A Crown of Flames

by Pauline Creeden

  As soon as the dragon flipped itself upright, Dyrfinna pulled herself back onto the dragon’s neck, stuck her feet under the strap, grabbed the long, loose end of the strap, pulled it taut, and stood up like a bareback rider on a horse, wrapping the end of the strap around her wrist. With that hand, she gripped the strap. With her spear, she slashed at the dragon’s wings, slicing through their membranes every time the wings came up in their beats.

  The dragon screamed again and dove. Dyrfinna was slung into the air again, her body whipping around at the end of the strap, but this time, her feet were under that strap and they stayed put.

  She sliced a big hole in the undead dragon’s wings, and suddenly the dive turned into a free fall.

  The undead dragon screamed, frantically beating its wings, but air rattled through its flaps. They were falling.

  “Oh, wow, Dyrfinna,” she said to herself. “That was kind of dumb.”

  The emberdragon dove after her as Ibn, now awake, sang frantically from where he sat alone on her back.

  But the other undead dragons were on the emberdragon’s tail, diving close after her, and the man on the dragon’s back was chanting. Ibn was singing against that, his hands up and glowing with power.

  Ibn shouted something in Arabic, and suddenly a net made of light expanded between the emberdragon and the undead chasers. They smacked right into it.

  Ibn turned toward Dyrfinna then, frantically extending a hand. “Jump ahead of us!” he cried, and the emberdragon flew so she was just above Dyrfinna. She untied her strap and grabbed the emberdragon’s feet, and climbed up to stretch for Ibn’s reaching hands. He caught her and held her close as she swiftly retied the strap around the emberdragon’s back.

  “Fly fly fly,” Ibn said to the emberdragon. The other two undead dragons, along with the man riding one of them, were tangled in the net of light and falling to the ground. The man was shouting something, and Dyrfinna could already see the net of light decaying around them. “Keep going,” she said to the emberdragon. “I bet that we find Nauma next. We have to.”

  The battle had been too much for the emberdragon, though, and by mutual agreement, they rocketed around a mountain and, once out of sight of their pursuers, dove into a forest, zipping down into a thick group of trees and under the branches of some large spruce trees that were nearly big enough to hold up the sky. Except now Dyrfinna knew how high the sky could truly be, having nearly fallen out of it a few times.

  “Make yourself small,” Dyrfinna said as she hustled the emberdragon under the spruces. “Try not to glow. Think depressing thoughts.”

  Like how we were nearly killed by three heroes from legend? the emberdragon said, pulling her wings close to its side and nestling down in the litter on the forest floor.

  “Yes,” said Dyrfinna quietly, blowing out a breath. “That’s a good start.”

  The remaining two undead dragons flew into view, traveling slowly overhead. The emberdragon held her breath, and the orange light from her scales faded and faded into a dull orange.

  Once the two undead dragons were out of sight, Ibn said, “They’re gone.”

  The emberdragon took a deep breath, and the orange fires flared into life in her scales again.

  Selective camouflage, she said.

  The humans relieved themselves in the forest, and then returned and quickly had a small meal of dried fish and bread. Dyrfinna gave the emberdragon quite a few of her fishes. The emberdragon also tried some bread, which she was not as impressed with. Then after a long drink at a nearby creek, they were on the emberdragon’s back and ready to fly again.

  “I wish we had more to feed you with.” Dyrfinna said.

  No matter, the emberdragon said. I fattened myself on a stag that I caught last night, so I’ll be good for a while.

  That done, she leapt into the air and they sped after the undead dragons – who, unfortunately, were now circling back, looking for them.

  And now somebody else had joined the undead dragons. A third one. And this one, too, had a mounted flyer.

  “A woman,” said Ibn, squinting. “with long hair.”

  Dyrfinna gripped her spear. “It’s Nauma. It’s her.”

  All of Dyrfinna’s energy leapt to Nauma, all of her focus.

  “Let’s go,” she snarled. “I’ve been waiting for this for all my life.”

  But Nauma turned her dragon and fled before them, the other two undead dragons following her.

  “Oh, come on!” Dyrfinna cried.

  We’re flying into a trap, said the emberdragon, but she followed them.

  “Oh, I am sure we are,” said Dyrfinna. “An ambush. Three dragons against one dragon. Two people against two, but one of our adversaries will be a complete unknown.”

  “He sang his way out of my net very handily,” Ibn said. “He blocked our dragon’s fire and sailed through it with no injuries. His clothes should have at least looked burned, should at least have had some soot on them. But they didn’t even have that.”

  I’ve never run into magic that could withstand my fire before, said the emberdragon.

  “What do you bet that this is the Gorm that everybody keeps talking about?” Ibn said.

  “I’ve been wondering that myself,” Dyrfinna said. “Where are all the dragons you called to help us?”

  There’s another mystery, the emberdragon said. They should have been here by now. I know of several that live in this area, several wild dragons that stay far away from humans. We’ve helped each other in the past.

  “Do you think that Gorm man blocked your cry of help somehow?” Ibn said.

  The emberdragon sighed out some fire. Hard to say. I’m seeing many things today that I thought I’d never see.

  They flew for a long time as the sun slid through the sky. And then Dyrfinna, watching as familiar landmarks slid by, said, “Are they going where I think they’re going?”

  To the hallowed mountain, said the emberdragon with tones of hate.

  29

  Back to the Holy Mountain

  They flew on in silence.

  “Several things,” said Dyrfinna. “We will have the rose bramble and the flowers to hide in if things turn bad.”

  I can’t hide in there, said the emberdragon.

  “The flowers have other properties and we might be able to use them against the undead dragons.”

  “They heal wounds, too,” Ibn said.

  “Yes,” said Dyrfinna. “Or else I wouldn’t be here today.”

  But if any of us get killed upon that mountain, the emberdragon said, they will have the power to raise more of our happy fallen into undead servitude.

  “Also true,” said Dyrfinna.

  Through the haze of great distance, Dyrfinna saw the mount where the dragons buried their dead. “And here we go,” she said quietly.

  Ibn rested his head once again upon her shoulder. But this time it wasn’t out of fear. “May I say that it has been the greatest honor of my life to fight with you and work with you?” he said quietly into her ear.

  “It has been an honor for me, too,” Dyrfinna said. “I’m sorry we had such a short time to get to know each other.”

  “Are you afraid that you might die?” Ibn said.

  “Nothing in life is certain,” she said quietly.

  “That’s true enough,” he said into her ear, and he kissed it. She leaned back against him and his arms tightened around her.

  “If we survive this,” said Dyrfinna, “you and I are going to run away and we are going to have the most fun anybody ever had on this glorious green earth.”

  “We have to find a way to stop Nauma first. We have to kill her, throw her to the bottom of the sea, turn her into a puffin, something,” Ibn said.

  “Can we turn her into a puffin?” Dyrfinna said.

  “She’d be a very mean puffin,” said Ibn.

  “She’d kill all the nice puffins.”

  “We should turn her into a plant,” Ibn said. “At least she couldn’t go anywhe
re.”

  “Just be sure she’s not wind-pollinated,” Dyrfinna muttered.

  The hallowed mountain loomed before them once again.

  Ibn was quietly singing to himself, what sounded like a regular, sad love song. “So if we survive this,” he said, “we’re going to run away and have fun? Is that correct?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “Now I have a real will to live,” said Ibn.

  “If I get killed, believe me, I’m going to be so mad at myself,” Dyrfinna said.

  Now they were close enough to see the golden light from the top of the mountain where the roses grew.

  “I didn’t realize they were so bright,” Dyrfinna said. “You really can see their light from a long ways off.”

  From over her shoulder, Ibn squinted as he had before. “I didn’t think that they were so bright before,” he said.

  They weren’t, said the emberdragon, watchfully. Something’s going on.

  “But Nauma and that man aren’t there yet,” said Dyrfinna.

  I think something else is happening, but I don’t know what it could be, said the emberdragon.

  She flew up a little higher, until they lifted up over the crags that blocked their view. And then they saw what was happening. Dyrfinna gasped.

  “Oh, no,” she breathed.

  The rose bramble was glowing brilliantly. And standing before it, with an onyx dragon, was King Varinn and Gefjun.

  By now, Nauma must have seen them, because her laughter rang out from the dragon she was riding.

  30

  The Crowns of Roses

  But now that they were closer, Dyrfinna could see another detail she’d missed before.

  She saw why the rose bramble was gleaming so brightly.

  Every flame in the roses gleamed like stars. And above the bramble, suspended in a haze of golden rose-light, were two crowns.

  “Crowns?” Ibn asked.

  Dyrfinna couldn’t speak, struck by their beauty.

  I know those crowns, said the dragon. They are given to those who can rule with honor and grace, said the dragon. Does Nauma really think she can take those as her own?

  And now, as Dyrfinna watched, the crowns came floating down to Varinn and Gefjun, and they stood there with the crowns floating above their outstretched hands.

  “Faster, faster,” came Nauma’s voice. The undead dragons limped swiftly through the air like broken seagulls up the side of that mountain and all of them landed before Varinn and Gefjun in the snow.

  “No no no no no no,” Dyrfinna said.

  I’m flying as fast as I can. I must have my revenge, said the emberdragon.

  King Varinn and Gefjun didn’t move as the undead dragons landed, their beating wings blasting up snow everywhere so that Dyrfinna couldn’t see what was happening there under that great cloud.

  Gradually the snow cleared away. Through the falling scattered snow, Nauma and the man were climbing down from their dragons. Dyrfinna could see the look upon Nauma’s face. Great joy, and great lust.

  “Blast her,” said Dyrfinna.

  My pleasure, the emberdragon said. Her scales lit with great heat, and she blasted fire at the two.

  The man flung up an arm at them, and the fire was instantly quenched.

  “What? No!” said Ibn.

  “Claws out,” Dyrfinna said. “Beware of shields!”

  The dragon roared in, talons outspread.

  Gefjun met Dyrfinna’s eyes, and to her surprise Gefjun just frowned at her and shook her head.

  “Pull up?” she asked the dragon.

  But just as she half-gave her direction, the dragon’s talons met something that shocked them all three, a painful electric shock. The emberdragon made a desperate push with her wings, and they tumbled over the other side and crashed ungracefully in the snow.

  Nauma sneered. “Don’t interrupt us! We’re busy.”

  “Those crowns are ours,” proclaimed the man. “I am the Gorm, and ancient prophecy said that Nauma and I will receive and wear the rose crowns.”

  Varinn and Gefjun looked half asleep, like sleepwalkers, standing unmoving and holding the crowns in their outstretched hands. Gefjun showed none of the disapproval that she’d shown just a moment before. Her face was void of emotion except for mild disdain.

  “These crowns are not yours,” said King Varinn in a slow, sepulchral voice, not like his normal speaking voice at all. “These crowns are given by the spirit of the roses, the spirit of the mountain, of the sacred ground you have desecrated here.”

  “You didn’t stop me before, mountain spirits,” Nauma sneered.

  “I don’t sense a spirit speaking here,” said the Gorm. “Just two foolish people, taking what is not theirs. My prophecy is clear. Put the crowns on your heads, Varinn and Gefjun. Show us how the crowns don’t belong to you.” Their names sounded like bitter poison in his mouth.

  Dyrfinna, who was fighting to her feet from the jumble of dragon, straps, and Ibn, froze at how he’d said their names.

  But not a quiver passed over their faces. Their hands rose up as if moving as slowly as if they were underwater, to the crowns and their fingers wrapped around them.

  “No, don’t,” Dyrfinna found herself whispering.

  Slowly, Varinn and Gefjun raised the crowns to their heads and gently placed them on their brows.

  Varinn suddenly convulsed and fell to the ground.

  Gefjun simply collapsed, her little puffin squawking and fluttering around her in alarm.

  Nauma’s slow laugh echoed off the mountain peaks around her. “A fitting end to those two.”

  Dyrifnna, horrified, picked up the spear and flung it straight at Nauma.

  It should have hit her, square in the neck. Except it hit a red wall of air that sprang up between them, and the spear utterly vanished with a flash of deep red light.

  She groaned.

  But Nauma laughed. “Can’t hurt us,” she said. “Now watch this.”

  She actually ran forward, through the undead dragons, across the snow, and she ran to Gefjun’s side.

  “Look at how dead you are,” she said, her hands shaking as she picked up the rose crown. “Hurry up, Gorm! These are ours!”

  “This is a solemn occasion,” he said, walking stately through the undead dragons. “I’m ready to move into the world of humans and find what it can offer me. All that the underworld had given me is the back of its hand.”

  “Nobody cares about how cruelly you were treated by the underworld,” Nauma said, standing up, her hands still shaking with the golden rose crown in them. She investigated it carefully. “Look at how beautiful it is,” she said softly, with something that might have been reverence. “And this is mine now.”

  “And mine,” said the Gorm, picking up Varinn’s crown.

  Dyrfinna flung a dagger, but it vanished in the red shield.

  She pulled out her sword.

  Don’t, said the emberdragon in a low, cracked voice. You’ll fall down just as paralyzed as I am now. The feeling is coming back in my feet, and it’s starting to hurt. Don’t do that to yourself.

  Ibn had a hand out toward the shield, eyes shut, feeling something in the air. “I don’t know how this is constructed,” he said quietly. “I’m going through melodies trying to find one that fits in with a particular matrix, something that I could use to fit into this shield and, I don’t know, pry a hole in it, dissolve it, cause it to decay, lever it, something. But I haven’t been able to find anything that won’t just slide off.”

  “How about the ground under it?” whispered Dyrfinna.

  “Yes, yes, that’s it,” he said. He drew the tail of his turban across his face to hide his mouth, just in case Nauma or the Gorm could read lips, and he began to sing under his voice, his arm held against his chest. Dyrfinna stood directly behind him, her face partly hidden by his shoulder as she watched Nauma and the Gorm as she quietly sang what harmonies she could improvise with the music that Ibn was singing.

  Nauma laug
hed. “You’re too late.”

  She placed the crown on her head, and the Gorm placed Varinn’s crown on his head.

  Both crowns glowed with sudden light. A soft melody played like the whispering of many winds, and the air was filled with the fragrance of roses.

  A sword appeared in their hands, and their clothes were replaced with golden robes of state and silk clothes in red, trimmed with white. Strange lights drifted around them.

  Suddenly before them the world seemed to unscroll in miniature.

  Dyrfinna saw Nauma and the Gorm arrive in King Varinn’s court on their undead dragons. She saw them sitting in the King’s chair, and a new chair alongside for Nauma.

  Then it seemed they flew at the head of a great, white, undead army across the ocean. Villages blazed and people screamed. They broke down the walls at Skala, and Dyrfinna was horrified at her city burning afresh. Nauma killed the queen with her sword. She put on Saehildr’s bloody cloak and sat in the queen’s throne.

  “No, no, this can’t be,” Dyrfinna said, but the cruel images kept rolling along. The undead army was on the march, growing bigger and bigger, and nobody able to stop them.

  “No, that’s my city,” whispered Ibn. “That’s Córdoba.” And a great building, bigger than any building that Dyrfinna had ever seen, went up in flames.

  “No! Our library! All the knowledge of mankind, of civilization—” Ibn choked.

  And the images rolled on.

  And finally they ended.

  Nauma stood there as if her breath were taken away.

  “I … want … that,” she whispered.

  “You can’t have it!” Ibn shouted.

  Nauma flung a careless hand toward Ibn. “Shut up,” she said.

  He fell over, gasping, hand at his throat.

  Dyrfinna flung herself down at his side. “No!” she cried, but he was still breathing. His tongue moved in his mouth, but no words came out.

  “I’m not going to kill you. I need all of you alive,” Nauma said, now smiling. “You’ll be our first sacrifices to raise the dragon army at last. The way it should have been done in the first place.”