The King of the Crags

by Stephen Deas

  Yes.

  “Useful didn’t save Nadira, did it, dragon?”

  Snow almost shrugged. But, Kemir, she was not useful at all. She knew nothing. She had no other value.

  “Because you had me to tell you about the world?” He could have cried.

  Yes. I see this troubles you, but it is the natural order of things.

  “Troubles me? You could say that, yes.” I’m shouting. Shouting at a dragon. Not good. He tried to gather his thoughts. “When I stop being useful, Snow. What happens then?”

  Then we part, Kemir. Or before, if that is what you wish.

  “And if you happen to be hungry when we part, I get eaten?” He looked away. “No. Don’t answer that. I don’t think I want to know.”

  I will not eat you just because I am hungry. I will eat you so that you cannot speak of me to others of your kind. Or mine.

  The boy was still dangling from Snow’s claw. He seemed to have fainted. Kemir picked up a stone and hefted it in his hand. “Then you let him go. Either that or you eat us both right now. Snow didn’t move. She looked at him for a long time. Silent, eyes blank, alien and impenetrable. As he met her gaze, Kemir discovered something that he didn’t expect. He meant it. Really, really meant it. They were both outsiders, him and this boy. They’d both seen their homes destroyed by dragons, their families, their entire worlds. “He’s like us, Snow,” he said, more softly this time. “He’s a nest-mate too. You’re alone, I’m alone and now so is he.” He shook his head. “You have to be different, Snow. If you can’t be different then leave us be. Leave us here. I want no part of you.”

  Gently, Snow lowered the boy to the ground at Kemir’s feet. He must have been about ten, Kemir decided. Still a boy but not far away from being a man. Old enough to be useful.

  Old enough to be useful, repeated Snow. I think I understand.

  “He’s older than you, dragon. And we’re all useful. All of us. In our different ways.”

  Yes. Snow picked up the charred remains of what was probably one of the boy’s parents and gobbled it down. That is true.

  25

  STRANGE LANDS

  The boy ran away the first chance he got. Kemir didn’t bother to look for him. Either he knew how to survive in the forests around the lake or he didn’t. If he did, good luck to him; if he didn’t then he’d be back and Kemir had quite enough other things to worry about.

  Burns, for a start. When Snow had breathed fire his hands had taken the worst of it. The skin blistered and peeled over the days that followed; the damage wasn’t deep and eventually they’d heal, but until they did he couldn’t hunt, couldn’t even string his bow, and that put paid to any idea of running away. All he could do was ease the pain in the cold water of the lake and hope that the healing would be clean and the wounds wouldn’t go bad. That and shout at the dragon, telling her what to do.

  Snow spent the next morning smashing down trees, pulling them out of the ground and hurling them into the lake. She was at it for hours, and Kemir couldn’t understand what she was doing until she finally stopped, stood at one end and started to run. Each pounding step made the ground shudder. When she reached the end of the space she’d made, she stretched out her wings and launched herself out over the lake. Her back claws and her tail slashed the water, sending a tower of spray into the air, and then she was up and gone. She went hunting on her own every day after that, for longer and longer each day, until some nights she didn’t come back at all. Kemir didn’t ask where she went or what she found, but sometimes she told him anyway. There are others of your kind. They are far away, along the river. There are homes like this one and then villages and then towns. I do not know if they are useful or if they are yet more of your nest-mates, so I did not eat them. There are cows and horses too. They are more filling but not as much fun.

  She brought the boat back to the shore, which meant he could go fishing once his hands started to heal. Then he found some mushrooms but they only gave him cramps. Finally, after Kemir lost his temper and shouted at Snow about how he was slowly starving to death, the dragon came back in the twilight with a cow. She gathered a mound of smashed-up wood and set it on fire. As the stars rose, she ripped the cow into pieces and tossed them onto the flames. Kemir had to laugh.

  “I used to have nights like this with Sollos. We spent enough of our lives sleeping under the stars. We had fires like this all the time. Strips of meat were a bit smaller though . . .” His voice trailed away into wistful memories. Sollos. Killed by that bastard rider.

  If you starve, you will not be useful nor even much good as food.

  “Ha ha. That dragon humor kills me.”

  She didn’t understand. He knew the sound in his head now, when he said something that Snow couldn’t make into any sense, or else couldn’t be bothered to try. Something like a shrug and a sigh. He felt that now as Snow ate the remnants of the carcass. Then she sat on her haunches and watched him. The fire lit up the scales of her belly and her neck. Sparkling embers spiraled up around her head. When she stretched out her neck she was as tall as the trees. Her tail was even longer. Yet, for all her size, she was skinny. Lean and sleek, not like the squat irresistible power of a war-dragon.

  Tell me what you know about the alchemists.

  Kemir laughed and shook his head. “No chance, dragon. Then I won’t be useful anymore and you’ll eat me.” The smell of roasting cow was making him weak at the knees.

  She looked at him, then slowly reached into the fire and took the first lump of dead cow between her teeth. Then she looked at Kemir and gulped it down.

  Tell me what you know about the alchemists.

  “You’re a bastard.” He was feeling faint. Snow reached into the fire again.

  I already know where to find them.

  “You give me some food and I’ll tell you what I know.”

  When your hands are healed, do you still mean to run away from me?

  He had no answer to that. A few minutes later she flicked her tail through the flames. Half a smoldering ribcage landed at his feet. He looked at it for a second and then tore into it, ignoring the pain from his hands. It was charcoal on the outside and raw in the middle, but there were plenty of bits in between. Blood dribbled down his chin. It was delicious.

  After the first few mouthfuls, he stopped. He’d been hungry enough times before to take his time. “Do you remember when you killed your first alchemist? I was there.”

  I know.

  “That was the second alchemist I ever met.” He laughed, sucking juices from his fingers. “Sollos was going to be an alchemist. That’s how he got his name. They were going to take him to the City of Dragons and sell him to the Order and live like kings for the rest of their lives. Or that’s what they thought,”

  Why is that so foolish?

  Kemir shook his head and chuckled at the madness of the idea. “Dragon, we were outsiders. We had no idea where the City of Dragons even was. Someone had come back from somewhere with a story they’d heard from someone else who’d once been to somewhere that might have once been visited by a trader who might have been to the City of Dragons at one time in his life. They thought that all they had to do was go there and hand Sollos over and the Order would turn him into a great magician and shower them with gold. Daft.” He took a deep breath and licked his lips. “When I told that story to the first alchemist I ever met, he nearly gave himself a rupture he laughed so much. But then again he was already a long way into his cups.” He shook himself, serious for a moment. “Dragon, where I came from, we barely knew where to find the next village. It’s true that the Order pays for children. They give them some sort of test to find out how good an alchemist they might become. If the child is good enough, the Order buys them. Ten gold dragons. For most people, that’s a small fortune. That’s enough to buy an inn or a smithy if you’re not too choosy.”

  I don’t understand. Why do they buy children? Can they not make their own?

  “Why don’t you ask the next one
instead of eating him?”

  Perhaps I shall. This is not interesting. Tell me something different about alchemists.

  “Hmm.” The piece of meat was cooling now. He picked it up and tossed it back toward Snow. “Needs some more cooking, that bit. Pass me another.”

  This time, when Snow threw him one back leg, he started carving it apart with his knife, scraping off the charcoal, slicing out the near-raw fillets underneath. Doing a proper job.

  “The first alchemist I met was in a brothel. I was in a bit of a bad way, but Sollos had heard of him. He took me in and put me back together. He wasn’t a proper alchemist though. He was one of the ones who wasn’t quite good enough. Or that’s how he put it. You see, they do buy children and maybe they make some of their own too, and they school them for ten years, which is longer than any king or queen by the way. The ones who aren’t clever enough by then they make into Scales. You remember those? You had one once. Kailin. You ate him.”

  Snow didn’t answer and her thoughts were her own. After a good long pause Kemir went on. “Scales are freaks even before the Hatchling Disease starts turning them into living statues. I don’t know whether the alchemists do something to them or whether after ten years they’re just like that on their own. The ones they don’t make into Scales they make into apprentices. Those are the ones who start to learn all the juicy secrets. Except even then they don’t. Ten more years as an apprentice and even then half of them still get sent away, like the one I met. He was a sort of half-alchemist, I suppose. He didn’t know much, or if he did, he was sharp enough to keep it to himself even when he was so drunk he couldn’t pull up his trousers. They wander about the realms, traveling tinkers and traders. Every now and then the Order pays them for a favor. You know what he said pissed him off the most? He didn’t know who his father was, nor his mother. Order wouldn’t tell him, or else they didn’t know. Likely as not they’d long spent what they got for selling him and were poor as shit again, and he didn’t know who they were. Poor bastard.” He paused, lost in memory. “No family. Never even knew them. That’s bad.”

  Is that it? That’s what you know? That seems unlikely to be useful.

  Kemir shrugged. “What were you hoping for? I know the routes the alchemists take to deliver their potions, but that’s no great secret. Just watch for wagons escorted by a legion of Adamantine Men coming down the Evenspire Road.” He snorted. “Except with you around they’ll probably take to flying everything on dragon-back.”

  That is much more the sort of information I desire. Your other memories are not interesting.

  “That’s very kind, dragon. Why don’t you piss off?”

  Eat, Kemir. She tossed him another hunk of roasted cow carcass. She didn’t say anything, but when he was done, when he’d filled his belly so he could hardly move and had stripped away as much of the meat as would keep, she studied him.

  The one that was here before is here again, she told him. The boy you called nest-mate. The one you said that I should not eat. Do you still wish me to leave?

  Kemir glowered. “Read my mind, dragon.”

  He waited until she got the message and thundered into the moonlit sky. When she was gone he put some of the meat he’d saved onto the ground near the trees and backed away.

  “You can come out!” he shouted. “Dragon’s gone now. I don’t want to hurt you. You must be hungry. You can share our food.”

  He waited, watching, but the boy didn’t come out. And I can hardly blame him for that, can I? We came out of nowhere, ate his family and destroyed his home. I know exactly how he feels. He left the meat where it was and sat watching in secret for a while longer. When the boy still didn’t come he settled down beside the fire and closed his eyes. He waited, eyes drooping but not quite shut. An empty belly and the smell of roasted fat brought you here, but I know what’s on your mind.

  The boy didn’t disappoint him. He waited a good long time before he came, until Kemir had been pretending to snore for so long that his throat was sore. He came out of the trees with a heavy stick ready in his hand and didn’t even glance at the meat left out for him. Kemir watched him come through lidded eyes, slow and purposeful. Good lad. Got your priorities right. Got a good idea what you’re doing too. A knife would be better, but where would you get one of those out here, eh? The boy was slow and careful with each step. If he was scared, he didn’t show it. He reached Kemir and raised the stick and only then hesitated. Well, what’s it to be? Are you still a boy? Or are you a man?

  The stick came down. The blow wasn’t the best, and certainly wouldn’t have killed him. Still, it was a good try and Kemir smiled as he caught the stick and held on to it. He gave the stick a good tug, and then when the boy pulled back, he let go. The boy tumbled over backward. Kemir jumped on him, making sure he had no chance to get up.

  “I don’t want to fight with you, lad. What’s your name?”

  The boy screamed something incoherent and spat at him.

  “I’m not going to hurt you.” Carefully he let the boy go. The boy jumped to his feet, grabbed his stick and backed away. Then he came at Kemir, who caught the first couple of blows on his forearms, wincing at the pain from the burns still healing under his sleeves. On the third one, he ducked aside and kicked the boy’s legs out from under him.

  “I could show you how to fight, if you like.”

  The boy screamed again, turned and ran. When he saw Kemir wasn’t following, he stopped long enough to grab a piece of meat and then vanished into the trees. Kemir shrugged and settled with his back to the fire to watch.

  “I was older than you when the riders came,” he called out. “Not by many years, but enough to make a difference. You listen to this, boy! We were on the edge of a lake. Just like this. We even had a few animals. We thought the dragon-riders would never find us. Even if they did, we thought they’d leave us alone. Just like this place here.

  “Are you still there, boy? Are you listening?” He raised his voice, then slumped back to the ground and shook his head and his voice dropped. No. Of course he wasn’t. There wasn’t anyone here to listen to him at all. Except the stars. There were always stars, or else the moon or sometimes some clouds when he needed an ear. “We all ran into the trees, when the dragons came. They filled the ground we’d cleared by the edge of the lake. They caught a few of us, but they didn’t burn anything or kill anyone. They had riders who said that we belonged to the King of the Crags. That we had to give them everything they asked for as a tribute. As payment for their protection. They wanted what they always want. Men to sell as slaves and women for . . . Well, you’ll know all about that in time. The older men decided we’d give them what they wanted. We should have fought, that’s what I said. I wasn’t the only one either, but what did I know? I was barely a man, like you, all full of piss and vinegar. Anyway, you’ve seen one. Think about it, boy. How do you fight a dragon?”

  He sighed. He didn’t know who he was talking to. The trees and the water. The dead, perhaps. Certainly not the boy in the woods, who was surely long gone. “A few of us left then. Just upped and went. The clever ones. They were gone when the dragons came back a few days later, with their wooden slave cages. We gave up our own people. There were boys and girls, tied up by their own weeping mothers and fathers to be sold to the dragon-riders. That’s how it was, boy. There were fights. People killed by their own families. We never had that before. They chose us by lots. Ten young men and ten girls between the ages of ten and sixteen. I was one of the ones who should have gone. I ran away and hid for days and they didn’t find me. Someone else went in my place. I knew him. Everyone knew everyone. He was family, of a sort. A friend. I hated everyone. I wasn’t alone. People who lost their sons and daughters and brothers and sisters held grudges against those who didn’t. The boy who was taken because I’d hidden had a brother. He came for me with a knife. I laid him out with a stick. I didn’t want to kill him, but he wouldn’t stop. He came after me again and again. I think he wanted me to kill him.�
�� Kemir sniffed and blinked and was surprised to find tears in his eyes. He wasn’t talking to anyone except himself now. He could barely see the trees anymore. All he could see was the memory, the burning. His voice broke to a whisper. “Took me a long time before I understood how he must have felt. Took a dragon to teach me that.

  “The riders took our hearts, all of them. We were empty shells. No one laughed anymore.” He blinked. “And then they came back for the last time. Me and Sollos were on the other side of the lake when they came. By the time we got back, it was all gone. Nothing but ash. They didn’t take slaves this time. They didn’t take anything. After they’d burned it all, they landed. Anyone they hadn’t killed with fire they put to the sword. They weren’t the same riders as had come before. I could see that by their dragons. Different, you see. And you know what, boy? For all the oaths I swore that day, maybe those riders were the merciful ones. They put us out of our misery.” He gave a bitter laugh. “That was Prince Valmeyan. He was a king by the time I knew his name. I swore I’d destroy him for what he’d done. Him and every one of his riders. I never had any idea how, but I wanted to see him burn. I still do. Slowly, as he looks out over the ashes of everything he loves. See, boy, I know how you feel. Sollos and I, we learned to be soldiers so we could fight. I was always good with a bow. We set about killing riders. Murdered a couple and then we had to run to the furthest corner of the realms. Out to the moors in the east. After that we took work as we could get it. Killing work, if you get my drift. It was easier that way but I’m glad it’s stopped. I never liked it. Not the killing, you understand. That was fine. It was the taking orders from them.”

  Kemir sniffed. He shifted, settling himself. The boy hadn’t come back. He was glad of that. There were still tears on his cheeks when there shouldn’t have been. Best the boy didn’t see that. It was all so long ago.

  “Sollos is gone now,” he whispered to the air, and suddenly he didn’t care whether the boy came back or not.