A Darkness of Dragons

by S. A. Patrick

  The Hands of the Gods.

  Patch was awestruck. It was a formation of rock stacks, but even at this distance it was clear that they were immense. There were six wide stacks; on each, a further five stacks climbed high and ended in what seemed to be impossible curls and points.

  Six hands, each with five fingers that ended in a claw.

  “Impressive, aren’t they?” cried Barver over the noise of the wind. “Tradition holds that the gods were once defeated by the great Lords of the Night Kingdoms, who turned them to stone. They reached to the sky as they died. They came back from the dead, of course, and had their vengeance. My mother taught me that the stones are a natural formation, worn down by ancient seas, but looking at them in person I can understand believing the old tale. We land on the highest claw!”

  “Uh…on top of it?” said Patch, terrified; it seemed such a delicately balanced thing, but as they flew nearer he could see that there was no need for fear. The tip of the claw was at least a hundred feet across, and had stood solid for untold centuries.

  Barver roared in glee as he touched down on the rock. “Feel free to dismount,” he said, but he said it playfully.

  No chance, signed Wren.

  Patch was in complete agreement. Solid as the rock was, the sheer height was terrifying and the wind gusted hard. In the circumstances, the edge of the claw could never really be far enough away for his liking. “I think we’ll stay on your back,” he said. “If you don’t mind.”

  Barver smiled. “Not at all.” He broke out some of his rations and offered them around, little flecks of dried meat that had a strong fishy odour. Patch and Wren were reluctant at first, but it tasted rather like mackerel. They drank from their waterskins, and it was several minutes before Barver spoke again. “The Sun Canyon should be visible from here. It’s almost as impressive in size as the Hands, but it’s still very far away.”

  Wren was already squinting into the distance. What does it look like? she signed.

  “It’s a huge circle,” said Barver. “With additional smaller canyons feeding into it like the rays of the sun.” He strained to see, and at last pointed. “I have it! Are you both secure?”

  Wren and Patch made sure of their grips. “We’re good,” said Patch. Barver ran to the edge of the great claw and leaped.

  They landed where the instructions from Barver’s mother indicated: at the northernmost point within the Sun Canyon.

  Patch climbed down onto the brutal heat of the sandy ground, and Wren got onto his shoulder. “So what next?”

  “My mother’s instructions say that there is a triangular rock. We dig under the rock until we find something, and then I am to read the sealed letter.” They glanced around, and Barver’s eyes settled on a chunk of stone five feet high, a rough triangle. “You two had better get back,” he said, as he leaned down and took the strain. With a roar of effort he flipped the stone over. He reached to his side pack and untied a short-handled shovel, offering it to Patch.

  “Me?” said Patch.

  “I…I don’t know what’s there,” said Barver. “I could damage it.”

  Patch and Wren shared a look, but they said nothing. They were both thinking the same thing, though – Barver was wary of what he might find. Patch took the shovel and made a start, Wren standing nearby in the shade of a rock.

  It wasn’t easy work, as the sides of the hole kept collapsing. Once he was down three feet or so, the hole kept its shape. Patch stepped down into it and got on with the digging, as the pile of excavated sandy earth grew behind him.

  Four feet down. Five.

  Then he saw something.

  He lifted out a tiny black pebble and held it up to the light, his eyes wide. “Volcanic glass,” he said, looking at it in awe. “It could even be obsidiac. Black diamond.” He set it on the side of the hole and continued to dig. “We could sell that, too.”

  “We’ll do no such thing,” said Barver. “Be very careful with it! We must return it to the soil when we’ve finished.”

  Wren scoffed. You shouldn’t be so superstitious, she signed.

  “I can’t help it, Wren,” he replied. “From an early age, they drill into dragon children that taking black diamond is a terrible crime.”

  Patch dug a little more. “Oh, hang on, I’ve got something else.” It took him a few moments to free his new find from the dirt, then he lifted it up. It was a large shiny black chunk as big as his hand, very like the pebble he’d found before. “There’s our answer,” he said. “It can’t be obsidiac. As far as I know, the biggest piece ever found was about the size of a chicken egg. This must be plain old volcanic glass, nothing more.”

  Barver stared anxiously at the black lump. “Is there a way to be certain?”

  “Perhaps,” said Patch. “They say it can make a Pipe sing by itself, but that could just be a myth. Give me my Pipe from my bag, would you?” Barver reached into Patch’s bag and pulled out the Pipe, tossing it over. Patch brought the lump closer and closer to his Pipe until they were less than an inch apart. He shook his head. “See?” he said. “Nothing.” But then he caught a slight whisper. He let them touch.

  A sudden explosion of noise came from the instrument, deafening him – he dropped his Pipe and tossed the lump to the side, but the Pipe played on, intricate layers that he recognized from the Songs he’d already played on it.

  The sounds faded. He looked up at Barver and Wren. “I, um, think that was a definite reaction,” he said.

  Barver was horrified. “My mother has led us to a stash of black diamond?” he said. “What was she thinking?”

  “Well,” said Patch, continuing to dig. “There’s one way to find out. Read the—”

  Suddenly he yelped and scrambled out of the hole. Wren held her hands to her mouth in shock.

  “What is it?” said Barver.

  “Nothing,” said Patch. “A…an insect startled me. Read the letter.”

  “An insect?” said Barver. He started to walk towards the pit.

  “No!” yelled Patch, moving towards him to intercept. “Read the letter.”

  Barver frowned. He was reluctant but stayed where he was. He opened the letter from his mother and read aloud.

  My Dearest Barver,

  This is the hardest letter I have ever had to write. I love you, my son, and yet I drove you away. I drove you away to save you.

  I owe you an explanation. Where else to begin, but with the Hamelyn Piper? That evil man rots in the dungeons of Tiviscan Castle, yet for me that wasn’t enough. My need to understand his crimes became an obsession.

  The question gnawed at my soul: why would anyone kidnap children, human and dragon, never to be seen again? There was never an answer that made sense to me.

  And then, the year before you left, I discovered something. I may yet be proved wrong, but if I am right then there is one simple fact that outweighs all else:

  I finally have the answer I sought. I know why the Hamelyn Piper did what he did.

  Barver stopped and looked up from the letter, his eyes wet. “What have you seen?” he asked. “What’s in the pit?”

  Patch said nothing.

  Go on, signed Wren. Read it all.

  Barver looked back to the letter and continued:

  One year after the Hamelyn Piper was captured, a novice scholar arrived at our home and asked that I follow him. I left you sleeping, my son, and did as the novice asked, for there was something in his eyes that told me that it was important, and that questions would have to wait.

  He brought me to a cave outside the city, and within the cave was an old dragon, eyes clouded by sheer age. The old dragon sent his novice outside to wait.

  “You are Lykeffa Knopferkerkle,” the old dragon said to me. “An advisor to the Dragon Triumvirate.”

  “I am.”

  “You saved us from launching a war against the humans, after the Hamelyn Piper. You worked with Lord Drevis of the Eight, and secured peace.”

  “I did. Who are you?”
>
  “My name doesn’t matter. I am a scholar, and I had to meet you in secret to tell you something. It is a burden I would pass to you, for I can do nothing more about it. You are familiar with the Order of the Skull?”

  “A little,” I answered.

  Barver stopped again. “The Order of the Skull,” he said. “The religious sect of dragons who deal with the burial of the dead.”

  “Yes,” said Patch. “There are no graves in dragon culture, are there? The bodies are taken away and buried in secret.”

  Barver nodded and continued to read.

  “The Order is based around a holy work, called the Book of Lost Names,” said the old scholar. He produced a copy from beside him. “The rules for where burials may take place are specified in a single passage here: Chapter 4, verse 18.” He opened the book and recited the passage. “The dry lands are not to be used for the rituals of burial. Only where plants may grow, and the earth is rich. In the dry lands, where heat is master, it is not just the dust of the ages that is left. There is also the shadow of memory; and for a child, this will be all there is.” The scholar closed the book. “You see, burials must happen in fertile places, never in desert. Do you understand why?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t understand that part. What does ‘shadow of memory’ mean?”

  The old scholar smiled sadly. “It means grief. The Order of the Skull believes that if they follow the rules in this ancient book, then the grief suffered by the relatives of the dead dragon will be lessened. If they break those rules, then the grief will be even worse, especially if it is a child who has died.” He held up the holy book. “But this is a translation,” he said. “The ancient language the book was first written in is my area of expertise. Years ago, I realized that the translation ‘shadow of memory’ could be wrong. I kept my silence, however. I always thought it best that nobody knew.”

  I stared at the scholar. “Explain yourself,” I urged. “What does nobody know?”

  “The ancient word here translated as ‘shadow’ was more commonly used to mean ‘dark’, or ‘black’. The ancient word here translated as ‘memory’ was more commonly used for ‘unbreakable’, or ‘diamond’. Black diamond, Lykeffa.”

  “I do not understand,” I told him.

  “In the dry lands, where heat is master, it is not just the dust of the ages that is left. There is also black diamond; and for a child, this will be all there is.” The scholar shook his head. “Don’t you see? This text was never about grief. It was a warning. And it explains why the Hamelyn Piper took the dragon children!”

  “Scholar,” I told him. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you’re saying!”

  The scholar had spoken with a quiet voice up to then. Suddenly, he shouted: “Black diamond is the bones of the dead!”

  It seemed to Patch that the air had been sucked from around them; breathing seemed more difficult, as the weight of the words settled. All this, and Barver had yet to see what Patch had uncovered at the bottom of the pit he’d dug.

  I fell silent, shocked.

  “This passage tells us what happens if a dragon is buried in desert,” said the scholar. “Some small part of its bones will darken, and form black diamond. I believe this is why the Order of the Skull was created thousands of years ago, even before we first encountered humans – to ensure dragons are buried in ways that will not create black diamond, and so not create such terrible power to be misused. Yet the truth has been forgotten! ‘And for a child, this will be all there is!’ You see? The bones of a child, buried in desert! Pure black diamond! The dragon children were what he was after all along!”

  “This is impossible,” I told him. “What proof do you have?”

  “Proof?” he said. “None! And now I am too old to do anything except pass the burden to you. Before the End of the Skies comes!”

  The End of the Skies, my son. The old legend in which the earth gives up a vast store of black diamond, and all life is destroyed in the chaos that follows.

  I left the old scholar in that cave and hurried home. I was eager to forget what I’d learned, but again and again I would ask myself: why would anyone kidnap a hundred dragon children, never to be seen again?

  And now the answer came: the bones of those children, buried in desert, will turn into the most dangerous magical substance that exists, in a quantity nobody ever imagined possible.

  Yet why did the Hamelyn Piper take the human children? That I don’t know, but I can guess. A war with the humans would have been unavoidable if only dragon children had gone.

  I thought about what I should do. Without proof, this was just the ravings of a mad old scholar. Yet to prove it would need me to take a terrible risk. If I was discovered, it would mean shame, imprisonment, even death – and perhaps not just my own. You too would be at risk, simply for being my son.

  I drove you away to save you from that. To save you from having to see your mother brought down; to save you from suffering the same fate.

  And so, I sought the proof.

  Seven years ago, when your cousin Genasha died and the Order of the Skull took her, I followed them, and watched as they buried her. When they left I committed an unforgiveable crime.

  I stole the body from its resting place.

  But I had to know.

  Each year I have visited the site where you now stand, and so far no changes have occurred, but now illness has taken me. Soon it will be time to check again, and thereafter to return each year; this is what I ask of you.

  I hope for all our sakes that the old scholar’s fears were misplaced. I hope no change ever happens to those bones.

  But if the worst comes to pass, you must find the bones of the stolen children and destroy them! You will need help, but the truth of black diamond must remain secret except to those who can be trusted completely.

  I do not know how my dragon colleagues would react, so you must seek out Lord Drevis, the human I trust above any other. By capturing the Hamelyn Piper, the Eight saved us from far more than they ever knew. Imagine such evil power in the hands of so evil a man!

  I love you. I wished to spare you this, but in the end it is a burden I must pass on. I know you have the strength to see it through.

  You are all that stands against the End of the Skies.

  Forgive me,

  Your mother,

  Lykeffa Knopferkerkle

  Barver let the letter fall to the ground. He looked up at Patch and Wren, tears flowing down his pain-stricken face. “What’s in the pit?” he said. Patch could only shake his head, lost for what to say. “What’s in the pit?” cried Barver.

  At last the dracogriff moved slowly around Patch, and stood over the hole in the sand.

  He kneeled and looked inside. There was the pebble of black diamond Patch had first found, and the larger chunk that had brought the reaction in the Pipe.

  And beside them, beginning to blacken, was the skull of a dragon child.

  Barver let out a terrible roar of despair.

  “Genasha!” he yelled. “How could my mother do this to you? How could she do this?” He plunged his hands into the pile of sandy earth beside the pit and started to push it all back into the hole, covering the horrors within.

  Patch grabbed Wren and quickly moved away to give Barver room to vent his anger.

  The letter from Barver’s mother was on the ground nearby; Barver glared at it, then let loose with a burst of flame, incinerating it. He flung his head back, the flames still coming.

  Patch and Wren looked on, almost fearful, unsure if Barver was even aware of their presence.

  When the flames stopped, Barver sobbed. He replaced the triangular rock over Genasha’s grave, then looked at his friends, heartbroken. “Genasha died holding my hand,” he said. “When the Order of the Skull came to take her, it almost destroyed me. My mother made her excuses and left, telling Genasha’s parents there was work to attend to…” He paused, then screwed up his face in disgust. “I tried to hate her, you know,
for being so cold about Genasha’s death. Eventually I left and didn’t contact her again. I tried to hate her. And now…” He closed his eyes. “You should have told me, Mother. You should have let me help you.”

  “She was protecting you,” said Patch. “She hoped she was wrong about all this.”

  “But she wasn’t wrong,” said Barver. “My mother did what she knew was right, even though it caused such pain. She sacrificed everything in her quest for the truth – a truth that we are the first to really know. Somewhere in the world, in a dry and remote place, one hundred dragon children lie buried. And for what? For obsidiac. For black diamond. For power.” He clenched his fists, visibly fighting his anger. At last he sagged, looking to his friends as he wiped away his tears.

  We must do as your mother said, signed Wren. Tell Lord Drevis.

  “Yes,” said Barver. “My mother vouched for him, and that’s good enough for me. But nobody else. The secret of black diamond cannot get beyond those we can trust.”

  Patch nodded. “Maybe Tobias and Alia would also be—”

  “Nobody else!” said Barver. “Think, Patch! Can’t you already hear the words, even from those we respect, those who mean well? ‘We should take the black diamond and use it for good,’ they would say. Tobias, perhaps, or Alia. Or Rundel Stone. That’s a road to infighting, and the certain abuse of the black diamond’s power. Not to mention war with the dragons—”

  Patch thought about it, unsure – couldn’t the obsidiac be harnessed for good? The dragons wouldn’t have to know about it, and…

  He shook his head, horrified by how easily his thoughts had taken that path. “You’re right, Barver,” he said. “The temptation would be there. It would always be a problem.”

  Barver nodded. “Some of Genasha’s bones have already completed the change, and the rest is turning dark. It could be years before the bones of the stolen children have all transformed, or it might already have happened. Finding it will be a challenge! Still, the better it was hidden, the safer it remains, as it’s unlikely to be stumbled upon. With the Hamelyn Piper dead, nobody knows where it is.”