A Vanishing of Griffins

by S. A. Patrick

  “We will defeat you,” said the dragon Elder. “Human and dragon citizens, standing as one!”

  Kasterkan shook his head. “I told you, I know this city’s history. Every time a dragon army besieged Skamos, the citizens did exactly as you say. They stood side by side. And every besieging army had the same dilemma: a soldier can face down a fellow soldier in combat, but to kill a civilian dragon, who’s defending their own city? To some, that would be cold-blooded murder. No dragon soldier would follow an order to murder a fellow dragon.”

  He gestured across the plains to where his army was building their camp, and Patch could see a wooden frame of some kind, easily twenty feet high, from which hung a huge bell; behind the bell, the soldiers were busy building other things, which Patch couldn’t make out.

  General Kasterkan continued: “You all heard what happened to the walls of Tiviscan Castle? Rocks, larger than any a normal catapult could launch, hurled with skill by dragons who’ve trained long and hard to perfect their aim. But even for them, there’s a limit, and so a new weapon is called for. Out there, my forces are building the largest, strongest catapults ever devised. One hundred of them. They will be capable of destruction on a scale you cannot conceive, released by the pull of a simple wooden lever.” He smiled a cold smile. “It’s one thing to kill a fellow dragon eye to eye: to see their blood spilled, and the life vanish from their eyes. It’s quite another thing to merely pull a lever. A rock, launched into the air, becomes a matter for the Gods to decide. No soldier would think that was cold-blooded murder, not any more. The human and dragon citizens of Skamos can choose to stand together, as they have done many times before. But be in no doubt: this time, if they do that they will die.”

  The bell that the dragons had built began to ring out. Patch counted twelve strikes.

  “Twelve now, one less each hour,” said Kasterkan. “The bell counts down the life of Skamos. At the zero hour, it will ring out continuously, and the destruction of the city shall begin! We’ll allow you to evacuate, but be assured: when the bell rings for the last time, anyone who remains in the city will perish, whether human or dragon.”

  “The Pipers will punish you for this!” said Yakesha.

  The general shook his head. “I think not. By the time they hear of it, it’ll be too late to prevent. Humans can be rallied to a cause, yes, but not if the cause is already lost! What are they to do? Start another war with dragons? No. They will be very loud in their protests, and very quiet in their actions. Besides, there’s a truth you must accept, Delegate: many humans hate Skamos too, and will be secretly pleased with its destruction.”

  “We will not go!” said Yakesha. “You’re just trying to scare us!”

  He stepped closer. “Skamos dies today,” he said. “I’ve dreamed of this moment for as long as I can remember. You wouldn’t believe the things I’ve had to do to make it happen. I’ve not come this far just to stop now. I will see it through, whatever the cost. I will kill every living creature in this city if I must, Delegate.”

  She looked into his eyes and saw something terrifying. It wasn’t madness that she saw; it was far worse than that. She saw certainty. Kasterkan wouldn’t hesitate to give the order, no matter how many would perish.

  Yakesha felt all hope drain from her.

  “At last you understand,” said the general. “The only thing in your power is to decide how many of your precious citizens die between now and nightfall. Now I have other matters to attend to. My corporals will oversee the evacuation.” He took to the air, and flew back towards his army.

  Yakesha closed her eyes. Behind her, the city was silent.

  When they returned to the Delegate residence, Zennick was waiting at the door, holding a tearful Kerna in his arms. He said nothing, and just leaned forward, head bowed; Yakesha did the same, and the tops of their heads came gently together, a display of love and support that left Patch with a lump in his throat. They stayed like that for a short while, in silence – even Kerna stopped crying.

  When they separated, Yakesha took Kerna, hugging the baby close.

  “Young Hannul told me what happened,” said Zennick. “Is there really nothing we can do?”

  “We have no choice,” said Yakesha. “We must pack what we can carry, and make certain we have everything Kerna will need. The army gave instructions.” She told Zennick the details: a camp was being set up for the city’s refugees, close to the dragon army. From there, each dragon citizen would be given a free choice of where in the Dragon Territories they would make their new home, and everything would be provided for them.

  The humans, however, would have to fend for themselves.

  “We can’t abandon our fellow citizens,” Zennick said.

  “We won’t abandon them,” said Yakesha. “I proposed to the Elders that the contents of the city treasury should be divided among the human citizens, to help them resettle. It won’t be much once shared out among ten thousand, but it’ll be something. The first requirement will be to hire ships to transport them from the camp to safety. Only once that’s done should any dragon agree to move on.”

  “No!” cried a voice, and everyone turned to Wren, who was distraught. “I can’t believe how you’re talking! This isn’t right, this isn’t fair! You have to fight…”

  Alia put her hand on Wren’s shoulder. “Wren, this is not a time to fight.”

  Wren stared at her, baffled. “But you of all people, you can… You can…”

  “I can what?” said Alia. “Take down a dragon soldier? Yes. Maybe ten! Maybe fifty!” She shook her head, slow and sorrowful. “They would fire their weapons, killing thousands, and say it was self-defence!”

  “Listen to me, Wren,” said Yakesha. “The city will stand. What can they do? Bombard it, as they did Tiviscan? Yet Tiviscan is repaired! Destroy the aqueduct, as many have done before? We’ll build another! The walls, the buildings, these are only bricks. Only stone. Let them do their worst. Because the city will stand.”

  Wren, tearful, shook her head. “I don’t know what you mean…”

  Yakesha was also tearful, but she smiled, a smile that held courage, and defiance, and despair, and hope; seeing it, Wren felt her heart both break and soar, all at once. “The city of Skamos is the people, Wren,” said Yakesha. “Humans and dragons, together! And one day we will return. Skamos will rise again.”

  The City Elders came to the Delegate residence, to help organize the evacuation. The dragon corporals had given them until the next bell tolled to present a plan, while the citizens in every home had to make agonizing choices about what to take with them. The army’s instructions had said, “take only essential things, easily carried”; how could a lifetime, or a family history, be distilled into just a few items?

  “We must bring supplies out of the city first, before all else,” said Elder Inia, the human. “Food, medicine and materials for building shelters. And gold, of course, to help with resettlement.”

  Elder Rafal, the dragon, nodded. “The wealth of the city, carefully managed. The army has sworn not to steal from us. Can we trust them?”

  “Trust soldiers with gold?” said Yakesha. “Never. We have the grain stores to empty too. Hide bags of gold in the sacks of grain.”

  “Once the supplies have been removed, the citizens will be evacuated together, as one,” said Rafal. “We’ll need every hand to help prepare. I suggest the children should go to their schools, to free up the adults.”

  Yakesha looked across the room to the table where Barver sat. Little Kerna was on his lap, the baby’s nose alight. “Nurseries too,” she said. “It would be best for the children to be with each other, rather than see the fear and anger on their parents’ faces.”

  Elder Rafal wiped tears from his eyes. “And to let dragon and human friends play together one last time,” he said, before giving a brief sob. “I’m sorry. It feels like it’s the end of the world.”

  They set about planning the details. Transporting the necessary supplies would t
ake eight of the remaining eleven hours. This would leave three for the citizens to leave the city.

  The distant bell sounded eleven times. Yakesha and the Elders stood and left, going to see if their plan was acceptable to the corporals.

  “Ba Va!” cried Kerna, clearly confused by how miserable everyone was.

  “Kerna’s taken a shine to you,” Zennick told Barver. “Perhaps you could stay in the nursery, and keep the little one company?”

  “No,” said Barver. “Much as I’d like to, I’ll be far more use helping to move supplies.” He looked to Patch, Wren and Alia. “You three can look after Kerna, can’t you? They’ll take all the help they can get at the nursery, I imagine.”

  “Perhaps,” said Alia. “Although I was going to offer my assistance at the city infirmary instead.”

  Zennick nodded. “They would appreciate that,” he said. “So, what of you, Patch and Wren? Will you take Kerna to the nursery, and help shield all the little ones from this trauma?”

  “Of course we will,” said Wren. She leaned over to Patch and whispered: “We’re babysitters now.”

  Patch said nothing. There were worse things to be, here at the end of the world.

  “That doesn’t look good,” said Wren.

  They were walking along a cobbled street, halfway up the great hill on which Skamos had grown. The street led straight down the hill, and on the plains in the distance, the activities of the dragon army were clear to see: many of the vast catapults had been completed already.

  Patch thought back to the attack on Tiviscan – groups of dragons coming towards them, huge boulders hanging from nets beneath, reaching incredible speeds before launching their missiles…

  He shivered.

  He was carrying Kerna now, having swapped with Wren five minutes before. The baby was heavier than he’d expected, and his arms were already starting to complain, but the scenes around them put everything into perspective. The people of the city, dragons and humans both, were working hard to enact the plan that the Elders and Yakesha had put in place, even though behind every pair of eyes the tragedy and injustice was clear.

  As they turned a corner, the bell in the dragon camp started to ring. Patch and Wren looked at each other, baffled – it wasn’t long since it had last rung, and now it was ringing quickly, not the slow count of before.

  It had to be a warning.

  A panicked voice shouted out: “They’re attacking already!”

  Screams came from far and near, with cries of “Look out!” and “Take cover!” as people started running to get out of the street.

  Patch and Wren hurried to the nearest building and stood pressed against the wall, waiting; Kerna burst into tears.

  Seconds later, they heard a distant crash, and more screams. Then silence.

  Kerna was crying even harder, reaching out to Wren as she and Patch held their breath, expecting more crashes to come. But none did. People stepped back into the road, wary.

  “They’re saying it was a misfire!” shouted someone. “Just a single misfire!”

  Wren scowled. “Misfire, my backside,” she muttered.

  “You don’t think…” said Patch.

  “The dragons want us to know they mean business,” she said. “Anyone who was considering just staying in the city will be thinking twice now.”

  “I hope nobody was hurt,” said Patch. They kept going up the hill, and soon he got the answer. A building a few streets on had been destroyed by the catapulted boulder, which was visible in the midst of the devastation. Some dragons were searching the wreckage, while a small group of humans, covered in dust, stood in shock nearby. Patch and Wren stopped, as did many others; a small crowd was watching the rescue, in total silence.

  At last a call came up, and a limp human body was pulled from under the building’s rubble; urgent shouts followed, and one of the dragons took to the air with the victim.

  “Taking him to the infirmary,” said a man in the crowd, next to Wren. “It’s a miracle no one was killed!”

  As the remaining dragons cleared the debris from the street, Patch felt the ground beneath him rumble. Around them, the gathered crowd backed away, and someone pointed out a great crack in the road itself. One dragon moved towards the crack, and the crowd gasped as part of the road visibly tilted.

  “The impact has left the ground unstable,” shouted the dragon. “We need to get everyone clear, and rope it off!”

  “But this is part of the the evacuation route,” came a shout from the crowd.

  “They’ll have to reroute it, then!” said the dragon, looking at the ground uneasily. “The main sewer runs right under here. The slabs could give way at any time. It’s too dangerous!”

  The crowd began to disperse, people getting back to their preparations. Patch took one last look at the crack in the road.

  The evacuation hadn’t really begun yet, but Skamos was already broken.

  When Patch and Wren arrived at the nursery, the chaos and panic of the supposedly misfired boulder was still having an effect. All the children – forty human and five dragon – were inconsolable. Kerna, who had settled down by then, started crying again.

  The nursery staff were red-eyed. Patch couldn’t imagine how terrible this day must be for the people of the city, losing everything at once – their homes, their jobs, their friends. Even so, the staff knew what to do, and soon the children were playing, laughter replacing the tears. Kerna was happy to join in, and seemed to forget that Patch and Wren were even there.

  “I wonder what they do when Kerna’s nose lights up,” said Wren to Patch. They were in a corner, trying to keep out of the way. When they’d offered to help, the staff had politely made it clear that, really, staying out of the way would be the most helpful thing they could do. This was entirely acceptable to them both.

  Wren took the little shape-shifting book from her pocket, and also produced a small notebook. She opened the notebook and started reading.

  “Can I look at the shape-shifting one?” asked Patch.

  “Be careful with it,” she said, handing it over.

  “I will,” said Patch. He pointed to her notebook. “What do you have there?”

  “Interesting things I found in Casimir’s books,” she said. “I jotted them down before we left. I found lots of barrier spells, for a start. Alia’s speciality in Piping was barriers, so I thought she might be impressed if I taught myself some spells that did similar things.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Oh, lots,” grinned Wren. “Plant magic caught my eye. It’s a bit like the stuff your Arable Pipers do, only hugely more impressive. When the time comes, I’ll knock Alia’s socks off with what I’ve learned!”

  Every hour, the great bell rang, counting down the remaining time. Outside, carts rolled by as supplies were gathered and moved out. Patch and Wren helped with the children now and again, with simple things like gathering up cups or toys. They shared a simple meal, a water-and-grain stew that was rather like porridge but with a pleasing crunch to it.

  “Can we help wash the dishes?” offered Patch.

  The staff member he asked – the only dragon among them, a male called Hagen – shook his head. “What would be the point?” he said, looking lost. What would be the point, washing dishes they weren’t intending to bring when they left?

  When the bell rang four times, meaning only four hours were left, there was a knock at the nursery door. It was one of the city guards, asking how many there were inside, then telling them the plan for the actual evacuation: carts would come in one hour, and the city would evacuate in a convoy. Once all the citizens were clear, the city guards would scour the streets as a final check that the evacuation was complete, and that everyone was safe.

  And then…

  Then the catapults would come alive.

  The hour that followed was an agonizing wait. The nursery staff made sure the children had everything they’d brought with them. All those with favourite toys had their precious w
oollen teddies, ducks and squid tied to their wrists for safekeeping. Patch tried to read the shape-shifting book, but the words just sat on the page and stubbornly refused to make sense. Wren studied her notebook, her lips moving as she recited the spells to herself, though as the last few minutes drew closer even she couldn’t concentrate.

  The three-hour bells rang, and there was a knock at the door.

  “It’s time,” said a city guard, and out they went. It was quite a sight – the road was full, up the hill and down. The citizens of Skamos stood, carrying what they intended to bring, ready to begin the long walk that would take them out of the city. Here and there, carts waited, dragons at the front, ready to transport those too infirm to walk, or – as with the nursery – too young.

  There were two carts for the nursery, and both looked like they were normally used for transporting livestock, with high bars around the sides. The nursery staff made a game of it, even though their heartbreak was clear for all to see. The children got aboard, and there was just enough room for them and some of the staff. Patch and Wren would walk, and stood behind the second cart. Kerna was at the bars, waving at them.

  Shouts rippled up from below, and soon the long convoy began to move. Apart from the crunch of cartwheel on stone, the shuffle of feet, and a gentle rumble of movement, there was almost no sound at all. From time to time, the procession would halt briefly before continuing.

  Patch and Wren took each other’s hand, missing Barver terribly, and Alia too.

  A little further on, they came to the reason for the stop-start motion. The convoy was being made to take two tight corners, through an alleyway and onto a smaller road that twisted and turned. Some of the carts struggled with the tight bends.