enough information. You are also brave, honorable, willing to learn, and decisive. And if the king of Gonjiri is willing to send one of his own into possible death as a negotiator, I believe it is only fair that the dragon ambassador be of my own blood as well.”

  Lamprophyre thought about arguing. She had no preparation for such a role, was barely an adult, would no doubt make mistakes, some of them potentially harmful. She watched Hyaloclast, who in turn was watching her with a look of anticipation. Hyaloclast was giving her the chance to refuse—a refusal that would reduce her in her mother’s eyes, lose her any chance of gaining the queen’s respect. And by the look in Hyaloclast’s eyes, refusal was what she expected from Lamprophyre. It angered her so much she sat upright and said, “I’ll go.”

  Hyaloclast’s eyes gleamed. To Lamprophyre’s surprise, she saw satisfaction and pride there. “Join me,” the queen said, “while I give you your instructions. You need to know what I intend you to say to these humans.”

  Lamprophyre followed her into the cavern. Its phosphorescent light turned Hyaloclast’s black scales blue and made Lamprophyre seem to glow. “I won’t let you down,” Lamprophyre said.

  “Never mind that,” Hyaloclast said impatiently. “I have
no interest in treating with humans. Stand firm on the territory issue, and refuse to make agreements on any other subject. That is not why I’m sending you.”

  “But—Rokshan came here in honor. Shouldn’t we respect that?”

  “I’m not saying you should lie to them, Lamprophyre. I’m saying they will want treaties with us, mining rights almost certainly, and you are not to give them anything regardless of what they offer.”

  Lamprophyre wanted to ask how Hyaloclast knew anything about what humans wanted—what the Stones were mining rights?—but Hyaloclast had already moved on. “What I want,” she said, “is for you to discover who sent those bandits after young Opal’s egg, and who created that foul magical item whose sole purpose is to incapacitate a dragon. Whoever is responsible is in one of their cities, where they will have the resources to do such a thing. And when you have discovered that their king is behind it, bring me word, and we will burn the city to smoldering ash.”

  “But—” Lamprophyre’s jaw slackened. “It might not be the king. We can’t make that assumption.”

  “It’s an informed guess. The king might have sent his son to ‘help’ us retrieve the egg to make us more responsive to his plea.” Hyaloclast let out a deep breath that wreathed her head in white smoke. “But I will not act rashly. We will have proof first.”

  “I want that person found as much as you do. But I refuse to believe Rokshan is involved.”

  Hyaloclast snorted. “The boy is an idealistic fool. He was probably his father’s dupe. But don’t trust him. He’s not one of us and your loyalty is to your people.”