Ember and the Ice Dragons

by Heather Fawcett

  The dragon’s eyes swirled faster. It was clear she was agitated, and Ember felt a stab of hope. If the dragon was truly like her, and unable to lie, then that also meant she couldn’t stand being called a liar. Ember hated it when someone didn’t believe her—it gave her a prickly feeling behind her eyes that could linger for days. Once, one of the bakers at Chesterfield had accused her of stealing Eccles cakes from the kitchens, refusing to listen to her denials. She had spent the next week begging the young servant behind the theft to confess, while her sleep had been haunted by dreams of a giant cake chasing her through the university, spitting currants at her.

  Very well, the dragon said. I will take you to the City of Spires. Your friend is being kept there. But I cannot guarantee you will be allowed to see him—that will be up to the king.

  “The king?” Ember repeated nervously.

  He is the king’s guest, the dragon said. At the word “guest,” which sounded almost the same in the dragon’s English, Nisha let out a snort.

  “His prisoner, you mean,” she muttered. Ember touched her arm. They couldn’t afford to make the dragon angry. Nisha caught Ember’s look, and gave a slight nod.

  “What’s your name?” Ember asked. “Do you have names?”

  Aquamarine, the dragon said. She seemed pleased that Ember had asked.

  “That’s lovely,” Ember said, and the dragon preened. “I’m Ember. This is Nisha, and that’s Moss.”

  The boy took a nervous step forward, and the dragon regarded him with her unreadable eyes.

  You have a strange smell, child, was all she said.

  “We should leave now,” Ember said. She didn’t know if the grimlings were gone for good, or if they were merely lurking, and she didn’t want to find out. “Are you able to carry all of us?”

  The dragon hesitated. If I bring you to the king, will you think me honest?

  “Yes,” Ember promised.

  “Wait a minute,” Nisha said. “‘Did she say ‘carry’? You want her to carry us?”

  “Well, yes,” Ember said. “What were you expecting?”

  “I don’t know.” Nisha looked faint. “How about we just follow her in the sled?”

  “The dogs are long gone,” Ember said. She thought of Finnorah, so strong and steady at the head of her team. She didn’t blame her for running—the dog had thought, understandably, that all hope for them was lost, and so had decided to save herself and the others. “They were heading in the direction of the camp. We don’t have a chance of catching them.”

  “It would certainly be faster,” Moss said. His face was even paler than usual.

  Ember drew a deep breath. She gazed into the dragon’s inhuman eyes and wondered if she was making a terrible mistake. Still, Aquamarine hadn’t frozen them, or tried to eat them—she had, in fact, saved their lives. And with the trail visible through the heartscale starting to disintegrate, this might be their only hope of rescuing the prince.

  The dragon sniffed at each of them. Though you are small, I would prefer to carry only two.

  It took Ember a moment to realize what she meant. She nodded hesitantly.

  The dragon reached out a hand—eerily humanlike, apart from the talons—and lifted Nisha by the back of her jacket. The girl gave a smothered scream, but to her credit, she didn’t struggle. Moss closed his eyes as the dragon grasped him.

  Stay close, dragon child, Aquamarine said, then lifted into the sky in a whirl of snow. Ember spread her own wings and followed.

  They flew for hours, through inky skies scattered with starlight, over mountains of ice that seemed to float among the shadows. Ember’s face felt half frozen, and her wings ached. She wasn’t used to flying long distances—she was hardly used to flying at all. After an hour, she fell behind, and Aquamarine offered to carry her with her back foot.

  The sky grew ever darker as they flew south, losing its purple glow. The stars burned like a million flickering candles. Ember wondered if Nisha and Moss were all right—the dragon’s wing beats and the whoosh of the air meant they couldn’t even hear each other if they shouted. Moss had at least uncovered his eyes, while Nisha seemed fascinated by the landscape unfurling beneath them; she kept craning her neck like an owl to see in all directions.

  Ember gasped. Ahead of them loomed an enormous mountain range, jagged against the starry sky. Clouds curled beneath it, and snow painted its rocky slopes. The dragon was flying toward a towering glacier, which was tucked into the peak of one of the highest mountains. As they drew closer, they beheld strange shapes carved into the ice: doorways and turrets; spires that jutted like upside-down icicles; passages lined with ice pillars. It was a mad, chaotic thing, a random jumble of a city that nevertheless projected an air of purposefulness. Light spilled from open doorways and gleamed through ice walls, painting the glacier with greens and blues and silvers. Dragon silhouettes swooped over the city, fluttering in and out of the glacier like bees in a hive.

  The dragon landed on a narrow ledge of ice. Before them loomed a towering doorway, large enough for at least two dragons to pass through. On either side was a statue, hewn from stone: one of a large dragon standing tall, chest puffed and mouth open; the other of a dragon with a meeker posture, tail curled around its body and a sly expression on its face. Ember wondered who they were. Did dragons have myths of heroes and villains, just as humans did?

  “But—” Nisha pulled her scarf off her face. She seemed beside herself, and struggling for words. “But you can’t have a city in a glacier! Glaciers move. It doesn’t make sense.”

  Aquamarine cocked her head at Ember, who translated. After listening, the dragon said, We rebuild constantly. Just yesterday, the entire fourth quarter collapsed. The king assigned workers to repair it—it is almost completely stable now. Would you like to see?

  “Er, that’s all right,” Ember said. “Was anyone hurt?”

  The dragon laughed. Ice does not harm us, dragon child.

  Ember translated all this for Nisha and Moss, who didn’t look comforted. “That’s great,” Nisha said. “Just great! So we’re supposed to stroll in there, and if the roof falls in on us, oh well?”

  Aquamarine seemed to understand, or perhaps she merely guessed. I will not allow harm to come to you, children. I will take you to the palace by safe paths.

  And with that, she strode into the glacier, leaving Ember, Nisha, and Moss no choice but to follow.

  “Are you all right?” Ember whispered to Moss as they walked in. He had been nearly silent since they had met Aquamarine. His expression, as he gazed at the glacial city, was a strange mixture of fear and anger.

  “Yes,” he said, in the sort of voice that meant “No, and I don’t want to talk about it.” He didn’t meet her eyes.

  Their breath rose in clouds as they entered the dragons’ city. A long, high-ceilinged tunnel of ice stretched before them, which dipped and curved in strange places, built to be traveled by beings that could simply spread their wings and leap over obstacles. Aquamarine had to carry Nisha and Moss at several of these intervals. Other tunnels opened off the main one, just as grand and twisty. Candles set in pots of oil flamed in brackets along the walls, not bright enough to see comfortably by, throwing strange, reflected shadows in every direction.

  “Who built this place?” Ember said.

  We all build it, Aquamarine said. We take shifts to repair what is lost as the glacier moves and changes. Each tunnel follows the ice—we listen to what it wants, and shape our city accordingly. We do not impose our home upon it, as a human would.

  Ember spread her wings and vaulted over a gaping chasm in the middle of the corridor. Aquamarine followed with Nisha and Moss. “I see.”

  “It would help if you had more lights,” Nisha grumbled. She had stumbled for the third time, scraping her knees on the ice floor. Ember translated for the dragon, who snorted.

  We do not need lights. The candles are for decoration.

  The more candles they passed, the more Ember understood. The
firelight illuminated strange, beautiful shapes in the ice, bringing out whorls and ridges that Ember had thought were carved there, but she now realized were natural patterns. It also brought out different shades of blue, from green to deepest indigo. Ember walked with her mouth half open, drinking it all in.

  “It’s beautiful,” she murmured. Amid her fascination, she felt a surge of sorrow. She thought of this beautiful place emptying as hunters swept across Antarctica. She thought of the lights going out and the halls and corridors caving in, with no one there to repair them.

  No. She set her jaw. She wouldn’t allow that to happen. They would find Gideon and bring him safely back. His family would have no reason to seek revenge on Aquamarine or any of the others.

  Aquamarine’s spine straightened at Ember’s praise, a spring entering her step. Ember was beginning to realize that the dragon loved compliments. Which, she supposed, made sense in a world where everyone could only speak the truth.

  They came to a vast, high-ceilinged room with the appearance of a banquet hall, lined with pillars carved from the ice. Not all the pillars were straight—some leaned to the side, or took an odd turn somewhere. At the center of the hall was—

  “A carousel,” Ember breathed.

  The structure was enormous, a glittering thing hung with hairy green pennants that Ember took for woven seal skins, perhaps dyed with seaweed. In place of horses, there were strange creatures that reminded Ember of lions, though there was a fantastical quality about them, as if carved by someone with only the vaguest memory of what lions were. The entire structure was built of ice and stone. Some of the mounts were unfinished, roughly hewn lumps of ice that had been leaned against the wall.

  We are building it for the festival of stars, Aquamarine said. Our solstice celebration.

  Ember didn’t have much time to stare at the ice carousel, for Aquamarine walked quickly, and she had to hurry to keep up. They passed several dragons in the hall, all of whom stopped and stared at the three of them.

  Who are these human children, Aquamarine? one called.

  Visitors, Aquamarine said. They wish to retrieve the murderer child. Please ensure that the king is alerted to their presence.

  The dragons hissed at that, and Ember huddled closer to Aquamarine.

  Don’t worry, dragon child, she said. None will harm you here.

  “I’ll believe that once we’re safely back at the Firefly, all our limbs intact,” Nisha muttered when Ember translated. She squeezed her hand. “Right now, you’re the only dragon I trust.”

  Ember flushed, but for once, she didn’t try to pull away from Nisha’s grip. They climbed up a long, steep slope, and again Aquamarine had to carry Nisha and Moss. At the top, the tunnel opened onto the night, and Ember gasped.

  They stood at an exposed ridge near the very peak of the glacier. Before them stretched a wide avenue carved in the ice, leading to a huge knuckle of bare rock. Ice columns lined the avenue, and more statues framed a cavern that yawned out of the rock, lit by torches sputtering in the chill wind. The aurora was brighter than Ember had ever seen it, hovering over the mountain like a threat.

  Ember swallowed, staring at that gaping darkness. “Is . . . is that—”

  The palace of King Zaffre, Aquamarine said.

  Nisha’s hand tightened in hers. Moss’s eyes widened. The wind played with his pale hair, and for the first time since Ember had known him, he shivered.

  You must pay to see the king, Aquamarine said. It is a requirement for all dragons from other courts.

  “There are other courts?” Ember said.

  Other courts, other cities, Aquamarine said. Other kings and queens, scattered across the continent. Though none are mightier than our king. The City of Spires is the greatest city in the land.

  Ember’s head was spinning. The dragons’ world was bigger than she had ever imagined. Kings and queens! “But we don’t have any money.”

  That is not our currency, Aquamarine said. You will pay with riddles.

  “Riddles?” Ember repeated, and Nisha said, more loudly, “Riddles?”

  Yes. There are three of you, so you will answer three riddles. The dragon’s tail swooshed over the snow.

  “I don’t understand,” Ember said slowly. “How is that worth anything to you? Don’t you already know the answers?”

  No, Aquamarine said. She seemed puzzled by their confusion. The king will give you unanswered riddles. Riddles are valuable, and so are the answers, sometimes. You may take as long as you like to solve them. If you do not solve them, I will be waiting here to take you back to your people. Bright skies, dragon child.

  She settled onto the snow, her eyelids fluttering. Her head drooped onto her front foot, and she appeared to sleep.

  Nineteen

  Rose Gold’s Riddles

  Many stories have little basis in fact. . . . The tale of Sir Maxwell Clinghope, who slayed two dragons accused of burning down the village of Netherwall in the fifteenth century, has been disproved by archaeologists, who found that the fire was caused by a brawl between two rival Stormancers. . . .

  —TAKAGI’S COMPENDIUM OF EXOTIC CREATURES

  “Well, this is completely mad,” Nisha said. “Riddles! Aren’t kings supposed to like gold?”

  “You’re good at riddles,” Moss said in his quiet voice.

  Nisha flushed, looking away from him. “Well, yes, I know.”

  “Let’s just . . . see what happens,” Ember said. “I’ll go first, all right?”

  She strode toward the cavern, though her heart beat frantically. After a pause, Nisha and Moss fell into step behind her, slipping and sliding over the icy slope.

  Within there was darkness, and a sense of vast, empty space. Their steps echoed in the silence. Then two glowing white eyes loomed out of the shadows.

  Children, the dragon murmured. Ember shuddered, because the voice was ancient, deeper and darker than Aquamarine’s. The others warned me that you were coming.

  “Are . . . are you the king?” Ember said. She wished she could see the dragon, but in the darkness there was only the glimmer of talons, the whisper of a curved back.

  No, the dragon said. I am his steward, Rose Gold. I collect payment from visitors.

  Light flared, and Ember blinked. Moss had drawn a match from his pocket. From another, he unearthed two candles. He lit them and handed one to Nisha.

  The dragon loomed over them. He was bigger than Aquamarine, and older, frailer—he shuffled slowly to a stone desk, as if his joints pained him. There were no chairs in the cavern, which was so enormous that its roof was lost in darkness. Stacked upon the dragon’s desk were slabs of shale, roughly rectangular and heavily scratched. No, not scratched—engraved with tiny, looping letters. The walls of the cavern had numerous shelves cut into the stone, shelves upon shelves that stretched up into shadow, all stuffed with the same stone slabs. The dragon spread his wings and lifted heavily off the ground, riffling through the slabs on a shelf. He selected one and sank to the ground with a thump.

  Ah, Rose Gold said. That gets harder every year.

  “If you don’t mind,” Ember said, “could you explain why the king wants us to solve his riddles?”

  Well, he has so many, the dragon said. Naturally so—all kings are wealthy. People give him more every day, and being ancient and wise, he solves most very quickly. But of course there are some he cannot solve. Difficult riddles, riddles so old their answers have long since been lost, are incredibly valuable. It’s a gift, really, that he grants his guests the opportunity to help him.

  “Wait a minute,” Nisha said, once Ember had translated. “You’re saying that we have to solve riddles that an ancient king couldn’t figure out?”

  You’re welcome, Rose Gold said. Shall we begin? Without waiting for an answer, he lifted the stone tablet.

  “Wait!” Ember said. “Do all visitors from other courts truly have to do this? How many actually see the king?”

  I can’t recall the last who won an
audience, Rose Gold said. It does cut down on the number of visitors. The king is very busy.

  “Right,” Ember said. “Why don’t we just–er–come up with some new riddles for him?”

  Rose Gold paused. That is kind of you. I am sure there are many in this city who would take you up on the offer and provide you with services in return. But the king wants answers, not more riddles.

  “All right,” Ember said, after exchanging nervous looks with Moss and Nisha. The whole thing seemed completely mad, but she didn’t know what else they could do but try. Perhaps the riddles would be easy. “What’s the first one, then?”

  The dragon selected a stone slab, tracing the scratches fondly with one claw. Then he read:

  I am silent in my house,

  Which is always moving,

  Muttering, whispering.

  I am strong and swift,

  Yet if I leave, I will die.

  Rose Gold put down the slab and let out a satisfied sigh. One of my favorites. Bright skies, children.

  Ember and Nisha blinked at each other. Moss’s face reminded Ember of the ruffled penguin’s after it had fired off a lightning bolt. So much for her hope that the riddles would be easy.

  “A house that moves?” Moss said. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “A ship?” Nisha said. “Sailors live on ships.”

  The dragon made a clicking sound, and Nisha hastened to add, “That’s not my answer! Give us more time.”

  Of course, Rose Gold said. You may take as long as you like. The last visitor went away, and came back five years later with the answer to her riddle.

  “Five years?” Ember repeated faintly.

  It was a very good riddle.

  Nisha was muttering to herself, her fingers pressed against her temples. “Can we hear it again?” Moss said.

  Rose Gold recited the riddle again. Ember’s thoughts were racing. She thought of ships, and carriages, and steam trains. The Orpheus, its deck crowded with sailors, which had been her home during the long journey to Antarctica. The salt spray against her face, the water dark and fathomless . . . from there, her mind leaped to the frozen river by the Firefly, its waters too cold and barren for fish. . . .