Seraph of Sorrow

by MaryJanice Davidson

  “There are,” Glory said flipping her sword easily over one age-spotted hand, “an awful lot of creatures that need killing on this bridge tonight. You may have to wait in line.”

  “I see you’re alone. That was a bad choice. Unless,” Winona added with a glare at Jonathan and Jennifer Scales, “these two are foolish enough to get in the way of the Blaze.”

  To Winona’s complete lack of surprise, it was the girl who opened her mouth first. “Eldest. Maybe you could consider—hey, I can’t be the only one who thinks this could be terrific luck for everyone, can I? This could be a chance to talk things out! That’s what you hired me to do. We’ve got dragons here, and beaststalkers here, and even a couple of—”

  “Please don’t tell me this is all your doing!” Winona spat this at Jonathan, whose silver eyes couldn’t hold her own. “Don’t tell me this is some ploy to hammer out a pathetic peace treaty! I will never have peace with her!”

  In silent agreement, Glory bowed deeply, sword swept out to one side.

  “So, what—you gave me this ring as a joke?” Jennifer held up her finger sparkling with the Ring of Seraphina, and Winona gnashed her teeth at how ill-advised that gift had been. “Or have you just gotten terminally stupid since then?”

  “Jennifer, show respect,” her father said in a low voice.

  Winona flashed him a look of disdain. “Jennifer Scales, I no longer require your diplomatic services. I hereby revoke your ambassadorship and demand you surrender that ring.”

  The young dragon’s claw closed in a fist. “Come and get it.”

  “Do not try me, Ms. Scales. This is not a high school sporting event. People will die tonight. You need not be the first.”

  “You will not harm her” came the cold voice of Glory Seabright. “This girl is a daughter of this town, under my protection. You will come through me, worm, before—”

  “Hey, Mayor, I’m a big girl. I don’t need or want your—”

  The bridge nearly exploded in a din of roars and shudders. The dragons roosting above had heard Glory’s challenge, and Winona knew what they wanted.

  “You and me, then, old murderess.”

  “You and me, old monster.”

  They advanced upon each other, until Jennifer Scales interposed herself between them, facing Glory. To Winona’s dismay, she wasn’t the only interfering teenaged brat. Catherine was also there, right next to Jennifer, facing Winona. “Grammie, please! You can’t!”

  “I thought you were staying in Crescent Valley,” Winona hissed slowly. She was furious at this girl—for trailing the assault like a spy, for putting herself in horrible danger, for daring to defy her grandmother before the Blaze and its enemies. Why, why, why hadn’t she left someone behind to guard Catherine? Nine someones, preferably?

  She overheard Jennifer trying to convince Glory Seabright to stand down, but the best result Winona could give the girl credit for was that the mayor was not moving. Her blade was down and out of sight, which meant nothing.

  Catherine raised her voice so everyone on the bridge could hear. “You have to stop this! All of you! This isn’t right!”

  The bellows from the dragons above died down. Glory’s white eyes shifted to take in this green-scaled newcomer who so resembled the Eldest. Even Jennifer Scales paused to turn and look at her friend—with pride, Winona noticed with a bit of her own.

  “My grandmother is a great woman, but she’s been hurt by Mayor Seabright, and by Jennifer’s mom and dad. She’s been hurt a little by Jennifer and me, too. She should talk about it. Those who’ve hurt her—we should answer for what we’ve done. We should try to make amends, best we can. We should swear never to hurt each other like this, and we should find ways to live together so we can see how real, fragile, and human the other side is.”

  “Catherine, those are wise words, but—”

  “No, Grammie, I have to say this! I have to do this! Jennifer can’t be the only one! If her message of peace is going to last, others have to pick up some of the burden! I know you’ve carried your share. You can’t let it down now! You can’t let me down. That goes for all of you.” She raised her voice and eyes to the other dragons. “You can’t let me and Jennifer down! Whatever has happened to you, you owe it to the next generation to find a way to stop this. In return, we’ll owe it to you to remember you forever. You’ll be the generation to break the cycle. The first to know better. The first to do better. Isn’t that a legacy worth leaving?”

  Through the sounds of dissipating rage and the confused murmurs from above, through the warmth she felt in her heart for her granddaughter’s powerful words and unabashed courage, the chill deep within Winona would not thaw. In fact, the ice was hardening in the pit of her stomach at what she finally recognized in the mayor’s expression. The mayor wasn’t watching or listening to Catherine. She wasn’t assessing the influence Catherine had over others. She was measuring her, like a cut of meat.

  Those frigid, horrifying white eyes slipped over for a split second—long enough to make sure the Eldest was watching—and then, before Winona could react, the mayor was surging forward, Jennifer Scales was pushed aside, and the mayor’s blade was high, point down.

  “No, Catherine, no, no!”

  The young trampler did not turn in time. The blade came down artfully, piercing the scales at the base of the neck, sliding alongside the vertebrae, slicing into the spinal cord, and shredding bundles of nerves as her granddaughter screamed in shock and pain.

  Winona clamped her wing claws over her ears, collapsing to the ground as Catherine did. She couldn’t help it. The sound was so like her mother’s, from so long ago.

  “Glory!” The voice of Jonathan Scales, barely audible to Winona, was full of alarm and rage. “What is the matter with you!? She’s a child!”

  As if in agreement, a black shaft suddenly appeared in the mayor’s right shoulder, and the old woman grunted. Leaving her right hand on the still-buried weapon, she reached up with her left hand and broke the arrow, leaving the shaft in and searching the surrounding gloom.

  “Libby! Either hit someone useful, or stay out of this.”

  A bloody rage swept over Winona’s eyes, tinting everything. The smell of blood—her granddaughter’s blood—filled her nostrils. As the gasps and cries from other dragons around her faded, Winona became acutely aware of every sound and movement Glory Seabright made—the ting of the blade as it withdrew from Catherine’s spine, her bootsteps on the pavement as she walked toward Winona expectantly, even the sigh that passed from the strange curve of her lips. Was it relief? Pain? Contentment? Expectation?

  Winona did not care. All thought was gone. Her muscles unwound, and she sprang.

  Her speed plainly surprised her target, whose white eyes widened. Winona was mere inches away when something hit her from behind, bringing her to the asphalt. Rolling out of the tackle and keeping clear of Glory, she turned to see Jennifer Scales, at last in true dragon form.

  “How dare you,” she hissed. “How dare you! She’s hobbled—”

  “Then give me a chance to heal her,” Jennifer pleaded, getting to her hind legs. The girl’s wings ended in long talons, and her sharp double tail twitched. “Let me find a way—”

  She was interrupted by the attack of Glory Seabright, who swung her blade down at Jennifer’s left wing. The Ancient Furnace anticipated the attack and slid out of the way, stomping the ground and leaving a dozen black mambas in her wake. The serpents struck at the mayor’s legs, but the woman did not seem to care. Hacking at those who bit her, and kicking the rest away, Glory advanced on Jennifer.

  Deep in her mind, Winona knew what this woman was doing. Attacking Catherine, attacking Jennifer—it was all meant to provoke a fight, to prevent peace. Glory Seabright was not saying a single word, nothing at all that could provoke a counterpoint or serve any discussion of any sort. Only her blade was talking.

  Winona didn’t care that she was being goaded. After all, hadn’t she come here for a fight? Hadn’t
she dragged the Blaze here for a fight? So she aimed and swung around with her tail, catching Glory in the back. Not as deadly as a dasher’s tail would have been, but it was still as heavy as a lead pipe. The beaststalker gave an oomph and staggered forward, and Winona was certain she heard the crack of a rib.

  Then the blade was swinging at her. She couldn’t move out of the way in time, and soon her right wing was broken and bleeding. Tottering on uneasy legs, she could only watch as the point of the sword drew back and prepared a killing stroke.

  Before it could reach her, it was blocked by Jennifer Scales—this time in human form, holding two daggers and catching Glory’s sword in an X block. The daggers spun, and the sword went flying. Nice to see her on the right side. Winona surged. Unfortunately, the brat chose that point to turn, kiss her blades, and blast Winona in the face with a scream full of bright light.

  This was the closest Winona had ever been to a beaststalker shout. And she wasn’t the only one; she could hear the groans of pain from others on the bridge. It was a horrific trial, and she thought she might lose consciousness. The thought of a worse sound—that of Catherine Brandfire, screaming like her great-grandmother—steeled her resolve. Putting her scaled shoulder down, she drove forward and knocked Jennifer to the pavement.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she asked the girl, as the latter grunted at the impact. “She wants to kill both of us!”

  “And I want to save both of you.”

  “Useless sentiment!”

  “I can save Catherine, too, if—Sword!”

  The word was barely out of Jennifer’s mouth before Winona saw Glory’s blade, back in its owner’s hand, swinging. Rolling off Jennifer, she spat. This is impossible. I need help.

  A fissure opened where her right hind leg slammed the asphalt. Out slithered the red coils of Tasa. She did not need to say a word; he immediately charged Mayor Seabright.

  He was blown back by a clap of thunder. Glory had pierced the bridge with her weapon, summoning forth a creature Winona had never seen before. She had barely taken in its massive, cobalt wingspan when it brought its wings together, sending a shock wave across the bridge. As she fell onto her back with Tasa on top of her, Winona saw lightning flash from the giant bird’s eyes. Its beak opened, two scythes of bone, and snapped shut a few feet from the dragons. The slicing sound was like the fall of a guillotine.

  “If it has wings,” Glory ordered her creation, “kill it.”

  “I’ll handle the bird,” Tasa shouted at Winona. “You handle her!”

  “And who’ll handle her?”

  Before Tasa could answer, the tall and lithe figure of Jennifer Scales leapt over the bird. She landed in front of Glory and began to swing—not with the blades of her daggers, but the hilts. Trying to knock her out, instead of killing her, Winona guessed. That’s not good enough.

  Glory was blocking Jennifer’s strikes, efficiently but not without effort. With every parry, the mayor’s white eyes took in the girl’s form and poise, searching for weaknesses. If there were any, Winona could not see them. She’s been trained by the best beaststalkers Winoka has to offer! And this is what some dragons would have replace you!

  She let out a hiss of flame, which swept under the bird and Tasa and washed over the ankles of Glory and Jennifer. Glory ignored the heat altogether, while Jennifer had to shift into dragon form to avoid a burn. The Furnace glowered at Winona as she swung tail and wings at the mayor. Once the flames petered out, the blonde girl with daggers was back.

  The fight raged on. Glory would swing a blade at one of the dragons, one of the dragons would push the blow down with a wing and swing a tail at the other, the other dragon would jump over the tail and try to tackle Glory. Sometimes Jennifer was a dragon rushing through the air; sometimes she was a beaststalker dancing up the steel rail of the bridge. Above them, Tasa wrapped himself around the giant bird, while thunder and lightning cracked the sky.

  The rest of the Blaze stood by, perched on the beams of the bridge’s arch like reptilian eagles. None of them appeared certain what to do. In a battle between their Eldest, the Ancient Furnace, and their greatest enemy, what to do? Even Jonathan Scales had taken a few steps back, and his hidden wife had not shot any more arrows. Were they confident in their daughter? Afraid of hurting her? Winona welcomed their indecision; the fray was crowded enough.

  She got close enough to Jennifer to push the girl aside with her bulk. This gave her an instant to lash at Glory with massive jaws. The mayor winced at the tooth that grazed her arm, but recovered in time to slash her enemy across the scaled cheek. Winona did not mind the cut. It was shallow, and a dragon’s skull could take far more punishment than that. It bothered her far more that Jennifer kept inserting herself into the middle of this fight.

  “Eldest, stand down!”

  “I don’t take orders from children.” Winona dodged another strike from Glory.

  “Mayor, stand down!”

  Glory did not grace Jennifer with a reply. Winona could see the mayor was not attacking the girl with the same force that she attacked Winona. Like the battle between Ancient Furnace and Eldest, the battle between beaststalkers seemed more about dominance than death.

  Between Winona and Glory, it was a different matter. The mayor’s blade slid through Winona’s defenses and struck her between two lower ribs. This caused her to grunt, though she couldn’t say it hurt that much. Reaching down with one wing claw to cover the mayor’s hand on the hilt, she reached up with the other claw, grabbed some of that shining white hair, and slammed her thick reptilian skull into her enemy’s forehead.

  That’s for Ma.

  Then she put all her weight down upon hand and hilt, until she heard a crack in the aging wrist. A hiss of pain escaped the mayor, who let go of her blade.

  That’s for Forrester.

  With the sword still sticking out of her side, Winona pivoted on one hind leg and brought her tail around. Glory was focused on her broken wrist and did not see it coming. The blow struck the torso, knocking the mayor off her legs and sprawling her against the bridge railing.

  “Eldest, no!”

  Winona pushed Jennifer aside, her limbs full of strength and hate. Victory was too close. She heard the buzzing above, as the Blaze watched the tide turn her way. If I kill her here, a corner of her mind thought, maybe it can be over. Maybe we don’t have to burn the town down.

  To hell with that, the rest of her mind answered. She dies, and we burn the town down anyway. A new Pinegrove will rise from the ashes. She opened her jaws and stomped toward where the mayor slouched against the railing.

  That was when everything went very wrong, very suddenly. The nighttime sky beyond the strange barrier quivered. The steel girders overhead groaned like ghosts, and the railing behind the mayor began to melt. Winona stopped and steeled her hind legs. Sorcery. Werachnids!

  She turned to look for them and was astounded by the scene around her. While there was nothing on eight legs as far as she could see, there was plenty else to take in. Molten steel was dripping off the girders, forming puddles of magma. The Blaze above chattered like lemurs as they grew hair over their bodies, and her paralyzed granddaughter curled into a writhing mass of black coils and feathers. Instead of Tasa and a thunderbird, a flock of rainbow parrots fought what appeared to be a flying biped composed entirely of kelp.

  And in the midst of it all, the Ancient Furnace shone like a gold statue, staring at Winona.

  The Eldest of the Blaze cursed as the bridge heaved to one side, making her stumble away from Glory Seabright, who had begun to grow rose-scented quills all over her body, until she was like a giant, perfumed porcupine. Winona knew the movement of the bridge wasn’t real—neither were the melting beams, or the transformations of those on it. No, this was the work of Jennifer Scales, who had learned a new trick from the only dragon who could possibly have taught it to her. Tasa had told the truth, after all. Damn you, Smokey! How could you help her!

  The edge
s of Winona’s mind began to blur. The knowledge that what was she was sensing was not real, combined with her eyes’ and ears’ continued insistence that it was, spun her consciousness. She thought she heard the Blaze’s chatter shift to screams of alarm—or was that cackling laughter?—and so she whirled toward Glory Seabright, expecting an attack. The quilled mayor had sprouted a few pretty irises around her nose and ears, but she was not moving. Or is she moving, and I can’t see it? She turned to the golden form of the Ancient Furnace, the only part of her environment that remained stable.

  “Ancient Furnace! You’ll cost me my life! Stop this immediately!”

  Jennifer neither answered nor moved. The unreal shapes and sounds—and the emerging scent of sulfur—did not abate. Her panic increasing, Winona searched for something she could hold on to. Every step she took toward Jennifer felt like climbing a rising drawbridge. Every step she took toward the mayor felt like acid on her hide. Back toward the western end of the bridge, a herd of giant lemmings was approaching, chattering and chewing gum. One of them broke ahead of the pack and came straight for her, leaving the others to run in circles beneath the hairy Blaze while a large, purple worm bounced back and forth among them.

  “Jennifer Scales, please!”

  Call off the fight came a chorus of voices from the shining statue. Spare Mayor Seabright. Send the Blaze away. Then I’ll let you go.

  “How dare you!” Indignation combed Winona’s mind clean enough for her to banish some of the illusion. There was the true night sky to the east, with stars pulsing a tranquil beat, behind the gray and stable bridge structure. Catherine lay on the ground, half-real and half-snake, while Jennifer Scales continued to glow.

  Winona turned to the west, where everything was still wrong. The flowery porcupine began to stand up with a quizzical look. Soon she’ll realize I can’t function, and she’ll kill me. To the west, the lemmings chattered at the Blaze, which howled back from their red-hot girders above. The lone lemming that had broken away now ran on two legs, baring its teeth and closing the distance on Winona and Glory. It carried something in its front paws—A piece of paper? A hockey helmet? The letter Q?—and raised it high as it charged.