Scales and Flames

by Catherine Banks

  “What of their father? Should I use the berries again?”

  “No,” said Bab Yaga. She drew a phial from her silver-grey cloak. “Give him two drops of this in his food every day. It will test the strength of his heart now his beloved son is gone. Then you will have everything.”

  “Then I will be worthy of that oaf Bergermeister.”

  “And I will have Bertrand’s heart in my collection.”

  Their laughter echoed through the Crepuscular and song birds fled in their hundreds.

  Wokwan writhed through the air once more. Her serpentine body brushed Crepuscular Forest’s ceiling. She raced the sun West and rested on a stove. Laboured breathing went unnoticed by those nearby. The cook toiled on her master’s meal under her mistress’s supervision. When her back was turned from the food, the Tailor’s wife slipped two drops from the phial into it.

  Each day, she did the same. The sun rose and set beyond the small kitchen window. Weeks passed. The phial emptied. Still her husband clung to life. He would not leave until he knew what had happened to his children. His work suffered. His health waned. But still life resided in him. He wanted them home. Wokwan watched him. The hairs of his head, once a proud summer meadow, turned to snow. She saw him stumble to bed, tired and exhausted. She felt mustard mix with black in his heart. She saw him rise in the morning later and later.

  Then one day, with all his hope gone, morning did not kiss his face.

  Her moment of triumph arrived. With a contented heart, the widow sat by a window grieving and Wokwan desired no more than to spit fire on her soul. The day came. They laid the sad husband and father in his coffin. The cart was ready to take him to the cemetery. That same day Bertrand began taking an interest in her. That same day, her dreams turned to nightmares.

  “So, Dragon?” The window stood close to Wokwan and spoke with defiance as she leaned on her late-husband’s shop-front. “It’s still your word against mine. Who will they believe, I wonder? A fine, up-standing victim of a terrible tragedy, or a coiling, smelly beast who terrorises fishermen?”

  Wokwan smiled as she backed away. “There’s something you don’t know, Melba.”

  “And what’s that – dragon?”

  “Hanna holds my second heart as she holds a love for a missing brother in hers. That bond, between them – that bond of unbreakable love – gives me power. I have lived for a thousand years. I know how to use my power wisely.”

  The further Wokwan retreated, the more Melba saw. A crowd of villagers, vengeance on their minds, closed in. Men and women who had seen two respected and loved neighbours murdered in gold-chilled blood and an innocent child sold to a loathed foe demanded retribution. Knapp and his deputies surrounded the widow.

  “Bertrand? Help me?” She looked for her gallant protector but the Bergermeister turned away.

  “It’s time to face your crimes, Mrs Craiss.” Wokwan beamed. She towered over the humming crowd who pressed the widow to a wall. Shouts and calls echoed along the High Street.

  “What should we do with the widow?” Knapp grabbed Melba’s wrist. He seemed lost, bewildered.

  Someone shouted, “Hang her high.” A riotous cheer followed. Some men surged forward.

  “Dragon. What shall we do?” called Knapp, in a panic-filled voice.

  “Her name is Wokwan, Sheriff.” Hanna stepped up to face Melba.

  “Wokwan?” Knapp looked up, over the heads of the pushing vigilantes.

  “That is for you all to decide, Sheriff.”

  “Aye,” people yelled from the mob. “Hang the witch’s friend.”

  Knapp’s fist griped Melba’s wrist. “If that’s what folk want.” He pulled his shoulders up, the gnarled face twisted. “Take her away, men. We have an honoured friend and neighbour to bury and mourn. We’ll deal with her on the morrow.”

  The sun burned the mist from the forest’s fringes and the riverbank as Hanna watched her father’s body laid to rest in the small cemetery north of the village. Beyond the cemetery wall, Wokwan waited in the sunshine. As the sexton’s men shovelled soil on the casket, she sat by the gravestone. The weight of an uncertain future pulled on her. “My father is gone. Forever. What will become of me now? And what of dear Mika?” The sexton’s men ceased their labours and watched her. Even in a world of death, her plight touched them.

  “Come, Hanna.” Wokwan rose from her slumber. “We have much still to do.”

  “But what about Mika?” Hanna said, as she made her way to Wokwan. “He is still with that beast of a sorceress.”

  “She will bring you brother to us, Hanna.”

  “What here? To my village?”

  Wokwan unfurled her wings and stretched to her full height. The shimmer of silver-grey and resonance of a beat sent a murder of crows cawing into the warming sky. Hanna’s eyes filled with tears.

  “Not here, Hanna. We have a further task to perform. Would you be so kind as to accompany me on this last journey? I would be very glad of your company.”

  “Aye, I’ll come.” Hanna stood straight, lifting the weight of her troubles. “Where do we go, Wokwan?”

  “We fly to Xai City to end this saga. Someone there awaits your return, Hanna, and Mika will come to us.”

  Five

  Xai City. Between the western mountain peaks, a waning sun stared down city streets bathed in deep shadows and red light. The Grand Courtyard of Xai Palace sat in a parody of the Empire’s flag with the Imperial Guard marching across its smooth cobbles. A chorus of orders sang hoarsely over the wide space as Wokwan swooped in low. The copper-red roof tiles flashed by and anguished shrieks floated up from the avenues below. Wokwan twisted in the air and circled a building that would always look to Hanna like a wedding cake. Shouts from the Grand Courtyard grew louder as they descended. Hanna tensed and Wokwan felt her apprehension. Wokwan turned her head sideways to her.

  “We have nothing to fear here.”

  Her claws scratched the cobbles. Hanna looked up at the forbidding façade of the Central Bastion. Ranks of bowmen and pikemen rallied on the wide steps leading to the solid-oak gates. Archers waited on the walls, poised to unleash a storm of death. Hanna swallowed hard.

  “Relax, child.” Wokwan flicked her head back to Hanna. “Let me do the talking.”

  “It’s all yours, Wokwan.” Hanna spoke without taking her eyes from the ranks of soldiers. She saw beauty in their neat lines. The array of bright colours of crimson and gold and indigo, of canary and aquamarine. The guards looked handsome. But fear and death lurked in their ordered ranks. Wokwan’s laugh rippled over the stones.

  Her mirth didn’t dispel any tension. It was like a dense fog hanging over the Palace. Confusion twisted the faces of the Imperial Guard. The soldiers were about to strike but for the sight of a young woman in mourning riding the back of the dragon. Then came the laugh. Strings tightened as pikes lifted.

  “Fire, damn you.” A voice echoed from the red-brick walls. Wokwan knew it well. Hanna did too. They regarded The Guardian of the House of Xai, Jienhuren Skrawan, as he strode from the Palace. “Let your arrows fly and send them on their way to Nié.”

  “But the girl, sire?” said the Captain of the Guard. He was pacing behind his men, his face pale in the evening light.

  “Do not strike my guests.” A crisp voice rang out. Hanna’s heart skipped. Wokwan lifted her head. A young woman marched from the gates. A white silk train flowed in her wake. The gown clung to her lithe body. One sleeved arm clutched at the robe. Its crimson braid and lilac lace shimmered like wine and water in the evening sun. In her other hand, she clasped the golden Standard of Office of the Emperor of Tudihgai. It glittered and winked as Princess Xai Kai descended the steps. She spoke as she walked, her face tilted to her feet to see where her royal-blue slippers landed. “Any soldier of the Imperial Guard who fires an arrow will meet the Guizishou and his halberd.” Her lady-in-waiting caught up with her and gathered in the train. “That I swear on the Seal of Office.”

  Skrawan hurrie
d forward to over-take his Princess. He rubbed a palm over a hand and bobbed in a bow as he walked. “Your Highness, I am your guardian and protector. I promised your late father, the Emperor, to look after you and keep you safe. This dragon. We do not know its intentions.”

  “Silence, Jienhuren Skrawan.” Princess Kai raised a hand. The Seal nearly hit him. Skrawan stepped back. Princess Kai swept over the sombre granite cobbles. Her slippers slapped and slithered as she approached Wokwan. Hanna smiled at her. Princess Kai returned it warmly, then grinned at Wokwan. “Welcome, my friend. My dear friend. It has been too long. But you have returned to me.”

  The evening sun caressed Kai’s bronze skin and Hanna felt Wokwan’s wings under her again. Wokwan felt a delicious crimson rise in her. “I never left you, Your Highness,” said Wokwan, bowing to the Princess.

  “You do not bow to me, Wokwan, my friend,” said Princess Kai. “You went into hiding, my dearest friend, but visited me only in my dreams.” Princess Kai reached out and touched Wokwan’s face. She leaned closer and spoke in soft tones. “Tell me why that was so.”

  Wokwan replied in a solemn, dream-coloured voice. “Bab Yaga and the Guardian of Tudihgai played a fell trick upon me, Your Highness.” She took a sharp, deep breath. Flags flapped in the breeze. “They cut me in half. Carved me in two. I could not return to you. I was weak until you sent your love to me. With Hanna’s help, I became whole again.”

  “How? How did they do this to you, my friend?” Her train flapped free from the nervous lady-in-waiting’s hand.

  Wokwan open her eyes. “Let the fiend who banished me tell his own tale.”

  Skrawan was standing behind the Princess. His eyes met Hanna’s. A scowl crawled across his fleshy face. Two other men approached. Another familiar face appeared. Numo, one of the Quest Knights, walked with the Captain of the Guard. Hanna noticed the loaded crossbow in Numo’s hand. The knight’s eyes bore into hers.

  Wokwan surveyed the knight with a fiery eye but addressed Skrawan, her voice flat and menacing. “So, you are come to us, sir.” Princess Kai turned her head.

  “Your Highness,” Skrawan said, ignoring Wokwan. “I implore you. Come back behind the ranks of Imperial Guards where it is safer.”

  “Wokwan is no threat to me, Skrawan. But I would like to know who is.”

  “What would your father say if he saw you in such danger, Your Highness?”

  “He would demand, Skrawan, that I find out where the danger lies.”

  “That is why I am come, Your Highness.” Wokwan raised her head to meet the Jienhuren.

  Skrawan looked at Wokwan, his face ashen. He pointed. “You are our enemy.” His hands trembled.

  “Be silent, Skrawan.” Princess Kai turned away from him. “Tell me the truth, Wokwan.”

  “My truth is stained with my tears, Your Highness. On this tale, I cannot comment. All I will say is I have more of a right to stand within Palace grounds than you, Skrawan. Since my egg was brought to this land a thousand years ago, I have served dynasty after dynasty of emperors and rulers Tudihgai, guiding them and counselling them. Protecting them. Protecting them from enemies both within and without. And protecting them from themselves. Then you came, Skrawan. Man of ambition. Man of greed and lust. Step closer, Skrawan, and tell us your tale.”

  “I will do no such thing.”

  “You will, for I command it, Skrawan.” Princess Kai glared at him. “I do not hold this trinket for mere show, Guardian. I wield its power and I command you to obey me. I order you to tell me the truth.”

  “I have nothing to hide, Your Highness.” Skrawan bowed and fawned towards her. The lady-in-waiting rolled her eyes. Numo and the Captain stepped behind him.

  “Permit me, Your Highness.” Wokwan’s nose dropped between them. “Now I have two hearts, I can show you what the Jienhuren chooses to hide.”

  “Then do it, Wokwan, my friend.”

  Wokwan bowed. “Your Highness.”

  “Submit to Wokwan, Skrawan. I command it.”

  “I will not, your Highness.”

  “Then you are guilty of treason, Skrawan.”

  “His objections are pointless, Your Highness.” A wine-dark sclera focused on Skrawan. A grey mist fell on the Courtyard. It thickened, then cleared, and became white as fresh snow in the first throes of winter. Wokwan flew. The air filled with tears. She saw Skrawan, twenty years younger but just as ambitious. Avarice singed his hair black. Rain thundered down. The young fledging counsellor stood in a crofter’s cottage in the depth of the dark Crepuscular Forest of Hinterland. He felt troubled, out of place in that hag’s hovel. But he had a job to do. The old sorceress sat in a rocking-chair by the fire and eyed him with disdain. Skrawan paced the room.

  “What is the one thing you most desire, Bab Yaga?”

  “Your liver and kidneys in my cauldron,” the witch replied, without hesitation, without a hint of irony or jest. Skrawan laughed it off.

  “Okay, I’ll tell you what I want.”

  “What makes you think I’m interested?”

  “Because the road I need to travel comes past your front door. And it carries something I know you crave.”

  “Go on then, Xian-Jienhuren Skrawan. Tell me what it is you want.”

  Although her tone was flat, he could sense a shift in her attention. It moved towards him, to where he wanted it. He pressed his slim advantage. “I want to rule Tudihgai. To do this I will need to marry the infant daughter of the Emperor, the girl who will become Princess Xai Kai when she comes of age. Her parents will not allow this, of course, while they are alive. But they are protected from foes by that fell beast, Wokwan. And I know you desire one of her hearts.”

  “Xain-Jienhuren Skrawan, get some other fool to run into the Palace of Xai and slay your dragon. I am not that fool.”

  “You will not need to venture far from home, Bab Yaga. No. I have devised a plan. A conspiracy I have unearthed that if we, Wokwan and I, act promptly and decisively, we can snuff out before the threat reaches the Emperor Xai Jeng and his wife, Her Highness Xai Tira.”

  “Wokwan will see right through your silly little plan, Skrawan, and chew your head off.”

  “Not if you provide me with a spell that can mask my thoughts.”

  “You presume too much, young man.”

  “I know you can do it. Here. In your forest. You can create an Elixir. I will drink it and my true thoughts will be hidden from Wokwan’s hearts. Then I can convince the dragon to follow me into this realm, your realm, where you can paralyze her long enough to remove one of her hearts. That is all either of us needs.”

  “I want both her hearts, Skrawan.”

  “And you will have them. Both. After I have married the Princess Xai Kai. You can wait twenty years for your second payment, can’t you?”

  “Why don’t I take both Wokwan’s hearts at the same time, you fool?”

  “Because I need half a dragon on the loose, Bab Yaga. Her power will wane, and she will run and hide. I know she will. Stories will circulate among the peasants and over time Wokwan will become a villain. I will command Quest Knights to hunt her down. The prize for Wokwan’s only heart will be Xai Kai’s hand.”

  “I thought you said you wanted to marry her?”

  “I do. The Quest Knights will fail. But with each death, Wokwan’s spirit and strength will weaken. Then, one day, I can go in myself where all others have failed and gain the trophy, and the hand of the fair Princess.”

  The sorceress looked at Skrawan. His hair sat flat to his scalp. Blemishes scored the bronze skinned face. She’d seen more handsome men of his race. This cockroach was aiming high. He knew his enemy well, though. She could help him. Yes. She could help him. Then, when she had Wokwan’s hearts and the dragon was no more, she would have this cockroach, too. Bab Yaga gave her riposte in a calm, measured tone. “Come back to me, Skrawan, in two weeks and I will see what I can do for you. I make no promises. Return here a fortnight hence with gold and your plan. Now leave me. I have wor
k to do.”

  Wokwan hunched up and curled around the uppermost layer of the Palace’s wedding cake. She breezed through a vent like a dawn mist. Down, down she went through room and chamber and corridor until she found them.

  “I have the Emperor’s seal,” Skrawan said, entering a room. A short man sat hunched over a table in the middle of it. “Have you completed the document? We have but a few heartbeats before the seal is missed.”

  “I have the document ready for you, sire.” The man slapped a leather pouch on the table then drew a slip of paper from it. Skrawan removed a scroll from his jerkin, broke the seal and laid it opened next to the other. Both proclaimed to be the Last Will and Testament of The Emperor Xai Jeng. Both carried the signature of the Emperor and his chief witnesses. But the directions went by different routes. Skrawan glanced over both parchments. They looked identical. More importantly, they looked genuine.

  “Quick, scroll yours and let me seal it.” As the man rolled his parchment, Skrawan pulled a stick of wax from his pocket. He heated it over a candle on the table and watched blood-red liquid drip on the paper. When enough wax sat on the scroll, Skrawan pressed the seal into it.

  “Here.” Skrawan tossed the man a heavy purse. The forger caught it. “Now leave by the way you entered. Let no one see you. Understood?” Skrawan slipped both parchments back under his jerkin, and the seal and wax into his pocket. Snuffing the candle, he left the room.

  Down the passage just outside the chamber, he stopped by a small service chamber, tapped the door and opened it slightly. In the shadow beyond, someone moved. “Did you see that man?” Skrawan said.

  “Aye, I did,” replied a rough voice.

  “He has a purse of gold upon his person. Make it look like a robbery. Your ship leaves in the morning.”

  Skrawan closed the door and walked on. The shadow-man slipped from concealment and followed the forger.

  Out into the light, Wokwan reached up and away and once more chased the sun to bed. When the stars came to watch, she writhed in the moonlight and plunged to earth.