by Simon Kewin
One by one they let themselves into the pool. When it was Cait's turn she dipped her feet warily into the icy waters. She couldn't dawdle; a queue of witches and riders waited behind her. Gulping in a mouthful of air she pushed herself off. The shock of the cold was alarming, so intense that she almost panicked, her body screaming at her to get out, get warm. Floundering with her hand she found one of the iron rings and forced herself to go deeper, pulling herself down. She already felt numb, the An sucking the heat from her body. She was short of air, the need to breathe becoming more urgent with each moment. Her fingers found another ring and then another, and she saw a blur of light above her. She hauled herself toward it, breaking into the air with a cry, flailing and splashing. Strong hands grasped her, pulling her to the bank.
She stood on the muddy lip of the An, shivering alarmingly, clutching herself tight. They were at the same point on the river that Hyrn's boat had left them, the same place Fer was first attacked by the undain. Slender trees, branches sparkling with frost, surrounded them, concealing them from the road. Ice covered the river but a ragged hole had been punched through it. One by one, the others emerged from the waters as if the An were giving birth to them. Cait did what she could to help each of them up the slippery banks.
Hellen emerged, her grey hair plastered to her scalp. She looked old and frail, no longer the fearsome woman who had plans for everything and everyone. Her words were barely audible as she chattered through clenched teeth. “Help me work some heat, Cait.” The old witch began to lay shivering hands on those who'd come through, sending a glow of magical warmth into them to counter the worst effects of the freezing water. Cait followed, but she made sure to warm Hellen first.
When they were all through they pushed past the trees, frozen leaves crunching beneath their feet. Ran went first to scout out the road. There was no sign of the undain in either direction. The top of the watchtower was visible above the treetops. Figures were visible in the windows up there, little more than silhouettes. Whether they were dragonriders or undain she couldn't tell.
“Where is Smoke on the Water?” asked Cait. She could see no sign of the boat on the ice. Her clenched jaws hurt from shivering.
“An hour or two south, out of the way of any trouble,” said Johnny.
“Better get going,” said Hellen. She looked a little more like herself now, more composed, although she still shivered, and water dripped from her lank hair. “I seem to have made this journey from Forness to Islagray a lot of late. Perhaps this will be the last time.”
Three crows skimmed overhead in a V formation, flying low and fast as if they, too, were fleeing the undain. Cait had taken only a couple of steps when a thunderous rumbling shook through the air. She turned to see the watchtower swaying. A cloud of smoke billowed from its base as if a fire had been set under it, or as if the stones at its base had been smashed to pieces. The tower sagged then slumped to the ground, breaking in half as it fell. It toppled westward from the headland and onto the An, as if the ancient stones wanted to recreate the bridge from which they'd once been taken. Huge plumes of spray shot into the air as the tower crashed to the ice.
Barion and the other riders watched without comment. Hellen placed a hand onto Barion's shoulder. “It served its purpose. One way or another Andar has no need of a watchtower any more.”
Barion nodded. The hunted look in his eyes was still there. “We must hurry. We are easy pickings out here in the open.”
Hellen smiled through her weariness. “When Ran first came to the Isle, I told him other riders might follow. Seems I was right about that.”
Barion turned and resumed marching. “We haven't got there yet. There's no way we can outrun the undain, and every chance we'll be slaughtered before we get anywhere near Islagray.”
“Well,” said Hellen, “that's a cheery thought.” She set off after the dragonrider.
20. Across the An
Angere
Xoster roared in her fury. Fer cowered behind the blocks of stone as the huge dragon lashed around, spraying fire at anyone or anything daring to come near. In truth it wasn't that, or the creature's enormous size and strength, that really alarmed her. It was the hatred, the unreasoning wrath burning in the wyrm's mind. The dragons of old had hidden their thoughts behind impenetrable walls, so she'd read. They were noble, wise beings that formed deep bonds of friendship and understanding with their riders. Xoster made no attempt to conceal her true self. Perhaps she simply didn't care, or perhaps the rage within her was too great to contain. Or perhaps, over the centuries, alone with her loss, she'd simply forgotten how to shutter her thoughts and feelings. The aether screamed with the storm of the dragon's hatred, just as the seared ground smoked from her red fire.
Fer caught the wince of alarm on Lugg's face, cowering next to her behind the massive stones of the ruined bridge. Despite everything he'd been through there was a vulnerability about him, a hint of the frightened boy. The dragon's bright flame burned in his wide eyes as he watched the scene, and Fer found herself wondering what Cait had made of him.
In any case, his connection with the dragon was clearly precarious, a long way from the deep trust enjoyed by the riders of old. Lugg had only been known to Xoster for a few weeks, not the long years a true understanding required. That he'd found her and been able to communicate with her at all was remarkable. But Xoster was clearly out of control, and Lugg and Fer were in as much danger from her as from the soldiers of Menhroth.
On the wide steps that led to the higher levels of the city, many undain were gathering. At some signal they would sweep down the steps like a tide, and while many would doubtless be set afire by Xoster, or trampled beneath her claws, some would inevitably get through. And then more as the wyrm tried to throw off her attackers, and before long even this huge creature would be overwhelmed. Overwhelmed and killed.
Perhaps there was no hope for Xoster, perhaps she was too far gone in her grief, but the thought of the last dragon being destroyed was suddenly unbearable.
“We have to get away,” said Fer. She had to shout over the sound of the raging dragon. “Can you try to reason with her once more?”
Lugg didn't take his eyes off Xoster. He flinched visibly at each new roar of fury, each thud rumbling through the ground. “I could try. If she sees me she might relent and let me near. Sometimes, though, it's best to stay away.”
“There may not be time,” said Fer. “Menhroth is here. He'll throw everything at her.”
Lugg looked at the towers and domes of the bone city, at the soldiers thronging there. He nodded. “The problem is getting Xoster to understand. She sees the undain and wants to attack. That's all she thinks about.”
Fer ducked behind the cube of stone as another arc of fire flashed through the air, reeking of sulphur. Nearby, the blocks of the ancient bridge lay scattered down the bank of the An, some half submerged in the frozen water, like stepping-stones leading away from Angere. An idea came to her. She wanted more than anything to get home, even if there wasn't much left of it. “If we could get through to her that there are undain elsewhere, more of them, would she go and attack them instead?”
“Probably. The more the better so far as she's concerned.”
“So let's fly across the An. Obviously it's frozen now. If the undain can cross it then why can't she? It isn't running water any more.”
Lugg gazed into the east, considering. “You think most of the army is there?”
“Has to be. Those pipes lead due east, following the line of the old bridge. That takes them to Forness, the tower of the dragonriders. It must be under attack. And if the undain have reached there, then almost all of Andar is gone. Perhaps we can help while there's still time. Or be there at the end, at least.”
After a moment Lugg nodded his head. “If I can get it through to her that the undain are doing to Andar what they did to Angere she might make the attempt.”
“Does she know some of the riders escaped there? The dragonless ones like Ran, I mean?”
“Caer L'dun, yes. It's where the Andar bridgehead used to be.”
“I'll tell her that, tell her it's under attack. It might be enough. On the other hand she might ignore me, or even think I'm attacking her.”
He was about to step out from behind the stones when the first assault from the city came. Twelve of the giant undain descended the wide steps that led to the river level. They looked something like wyrm lords but twice as tall, with eerie glowing lines instead of tattoos upon their ice-clear skin. She could see the purple and red of their muscles, the heave and pump of their organs, as they fanned out to surround Xoster.
The sight of the undain wyrm lords – if that was what they were – goaded Xoster to new heights of fury. She sprang at the nearest of them, huge wings flapping to give her distance, flame pouring from her maw. An undain was lit up, immolated. For a moment, incredibly, the creature survived the furious heat, even took a step forward as if intending to attack. Then it slumped to the ground, still burning.
Xoster roared noise and fire into the sky in exultation. The other wyrm lords, seeing their opportunity, leaped to the attack. They surrounded her, moving with incredible speed, one moment there and one moment there. They hacked at those parts of the dragon they could reach: her lower limbs, her flanks, her shoulders. A cry of purest agony poured from Xoster, and she whipped around, trying to face each of her attackers. But whichever way she turned there were wyrm lords to her side and behind, swords lunging.
For a moment it looked like the undain might be able to wear her down. But Xoster threw herself into the air again, spinning as she landed with an earth-shaking thump thirty or forty yards from the ring of undain. Her attackers, seeing what she was doing, raced to surround her once more, but even they couldn't move quickly enough. Xoster breathed a wide arc of fire, so intense Fer had to shade her eyes. When she looked again, there were twelve burning undain standing in a circle. One by one they toppled and fell.
She was about to say something to Lugg when he stepped out of their hiding place and, arms held wide as if he intended to embrace Xoster, walked toward her. Xoster, seeing him, snaked her horned head around. She breathed fire, but into the sky. Lugg looked so small in comparison to her. Xoster could burn him or crush him in a moment if she chose. Fer, heart pounding as she watched, caught something of the confusion in Xoster's mind. Lugg was a rider and the riders of old had loved Xoster's children, paired with them, rode them through the skies. But the riders of old had also betrayed them, turned against the dragons, become the creatures they now were. The creatures Xoster wanted to crush and kill.
Still Lugg walked forward, moving slowly, no weapons in sight, no threat. When he was close enough he dropped to one knee and bowed his head. A pause followed in which no one moved, not even the mass of undain. Fer was aware of a conversation taking place between Lugg and Xoster, words and ideas passing between their minds. Lugg had to repeat himself to get his message through.
Finally the great dragon, sending one final cone of fire into the sky, lowered her own head, as if to return Lugg's bow. She'd accepted him for the moment, saw him as a friend, a rider. The urge to take to the skies and unleash death on the loathsome creatures attacking Andar raged within her. Fer wondered how long it would last, whether Xoster's self-control would seer away her reason and she'd turn on Lugg, see him as the enemy. It was entirely possible.
Lugg climbed up the scales of Xoster's forequarters to seat himself on her back. He waved to Fer to join him. The undain, perhaps seeing what was about to happen, surged forward in a mass, rolling down the stairs like a flood, intent on overwhelming Xoster and destroying her where she stood. From somewhere in the shadows of the aether, Fer was aware of the presence of Menhroth, urging them on.
Fer ran for Xoster. There was no time to approach the great beast slowly and with reverence. She had to hope Lugg had explained about her, too. She steeled herself for the effect of the dragon's aura, hoping to blot it out as much as she could. It didn't come. Whether Xoster had accepted her, or whether the dragon's mind was now too far gone to make the effect work, Fer didn't know.
She reached one of the creature's four legs without being burned to a cinder. Xoster's splayed foot, her cruel claws, were as big as a kitchen table. Fer began to climb. The scales on Xoster's skin were as hard as dried wood, providing plenty of handholds and footholds. Lugg reached down to haul her up. She sat in front of him, clutching Xoster's neck as tightly as she could. She could feel the great pounding rush and heat of the beast's body beneath her.
With a dizzying lurch, Xoster jumped into the air and beat her outspread wings. Fer's stomach fluttered as the ground fell away. Xoster turned and banked and for a moment the walls and towers of the White City, the faces of the gathered undain, filled the world. Then they were over the river and level again. The surging motion was like being on a galloping horse but many times more violent. Fer came free from the dragon's back completely on each downbeat. She gripped the dragon's hide in panic.
“Hook your toes under her scales,” Lugg called from behind her.
Slowly she began to relax, move with the body of the beast. They flew over wide expanses of ice, greyness beneath them and foggy cloud all around. The thin lines of the pipes guided them. Freezing air streamed into her, making her eyes water and her cheekbones hurt keenly. Daring to glance back she caught a glimpse of the city fading into the mist. Far below the surging waters of the An pulsed like a heartbeat, covered by the ice but still present. It pulled at her; the huge flow sucking the magic from her. But the frozen layer smothered it, dampened it, and Fer knew she could work magic if she needed to, just as Xoster could fly despite the vast expanse of rushing water.
Somewhere in the distance, hours of flight, lay what remained of Andar, her home. Excitement and dread filled Fer in equal measure.
After an hour they saw figures on the ice. Long lines snaked across the river, heading westward from Andar. At first, thinking they were the defeated undain retreating to Angere, a thrill of hope went through Fer. But, reaching out with her mind's eye, she saw the truth of it. They were the people of her home being marched in chains to the White City. She wondered if there were individuals among them she knew, friends or family. Those she'd helped through birth or sickness. She picked through the lines of light trying to identify auras, but there were too many of them. Far too many.
Lugg had worked out who they were, too. He shouted into the rushing wind. “There's nothing we can do. There must be some of the undain there, but we can't attack without risking all the prisoners.”
Fer nodded her reply. He was right. It didn't make her feel any better about leaving them. “Xoster agrees?”
“She sees what they are. She knows they aren't the enemy.”
Eventually the familiar peaks and hills of Forness came into view, an outline of deeper grey in the misty gloom. The trees of the Crow Woods shaded the nearby slopes darker. On the river, the pipes led in sinuous lines to three large structures, their form and function hard to work out from the air. One looked ruined, little more than a jumble of bones, but the other two were structures of some sort. Individual undain, tiny as beetles, crawled over and around them.
Then the ruin of Caer D'nar came into view and for a moment Fer couldn't believe what she was seeing. The watchtower had been a constant presence in her life: visible for miles around, glimpsed between trees or over the tops of roofs. She'd walked under it many times on the road north. Now it lay in shattered ruins, the tower's back broken as its stones littered the edge of the river. The undain had destroyed the fortress of the wyrm lords.
Xoster roared in fury at the sight, Fer feeling the beast's rumble through her body as much as she heard it. When the sound had faded, Lugg shouted, “Can you see the undain? Are they still there?”
There were only a few figures crawling over the ruined walls of the fort
ress, no sign of an attacking force. Perhaps the Angere army had been defeated. Fer closed her eyes and tried to find them. It was a skill that had come fleetingly to her that first day, when she'd walked with the merchant up the road. She'd felt the sense of wrongness flying at her from the An and everything had changed. Since that day, pursued by the horrors in the other world, she'd grown more accustomed to finding the creatures with her mind's eye.
It didn't taker her long now. They were still there. The number of them was incredible. It was like glimpsing a lake of shadow flooding the land.
“I see them,” she called back to Lugg.
“Where?”
“South. Only a few miles.”
“They're heading to this Witches' Isle?”
That had to be it. Islagray Wycka would be where it ended. If that fell Andar was no more. “I think they're following the road and the river, then they'll cut inland.”
“Are there any of them behind us? On the river?”
“Can't sense any.”
Lugg went silent and a moment later Xoster banked to the right, so steeply that Fer cried out as she felt herself slipping from the dragon's back. They were diving too, picking up speed. The air rushed at her face so hard she couldn't breathe. Alarmed, she managed to cling on with her toes and inhale by turning her head to one side. After a moment they levelled out again, Fer's head swimming from the suddenness of the motion. They were over land, the tree tops sweeping by beneath them. The road wound along the edge of the river, appearing and disappearing between the black leafless branches.
“We need to get off,” Lugg shouted. “When she attacks them she'll forget about us. We'll be thrown off is she loops or dives.”
“How?”
“I'll try and persuade her to stop somewhere before we reach the undain. Once she sees them there'll be no stopping her.”
There was nowhere among the heavily wooded slopes for a creature the size of Xoster to land. The only possible place was the ice, although whether it would support the dragon's weight Fer had no idea.