Call Your Steel

by G. D. Penman

  The sickle-harp case had sat propped against her side all day, unexamined and unthought of by the nobles, merchants, and petitioners alike. But every time that she had spoken the strings had vibrated softly in accompaniment. She was something new now, something that her old self could not have even dreamed of. She was the ruler of the world and the wielder of power beyond mortal imagining, but she was something old too. Beneath the scales and flames, she was still Lucia. She hummed in the empty chamber, letting the sound echo out through the tower. The harp thrummed along with her. She was not ready to abandon everything that she had been.

  Servants and Chosen fled through the city streets rounding up vagrants and questioning them harshly. It was an hour after nightfall that the rag-tag assortment of the most dishevelled and downtrodden citizens of her new world assembled before the tower. Many of them were quaking in fear, others were faking bravado, and every one of them clutched a small box or bag containing their instruments.

  The dragon descended from the top of the tower, scurrying down head first and causing some of the more nervous performers to faint. Lucia settled herself in the courtyard and began auditions. The city was drawn to sound and light. Soon a festival of sorts had sprung up around the singers. Each gave a rendition of a song that every singer worth their salt knew, belting out the Ballad of Kurgan Hall with gusto. The street people of the city sang along to almost every chorus. The musicians were then challenged by Lucia to perform an original song. The singing went on through the night. At dawn, the nobles were as exhausted as they had ever been from Valerius’ old parties, but they were otherwise none the worse for wear.

  The city had come and gone through the night, but there was no real anger about the disruption of sleep. Music had been a rare treat before Lucia's reign. She was intent that it would not be so unusual in the future. The best five musicians received chambers in the tower, a pouch of silver and instructions to rest well, because their nights were going to be full. That night they began composing the Ballad of Kaius, starting with the grand finale and working backwards. They received a great many interruptions from the silver beast they did their best to pretend did not exist. Gradually, they came to realise that despite her appearance, she was more than familiar with their craft. The song came together over the course of the nights and new plans were pushed through with unexpected energy throughout the days.

  Many of the musicians who had not been picked by Lucia were instead composing their own songs. They pieced together the story from hearsay and rumour as their kind always had. Revelling in an untold upturn in popularity, those musicians were hired in taverns and noble houses to perform every night. Even their apprentices were roped into action for the lower paying events. In the Ivory City, life went on.

  Kaius lay in pieces, buried beneath mounds of razor sharp glass. His lower half seemed to be more jelly than flesh, and he left a red smear as he dragged his way to the still blinking eye that remained in the half skull of Metharia. He pulled himself across while more shards dug into him, slowing him down. It did not matter. He had forever. His teeth lengthened as he neared Metharia's remains. He managed to wheeze out, “Was your revenge worthwhile? Did you get what you wanted?”

  She was in no position to answer. He hauled himself up and bit into her eye. It burst in a shower of vitreous fluid and blood. He let out a startled laugh, dislodging some of the glass in his lungs, making him cough and splutter. He tore into the spongy, tenderised flesh of her face. It took four days to finish eating her. His health declined each day until at last he finished. Then he lay there for a while absorbing the new power and rasping blood from his mouth. In his memory, he had a single image fixed and when he wove strands of power together it was not to return him to his old flesh and restore him. He wove new flesh to pursue that perfect memory.

  While he was still small enough, he crawled his way back out through the crystal chaos. He emerged into the cool night air and stared up at the stars. He finally knew what he wanted, and he knew what Lucia needed. What she truly needed. The two things were one and the same. He completed his crafting and rose up on all fours. He spread his jet black wings to their full length and stretched out his sinuous neck. He turned his gaze towards the Ivory City, all lit up with her fire. Kaius took flight. He drifted up through the clouds with steady beats of his wings, gathering air to carry with him. Kaius rose above the sky until he was a speck crossing over the moon. Then he was just another star, another shimmering spot in the sky, disappearing into the darkness that was his home.

  Biography

  G D Penman writes... a lot. At the last count he has ghostwritten over thirty books in various areas of interest and he shows no signs of slowing down, but of course he can’t tell you what any of them are. He lives in Scotland with his partner and children, some of whom are human. He is a firm believer in the axiom that any story is made better by dragons. His beard has won an award. If you have ever read a story with monsters and queer people, it was probably one of his. In the few precious moments that he isn’t parenting or writing he likes to watch cartoons, play games, read more books than are entirely feasible and continues his quest to eat the flesh of every living species.

  If you want to be more invasive into his personal life, he jabbers on

  Twitter almost constantly @gdpenman