Scales and Flames

by Catherine Banks

  After eating the cakes, Hanna curled up in the folds of the dragon’s scales. The rice cakes seemed to grow in her stomach and sate her hunger. Wokwan’s warmth envelope her. She drifted to sleep with the sun gently kissing her skin.

  “Hanna,” whispered Wokwan. The young woman’s eyes flickered open. She looked up. The sun had set but no stars twinkled in the velvet sky. “It is time.” Wokwan looked at Hanna over its own tail, then unfurled.

  Three

  “Where are we going?”

  “You are going into the tower,” said Wokwan. “I will take you as close as I can. Bab Yaga has hexed it. For now, I cannot approach. Only you can do this part. You alone.”

  “On my own?”

  “I’m afraid so, Hanna.” Wokwan felt in her shades of black streaked with white fading to grey, and indigo with deep crimson. “You can do this, Hanna.”

  “What do I have to do?” Hanna climbed onto the dragon’s back as Wokwan straightened.

  “Towards the top of the tower is a small vent window. The shutters there are broken. You’re small enough to slip through the gap. Once inside, go to the room below. In this room, Bab Yaga keeps all the sacred relics she has stolen. They are guarded by Delso.”

  “Who’s Delso?”

  “You’ll meet him soon enough. Right now, he’ll be asleep in that room. He’s a heavy sleeper, but Bab Yaga has left traps for the unwary intruder. Keep your wits about you, Hanna.”

  “Why do I need to go into Bab Yaga’s tower?” Hanna wondered what she was getting into. This sounded far more dangerous than climbing those stairs on Setchii.

  “To rescue our ally. There’s an alcove opposite the stairs you’ll descend. Shelves are set in this alcove and on the topmost, you’ll find a row of jars with a grotesque collection of pickled organs. Bab Yaga has a liver of a long dead king who would not wed her. The head of a slain wizard sits in another. Between these two you’ll find a jar filled with a blue liquid. This contains something which looks for all the world like a length of hawser.”

  “What is hawser, Wokwan?”

  “Hawser is rope, Hanna. Long lengths of it moor great merchant ships to quaysides.”

  “You want me to rescue a piece of rope?”

  “No, Hanna. I do not want a piece of rope rescued from this tower. It just looks like a piece of rope. In a jar. Immersed in a blue elixir. Take the jar. Remove the relic and place it in your pouch.”

  “Then what?”

  “Get out.”

  “How?”

  “That’s for you to work out. Are you ready?”

  Hanna took a deep, unsteady breath. Wokwan looked intently at her and felt dark colours swarming her heart. A smile creased the dragon’s lips.

  “I’m not.”

  Wokwan turned to her. “How did you feel climbing those stairs to my lair on Setchii Island?” The fiery eye saw her mind as her memory recalled that long climb. They both felt her legs grow stiff and become like jelly all at once. Her chest shook with a solid thump. Sweat chilled her flesh. Through this, Wokwan sensed a mix of emerald and cobalt and white drift over her like the mists over the Murus Mountains. “Can you feel it?”

  “Yes. Yes, I can feel it.” Hanna touched her memories.

  “Your fear, and your fortitude?”

  “Yes. I feel it.” A breeze caressed her cheek as she stretched up.

  “Find it, Hanna. Without that relic, we cannot reclaim Mika. Dig deep in your heart for the same strength and courage you found on Setchii.”

  “I can’t.” Hanna glared at the tower’s silhouette.

  “Believe in yourself, Hanna. It is you who looked after your brother and who never gave up on him when all others did. You are the one who followed him to Bab Yaga’s door. You confronted her and demanded his return. You climbed a mountain to face me to get him back. If you can do those, you can do this.”

  “All right.” Hanna’s voice conveyed more conviction. Wokwan blinked. A crimson mist of strength bellowed up.

  The dragon hesitated for a moment before slithering from the tree. “Hold on tight.” Wokwan writhed towards the tower. Animals fled, and twigs and leaves snapped and cracked as they passed. A few yards from the stone wall they halted.

  “This is as far as I go, Hanna. Give me your sword and sheath. You’ll not need them here.”

  “Why?” Hanna unbuckled the scabbard belt and dropped it into a waiting claw.

  “They’ll only hinder you. Watch your step, child. Go carefully across the branches. Good luck.”

  “Thanks.” Hanna looked round as she stepped from the dragon’s back and set off towards the tower. Trees swayed under her weight as she leaped from branch to branch. She felt her way forward with bare foot and sweating palm. As she reached the stone wall, the moon broke through. The tower glowered in a weak light. The lapis looked spectral. Her hand reached out. Cold stone greeted her skin. It felt like death. A ghoul of a building.

  Just above her head, Hanna spotted the vent. A shadow in shadow. A square of dark in a dark grey frame. Cloud concealed the moon and the vent vanished. Hanna scaled the wall. Her slim fingers slid into the gaps of weathered mortar. Her feet pressed the lapis as she crawled up. The coarse bricks scraped her knees. Blood oozed over her sweaty hands.

  The vent had broken boards across it. Not as many as she’d hoped. Five boards masked the opening. Bars rather than shutters. Hanna pushed a broken one. It fell in and slipped from her grasp. It clattered in the dark. She stopped and listened. Silence breathed back. She pulled at the next slat. After a few tugs it gave. As it left its rotten housing, Hanna slipped. She gripped the wall. The slat she threw to the night. The third, like the first, broke easily. With that one gone, Hanna wriggled through the gap. It was narrow and tight. Hanna felt as though the whole tower pressed against her naked body. She squeezed through and pulled herself inside.

  The upper room stood in almost complete darkness. The moon reappeared as Hanna stood up. Some light penetrated the night. A little. She stifled a sneeze as dust overwhelmed her. Her eyes adjusted. The room took shape. In the pale light she saw furniture piled from floor to ceiling. Feeling around the space left to her, Hanna worked towards the exit. It was more difficult than it first appeared. The moon came and went. One moment she had light, the next it was pitch dark. She wondered whether she might get stuck and Bab Yaga would find her the next morning. As she felt her way, Wokwan’s warmth rushed through her. The dragon was with her. She could feel it. Wokwan was guiding her as she snaked her way over tables and chairs and wardrobes. Past a large cabinet, a yellow light greeted her. She climbed down the furniture to it. A steep set of stairs hugged the wall below. She descended. Her soft feet trod the steps. They groaned under her weight. Through gaps in the steps she saw torchlight spiralling down.

  Wokwan felt Hanna in the airy space below the storeroom. The circular cell spanned twenty feet in diameter. In the middle stood a large desk covered in dusty scrolls and manuscripts, and books of various shapes and sizes. Among all this lay a great lump of a being, snoring. Wokwan felt what Hanna could see. The tower’s guard possessed a bear-like stature with a box-shaped head attached to broad shoulders. Drool oozed from his wart-covered mouth as he slept. This, she deduced, was Delso. Do you see it? Wokwan whispered to Hanna through the silent mist of memory. She glanced over the walls. The alcove. As Wokwan spoke, Hanna saw shelves wedged into the stone. On the top rank stood a row of jars. Wokwan felt coarse floorboards under Hanna’s feet. The contents were grotesque, Wokwan felt Hanna think. The eyes of the wizened wizard fixed her. Black. Unfeeling. Dead. Yet she felt a vitality there waiting to be unleashed. She lifted her hand. Do you see the wizard?

  “Yes.” Hanna’s hand hovered over the glass. Tried to shield the eyes. “Who was he?”

  Nye the Wise. A great wizard and a good friend, betrayed and murdered by Bab Yaga.

  Through the dragon’s thoughts, Hanna felt a lump in its throat. She moved her hand to the jar by Nye the Wise that held what looked like a
short length of rope floating in blue liquid. Wokwan saw her mind measure it. The thing was slightly longer than her forearm and just as wide. Hanna’s fingers rested on the cool glass. Wokwan sensed the murmur of a pulse. Wait. Hanna stopped at Wokwan’s command. Her eyes darted side-to-side. Breath stuck in her chest. At the base of the jar. Do you see?

  Hanna’s eyes scanned the bottom of the jar resting in thick dust. Through the glass, she could make out a slither of black. A slug clung to the outside of the jar. “That’s just a slug.”

  That, Hanna, is a hex. Do not lift the jar. Open it on the shelf and take the relic out.

  “All right.” Hanna stood on her toes to reach the jar. With one hand, she held the vessel in place. The other clawed around the lid. She twisted her wrist straining to open it. The lid was stuck fast. Hanna poured all her strength into her wrist. Wokwan willed her. Hanna felt a glow of fire spring in her mind. She fell back on her feet. The lid wouldn’t open.

  “Have some rice cake, Hanna.”

  “What?”

  “Build your strength.”

  She took a small morsel from the pouch and put it in her mouth. She chewed for a moment. As she did, she glanced at Delso. He snored contentedly. As the rice cake slid down her dry throat, a radiance filled her. She felt stronger. Capable. Now try, Hanna.

  “All right.” Hanna reached up. Her arms felt longer and her legs taller. Her fingers gripped the jar and lid. The slug remained still. She expelled a warm breath and turned her wrist. The lid rotated. Hanna twisted it further then lifted it from the jar. “It is open.” She placed the lid on a lower shelf. Shifting her weight, she plunged her hand into the jar’s mouth. The elixir felt frigid. She gripped the hawser. It pumped against her palm. She nearly screamed. The jar almost rocked.

  Careful, Hanna.

  Hanna lifted the relic. Elixir dripped to the floor and felt oily as it seeped through her fingers. She examined her prize. It was not a length of rope. It was more animal than inanimate. “What is it?” she whispered. She glanced back at the jar. The slug was staring at her. Its antennae fixed her as its lipless mouth opened wide. The mollusc was just two inches in length and a little stouter than her thumb, yet its scream rocked the tower’s walls. Hanna covered her ears against the blast. As it ebbed away, she stuffed the hawser into her pouch and looked for the stairs.

  But she stopped before she got going.

  Wokwan heard the scream. The dragon circled counter-clockwise about the tower. The pupils of its fiery sclera scanned the forest. Its ear listened for Bab Yaga’s approach. The witch would now know someone had opened the jar. Wokwan turned for the tower and focused on Hanna.

  “Grrarr.”

  Wokwan felt Delso’s temper blocking Hanna’s path. He towered like the lapis structure. He was awkward and twisted with a matted coat of black hair over his skin. A leather thong concealed the guard’s interest in the intruder. Run, Hanna. Run. Beige and yellow mixed and swam in Hanna’s soul as Wokwan raced through the night.

  Delso lifted aside the leather and pulled on a thick and long and gnarled wart-covered erection. A heavy palm pushed Hanna against the shelving. The wart infested lips curled to a smile.

  “Girly. Good girly. No clothes. Girly stay. Be nice to Delso.”

  Wokwan strained to get back as Hanna watched Delso pull his thick skin back and forth. The beige-yellow of her heart thickened and particles formed into carrot. A thick creamy goo seeped from the slit on Delso’s penis.

  “No.” The goo dripped to the floor. The dragon sensed a heart pounding faster than it should.

  “Be Delso girly. Delso won’t smash in her skull. Be nice girly to Delso.”

  “No.” A shade of scarlet filled Wokwan’s mind. Hanna swung up a foot. The bridge struck hard the soft sacs dangling below the branch-like member. Delso’s eyes bulged as he doubled up. Hanna sprang to her left.

  Run, Hanna. Run.

  The wall scraped her shoulder. She careened ahead. Flew down the stairs as fast as she dared.

  “Graaaar.” Delso’s roar filled the chamber.

  The next floor whirled by. Carved statues formed an alley. Hanna ran, glancing back. Flickering light chipped the dark. Heavy footsteps thumped the stairs. Dust cascaded. “Graaar.” Hanna ran.

  Wokwan swam through the night, feeling the heavy beat of her flight.

  Another flight of stairs. Hanna headed down. Towards another chamber. As she ran, she glanced back. Delso was gaining. Thump. Thump. His stout club hit the wall.

  “Delso gonna do bad girly for kick.”

  His speed surprised her. She wasn’t halfway down when Delso appeared at the top. He pulled a stone from the wall and hurled it. It hit the stairway just ahead of her. Boards disintegrated. She stopped in time. Turned. Stared back up. Delso thundered and blundered towards her, his face snarling.

  “Girly gonna get Delso boner.”

  Run, Hanna.

  Hanna turned and jumped. Four steps had gone. Below the chamber fell into darkness. Hanna stretched out her arms. Her legs. Her hope. Her bare feet hit a step. It gave under her immediately. Momentum propelled her forward. Her shins barked on a board and she pitched over. The roll carried her down. Coarse boards stabbed her hands and knees and thighs with splinters. A dozen steps passed. She picked herself up. Outside, Wokwan roared into the night. Delso jumped.

  “Graaarr!”

  He landed on his feet and set off after her. Flight was all that mattered. “Help me, Wokwan,” she cried as she ran down the stairs. Her chest burned. Her eyes strained into the dark. She reached the floor. The stairs ended in another round chamber. Her palms slapped the wall. Is there a door? Where’s the door? Further, Hanna. Thump. To your right. Thump, thump, thump. Hanna hurried. Slap. Slap. Thump, thump. Delso was coming, closer, his leaden step drew near. Slap. Bang. Wood. A door. She groped for a handle. Gripped it. It felt frigid in her fist. She heaved.

  The door was locked.

  She pushed it, beat it with her fists. Kicked it.

  “Wokwan. Help me!”

  “Delso smell bad girly.”

  She could smell him too. His feet bashed the boards and his odour washed over her, held her in its iron fist. Hanna wheeled round. A bulky shadow loomed over her. Hanna pressed against the door, turned her face away as his breath fondled her, a stench of fish and meat. Delso belched. Hanna gagged.

  “Bad girly be sorry now.”

  Away from the door, Hanna.

  Wokwan sensed her heart melt into a blank black and wrenched a tree from its roots and threw it. Flaming breath followed the bough to the tower. A boarded window burst in, fire licking the wood statues, as the torn trunk pierced the door. The floor above the fleeing Hanna ignited and roared into an inferno.

  “Delso going to make bad girly cry.”

  The chamber flooded with an eerie wavering light. Hanna evaded Delso’s lung and ran across the room as the door caved in. Delso stood between her and escape.

  “Girly be nice to Delso.”

  Hanna faced him.

  “Bad soft girly.” His lusting eyes filled with Hanna’s heaving breasts. Saliva dribbled down his chin. “Be nice to Delso.” The erection hadn’t withered in the chase. Goo oozed from it and flicked off as he rocked on his heels swinging his club. Droplets splashed on her feet. She cringed.

  Delso swung the club. Instinct took hold of Hanna and she ducked. The club thumped the floor. Hanna dived to her right. Delso followed clumsily. She looked up from the floor. The door. Delso closed. Hanna sprang forward. But Delso stepped across and blocked her. She dodged his lunge, but she had to step back. He pressed forward moving her back to the wall.

  Her mind ran riot. “How do I get out?”

  Stay calm, Hanna.

  Her eyes darted about, but she could see no refuge as the room filled with smoke and flame.

  Delso’s legs were long and his fat feet stood far apart. She sprang for the gap. Dropped to the floor. Rolled. Where was that gap between his knees? She must be there. Delso st
epped back and bent to his knees. He landed on her. Trapped her between his thighs. A hand gripped her nape. The pain hit Wokwan. The dragon heard Hanna’s scream.

  “Delso make bad girly be good. Girly suck Delso peepee.”

  Delso’s free hand, dripping with goo, held his penis over Hanna’s face. It closed on her jaw. She clamped it shut. He moved his hand to her mouth and Hanna twisted in her bind. As his hand reached her chin, she opened her mouth and shot her head forward, teeth bared. They sank into callous skin between thumb and forefinger. Delso yelled and screamed and tried to shake her off. Hanna wrapped her legs around one of his to hold her position. Then she clenched a fist over a leathery goo-smeared sac and squeezed. Delso stopped moving and just yelled.

  Hanna slithered across through the dust as soon as Delso’s grip loosened. Smoke filled the room choking out the flickering light. Hanna gulped down acrid air as she groped towards the door. Drafts pulled her one way then another as she staggered on. The heat, the soot dark like a million rain clouds condensed into one room, pressed her. Her chest heaved once more, her head pounded in her skull. Eyes smarted. Her mouth tasted the bitterness of Wokwan’s arson. Her leg bashed against wood. A tree? What’s a tree doing there? Then she remembered.

  “Aaaargh! Soft girlie make Delso very angry!”

  Hanna followed the bough and clambered over the shattered door before collapsing on a deck. Wokwan’s fiery sclera peered at her.

  “Hanna, I think it’s time we left.”

  “You don’t say.” She lifted herself. Outside in the cold night air, she found herself on a platform clinging to the tower with a flight of stairs spiralling away to the forest floor like a rough-rider helter-skelter. Hanna leapt for the steps and her bare feet hit more coarse wood. As soon as she started down, the sundered door flew from the tower and landed in the forest.