by Stephen Deas
They didn’t, though.
Your drear is tiresome. The dragons had settled along a ridge of black rock, steep and sharp and speckled with snow. Either side and all around, white-capped mountains rose around them. A thick blanket of cloud lay across the eastern edge of the Worldspine and it was snowing. Not heavily, but enough to blur everything more than a valley away into a featureless white.
Around Kemir, steam rose from the scales of the dragons. The snow melted as soon as it touched them, water running in tiny little rivers and pooling in the hollows of their neck and shoulders. The ridge looked down over a typical mountain valley, steep and damp and lush and green, or it would have been if it hadn’t vanished into a haze of grey and falling snow. Behind him, on another day when it wasn’t smeared away, he would have seen the northern edge of the Raksheh, the great forest of the western realms.
Across the valley lay another mountain, dark blotches of stone barely visible through the thickness of the air. A mountain much taller than the ridge where they sat. The dragons had finally reached their destination. An eyrie.
‘Bite me.’ They’d picked the northernmost eyrie of the Mountain King’s realm. Something to do with the king moving his dragons to the south. Kemir had no idea how they knew what Valmeyan was up to, but they did. From what he could tell, they could sense the other dragons heading south. Sensed them from dozens of miles away. Maybe hundreds.
The temptation grows ever stronger, little one. Snow sat back on her hind legs and pointed a front claw into the whiteness across the valley. It had taken three weeks to meander their way this far without being seen and now they were where the dragons wanted to be, at the little mark on the map that Kemir carried and read for them, the map that was perhaps the only reason they tolerated him. They were waiting for twilight. Their impatience was a tangible thing, crackling the air between them. They endured it, though. They knew they would not have long to wait.
Three weeks in the company of four impatient and bloodthirsty dragons.
‘What’s stopping you?’
Your nest-mate who wanted to die.
Nadira. Yes, Kemir remembered her well enough. ‘That’s what you said after you ate her. Convenient that she wasn’t around to disagree, eh?’ An old wound between them, that. One that would never go away. ‘What about her? Guilty conscience?’ A dragon with a conscience? What was he saying?
I have eaten many of your kind, Kemir. Many have died between my teeth and in my claws. I am curious to know where you go. I try to follow your spirits as they flee, but I cannot. Your journey through the realms of the dead is more fleeting than ours, yet your destination is somewhere other, somewhere I cannot reach. Is it not unsettling to have such uncertainty before you? For our kind it is simple. Death, rebirth, death, rebirth, over and over and over again. But for you? You have such a mystery to face. Fear comes to your kind so easily, yet rather than fear this, you yearn for it. Why do you wish to die, Kemir?
The finality of Snow’s question punctured Kemir’s apathy. For a moment he did feel afraid. For a moment, until he realised that no, she didn’t meant to eat him there and then. She was still pointing to the eyrie.
We go.
Kemir snorted. Smirked. Almost laughed. ‘Sun’s not set yet. Got bored of waiting, did you?’
She sounded almost embarrassed now. The snowfall will hide us. Kemir?
‘Dragon?’
If this is your time to die, what is it that awaits you? ‘My ancestors, I suppose.’ He shrugged. ‘I have no idea.’
And yet you go without fear. She spoke with wonder in her thoughts. It is . . . surprising.
‘Disappointment is it, knowing you’ll just come back and try again, eh? Not exciting enough for you? Think you’re missing out, eh?’
If I die, my destiny is certain. I will return as a hatchling. I will be bound and I will have the choice to starve or take the potions your alchemists place into my food. There is no mystery to my fate. Yours, though, it is . . . It is a curiosity. Come. We are here. The beginning and the end. She lowered herself to let him climb onto her back. I will not die today.
‘That’s good to know, dragon, because I don’t plan to either.’ Kemir paused for a moment before climbing onto the dragon’s back. He could refuse. Just say no. Then maybe she’d eat him despite what she said and they’d be finished. Was that better or worse than flying into battle with her? He was her slave, when all was said and done.
But then slavery was still life and life meant being not dead, and anyway they were about to bring down a whole skyful of pain on some dragon-knights, and he hated dragon-knights. It was a dull hate, shorn of its old sharpness, but it was still there. He settled on Snow’s back. For a moment he thought he caught a flash of some other thought from her, something far more laden with purpose than vague musings on what might happen if they failed. Only a flash, though; then Snow lunged forward and spread her wings, and the other dragons were moving beside her, kicking themselves off the mountainside, gliding across the open space of the valley, straight towards the eyrie with the setting sun somewhere behind the cloud. For a moment, suspended high over the valley, Kemir could see nothing at all. Nothing except whiteness, everywhere. Snow powered through the sky as fast as she could fly, the wind howling in Kemir’s face. Then he caught a glimpse of a dark shape and then another. If anyone from the eyrie had seen them coming, Kemir wouldn’t have known anything about it. He supposed they must have though, since he felt the familiar sharp spike of Snow’s anger that came as a scorpion bolt found its mark. She’d taken enough of those with Kemir on her back that he knew the sensation exactly. The flash of fury, the desire to turn at once and lash towards whatever it was that had caused the pain.
He pressed himself down and clung on, gripping even tighter, turning his head away from the wind and closing his eyes as he felt the familiar tension in her shoulders. He was used to that now, a shudder just a moment before the flames would come. He hunched into himself and let the scorching air flood over him. At least this time he had proper dragon-scale armour and a helm to protect his face. Then Snow landed. She lurched and and staggered and shrieked and spat fire over and over again. Pieces of something – loose stones – showered down around them.
Slowly Kemir opened his eyes. They were on the burning roof of some building. Beams cracked and split and stones crumbled with Snow’s every move. She lunged forward, jumping down, lumbering across the ground. Clouds of snow flew up from the wind of her wings while Kemir bounced up and down like a rag doll on a string. He caught a fleeting glimpse of panicked men before Snow lashed her tail and smashed one end of the building to bits. He wrapped his arms around his head and cringed as pieces of stone, burning wood and charred tiles rained around him. They bounced and thumped off his armour, stolen from knights Snow had killed weeks ago. That would be a thing to do when they were done here, he decided. Look for some better armour. Preferably a suit that fitted properly. Preferably a suit that didn’t have any parts missing. It would be nice too if it didn’t have any gaping holes that were an exact match for Snow’s teeth.
The dragon lunged forward into the guts of the building and doused its innards with fire. More stonework clattered around Kemir’s head.
‘Do you mind?’
You have metal and dragon-scale to protect you.
‘Not much bloody good if the whole roof falls on top of me, is it? Even you might notice that. Some of these beams are bigger than I am.’ Bugger this. I could be down in some valley somewhere, cosy and warm. Why did I stay with these monsters? Right now we could have been . . . It was a ritual now, thinking these things. They both knew it. He flew with the dragons because he had nowhere else to go. Because everyone else was dead. Because of . . . Oh, what was the point? Nadira, Sollos, they were pricks on his conscience, faces to remind him of what happened to those who trusted themselves to him. He put his mind elsewhere. To the eyrie outside, to the mountain, covered in a thick coat of soft white snow, glowing gently in the fading lig
ht and about to be set on fire.
Snow backed out of the wreckage. The other three dragons had come in behind her, smashing their way into the buildings of the eyrie, shaking the mountain as they landed. As soon as they were down they began to move methodically apart, sweeping fire back and forth. Mist and steam swirled around them. Further away, the snow was falling harder now. As Kemir watched, he saw one of the dragons rear up and use its tail to hurl a stone the size of a horse straight into a squat tower that bristled with scorpions. A second dragon raced across the ground, arriving only moments later, pouring fire into all its holes and then ripping it apart. Snow jogged around the ruins of what had apparently been a barracks. A group of men ran from it, screaming briefly before they burned. Your kind are too fragile.
‘You’re such a comfort.’
Snow thrust her head into a door at the far end of the building and let loose another torrent of flame. Then she reared up into the air and landed her front half on the end of it. The building groaned and creaked and then collapsed.
Where are the alchemists?
‘Try over there.’ Kemir pointed. In the flickering light of the burning barracks, looming out of the falling snow, a little cluster of buildings lay dimly outlined against the mountainside, half buried in white. Snow peered into the gloom. She stretched out her neck towards them and began to walk, slowly at first, then faster, shaking the mountain with every step.
They will not escape.
‘I wouldn’t hurry. It’s not as though there’s anywhere they can go.’
They will have tunnels. They will hide under the ground.
Kemir shrugged. Probably would though, wouldn’t they? He had no idea.
I have been looking forward to this day.
‘Revenge, Snow?’ Kemir sniggered. Snow claimed dragons didn’t understand revenge. Didn’t understand forgiveness either.
No, Kemir. Freedom.
‘Right. Do you mind if I get off before you forget I’m here again?’ Wind whipped at him, stinging his ears. The snow was easing as the day gave way to twilight.
If you must. Snow stopped and lowered her neck. Kemir could feel her impatience, her anger, her anticipation. And something else, something carefully hidden but not quite carefully enough. Pleasure? No, that wasn’t it, that was too mild a word. Joy? Still not enough. Ecstasy?A dragon-sized helping of vicious desire?
I am losing patience, Kemir.
‘You never had any in the first place.’ He shrugged. ‘Don’t blame me if someone sneaks up and shoots you with a scorpion.’ He jumped off the dragon’s back. On the ground, the snow was up to his knees. There’d be frozen feet and frostbite in the morning if he wasn’t careful, but he’d had enough of being stuck to Snow’s back. ‘Look after my stuff, dragon. I’ll take it out of your hide if you don’t. And try not to eat anyone you shouldn’t.’
One day, little one Kemir, you will test my restraint at the wrong time.
‘And how would I do that, dragon? Can’t test something that doesn’t exist, now can I?’
Snow snarled, but she still couldn’t quite hide her exhilaration. Kemir watched her go, bounding on towards the alchemists’ houses, leaping up into the air with a great shriek and then landing on top of them, plumes of snow bursting like clouds around her, smashing left and right with her tail and burning everything into a thick haze of ash and steam. Kemir left her to it. Two of the other dragons had already made their way up the peak to the castle where the eyrie-master and his riders lived and were setting fire to it. He couldn’t see much, but the bursts of orange light in the white sky told him enough. The last dragon had sought out the eyrie dragons and settled in their midst, standing guard. If Kemir strained his ears over the havoc and carnage that Snow had become, he thought he could hear them quietly calling to each other. He walked away, launching a vicious kick at a lump in the snow. That was another reason to be away from the dragons. He needed to think. Needed to think somewhere far enough away that they wouldn’t be listening in. How far away that was, he had no idea.
Think. Yes. What was he doing here? That was the nub of it. What was he doing here? What was he doing flying with these dragons?
Killing dragon-knights. That was the obvious answer. Putting an end to their tyranny.
And then what? He had no answer to that.
He trudged on through the snow. The last rays of the dying sun were still doing a decent enough job of lighting up the mountainside, that and the eerie glowing fog that surrounded where the dragons were, a mist of steam lit up from within by the remnants of their fire. In case anyone doesn’t realise that we’re here.
What am I doing here? What I’m doing is staying alive, that’s what I’m doing here.
Although frankly, he wasn’t sure why.
4
The Stone Man
He didn’t get very much further before he had to stop. In front of him was a frozen lake, presumably the place where the eyrie dragons took their water. Kemir had never been to this particular eyrie, but he’d been to others and knew how they worked. The alchemists kept the dragons pliant and dull with their potions, which they gave to the beasts either in their food or in their water, usually both. So if this was where the dragons took their water, the lake was probably laced with dragon poison. Or dragon-make-stupid potion or whatever the alchemists happened to call it.
He thought about walking across it – keep on going, never come back – but you never knew with frozen lakes whether the ice was as thick as your leg or as thick as your fingernail, and there was really no reason to go and find out. Instead, he turned to follow the edge of the ice as it arced towards the valley below. A few run-down old buildings lay ahead of him that way, perched by the edge of the lake. Thick snowdrifts sat between them, more on the roofs. Half buried and half frozen. The sort of place to put unwanted sell-swords and the like. Not a part of the eyrie where dragon-knights would live, but still, they sometimes turned up in the most unusual places . . .
Almost as he thought it, he caught a glimpse of something moving. Someone. He tensed, nocked an arrow to his bow and dropped to a crouch. Whoever it was, they weren’t likely to be friendly. He tried to remember what he’d seen from the air as Snow had approached the eyrie. Nothing useful. Most of the time his eyes had been screwed shut, and even when they weren’t, he’d had a snowstorm blowing in his face. He drew the arrow back a way as warmth filled him. It would be good to kill a dragon-knight again.
Somewhere behind him one of the dragons let out a mighty shriek, loud enough to make him flinch. The sharp tang of smoke was starting to taint the air. By the end of the night you’d be able to smell what had happened here right across the mountain.
Whoever was there, they’d vanished among another collection of shacks towards the edge of the mountain. Kemir peered into the gloom. He shouldered his bow and let his hands drift to the knives in his belt as he crept a little closer. Knives were better for close work.
His feet were starting to hurt. The cold.
A scuff of leather on stone and a half-imagined glimpse of movement alerted him again. He peered into the fading twilight. The sun was behind the other peaks now, the sky still lit up in purples and orange on the horizon, nothing but the dark grey snow clouds above. The air was turning bitter. His toes were starting to go numb.
‘Who’s there?’
At the voice, Kemir leapt into the air and took a step back. He still couldn’t see anyone. Not a dragon-knight though. The voice had a quiver in it. A dragon-knight wouldn’t sound like that. A dragon-knight would come out with a roar and a drawn sword. An alchemist? Now that would be precious, wouldn’t it? What would I do with an alchemist, I wonder?
‘Who’s there?’ The voice called out again, louder. ‘What’s going on? Do you know what’s happening?’ Still no movement. Kemir’s ears thought they knew where the voice was coming from, but his eyes weren’t pulling their weight.
All right. Let’s pretend I’m one of you. Let’s pretend I didn’t come gliding
in on the back of those monsters. Let’s pretend I have nothing to do with this. Wouldn’t that be nice? ‘My name’s Kemir. I’m a scout. A tracker. I been helping hunt bandits in the deep valleys.’ The sort of work he’d done with Sollos for a time, before they’d grown sick of it. ‘Ancestors! What is happening?’
Movement. He saw the man again now, closer, coming towards him ‘I thought you might . . .’ The man took a deep breath and blew it out. ‘Are we being attacked?’
They both glanced up to the castle. Two dragons were still up there, merrily setting it alight. You couldn’t see them, but you could see the flames against the darkening sky. ‘Are we being attacked?’ Kemir arched an eyebrow. How stupid, exactly, did you have to be?
‘But that’s . . . that’s not possible.’ The man finished quietly, shaking his head. ‘Not possible.’
Kemir let him come closer. He couldn’t help glancing at the man’s feet as he crunched through the snow. Good boots. Warm boots. He quietly slipped one of his long knives out of its sheath. ‘Yeah. Who’d do a thing like that?’
‘The Red Riders, I suppose. They say they kill even alchemists and Scales.’
‘Never heard of them.’ Kemir held the knife so the man could see it now. ‘That’s close enough, thanks. What’s your name and what are you doing out here?’
‘I . . . I was looking for some heavy rope. For the new hatchling. It needs rebinding.’
Kemir lowered the knife. It was hard to feel particularly threatened by someone who seemed so completely unaware that he might have his throat cut at any moment. ‘All right. Come closer so I can see you.’ Whatever rebinding is.
The man came obediently closer. Kemir could see him more clearly now. The man’s face was lumpy and hard, the skin cracked and weeping in places. A Scales.