Dragon of Ash & Stars: The Autobiography of a Night Dragon

by H. Leighton Dickson

  At one point that night, Rue lowered the pipes.

  “There’s going to be a war soon,” he said quietly. “Serkus said that Lamos is trying to steal our dragons. He said we should not go out too far and to pray that Ruminor will keep us safe when we go.”

  I had heard the name Ruminor before. A god, I presumed, a spirit who ruled the skies and taken the moons as sister-wives. I was learning much from my time with the sticks.

  “I won’t pray,” said Rue. “It’s Ruminor’s fault if there’s a war. He made the world for his sons but gave dragons to one and not the other. That’s a terrible thing to do. We shouldn’t have to pay the price if war comes to Remus. Ruminor was a bad father.”

  He paused, searching his thoughts. He was a quiet boy, not given to many words. This was the only time he talked, when we were alone on the ocean at night. I think the water made him feel safe and the stars made him free.

  Sometimes, it was so quiet that I could hear his thoughts.

  “Not that I know about fathers,” he muttered. “Mine sold me when I was born.”

  He shrugged.

  “Doesn’t matter really. I have shelter, I have work. And I have my own dragon. That’s better than a father.”

  He ran a hand along the crest of my skull, the warm nubs where my horns would grow. He raised his dark head to stare at the sky and sighed.

  “I don’t believe the old stories about Ruminor and his sons, anyway. They’re just old myths and rules. Don’t tell Serkus. He’d have me whipped, even though he doesn’t believe them either.”

  I couldn’t tell the hard-faced man. I wouldn’t even think his name. Names were, and still are, profound things.

  He’d stopped patting me. I pushed my head into his hand so he resumed.

  “I do believe in dragons, though,” he smiled. “Dragons are beautiful and proud and strong and clever. Sometimes I wish I had been born a dragon.”

  I loved these nights on the water. I loved his hand on my neck, the sound of his words. Like waves on the ocean. With his music and his love of the sea, I often wondered if Rue was part dragon.

  “I’ve been learning about dragons. Well, mostly about Selisanae of the Sun. Every morning, she rises from the ocean to chase Ruminor’s wives from the sky. She reminds me of Summerday sometimes.”

  Summerday. I could easily believe she was daughter to the sun. Just the mention of her name made me sit a little prouder, arch my neck so my spines stood out.

  Vanity, thy name is dragon.

  “She was one of the First Dragons, Selisanae was. Serkus calls them the Veternum. Selisanae, Nerisanae, Stellorus and Anquarus.”

  The last two struck a familiar chord. My father and my home. Odd how the words were so similar. Maybe Rue was part dragon after all.

  “I believe in the Veternum,” he continued. “But Ruminor?”

  He grunted.

  “I don’t believe in him because I don’t have a soul. If he gave it back, then maybe I’d believe but he doesn’t, so it’s his own fault.”

  Rue often talked about souls. I didn’t know what they were but apparently he didn’t have one. His father had sold it to that Ruminor before selling him to Serkus. It was complicated and beyond my dragon reason. I knew about fish, however. I snapped my beak. He passed me a slice of lemonwhite.

  “Soul-boys – that’s what they call us.” He sighed again. “Soul-boys, because we don’t have a soul. Doesn’t matter. I don’t need it anyway. I have you and you have soul enough for me.”

  I would give Rue a soul if I knew where to find one. All a dragon needed was water, sky, flame and fish.

  “I’ll be free soon though and Serkus will make Ruminor release my soul. Only two more seasons. I’ll have to pay Serkus for you so I might have to work another season, but I’ll do it. I’ll take you with me, Stormfall. I promise you that. When I’m free, you will be too. I may not end up with my soul but at least I’ll have my dragon.”

  Freedom sounded good. Lemonwhites sounded better.

  “Can you imagine where we could go on our own?” he asked, passing me another strip. “To Capua or to the Etreni Salts or maybe even all the way down to Terra Remus. I could buy my own skiff and we could live on the beaches and neither of us would have to work for anyone ever again. I don’t need a soul to be happy. I think all I need is a dragon.”

  All I needed was fish. I snapped my beak again.

  He grinned and fed me another.

  We sat longer, rising and falling on the water and eating lemonwhites. By right, they belonged to the hard-faced man, as did Rue and I and all the fish we caught. In spite of this, I would have happily eaten them all but at one point I realized there was a sound on the water.

  I lifted my head, gazed around in the darkness.

  “Stormfall,” Rue asked. “What do you hear?”

  He reached for a lantern, but paused.

  The creak of wood, the splash of oars, the rush of waters, the flap of canvas in the faint breeze.

  I spread my wings but he scrabbled forward, wrapping me in his arms and pulling me into his chest. He closed my beak with one hand.

  “Hush,” he hissed. “A ship…”

  I blinked, not understanding. I didn’t fight him, though. It was Rue and he was my stick. The rush of waters grew louder, became a roar. I darted my eyes across the expanse, looking for a sign. There was black and there was blackness. I could feel the air moving forward, pushed by an unseen force.

  There. I spied it just to the east of us - a flash of rigging in the starlight. It was almost on top of us and I struggled now, flailing against Rue’s arms. He released me, hauling back on his oar and turning the prow just as a massive vessel swept across our path. I launched into the starry sky, flapping just above the water and hoping I was invisible because of my night-black scales.

  Three vessels with billowing striped canvas sails and ten oars per side, row upon row. The prows were curved inward with large painted eyes that watched me as they surged past. On the decks, men pushed large iron objects and there was an odour that brought back early fledgling memories of arcstone.

  One of the shipsmen shouted, pointed at me as I swept too close. It was a language different from Rue’s and I flew higher until I was out of sight. From the sky, I could see Rue’s tiny boat bobbing in the wake of the three great vessels so I waited until he was far behind before swooping down to my perch on the skiff.

  “Lamoan warships!” gasped Rue and he lunged forward, snapping my harness to a pull-ring at the prow. “We have to warn the village! Maybe we can beat them to the shores! Fly, Stormfall! Fly!”

  He threw me into the air and I whirled above the skiff, feeling the harness snap taut against my chest. I heard his oars splash and I threw all my strength against the leathers as together, dragon and boy set the small boat racing across the waters toward the village. But two oars are no match for forty, and one small dragon no match for wind-catching sails. They easily out-paced us, leaving us battling their white-capped wake as we struggled to keep up.

  In the distance, I saw a flash like Hallow Fire, followed by a boom like Hell Down and behind me in the skiff, Rue let out a strangled cry. I flapped harder, feeling the strain in my wings and the chafe of the leather against my chest. Another flash, another boom and fire began to glow across the horizon. Posts and beams, docks and huts, we watched the structures of the village catch and blaze. Soon, Rue leaned back on the oars, dragging us until we slowed.

  “Stormfall,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and cracking. “Stormfall, come back.”

  I did, grateful for the rest, and I lit on his knee, eyes still fixed to the burning village very far away. He dropped his hand on my head, silent and still. From our vantage, we could see silhouettes of buildings blazing with flame, timbers crackling and splitting, roofs crashing down on the living things within. Most disturbing were the shadowy figures, blazing as they leapt into the water. Plumes of steam rose as the waves sizzled and smoked.

  This was stick fi
re and I was stunned at how deadly it was. Another flash, another boom, another explosion in the village. And so we sat for a long time, rocking on the waves, our faces made hot by the distant flames, our backs cold from night on the water. As the village burned, we could see men from the ships running from hut to hut, could hear laughter and screaming in equal measure. I thought I heard the shriek of a young dragon and I feared for Skybeak and Summerday. There were other fishing dragons in the village, so I convinced myself it was one of them.

  Another sound now, coming from the night behind us and I sat up, looked to the sky. Rue said nothing. I’m not certain he even noticed. I chirruped loudly and unfurled my wings. Rue looked up and gasped.

  Whommpf, whommpf, whoompf, steady and low and strong, a Dragon Flight swept like an arrow across the stars above us, a great silver drake at the tip. I could see the intricate harness, saddle and leathers that kept the riders in place and my heart threatened to burst at the sight of them. They continued on over us and I knew tonight there would be a battle that I would be both honoured and horrified to witness.

  As they arced down over the ships, seven dragons unleashed their fire and the sails erupted in flame. There was chaos on deck as the great iron objects spun, flashing and booming in the night sky. One, a stone-gray drake, went spiralling down and I could see his rider leap from the saddle as they hit the water. The drake bellowed, thrashing as arrows pelted the waves. The rider cried out under the deadly hail before he disappeared beneath the hull of the ship. The last I saw of the dragon was the tip of his tail as he too slipped into the black.

  Rue had a grip on my own harness but I strained against him, twisting and snapping, until he finally unhooked the rope. Released, I was instantly airborne and beating my wings madly to catch up with the Flight.

  Another flash and boom and I ducked, the heat searing my second lids as a great iron ball tore past me to shatter the wing of a golden drake behind me. He spun as he went down, hitting the waters hard, the spray cooling me as I swept through. His rider did not leap and both were met with a volley of arrows, turning the whitecaps red before they slipped under the seething waves.

  Above us, the dragons circled, spraying fire and as I neared, the heat was worse than even the hottest day on the Anquar Cliffs. The sounds from the battle were deafening– the booming of black iron, the roar of the fires and the shouting of the sticks. Another blast of cannonfire, another volley of arrows. Five dragons raining death down on the flaming warships, and me, a little night-black dragon in the middle of it all.

  I saw the silver drake land on the top deck of the lead vessel, setting everything alight with his breath as he swung his great head. Two sticks spun a cannon, taking aim at him from the deck below. I barked a warning but the battle roared louder so I tucked my wings and dove like a spear.

  The first stick screamed as my talons raked across his face and I wheeled, disappearing with a flick of my tail into the night. Fragile, I marvelled. His skin tore like lemonwhites under my claws. The second stick cranked the iron, so I dropped onto his head, striking at his eye and piercing the pulpy flesh with my dagger-sharp juvenile beak. A string of slime and ooze trailed when I pulled it out and I shook my head, sent it sailing across the deck. The man howled and dropped to his knees but I was gone; a wraith of ash and stars and cool night air.

  Before I knew it, the great silver drake was in the air beside me. His head was larger than my entire body, his one wing-beat to my ten. I knew he saw me, for his wide pupil constricted, but his rider yanked on the rein and he banked hard, circling to rain fire once again across the foremast of the ship. It pitched forward, crashing onto a set of barrels and black powder spilled across the deck. Suddenly, there was a great flash of light and I tumbled through the air, a boom cracking the night like Hell Down. I caught the hot wind and soared upwards, watching as the hull split in two under the flames. Slowly, both halves pitched forward and followed the drakes down to the depths.

  The remaining ships began to pull away from the docks, abandoning any men to the fire, the boiling water and the enemy, but the Dragon Flight was relentless. Their flames scorched the ships over and over until both vessels groaned and shuddered, tipping stern over prow and sliding into the dark water. The Flight then swept the seas, torching any men left bobbing in the waters. It was as bright as midday, but the light was that of the burning docks and the flaming timbers and the golden reflection of it all on the surface of the sea.

  I hovered for a long moment, watched the Flight leave the wreckage and wing their way towards the village. In my heart of hearts, I longed to follow but I was too young and far too small. But they had captured my imagination – dragon and stick flying as one, our fire harnessed without a single silver band to be seen. Perhaps the most powerful, most noble dance in the history of the world and I had shared in its steps, small as they may have been.

  With a flick of my tail, I wheeled in the air and returned to the skiff, lowering myself silently onto the prow.

  Rue sat, eyes empty, watching the glowing city as we rocked on the waters. I snapped my beak at him, hoping for a reward. He did nothing. I hopped over to perch next to him, snapped again. Nothing. I had done well tonight. I had assisted in a battle. I deserved a reward, praise, a stroke on the head.

  Nothing.

  His silence was confounding.

  Finally, after several hours of sitting in the boat, bobbing up and down on the surface of the water, he reached for the oars to take us home.

  ***

  There was little left of the docks that morning and our fishing hut had burned to the ground. Bodies lay fallen among charred wood, arms and legs twisted at awkward angles, smoking like coals. These sticks died in contorted positions, and I realized it was the same as with dragons. When we die, our spines constrict and our heads twist over our backs. I couldn’t imagine the manner of pain produced by immolation. Some things are too terrible for the imagination of dragons.

  I perched on Rue’s shoulder as he wandered through the remains. I wasn’t certain what he was looking for, but he was my stick. He needed me and I was proud to be needed. When I think back on it, I realize that I was bound to him in ways that had nothing to do with the silver band at my throat.

  Other villagers wandered across the docks, some gathering usable items, some looking for loved ones, all wailing in despair. The docks were the only part of the village that I had known, but Venitus was a large center and city people floated by on their dorries and skiffs to glimpse the destruction. They were lucky that the pirates did not get further into the city but then again, they were lucky only because of the Dragon Flight.

  “Boy!” came a voice and Rue turned to see a man in silver armour crunching through the debris toward us. I recognized him as the rider of the silver drake and I spread my wings at the sight of him. I’m not sure why. Perhaps to make myself look bigger and therefore more impressive. Perhaps as a threat to keep him away from my stick. I don’t know. It had been a long night and I was tired.

  “Ruminor smiles on us,” said the man in greeting.

  “Ruminor smiles,” said Rue, bowing swiftly. “How may I serve?”

  “Your dragon, may I see him?”

  Rue glanced at me then back at the rider.

  “Why?”

  “Your dragon saved my life last night, and that of my drake, Ironwing.”

  Rue glanced at me again before gathering the hemp rope and passing me over to the rider. I hissed angrily but perched on the man’s gloved wrist. I was big but he was strong.

  “What have you named him?”

  “Stormfall, Master Rider.”

  “Interesting name.”

  “Yes, Master Rider. He blew in on a storm. With his colouring, it seemed to fit.”

  The rider checked my teeth, examined my spines, the stumps where horns would crown my skull as I aged. I hissed again but it was a vain protest. This man was skilled in the way of dragons.

  “Taken from wild, then?”

 
“Yes, Master Rider,” said Rue. “I caught him for my Fishing Master.”

  “And you trained him yourself?”

  “I did, Master Rider. He’s a very good fishing drake.”

  “Hmm.” He passed me back and I hopped to Rue’s shoulder, home. “His colouring is advantageous. Gods-damned Lamoans never saw him coming.”

  “The fish don’t see him either,” said Rue. “That’s why we go at night.”

  “My name is Cassien Cirrus, First Wing of the Eastern Quarter Dragoneers,” said the man. “When he’s older, bring him to the Citadel. We could use a night dragon like him.”

  “A night dragon…” repeated Rue, tasting the words on his tongue.

  The stick reached into his armour and produced a coin. He placed it in Rue’s hand.

  “A pass into the Citadel. Bring it with you when you come.”

  He turned to leave.

  “But what about me?” called Rue. “What will I do without my dragon?”

  The man shrugged.

  “Perhaps we could use a young dragon like you too.”

  He flashed his teeth and left us to approach a gathering of city officials down the docks. In the distance I spied a gleam of silver as the great drake cleaned his scales on the sand.

  Rue studied the coin in his hand before slipping it into his pocket and I folded my wings across my back. I was hungry and too tired for imaginings. I longed for my wooden cage where I would fall asleep under the trills of Summerday.

  I wondered if I would dream, and if so, I hoped it would be of the Flight.

  Suddenly, the world pitched beneath me and I tumbled forward to the dock, a crack like Hell Down ringing through my ears. Rue staggered and went down as well as the switch of Fishing Master Serkus rained blow after blow upon his head and shoulders. I screeched and sprang from the dock, wings beating against his chest, claws extended. I would rake out his eyes like I had on the ship.