Scales and Flames

by Catherine Banks

  “She died when Mika was but two years of age. I was ten. His age now. It was eight years ago. After my mother died, I looked after Mika. I looked after him the way my mother looked after me. With love and kindness and a warm, open heart. If he fell, I kissed him and cuddled him. When he cried, I dried his tears. All the while hiding my own for our dear mother. When he laughed, my heart laughed and loved him even more.

  “Last year, Mr Craiss, the baker, passed away. His wife, Mrs Craiss said to my father they should marry, and he agreed. Mrs Craiss sold the bakery and moved into our home. She didn’t like me, or my brother. Particularly my brother. She tried to marry me off to a merchant who came to our village. I refused. I didn’t like him. He was older than my father, and ugly. My father agreed with me.”

  Wokwan chuckled, and Hanna’s heart lightened. She smiled.

  “How did this baker, Mr Craiss, die, Hanna? What do you know of it?”

  “I overheard Mrs Grentle, the village gossip, say to Mrs Hasste, the miller’s wife, that Mr Craiss choked while eating a forest-fruit pie Mrs Craiss had baked, and Mrs Grentle said she would never eat a thing from the hand of that woman.”

  “Haha, village gossips, hey?” Wokwan’s head lifted, then lowered. “God love em.”

  “I would agree with her,” said Hanna. Her muscles eased. “We had to endure her cooking for six months before my father hired a cook.”

  “Tell me, Hanna, what does your father do?”

  “He’s a tailor and a very fine one. Coaches from the town come to our village every day carrying fine young gentlemen and their ladies. They place bags of coins on my father’s work bench. So, he makes them even finer clothes to wear.”

  “So, Hanna, what is the matter with your brother?”

  Hanna looked at the skeletons and their arachnid lodgers. “My stepmother.” She breath deep on the cool air. “One day, my father had some very wealthy people come to his shop and my stepmother sent me to help the cook with the laundry. Later, when we all came back home, we found my stepmother crying in the kitchen. She said Mika had run off into Crepuscular Forest. The villagers formed a search party to look for him. A group of farmers and the sheriff’s men went a long way in but came back saying they had seen wolves. Everyone believed the wolves had killed Mika.”

  “But you, Hanna, what did you think to that?” Wokwan’s brow curved in between bright round eyes. The straight lips pursed.

  “I didn’t believe it.”

  “Why not?” Wokwan felt Hanna drift from tangerine to butter coat of smoke.

  “I had.” Hanna saw in her mind a swirl of images she had never spoken of. Not to a soul. She had promised herself she would never breath a syllable about them or bring them back into existence.

  “Tell me, Hanna.” Wokwan’s eyes narrowed. Black gathered between them.

  “I had a dream.” Hanna’s eyes focused on the floor.

  Wokwan felt rose-pink in Hanna. The dragon nodded. “Of a dragon?”

  “Yes.”

  “Of me.”

  “No. Not of you, Wokwan. The dragon I dreamed of was a she-dragon.”

  “A Leng-nuhi.” Wokwan nodded as the words crossed thin lips.

  “Yes.”

  “How do you know that, Hanna?”

  “In my dream, the dragon let me feel its beating hearts. She had two.”

  “A Leng-nuhi has two hearts, while a Leng’nan only has one. Is that right, Hanna?”

  “Yes.” Hanna gripped dirt in her fist and looked up at Wokwan. “Jienhuren Skrawan told us that in order to kill you we had to plunge a sharp object, a sword or a spear, between your stomach scales and breast sheet, and pierce your…”

  “One and only heart.” The thin lips curled up over the dragon’s mouth.

  “Yes. Your only heart.”

  “I see,” said Wokwan. “What else was in this dream you are so ashamed of, Hanna?”

  “I’m not.” Hanna saw in Wokwan’s eyes deception was pointless. The fiery rouge of the sclera turned to a vibrant pink. A tear formed on a leathery lid. Wokwan snorted loudly. Its head flew back. The lid closed over the eye as the head rolled. When the eye opened again, the sclera burned.

  “Why do you cry, Wokwan?” Hanna reached up. Her fingers touched the scales on the dragon’s nose. Instead of the cold slime she expected, a warmth caressed her skin. A deep warmth that reminded her of places, of loved ones out of reach. Her mind swam. Raindrops fell on her cheeks.

  “Dust gets in my eyes. Even in here, Hanna,” Wokwan said. “Why do you cry, Hanna?”

  “I was thinking.” Hanna let the dirt fall. Spiders scattered. “I thought of my mother. For a moment, when I touched you, I saw her and felt her. I miss her so. When she put her arms around me and wiped away my tears. I’m scared, Wokwan.”

  Wokwan moved forward. “We all have our fears, Hanna. But a dragon must never waste a teardrop.”

  “Why?” Hanna sniffed and wiped the back of her hand across her cheeks.

  “A teardrop from a dragon’s eye can cure almost any malady, my child.” Wokwan retreated to the shadows. “Now, your dream, Hanna. Tell me about the girl.”

  “The girl?” Hanna looked puzzled. “How do you know?”

  “You sit naked before me, Hanna. I can see the colour of your heart through your beautiful eyes. Tell me about the girl. Who is she?”

  “I don’t know who she is.”

  “Yet, you have met her.”

  “Yes.” Hanna turned aside. “Please, don’t.”

  “Dragons are creatures of honour, Hanna. If you wish to hold that a secret, I will not pry. You will tell me when you feel the time is right.”

  “Thank you.” Hanna looked up at Wokwan. “You know I’m not going to kill you, don’t you? I’ll go down to the Guizishou with a full and happy heart.”

  “Hanna, before you go off to throw your life away,” Wokwan said with a smile, “let me just say I knew you wouldn’t.” Wokwan leaned forward, teeth bared in a grin. “Besides, if you did want to slay me, you’d need a greater army than the one you do have.” Their laughter resonated in the chamber.

  Hanna stopped laughing. “She told me something.” She spoke as though she had little time. “She told, the night before Mika disappeared, that I should look for his pebbles.”

  “His pebbles?”

  “Yes. Mika loved to collect small pebbles. Shiny and smooth ones. He kept them in a small purse father made for him.” She ran a finger through dirt and examined the patterns she made. “When Mika disappeared, our father’s heart broke. I thought he would die from grief.” She turned to Wokwan sitting in shadow. “Mika is a clever boy and I know he never leaves home without his purse. After the search was called off, I looked around Mika’s cot for the purse. It wasn’t there. I went for a walk down by the river. I didn’t tell anyone. I. I remembered my dream. The girl. She showed me a path leading from the riverbank into the Crepuscular Forest. I went there and found the path. And I found a trail of small white pebbles on it as well.”

  “How did you know they were your brother’s?”

  “They were in a crooked line. Mika must have dropped them.”

  A grin returned to Wokwan’s lips. “He is a clever boy.”

  “He left a trail and I followed it all the way into the forest. It’s dark there. Deep and dark. And the noises.” Hanna paused and glanced about. “I fancied I could hear bears crashing through the bushes and trolls tearing up trees.” Hanna placed her hands on the floor as her eyes followed lines of condensation dripping down rock.

  “But you carried on.”

  “I had to find Mika.”

  “And you did, didn’t you?”

  “Yes,” she said, taking long breaths. “Yes, I did.”

  They watched at each other, girl and dragon, for a while. Neither spoke. Both waited for the other. Wokwan listened to her breathing and looked into her soul. Its heart lifted with the crimson and lemon and emerald flowing from Hanna. After a life of a thousand years, Wokwan knew how
to wait. Hanna broke the silence. “The trail stopped in a clearing. I thought that was it, it was over. Then the trees started shaking and burst open, and a small crofter’s cottage came bouncing through on a single chicken’s leg.”

  “Bab Yaga.” Wokwan shifted forward, nodding. “Did you speak with her?”

  “She came out of her house with Mika. I told her to give him back. She told me she’d bought him fair and square from an old gypsy woman.”

  “That old chestnut,” Wokwan said with a snort, and dropped back.

  “I said I wouldn’t leave without Mika.” Wokwan felt a deep red in Hanna. “He wasn’t anyone’s to sell. He was my brother. She said I’d need to buy him back if I truly wanted him.”

  “What was Bab Yaga’s price?” The dragon scratched a claw through the clay and half-a-dozen spiders scattered.

  “She said…” Hanna looked up at the ceiling. A spider crawled onto her leg. She picked it off gently. “She said I had to bring her your heart.”

  “Did she now?”

  “Yes. I said I wouldn’t. And I wouldn’t leave without Mika either.”

  “What did Bab Yaga do then?” Wokwan leaned forward with a knowing look in its eye.

  “She laughed and shouted something I didn’t understand into the air. A pack of wolves appeared and chased me out of the Crepuscular Forest to the river. I jumped in to escape them. The current took hold of me and swept me away. I grabbed onto a log to keep afloat. Eventually, I came to Xai Tung.”

  “Where you met the girl of your dream?”

  “Yes. But I’m ashamed, Wokwan.” Hanna looked down. A talon from Wokwan’s foot touched her chin. She lifted her head to meet the dragon’s eyes. “I’m ashamed of myself for leaving my brother.”

  “You have served your brother better than you know,” said Wokwan. “What could you have done against wolves? They would have torn you to pieces in seconds and with your death all hope in Mika’s young heart would have gone. But he knows you’re fighting for him. Somewhere. He knows your love is strong. That will strengthen his heart against Bab Yaga’s fell hexes. So, the old sorceress wants my heart, does she?”

  “Yes.”

  From beyond the opening came the clink of metal on metal.

  “Hanna.”

  She glanced at the fissure, then turned to the dragon. “Yes, Wokwan.”

  “On the wall to your right you will find a leather pouch on a thong. Put it on. Then take up your sword.”

  Hanna felt in the shadow among the moss and stone and found the pouch. She slipped it around her neck before bending to the floor. The hilt felt cold in her hand. The blade felt heavy on her arm. She straightened and faced the fissure. A figure appeared in the web-curtain and moved slowly forward.

  Two

  Hanna lifted her sword. It swayed gently before her as the pouch tapped her tummy. She watched the shadow. Grenel stumbled into the cave. He stopped in front of her. His eyes stared at the breasts heaving in anticipation. The naked shaft of steel glinted at him. With feet firmly planted in the sod, she stood ready for action. Their swords swung. Steel clanged on steel.

  Grenel staggered back laughing. “Are you facing me, dragon-whore?”

  He leered at her as he righted himself. Raka flew from his lair. Eight legs gripped the knight’s head and reached around an anguished face. The pincers sliced through his throat. A fear-filled scream strangled in his larynx. In seconds Raka bound Grenel’s head and upper torso in a fine unbreakable thread. Hanna watched, horrified, as Raka lifted him up against the wall. Just as death came, a last fart released noxious gas into the chamber.

  “Come, child, it’s time to go,” said Wokwan. Hanna grabbed her sheath from the muddy floor as the dragon took her under the arms. They slipped through the fissure and into the mist. The dragon threw Hanna onto its back as though she were a shoulder bag. “Hold on tight, Hanna, this could be a rough ride.” The Sino-Grey twisted in the air. Below them the mist seemed to part at Wokwan’s will. Hanna buckled up the scabbard belt and peered down as the dragon banked. “Look. Can you see?” There seemed to be a playful tone on the dragon’s tongue.

  Light air came with speed and hit her, freezing words in her throat. Hanna nodded. Far below, Skrawan, the Guizishou and the Quest Knights tore up the beach after the already departing skiff. Wokwan’s body rippled with mirth and the sensation tickled Hanna. Beyond Setchii’s main peak they saw the merchantman that had conveyed the Quest Knights. A ball of smoke erupted from its flank. Wokwan maintained course and altitude. A small black ball whistled with harmless grace under them. The dragon turned due west and headed over the wide shimmering sea.

  “Hold tight, Hanna.”

  Hanna buried her slim fingers under the dragon’s smooth scales. The fleshy membrane folding them in place warmed despite the rushing air. She tucked her feet under the humeri where they met the scapula bones a short way back from the Wokwan’s arrowed head and pressed her knees, elbows, hands in tight to the pulsating neck as the lithe dragon writhed and undulated. Hanna looked up. Wokwan was flying low over the rolling ocean.

  “Why do you fly close to the waves, Wokwan?”

  The dragon dipped a claw into the sea. When it surfaced, fish wriggled between the talons. Hanna stared amazed. “To save energy, Hanna.” Wokwan’s head twisted so one eye could regarded her. “Do you feel how my body lifts and falls away under my scales?” Hanna felt everything. The serpentine torso lifted like waves on the ocean below them, rising high until the power flowed away. But, unlike the undulating sea, the dragon’s waves generated heat. Lots of heat.

  “Yes, I do, Wokwan.”

  Hanna felt something else, too, under the movement. The fast and heavy pulse of a strong, vibrant heart.

  “Well, what you’re feeling are my float-sacks filling and emptying. Without those, I cannot fly. But they take up so much of my strength. The higher I fly, the more I use.”

  “Well, just remember, Wokwan, I am back here, and the waves are splashing me.”

  Wokwan laughed and turned its head towards the fast-approaching horizon. Out of the west the dragon could smell land. “Certainly, Hanna, I will remember.”

  Wokwan climbed as they reached the coast. Below them, villagers ran along the beach in a great stampede among the fishing-boats lying idle on the sand. Here and there, arrows and the odd spear flew harmlessly up before fading to earth. In retaliation, Wokwan dropped fish. The narrow head twisted back again. “Let’s see if they take the hint.”

  Beyond the beach and seawall, they saw a village. It sprawled on a shallow hinterland of mirrors in fretwork and looked deserted. Wokwan sped on as villagers ran along a causeway. The plain with its network of irrigation channels and paddy fields flowed for mile upon mile before they reached the fringe of a mangrove forest. As the dragon flew, the sun warmed Hanna despite her situation and attire.

  “Below us now is the Shii Rain Forest.” Wokwan glanced back at Hanna, who looked down at the lush shades of green rushing under them. After the sun passed its zenith, they crossed the Jurenbii Mountains. “If you thought crossing the sea was cold, Hanna, just you wait.”

  “Can we set down somewhere, so I can get some clothes?”

  Wokwan laughed. “All in good time, Hanna. Climbing high will mean I use a lot more strength. That will help. Besides, we won’t be long.”

  They approached the sheer rock-façade of Jurenbii. The great jagged heights and hanging valley-passes appeared to draw evaporated moisture from the rain forest. In the cold this formed banks of mist which flowed like cream and crested peak and traversed tough.

  The dragon twisted its neck and fixed Hanna with a fiery eye. “You’re become apprehensive, child?”

  “I’m thinking of those wolves, Wokwan. I see them. They haunt my memories. You’re taking me back to Crepuscular. Back to their realm.” A shudder passed through her. “And Bab Yaga’s, too.”

  Wokwan felt the darkness in her heart. “Before we spoke, Hanna, who was the more terrifying in your mind?�
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  “But I’ve seen the wolves. I don’t know. I suppose you were, Wokwan.”

  “Yes. And I am still. By the time we face Bab Yaga, Hanna, there will be an even more terrifying beast with us.”

  “Who? Who will that be, Wokwan?”

  “We’re going to collect her now. You will meet her soon.”

  Wokwan cleared the tallest peak in the land. Mount Yatchii. Hanna watched two of its three sheer faces reach up to meet in a twisted pinnacle of rock and packed ice. Her limbs grew numb with effort and cold. Hope more than will kept her on the dragon’s back.

  “Look there, Hanna.”

  As Mount Yatchii fled in their wake, Hanna saw it. Stretching from the feet of the range known to her as Murus Mountains to the horizon like a cosy green hearth-rug lay the mighty Crepuscular Forest. Wokwan raced down mountain sides and snaking valleys, skimmed pristine ice flows and jagged rocks. The dragon burst through freezing mist-clouds. The Jurenbii-Murus range surrendered to evergreen pines. These, too, succumbed to a deciduous horde. Undulation petered out to a steady plain heading towards the western horizon.

  “We will soon be there, Hanna. How do you feel?”

  Hanna looked down at herself as though her body ought to speak for itself. “I’m fine.” Her words were hesitant. “I should be freezing cold, but I feel quite warm.”

  Wokwan nodded. They headed west by north-west. The dragon’s belly stroked the hearth-rug. Each beat of the wings ruffled knots in the weft. Branches and leaves rustled and swayed in their wake. Hanna laughed aloud, her fears forgot in the rushing speed. Wokwan glanced back at Hanna, who stared at the shimmering foliage passing under them. Deep greens and light greens and burnt greens swept by like a flooded river.

  “Look.”

  “What is it, Wokwan?” Tired eyes peered into the rushing wind and saw nothing.

  “Up ahead.” Wokwan slowed. “There’s our first target.” Further on, the dragon pulled up and its claws gripped the upper branches of a tree. As the tree bowed, the sky filled with finches, jays, jackdaws and crows screaming and taking to the air. Hanna nearly lost her grip. Wokwan came to rest and coiled around the tree top. When they’d stopped, Hanna saw Wokwan’s target. The tip of a very tall tower pierced the hearth rug, its red-tiled spire like a barbed arrow head. The grey lapis offered up a foreboding sight. “In the pouch, Hanna, you’ll find rice cakes. Eat and rest. We will move after dark.”