Deserter

by Tui T. Sutherland

  He was there for the councils and arguments and trials that followed, everyone fighting over who should be the next queen and how it should be decided. He was in the palace the night that Blister took off with half the army, and he was there the night Blaze escaped and fled north with a squadron of loyal guards. In fact, both times he was approached by friends and fellow soldiers, asking him to join them in supporting the dragon they wanted to be queen.

  But he said no. His mother had decided to be loyal to Burn, so he was going to do the same thing. He didn’t like Burn … but he liked her sisters much less. Burn, at least, would be a strong queen, unlike Blaze, and a queen with no secret malevolent plans, which was more than he could say for Blister.

  It turned out, though, that there was one thing Burn loved more than mutilating animals, and that was war. When she heard that Blister was negotiating alliances with the SeaWings and MudWings, intending to bring their armies with her to fight for the SandWing throne, Burn was horribly delighted. As she said to General Needle, in Six-Claws’s presence, two sisters out there lurking and scheming was just annoying — but armies coming to attack her, that she could handle. That meant violence and mayhem and fun.

  She sent Prince Smolder to the Sky Kingdom immediately to forge an alliance with their queen, Scarlet. She also tried to contact the IceWings, which was how she discovered that they were protecting Blaze and considering joining the new war themselves.

  “I hope they do!” Burn cried gleefully, storming through the construction going on outside the palace. Queen Oasis had been buried where she fell, and a monument was raised over her grave. Burn had ordered another layer of thick walls built all around the outside, beyond the monument, turning the palace into an unassailable stronghold. “More dragons to fight! More territory to conquer! We’ll crush them all in a matter of weeks!”

  It wasn’t a matter of weeks. The war dragged on, and on, and on for years, and in that time Six-Claws saw his mother and way too many of his friends die in battle, and he fought way too many faces he had once considered brothers-in-arms.

  But he kept fighting. He did as he was ordered. He was promoted, and then promoted again, until he became General Six-Claws. He stayed loyal to Queen Burn, because loyalty ran deep in his blood … and because he didn’t see any other choice.

  It was getting harder, though. When Burn had her brother Singe killed for, as far as Six-Claws could tell, “annoying her,” he felt his soul sinking further into despair.

  What kind of dragon was he following?

  He couldn’t imagine describing her good qualities, the way he had once been able to list all the things that were great about Queen Oasis. He was having a hard time coming up with even one, these days.

  One night about two weeks after Singe’s death, Six-Claws flew back to camp with his battalion after a particularly crushing battle with the IceWings in which he’d lost four good dragons.

  And more than that, perhaps even worse: Dune had been badly injured. Dune, the one dragon who had stayed by his side and survived all these years. One of his forearms had been bitten nearly in two and his wing had been hit by a blast of frostbreath. Six-Claws hoped there was still time to reverse the damage and heal his friend. He helped carry Dune all the way back from the battle site.

  They’d set up their small city of tents not far from where the desert shifted into rocky hills, then tundra and the Ice Kingdom. Technically the rocky terrain was part of the Kingdom of Sand, so he could have made camp even closer to the IceWing border. But his dragons needed to sleep on sand and return to the desert at night for their morale. If he’d forced them farther north, they might have had shorter flights to their battles, but they would have been cold and miserable and tired, and it would have been too easy to wear them down.

  He didn’t like wasting dragons.

  “You’ll be all right, Dune,” he whispered in his friend’s ear as they flew. “We’re almost there. They’ll fix you and you’ll be flying again in no time. Just hang on.”

  They landed beside the medical tent in the center of camp, and three dragons immediately emerged, clustering around Dune.

  “He needs heat on that wound, and fast,” Six-Claws said, pointing to the glistening ice crystals and blue-black scales along the edge of Dune’s wing. “Do everything you can for him.”

  “Of course, sir,” one of them answered.

  “He might lose the foot,” said another, studying Dune’s damaged foreleg, “but he needs his wings more. We can save those.”

  “Yes, we can heal injuries like this, sir,” said the last one, indicating the frostbreath gently. “We’ve done it before. It’s not too bad.”

  “Thank you,” said Six-Claws. They whisked Dune away into the tent.

  Six-Claws wanted to follow, but he couldn’t. There was too much to do. Dragons he had to see and dispatches he needed to read and —

  He turned around and found Queen Burn looming behind him.

  “Your Majesty,” he said with a bow.

  “Still alive,” she commented.

  “Me?” he said. “Yes, I’m afraid so.”

  “Show me your claws again,” she ordered.

  He forced himself not to sigh. This happened every time he saw her; he should be over how sick and uncomfortable it made him feel. He held out his front talons.

  “Yessss,” Burn hissed, taking them in hers and staring at them greedily. She tugged on his sixth claw on each side and eyed his face to see if he’d react. He kept his expression blank.

  “Your soldiers remember their orders, do they?” Burn said. “When you die in battle, they know they are to cut off your arms and bring them to me.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” he said. It took all his considerable training to keep still instead of yanking his talons away from her. “They know. They won’t forget.” How could they forget a gruesome order like that? Everyone knew exactly what she wanted to do with Six-Claws’s talons. One day, when he died, she would happily dismember him and preserve his odd-looking claws in her creepy weirdling tower, along with all the other strange and horrible things she’d collected over the years.

  Burn finally dropped his talons with a snort. “Well, as long as you’re still alive, you’d better make yourself useful. We’re going to attack the MudWings. Pack everyone up. We move out tomorrow.”

  “What?” Six-Claws blurted.

  “Don’t disappoint me by being deaf and slow as well,” she growled. “The MudWings. We’re attacking them. As soon as possible.” She chuckled. “My spies tell me there’s been a rift between the SeaWings and the MudWings. Blister’s alliance is falling apart. This is the time to attack! If we strike now, we can intimidate the MudWings into joining our side. Then we’ll be unstoppable.”

  “But wait,” Six-Claws said. “What about our plan? The whole strategy we worked out?”

  “Your plan, you mean,” said Burn. “I know, I know. Focus our energy here until we find Blaze and kill her, so we only have one enemy instead of two.” She yawned. “Boring. You haven’t found Blaze yet and I hate waiting.”

  “We’ve only been looking for a few weeks,” Six-Claws protested. “They’re fighting hard to keep her hidden. I’m sure today’s battle was close to her hiding spot.”

  He’d never admitted his secret hope, of course. What he really wanted was for one sister to die so the other two could fight it out — just the two of them in a regular duel, with no armies or soldiers or other tribes or innocent bystanders dragged into the mess. He wanted this to be over.

  And for that, his strategy made the most sense. If they kept pounding away at Blaze’s IceWing alliance, surely they would find her soon.

  “You know,” Burn sneered, “if you want Blaze dead so badly, perhaps you shouldn’t have saved her life all those years ago.” She flicked her tail at the shouts of pain coming from the medical tent. “Maybe all of this is your fault.”

  Six-Claws clenched his talons, trying not to reveal that he’d had that exact thought himself
over several sleepless nights.

  “Your Majesty,” he said as calmly as he could. “I strongly believe that we should stick with our current strategy.”

  “Well, I strongly believe that we should go kill some MudWings,” she said. “And I am your queen, so that means I always win.”

  “Can we discuss this?” he asked. He didn’t want to sound as though he was begging, but maybe that was what she wanted him to do. “I can show you the maps — our deductions — our next steps — we have it all worked out.”

  “You disloyal worm,” Burn snarled. “I can see you need a little extra persuasion.” She pushed past him and shoved her way into the medical tent.

  He started to follow her, but suddenly there was a hiss from the shadows beside the tent.

  “Who’s there?” he said, pausing. It was impossible to see past the light of the torches, but he could tell there was a dragon hiding in the dark.

  A pause, and then an unfamiliar voice said, “Someone with your best interests at heart.”

  “Show yourself,” Six-Claws ordered. Perhaps it could be one of his soldiers, but he thought he’d recognize all their voices. Was it someone sent by one of Burn’s sisters to attack her?

  If so, it was bad, it was very, very bad that a part of him was tempted not to stop them.

  “You don’t have to follow Burn,” whispered the voice. “She doesn’t deserve it.”

  “Who should I follow instead?” Six-Claws asked. “I suppose you have someone in mind. Blister?”

  “Dear snakes, no,” said the hidden dragon, with what sounded like genuine amusement. “Why follow any of them? There’s always the Scorpion Den, right? Plenty of SandWings there who don’t fight for anyone. From what I’ve heard anyhow.”

  “Deserters,” Six-Claws said. “That’s not me. I’m loyal.”

  “Loyal to what?” asked the dragon. “Do you even know why you follow her anymore? She’s not a good queen. You are helping a viper and making her stronger and more poisonous. Can’t you see that?” He paused. “If you can’t, you will soon, I’m afraid.”

  “SIX-CLAWS!” Burn roared from inside the tent. “Get in here!”

  “Think about it,” the dragon in the shadows whispered, and then he seemed to melt away, and when Six-Claws blinked, there was no one there at all.

  He pushed through the flaps into the tent and found Burn standing over Dune.

  Six-Claws’s friend was lying on a low pile of blankets, unconscious, with his wings spread out on either side of him. Sacks filled with fire-heated stones were packed around the frostbreath injury on his wing and also around his front leg. Here, in the torchlight, Six-Claws could see the wounds more clearly, and he saw that an IceWing must have raked Dune with her serrated claws as well.

  But his wing would heal and he would fly again. The doctors said they could fix him. He’d be all right.

  “This is the little toad who follows you around, isn’t it?” Burn asked. She jabbed one of the hot stone bags so it slid off Dune’s wing.

  Six-Claws started forward. “He needs that —”

  “Don’t move,” Burn snarled. She pushed another healing pack off the injured dragon, and Dune made a small noise of pain, but didn’t wake up. Behind Burn, one of the doctors was wringing her talons like she wanted to intervene but didn’t dare.

  “Please. Don’t hurt him,” Six-Claws said, his stomach twisting. “He’s a loyal soldier to you.”

  “And what are you?” Burn demanded. “Tell me, where are we going tomorrow?”

  Six-Claws hesitated. He felt as if there was a possible end to this war slipping right between his talons. “I’ll do what you say, Your Majesty. I will. But if I could have just one more day to look for Blaze —”

  Burn slammed her talons down on Dune’s injured wing. Dune came awake screaming as the frozen parts snapped off completely, leaving only misshapen, blackened ruin. Burn sliced her claws through the tendons and membranes, destroying what was left of the wing.

  “No!” Six-Claws heard himself shouting, felt himself tackled by the other SandWings in the tent as he lunged toward the queen.

  “Unquestioning obedience,” Burn said to him. “That’s really all I ask.” She kicked Dune aside and shook the blood off her claws. “So, General. Where are we going tomorrow?”

  There were at least three dragons pinning him down. Six-Claws took a deep breath, forcing away his guilt and fury and disbelief. “The Mud Kingdom,” he said into the ground.

  “Much better.” Burn stepped over him, nearly smacking him in the face with her deadly tail. “You’re lucky you’re such a useful general, or I would just take those fascinating talons for my tower and be done with these boring arguments. Oh, and Six-Claws.” She stopped in the opening of the tent and looked back at him. “The next time you feel like questioning my orders, remember that your friend there has another wing … and a tail … and three working legs, all of which could meet with even more horrible accidents. Understood?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.” Six-Claws couldn’t look at her. He kept his eyes closed and his face in the sand until he heard her leaving the tent and her heavy footsteps treading away.

  “We’re sorry, sir,” said one of the nurses, climbing off him. “We didn’t want her to kill you.”

  “I understand,” he said as they all let go and backed away nervously. He staggered to his feet and over to Dune, who had mercifully passed out again. His wing was a wreck, far beyond saving, and his foreleg was a bloody stump. Six-Claws knelt beside him and gently touched Dune’s head. “Is there anything you can do for him?” he asked the other dragons.

  They tried. He could see how hard they were trying. He didn’t leave Dune’s side as they bandaged and swabbed and did what they could. His other duties had all faded into a blur in the back of his mind.

  The Scorpion Den.

  You are helping a viper.

  Think about it.

  “It’s getting late, sir.” One of the doctors brushed Six-Claws’s wing with her own. “You should get some sleep.”

  “I’m not going to sleep,” he said. “I’m getting Dune out of here. As far away from her as I can get him.”

  The doctor glanced around and Six-Claws realized they were alone, apart from Dune; the other SandWings had left without him realizing it.

  “Where are you going?” she whispered. She was the one who’d thought about stopping Burn; he remembered the horror and pity in her eyes. He’d seen her before, taking care of other patients. She was always calm and efficient. He liked that about her, even though he didn’t really know her.

  “The Scorpion Den, I think,” he whispered back. He rubbed his eyes. “I’ll have to carry him.”

  “I’ll help you,” she said. “If — if you don’t mind me coming with you.”

  He could use the help — Dune was too heavy to carry far on his own. But he shook his head. “It’s too dangerous,” he said. “You’d be a deserter, like us. Burn would kill you if she caught you.”

  “Apparently she might kill me even if I stay right here,” the doctor said wryly. “I’d rather go with you. I trust you.”

  “You don’t know me at all,” he said.

  “Of course I do,” she answered. “You’re General Six-Claws.”

  “It’ll just be Six-Claws from now on,” he said. “I don’t know your name.”

  “Kindle,” she said. “Let’s go now, before anyone comes back.”

  They wrapped Dune in blankets and lifted him between them as carefully as they could. Outside, the temperature had dropped to almost freezing, and most dragons were huddled in their tents. No one questioned Six-Claws and Kindle as they carried their burden to the outskirts of the encampment.

  “General, sir,” said the dragon on guard duty, snapping back her wings as they approached.

  “We’re taking this dragon back to the stronghold for more advanced medical treatment,” Six-Claws said.

  “Do you want me to take him?” the soldier offered. “You sh
ould rest, shouldn’t you, sir?”

  “I’ll be fine,” said Six-Claws. “But thank you.”

  “Yes, sir,” she answered. “I hope he’s all right.”

  Kindle took one side of the blankets and Six-Claws took the other, and with Dune slung between them, they lifted off into the night sky.

  I’m sorry to leave you, Six-Claws thought at the soldier on guard duty … at all the soldiers he had to leave behind. He felt like the lowest snake in the sandpit, abandoning his position and all the dragons who’d counted on him.

  But the dragon in the shadows was right. Six-Claws was helping a monster rise to power, and he couldn’t do it anymore. Especially not if it meant Dune would have to live in constant danger.

  He’d try to find a way to save the others. Maybe he could get more of them out, anyone who wished to be free of Burn or the other two sisters. Maybe together they could make the Scorpion Den a safe place for dragons who wanted no part of this war.

  Dune shifted in the blankets and Six-Claws had to adjust his wingbeats to the way his weight rolled. He glanced down and saw Dune looking up at him with bleak, haunted eyes.

  Not at Six-Claws — at his wings, powering steadily through the air. The way Dune’s never would again.

  “I’m sorry, Dune,” Six-Claws said.

  Dune didn’t respond for a long time. Finally he asked, “Where are we going?”

  “To the Scorpion Den,” Six-Claws answered. “I’m taking you somewhere I hope Burn will never find us.”

  “Burn.” Dune let out a bitter laugh. “You always said it was so important to be loyal. I guess we’ve learned something about loyalty, haven’t we?”

  Six-Claws beat his wings in silence for a moment. “Yes,” he agreed at last.

  “That it’s stupid,” Dune said, “and we were stupid for being loyal in the first place, and now we’re paying for it. I’m paying for it. There’s no point to any of this.”

  “No, that’s not it,” Six-Claws said. “We were loyal to the wrong dragon, that’s all. I see that now.”