by Simon Kewin
She tried to catch Lugg's eye but he was staring into the flames, lost in his own thoughts. He had barely spoken since emerging from sleep. She understood why. He'd imagined a great army up here, and instead there were only these ragged few. What would he do? Become another like these, living out his days? Perhaps. But she caught something in his eyes as he stared at the flames. A spark. Perhaps it was just the reflection of the fire.
Later they climbed to the top of the tower. Phoenix led the way, followed by Ran, Cait, Lugg and then Nox. The ascent up the winding staircase seemed endless, and she soon lost count of the steps. Her muscles were soon burning again. There were no lights apart from the occasional small window open to the night sky, through which a faint starlight shone. The only sound was the scuffing of their feet on the stairs and their laboured breathing. It felt like they'd been climbing forever, the same few steps repeating over and over, when finally an orange light glowed from above. She heard the crackling of another fire. A few more turns, and they emerged into a wide, round room, the night air sweeping in through tall archways. The fire they'd glimpsed burned brightly from the middle of the floor.
“We like to keep it burning up here,” said Phoenix. “A beacon, even if there's no one out there to see it.”
“The smouldering fire?” said Cait.
Phoenix nodded. “Just so. Although, in fact, we were originally given the name by a witch called Fyr. A play on words, I suppose. She was one of those who unleashed the flood that swept the bridge away five hundred years ago. She found a sanctuary up here in the north, she and the few other survivors.”
“What happened to her?”
“Oh, she died of old age.”
He crossed to one of the archways. There was no wall or barrier to stop someone falling to the distant ground. Cait held back, afraid the wind would gust and hurl her into the air.
“The riders used to mount their dragons here,” said Phoenix. “Each of the great wyrms had a cave carved into the mountains, and when it was time to fly the riders summoned them with brass horns. The tradition was for the riders to run and leap into the air for their dragons to catch them.”
She thought about the number of steps they'd climbed. The yawning drop to the stony ground. “Why would they do that?”
“Because they could, I suppose,” said Phoenix. “There were many traditions like that. Then the wars came and the riders left. Some to Andar and some to the Witch King's side. But the riders who went to Andar built another tower, modelled on this one. Caer L'dun. Its tower is exactly the same height as this. Although it was built to watch over the An for the coming of the undain, not for dragons.”
Cait glanced at Ran, who was looking around at the walls and archways. He looked like a kid at Christmas. His eyes were wide and he was breathing deeply. At the phrase Caer L'dun he looked at Phoenix and nodded. She couldn't follow the words he uttered, but Phoenix translated. “He says he is glad to have finally seen Caer D'nar. The first rider to do so in five centuries. And I believe he's also the first person ever to have visited the top of both towers.”
Cait stepped a little closer to the open archway. The sky was fully dark, and a dazzling tapestry of stars shone down. She knew a few of the constellations from back home. Not that they were visible from Manchester with the orange glow of its night skies. But her dad had pointed some out to her on a long-ago holiday trip to the coast. None of these constellations were familiar. Different stars shone upon Angere and Andar. They seemed brighter, too.
“My friends,” said Phoenix, “I've asked you here so the others can't hear what I'm about to say.”
“Why?” said Nox, suspicion clear in his voice.
“I don't wish to trouble them.”
“Go on,” said Cait.
The old man paused for a moment, staring out into the deep darkness. “I only wished to say this. The Witch King leaves us alone because we are no threat. Or because we are useful to him. But with you four here that will change. He can't ignore the presence of a witch of Ilminion's line, two wyrm lords and a renegade Duke. He will come and come soon, there can be no doubt.”
He turned to face them, the red glow from the fire lighting up his face, making his features dance. “If you choose to stay here, we will fight alongside you. Fight and die. Perhaps it is time we finally did something. But we have to face the truth: if you remain here, Menhroth will come.”
“You want us to leave?” asked Nox.
Phoenix shook his head. “Truly, no. Events are moving quickly across Angere and Andar. And beyond. This is the turning point, when everything changes, for better or worse. We won't run from that. The four of you are at the centre of it. We of the Smouldering Fire will play our roles, do what we can to help. Caer D'nar is the safest place in all of Angere but in truth it is not safe at all. If Menhroth wants to grind it to dust, he will.”
“But where else is there to go?” said Cait.
“You planned to reach the An? To try and cross to Andar?”
“We did,” said Cait. It seemed pointless to hide anything from him.
“Then that is one option. The wyrm roads are open to you. You can travel anywhere within Angere.”
“Are there other options?”
He shook his head. “Stay and fight. Escape down the wyrm roads. I can see no other courses. But you have a day or two's grace, I think. And we can talk more tomorrow when you are rested. I simply wanted you to know how things stand.”
Ran and Lugg stayed at the top of the tower, staring out into the darkness together, while Cait descended with Phoenix and Nox. Back at the bottom of the tower, the old man showed them where they could sleep: simple rush mats on the floor covered with more furs. As Nox fussed around trying to make his bed comfortable, Cait touched Phoenix on the arm and drew him to one side.
“You mentioned something about the dragons, too? What did you mean?”
The old man looked troubled. “It's nothing. A wild idea, nothing more.”
“Tell me.”
Phoenix glanced around to see who was listening. He relented. “It is just an old man's foolishness. But … there is something. Something I didn't want Ran to see. Or Lugg come to that. In truth I don't know what it means.”
“What is it?”
“You wish to see now?”
“Might as well.”
“Very well,” said Phoenix. “Come with me to the crypt and I'll show you what I've found.”
12. Wyrm Lord
Cait and Phoenix walked through the shadows of a damp, dripping corridor, deep beneath the halls of Caer D'nar. They'd descended staircases lined with stone, but now they were in a rough tunnel cut through the natural rock. Phoenix carried a torch but its flame barely burned, as if there wasn't much air. Cait peered into each side-passage they passed but could hear and see nothing. The air was cold and damp on her face and smelled of earth.
“What is this place?” she asked.
His voice sounded hollow as he replied over his shoulder. “A mine, originally. This is the reason Caer D'nar stands where it does. There was a rich seam of wyrmfire here.”
“I don't know what that is.”
“Forgive me. It's sometimes called brimstone. It's what the wyrms of old consumed to give them the power to breathe fire. Tiny, precious flecks of the glittering stone can be found all over these mountains. It's why the wyrms lived here, in fact. Although extracting wyrmfire is terribly dangerous. If you're not careful it explodes in a huge fireball.”
“So how did the dragons get it?”
“Certain streams high up in the mountains carry specks of wyrmfire in their waters. But the wyrm lords offered the dragons the plentiful supply they mined, and that helped forge their relationship. With all the brimstone they needed, the wyrms were truly formidable creatures.”
Phoenix turned a corner and stopped at an arched iron doorway, brown with rust. He fished out a key from a pocket. Cait tried to sense what was through the door but got nothing. Iron seemed to block her mind's eye for some reas
on.
“What's through there?” She'd seen things like it in castles back home. Damp, dark dungeons they threw people into and then forgot about.
Phoenix seemed to be aware of her unease. “There's nothing to fear down here, Cait. Let me show you.”
He pushed the key into the lock and turned it with an effort, using both hands. The door squealed as if complaining at being disturbed. Phoenix went first. Cait closed her eyes for a moment and worked a werelight. She barely noticed the twinge of pain it cost her. She sent the flame bobbing on ahead of her before following Phoenix inside.
They stood in a low, wide room with a vaulted ceiling supported by massive round pillars. The walls were cut stones once again: massive square blocks that must have weighed tons. And all around the floor, in great piles, were bones. Mountains of bones. But, she saw immediately, not human bones. Many were vast, like the remains of dinosaurs from some museum, but all cluttered together in random piles.
“Dragon bones?” she said.
“Dragon bones,” said Phoenix. “People say the wyrms flew away when the riders abandoned them, headed north into the distant peaks never to return. And perhaps that did happen to some. But the truth is most of the creatures ended up here.”
“I don't get it,” said Cait. Some of the bones were as big as tree-trunks. And some, she saw, had been neatly cut into sections by saw or knife. “What happened here? Who would do this?”
“The undain. Who else? You've heard how the dragons fled in horror from their former riders. The truth is the riders – or the things they'd become – wanted them back. But no dragon would let an undain ride them. So instead the undain fought and slaughtered the riderless beasts one by one in a series of terrible battles.
“Why?”
“So they could resurrect them. So they could use necromancy to fashion the wyrms' remains into revenant dragons bound to the undains' will.”
“You mean like that creature Fer said flew across the An?”
“Something like that. And you've seen the Bone Harvesters, too, although they're poor imitations. But perhaps after all this time the Witch King has worked out how to perform the necessary rites. Or perhaps he simply accumulated enough Spirit to force it to work.”
“It's hideous,” said Cait. The room reeked of an ancient decay. Her stomach writhed. “There must be hundreds of them down here.”
“Many hundreds, yes. But it was all such a long time ago. Eventually the undain stopped coming and in truth, we thought they'd given up trying to fashion dragons of their own centuries ago. Our predecessors spent many years gathering up the ancient bones scattered around the plains and mountains to bring them here. They could think of little else to do. I've often thought we should try to match them up, reform the skeletons of individuals. But where would you start?”
Cait stepped forward, weaving her way between the mounds that towered over her. She was glad Ran wasn't there to see this. Ran or Lugg. She tried to imagine what it would have been like to see the dragons in flight. Glorious, just as Lugg had said. And now they were here, long-dead, ancient remains jumbled up in these piles.
She turned back to Phoenix, who still stood by the door. Her voice boomed as she spoke. “But there's more, isn't there? You didn't bring me just to show me this.”
He stepped toward her, stopping to pick up one of the smaller bones as he did so. It was thin and twig-like, from a wing, perhaps. “I come down here sometimes, you see. To look at the bones. It seems wrong to leave them in the dark. I like to imagine the creatures still flying, up there in the sky where they belong. Does that make sense?”
“Yes. It does.”
“The thing is, sometimes, I get a flash of something when I touch the bones. A vision.”
“A vision of what?”
“I don't know. It's a bit like when I see through the eyes of another witch. Except, it's not really like that. When a normal vision comes to me through the aether I know what sort of mind I'm contacting. It's vague and sometimes confusing, but I have some idea who, or at least what, I'm in touch with. This … this is different. I catch a glimpse of something … huge. Huge and terrible. And not at all human. And I have no name for the person, the being, I'm in touch with.”
“You think it's the Witch King?”
“Perhaps. Except it doesn't feel like any of the undain. There isn't that gaping absence. This is something alive, something very alive. There is rage there, a burning rage, and I wondered…”
“You wondered if it was a dragon?”
Phoenix looked directly into her eyes and nodded. “It's wishful thinking, I know. But there are all the old stories, you see. Tales of how the really ancient wyrms lived in the far north and never came to Angere, never met their end at the hands of the undain. I thought that perhaps they might still be there. I thought, maybe, it was one of those minds I was touching.”
He held out the bone for Cait to take. “And then it occurred to me you might be able to sense something, too, if you touched one of the relics. I know you're new to all this, but you're far beyond me already in what you can do. Look how easily you worked that light. Something like that would defeat me completely.”
Cait hesitated, then took the bone. It felt dry and dead, like stone, although it was surprisingly light. She closed her eyes and, not really knowing what she was doing, tried to seek for the presence Phoenix had described.
She stood for long moments, eyes closed, peering into the darkness. She was aware of Bethany stirring and joining in, offering her strength to the search. Between them they scoured the shadows.
She opened her eyes. Phoenix was watching her expectantly. “Anything? Did you feel it?”
She shook her head. “I'm sorry. No. There was nothing.”
Phoenix nodded, as if this confirmed all his fears. “Ah, well. Just an old man's foolishness then. Now we know, at least.”
He took the bone from her and, carefully, as if returning it to its correct position, laid it down on the floor. “Well. There we are. Now you know all my secrets. Let's go back up. Perhaps in the morning everything will make more sense and we can decide what is to be done.”
They locked the iron door behind them and left the ancient bones to their darkness.
The following morning, Cait toiled her way back up the stairs to the top of the tower. She'd slept late, lost in dreams she couldn't recall. Her head felt like it was still full of fog but at least it didn't hurt so much to walk. Bread had been laid out for her, along with a simmering kettle of some tea-like drink. She ate in silence, enjoying the moment of peace and solitude.
Nox was already at the top of the tower when she arrived, studying huge maps unrolled on the floor. The fire was grey ash, a faint coil of smoke coming off it. Three people stood by one of the archways, hauling up something heavy with a rope running over a rusted winch. Phoenix was one of them. He nodded a welcome at Cait. They were lifting up logs for that evening's fire.
Through the arch it was a bright, clear day, the sun already high in the sky. Cait made her way around the circle, well away from the edge, taking in the view. She could see for miles.
To the south, the plain of Angere stretched into a hazy distance. The sparkling ribbon of the river – the Dragon's Tongue she supposed – was quite clear. To the east and west were the wooded slopes of the foothills. Northward lay the mass of towering peaks, their flanks purple and their sharp tops white with snow.
She crept a little nearer the openings than she had the night before. The icy wind streaming into her face was exhilarating. The ground seemed so remote it felt like she was flying.
She knelt on the ground beside Nox.
“Awake at last are we?” he said.
“Yes. Well spotted. What are these maps?”
“They're the riders' ancient maps of the wyrm roads.”
“They've survived?”
“Drawn onto dragonskin, apparently. Very hard wearing.”
“Lovely. Can you read them?” The maps were yellowed
and cracked from age, their ink faded.
“This is obviously the An,” said Nox, indicating a blue strip filling the right-hand edge of the map. “And up here, this tower is clearly Caer D'nar. Other towns and fortresses are marked, but they're places I don't recognize.”
“Where's the White City?”
“I think it's here. I don't think there was even a town there in those days, but the bridge is clear.”
“The bridge to Andar?”
“This map was obviously drawn before it was swept away. The Witch King founded his city near the bridgehead.”
“And these long lines zigzagging across the map? They're the wyrm roads?”
“I think so. See here, this must be the one we took. You can see the point where five of them meet.”
Cait bent down, tracing the fading lines with her fingers. Dragons had been drawn onto the map, flying along each wyrm road, red, green, blue and gold. It was like looking at a map of the tram network back home. They could get to the White City by taking the road to Fiveways, and then another of the archways across to the An. One change. It looked easy. There was writing along each line, too, but the letters were faded and the script completely unfamiliar. She really wished she could decipher it. For all she knew it was saying not to take that particular road under any circumstances.
“Do you think they have a map like this? The undain?”
“I never saw one. But I think we have to assume they do.”
“And did you see any kind of archway in the White City? Something that might have been the end of this wyrm road?”
Nox considered then shook his head. “Never, no. But the place is vast and I didn't see it all. I saw the portal through to the refinery often, of course. That was sort of an archway. But never anything like those stone ones. I don't suppose they'd go out of their way to look after it.”
“So maybe they won't know about it? Maybe it won't be guarded.”
“That seems pretty unlikely, Cait. I'll bet Charis has them all watched.”
“Actually, he may not,” said Phoenix, coming over to study the map as well. He was sweating from the exertion of hauling up the logs, wiping his brow on an old red rag.
