He snorted and gazed down at the drakina.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “I got here, didn’t I? She’s already had a clutch so if you’ve come here because of some cursed Flight orders, then you’ve wasted your time. And likely your life.”
Four eggs, likely just laid.
Acid. Flame. Teeth to the throat. Talons to the belly. It came back like a tide.
“Who’s going to train them?”
Serkus shrugged. “Not all Remoans love Remus.”
“Let her go, Serkus,” said Rue. “She’s served you too well to end up like this.”
“She adores me,” he said and he lifted her chin, gazed into her unseeing eyes. “Always has. Some dragons are loyal to their masters.”
All the ways I could kill him.“If she adores you,” seethed Rue. “Why do you chain her?”
“In case she changes her mind. She is just a dragon, after all.”And I was so very good at it now.
“Her mistress, that Bangardian horanah, died of the plague. I found her again in Corolanus. No one wanted her. She was blind, already pregnant and ready for the Kiss of the Axe. Picked her up for five denari, took a skiff, crossed the gods-damned sea myself. I became their dragon master and saviour all at once. I live like the bloody emperor.”
He looked up at me.
“But she needs to be bred again, see. I knew she’d attract a drake or two, but Ruminor piss-in-a-pot, the Snake? That’s not what I ever imagined.”
Sticks have no imagination. Dragons, however, are unequalled. I had imagined all the ways I would kill him ever since that first day on the docks.
“Why are you here, boy?” he asked. “It’s not for Remus, certainly not for dragons. Not for nationalism or pride or duty or any shat like that. So what is it? Ruminor still got your soul?”
It was a bitter, long moment as I realized that a part of him was right. The Citadel and the Shadow Flight, the lessons and the dogged quest. Rue was noble and brave and valiant and kind, but he was also much like a dragon. He wanted what he wanted. In the back of his mind, this had been a last attempt to win back his soul.
“Let her go, Serkus,” Rue repeated. “We don’t want to kill her. We don’t even want to kill you. I don’t care about Lamos anymore. I don’t even care about Remus. Keep the eggs. Just let Summerday go.”
The no-faced man smiled. I didn’t know that was possible, given his lack of face.
“Not today,” he said.
A scream from outside, shouts of men and the roar of a dragon. I coiled back on my haunches and snarled, feeling flames scald the back of my throat. Summerday snarled too, swung her head in my direction and bared her many dagger teeth. But she was banded and chained. I could kill her in a heartbeat.
“Rue!” Galla’s voice echoed through the dragonhold. “Archers! Fly!”
Brilliant light flashed from the front of the hold and I knew that outside, Aryss was battling Lamoan guards. Inside the hold, the two soldiers hoisted their spears for a throw but I sprayed a blast of my own and they screamed as their armour melted under the heat. Serkus whirled for the doorway but Rue bolted after him, fighting to get a hold and tackling the older man to the ground. Summerday lunged but so did I, snapping my teeth across her neck and dragging her off the nest and away from the men. She bellowed and braced with her feet, scattering the nest and raking the stone with her claws. One of the eggs rolled out after her, instantly cracking as it dropped from stick to stone. Grey claws and yellow slime seeped onto the floor.
Even though she was blind, somehow she knew.
Suddenly, she dropped her shoulder and rolled, using the tension of the leg chain to pull me into her. Suddenly we were a snapping, writhing mess, slicing flanks with our claws and biting flesh with bloody teeth. Pain popped behind my eyes but I had been a Pit dragon. I knew when to use the pain to my advantage, to harness it as if from a vat of coals. She roared at me, her jaws wide, tongue curling so I pushed my face into her open mouth and called my fire.
Summerday was a fisher dragon, then a carriage dragon and finally a breeding dragon. She had worn a band all her life, likely never tasted arcstone, never blown flame or even spat acid. She could never have been prepared for the power as I breathed sizzling, raging dragonfire down her throat.
She yanked backwards, shaking her head and blinking her unseeing eyes. She didn’t know to release it and kept her jaws tightly shut as she backed away, smoke billowing from both nostril and teeth. I could see flame red burning her from within but more than that, I watched her throat expand as the flame met acid.
“No!” shouted the no-faced man. Rue had him in a choke hold against the wall. “Not my Summer, no!”
She shook her head again and again, her throat now swollen like a fat sea snake when suddenly, the silver band snapped and dragonfire burst from her mouth in a great torrent, white hot and scorching everything in its path. The straw and sticks of the nest caught easily, engulfing the remaining eggs in flames and the cavern filled with the sickly stench of burning yolk.
Guards appeared at the doorway but I rained fire across the rock. They disappeared.
The drakina retched and retched again as she tried to suck cool air into her lungs. Finally, she sank to the stone, blinking and bewildered and spent. I lumbered over to her, placed a foot on her neck, talons constricting to the point of blood. I bellowed at her to stay down.
“Don’t kill her,” the no-faced man moaned. “Please don’t kill her! She’s a good girl.”
“You’re killing her,” hissed Rue. “Give me your key so I can free her.”
More guards from another door and I roared, spraying fire at them as well. Beneath my foot, Summerday shuddered, retched again before pushing up to her feet. I let her. She shook her head, snapped her jaws and a wisp of flame rolled off her tongue.
“You’ll take her back to Remus,” said Serkus. “She’ll die there. What do you do with a blind drakina?”
“Stormfall will take her far, far away,” said Rue. “Back to the land where free dragons fish for themselves under the stars. Give me your key.”
Voices shouting in a strange language and out of the dark entrance of the hold, I could see a set of guards marching in formation towards us. I swung around, dropped my head and raised my wings in threat. They lifted bows, arrows already nocked.
“Tsirkos!” one of the soldiers shouted. “Tha échoume skotósei aftó to dráko?”
“You think they’re going to let you keep a dragon now?” hissed Rue. “After this? She’s as dead as we are unless you let me free her.”
Serkus turned his face, barked an answer in the tongue of Lamos. He tugged a pendant around his neck, passed it to Rue. It was the key. He slipped over to Summerday’s side, laid a hand on her thigh and ran it down to the chain that had puckered and torn her flesh. She snapped at his touch but with a twist and a click, the chain fell off onto the floor. Rue stepped back as, for the first time in her life, the golden drakina was free.
“Tsirkos!”
Snarling, I swung my head back to the unit. I could melt their golden plates with one breath. Could tear their heads from their bodies; puncture their throats with my dagger teeth. All the ways I could kill them.
But there was a sound behind me, a gasp and gurgle and I turned. Rue’s eyes were wide, brow furrowed as Serkus stepped back, the tip of a small blade glistening in the firelight.
“Off to Hadys with you, boy,” he hissed. “Without a soul, that’s where you go.”
My roar deafened the wind, louder than Hell Down as I watched Rue stagger and drop to his knees.
“Skótose ton!” shouted Serkus. “Kill them all!”
Arrows whipped across the narrow space, every one of them thudding into my flesh and I roared again, sweeping a rain of flame across the unit. The first row flailed to the stone but the second, another volley of arrows were loosed my way, striking face, neck and chest. My vision blurred as a bolt pierced just below my eye and I tossed my head, calling the fire agai
n but more metal barbs had punctured my throat and the flames sputtered with little effect. This, I realized, was where I would meet my father, Draco Stellorum as the second row of soldiers raised their spears.
Suddenly, a blast of brilliant light from behind turned them into silhouettes and heat struck like a wave. Lumbering in through the mouth of the hold, Aryss sprayed the unit from behind until every last man was writhing on the stone floor, skin flayed, armour melting. I could see her through the smoke and flames, riddled with arrows but golden rider still on her back.
“Rue!” Galla cried.
Serkus whirled and bolted for the nearest doorway but a blast of flames cut him off. I swung my head, blinking from the brilliant light and the arrow under my eye. To my shock, I saw Summerday, head low, wings high, tail whipping like a banner, smoke curling from her mouth.
“Now, my lovely,” said the no-faced man and he raised his hands to her. “I’ll be back, I promise. See, look what they did to your nest. To your eggs.”
She snaked forward, following the sound of his voice and cutting off his escape from the hold.
“You’re my queen, my empress, Selisanae of the Sun.”
Her trills became hisses and her head swung from side to side as she stalked him, herding him away from the door and toward me. I growled and dropped my head, summoned the fire and held it like a furnace in my jaws.
“Don’t you dare,” Serkus snapped. “You are forbidden to kill me! My dragon won’t allow it. She will kill you if you hurt me! Summerday! Show him!”
She was beautiful and proud and magnificent and wicked and everything I remembered and more, for she was a drakina and for the first time in her life, she was free.
“I raised you, Summerday! I trained you! I —”
She spewed her fire in a sudden burst, setting her master alight like a flailing torch. He screamed and staggered towards me, arms waving over his head. With great pleasure, I added my flame to hers, white hot this time. In a heartbeat, the blackened body of Master Fisher Brazza Serkus teetered and fell, shattering into kindling across the stone floor.
Of all the ways to kill him, this was the best for it was well and truly dragon.“We go now!” shouted Galla. “Rue! Get up now!”
He was sitting on his heels, face blackened, arms loose at his side. He looked up slowly, shook his head.
“No,” he said. “I’m Rue Solus. Soul-less, the soul-boy. It doesn’t matter.”
As he spoke, blood pooled up on his tongue.
“You saved the drakina!” She leapt from her dragon, rushed to his side. “That’s what we came to do. Ruminor will smile on you, I know he will.”
“I can’t walk,” he panted.
“But you can ride.”
She slipped her arm under his, lifted him to his feet.
There was noise at the mouth of the hold. Another unit preparing arrows and spears. I remembered this from the night in the Crown but I couldn’t do it with Rue on my back.
Two drakinas, two riders. They could do it if I made a way.
“Stormfall, wait!” cried Galla.
I turned away from them, spread my wings and took first one step, then another, launching myself into the dragonhold and blowing fire as I went. The soldiers shouted as arrows peppered my forehead, bounced off my horns, pierced my wingleather. Just like the night in the Crown, a spear thudded into my shoulder and sent pain stabbing up with each stroke of my wing. I was Warblood, Undefeated of the Crown but I was also Stormfall of the Citadel. I was Snake and Nightshade and Hallowdown and Nameless and free. I was everything I had ever been, every name, every place, every circumstance.
I steeled my head, stayed low to the ground, and they either scattered before me like chaff or were trampled beneath me like straw.
And suddenly, I was out into the night, soaring over the dark circle of stones. Above me, the skies flashed and roared. The wind filled my chest, stung my eyes, soothed my rage. I noticed motion on my right. It was Aryss, Galla leaning low across her neck. And on my left, Summerday, flying free for the first time in her life. On her back, my Rue.
My heart rose with my wings. We had done it. We had saved the drakina of Lamos and I had saved my wicked Summerday. Surely, my father, Draco Stellorum, would be proud of me now.
I should have known better. I should have known.
A flash of Hallow Down and a last volley of arrows whipped past my head. I heard a cry as Galla pitched forward, then back, sliding from her mount to disappear into the black sky below. Aryss arced a wing and followed.
My heart sank with her but I turned my face to the Nameless Sea and flew.
Chapter 26
SKYBORN
The storm did not abate all night and I took us beyond the First Hill of Nathens. I didn’t trust that Summerday could navigate between the statues without damaging herself or lose Rue in the violent winds. I also resisted torching the Second Hill of Nathens, along with those politicians so eager to enslave dragons in the service of their nation but my appetite for burning stick had been quite sated. I pressed eastward, following the mountains until I spied a flat plateau far below. There were no signs of habitation so I took us down as the first light of dawn stretched her fingers across the sky, pushing the flashing clouds ahead of them. Still, dawn was far away and the winds were very angry.
Summerday could fly surprisingly well without sight and she touched down immediately behind me, almost in my tracks. Rue was slumped over her neck and when he didn’t move to dismount, I must admit to a tightening in my chest. I feared he had been impaled on her spikes and spines. I crooned at him. He didn’t move. I nudged his hand with my beak. It didn’t rise to meet me. To her credit, Summerday lowered to the stone and this action alone caused Rue to slide from her shoulder, leaving a dark slick along her golden scales.
Even when his body thudded to the ground, he didn’t move.
I sat back to watch him.
There was little warmth in his body and the wind was cold. An easy explanation, so I stretched out beside him, ignoring the discomfort as the many, many arrows dug deeper into my hide. A dragon’s skin is thick, thicker than a Lamoan arrow is long, and it would take many barbs to do real damage. The one below my eye was problematic and my inner eyelid twitched and spasmed. The barbs in my throat would need to be removed as well, else I’d never throw fire as I needed.
Odd.
Thinking about myself made it easier not to think of Rue.
The paint had streaked off his dark cheeks but stayed under his eyes, across his forehead and in the cracks of his lips. His mouth was partly open so I lowered my beak, breathing the smell of blood on his tongue. The wound on his chest had ceased weeping and I laid my chin on his punctured breastplate, unaccustomed to the new and terrible weight pressing in on my own heart.
Ever since that morning in Celarus’ Landing, when Plinius had touched my mind with a voice like whispering trees, I had fought Rue’s thoughts inside my head. He had only ever been a fisher boy. He was no threat, he could never harm me, yet I had fought to stay separate from him, to stay safe. To stay my own and to keep my mind free from the invasion of the sticks. They had bought and sold my body but I had always been the sole master of my mind. I had been too proud to let him in and now, as he lay here growing cold under my head, I regretted that my pride that had denied him such a little thing.
We’re alive, he had said. That’s the best either of us could hope for.
And now he was dying. Would it have been so bad?
I nudged my face beneath his unmoving hand so that it rested on the ridge of my eye socket. I closed my lids and remembered.
I remembered life on the docks with Summerday and Skybeak, flying so fast that my eyes burned. Catching so many blood bass that my throat would stretch like a fat senator overtop the silver band. I remembered the skiff on the water, nights under the stars, song of the pipes across the waters. Cannons and fire and Serkus and then Corolanus. The day my life ended was the day it had truly begun.
> I remembered Gavius and his little ones. They had been kind to me. Tacita had drawn my portraits. Their screams had grown quiet under the flaming roof.
I remembered Towndrell, the whip of his master, the carcass on the side of the road. The most valiant, most faithful, most honourable dragon I had ever known.
I remembered Ironwing, stretched out in a net, caught like so many silverfins going to market. Elegant, strong and noble. I’m glad I never saw him die. I’m glad I burned him in a proud dragon pyre.
But most of all, I remembered Rue. Rue with the wild curly hair and big teeth, slicing lemonwhites and teaching me to fly like the wind. I remember the pipes, how music seemed more his language than words and I wondered if that was why I understood him, for dragons are creatures of music and song. Even now, when I think of Rue, I hear his songs and I sing them.
I was older now and I had lived. Rue had been right. It was the best I could have hoped for.
Summerday stretched out on Rue’s other side and my heart ached for her too. I never knew her before the Udan Shore. I never knew how she had been brought into service of such a man as Serkus, or how she had survived as a blind dragon in a vain city. Even this night, she had lost her young in the battle and yet, here she was, grieving for a boy she barely knew. She had carried him here, she who had never had a rider on her back. I was honoured to be grieving in her company.
The storm was fleeing now at the onset of the sun. Selisanae of the Sun, chasing the storm with her beauty and warmth. Life wasn’t beautiful or warm, I thought, but then again, I had known two remarkable golden drakinas in my lifetime, so perhaps in some small way, it was.
It was a very long time, then, before I felt something against my eye ridge. Something weak and feeble, but moving.
Rue’s hand.
Stormfall, he said.
I open my eyes, noticed his, round and glassy like pebbles. My heart thudded in its cage.
Stormfall, he said again, but he wasn’t speaking. His lips had not moved, the blood caked and blowing off in the wind. I have it.
Dragon of Ash & Stars: The Autobiography of a Night Dragon Page 25
