am I doing? I was wondering that myself.
He took a deep breath. 'You tell me, dragon, how do you know that she didn't particularly mind? Did you ask before you ate her?'
An arrow in the eye will hardly kill me, Kemir, but it would leave an unpleasant sting.
Slowly, Kemir lowered the bow. He could almost believe it. Nadira had been the one who'd made them wait while Snow lay deep in the lake. If it hadn't been for her he'd have left days ago, She'd made them stay because she couldn't let go… And he'd seen her, after they'd failed, after Snow had vanished into the lake. He'd seen her curled up when she thought he wasn't near, sobbing softly, talking to the children she no longer had as though they were still there, to the husband she'd seen murdered. The fight had gone out of her and with it all the light, all the life. Was that it? Were the memories too much? Was that why she wouldn't let go? Were you just waiting to die?
Waiting for her next cycle, Kemir.
He had tears in his eyes now. Now he thought about it, he could almost believe that Snow was right, that Nadira really didn't mind at all. 'We don't get a next one, Snow. We're not like you.'
And how is it that you are so sure, Kemir? She stretched her wings and looked up at the sky. She was thinking of leaving. Just like that.
'What if I don't want to come? Do I get eaten too?' The thought scared him. Not the thought of being eaten. The thought of being alone.
Would you mind?
'Yes, I'd fucking mind!' He put the arrow back in his quiver and then shuddered, shaking the dread and the emptiness away, back into the bottle he carried deep inside him. Anger was better, much better. He threw another stone at Snow instead, then another and another. 'Why, dragon? Why did you kill her? Why did you do that? She wasn't much, maybe, but she was all I had. She was the closest thing I had to a friend. Shit!' The worst of the rage was gone, though, and he couldn't find the will to rekindle it. What was left behind was only sadness.
Why?
'She was your friend. Holy sun! That could have been me! What?'
Why? Why would you mind, Kemir?
'What?' He shook himself and then held his head in his hands. 'Are you soft in the head, dragon? What sort of question is that? Why would I mind? Why would I mind if you ate me?'
Yes. Why would you mind, Kemir?
'Because it would fucking hurt!'
It can be very quick.
'Well then because I'd like to he alive, thank you.
And why do you wish to be alive, Kemir? What will you do with this existence?
'I don't know!' He turned away and stamped his foot. 'Get shit-faced, fuck whores and kill dragon-knights, that's what. Just as soon as I'm shot of you.'
I know where your alchemists live, Kemir. I know how they make us weak. I will go now and I will consider how things should best be done. When I return, I will make a proper end of it. You will come with me. Your knowledge will be of use.
'Uh uh. You go, dragon. I can't stop you but I'm not helping you. Not now.' Kemir pursed his lips. He looked around the lake, at the thick walls of snow-speckled trees, at the frozen glacier, at the whiteness of the peaks above. 'I think I'd rather stay here and slowly die of cold while I mourn. Tagging along, waiting for the day when it's my turn to be food? No, that's not my choice.' Really though? Could I bear that? To be left out here? Alone?
Do not pretend, Kemir. Remember that I see inside you. I see fear. I see horror and surprise and a great deal of vengeance. Mostly I see loneliness. That is something I understand, Kemir, for I too am alone. I do not see much regret. You will not mourn for long.
Kemir sat down, shook his head and unstrung his bow. 'That's because I still don't quite believe you did it,' he said quietly, as much to himself as to Snow. He sighed. 'Do I have a choice, dragon?'
There is always choice, Kemir. The Embers have shown you that.
He spat out a bitter laugh. 'Yeah. Right. I can help you burn dragon-knights or I can die.' He sighed again. 'Well I'm not one for dying. So I'll come with you. As soon as we're out of the mountains, you do whatever you do and you leave me alone. Finished. Done. We go our separate ways. Find someone else.'
As you wish.
He took a deep breath. 'Snow?' Kemir?
'If you ever eat someone I call a friend again, I will find a way and I will kill you. I don't care how much they don't mind. I don't care if they're positively trying to claw their way down your throat. Never again. Am I clear?'
You are clear, Kemir.
She was laughing at him. He could tell.
One
The Red Riders
Out of the sun there shall come a white dragon, and with the white dragon a red rider. Thieves and liars shall quiver and weep, for the rider's name shall be Justice, and the dragon shall be
Vengeance.
1
He was running through a forest, between trees beside a river, wearing nothing more than a shirt. He was soaking wet and the water was icy. Here and there patches of snow lay on the ground but he didn't feel the cold. He was much more afraid of the heat. In the skies above the treetops, two dragons laced the world with fire. They were past rage, past fury. They were dying. He'd killed them and they knew it. They knew where he was too.
He'd tried to hide deep amid the darkness, beneath layer upon layer of leaf-shadow and branches, but they always found him. He'd tried to run, but the fire always followed him and the forest turned to flames and ash behind him. He'd tried the freezing waters of the river and the dragons had simply boiled it dry. Somehow they never quite caught him. He knew exactly why. They were slowly dying and so was he. When the trees ran out, they would all burn together. Was he afraid? He wasn't sure. Angry? Yes. Desperate? Yes. Willing to do almost anything to stay alive? Yes. But afraid? No. He'd done what needed to be done. Jaslyn would survive. The princess had been saved from the dragon. The knight had done his duty. Now the trees were running out and the end was coming, but no, he wasn't afraid.
'Stop!'
He felt the voice more than he heard it. It wasn't a real voice, not even a human voice. It boomed like a thunderclap, shaking mountains and felling trees. The air filled with ash shaken up from the ground and the dragons fell from the sky and were still. The forest and the river were suddenly gone. Where they'd been, only bare stone remained. Bare stone and a man, standing waiting for him not more than twenty paces away.
Semian stopped. He looked the man up and down. Long robes the colour of blood. A craggy face. Long white hair and a long white beard, braided, that reached almost to his waist. Every inch a dragon-priest. Except for his skin, as pale as ice, and his hands which were black and cracked, his fingers burned to stumps. And his eyes, which blazed with bloody fire.
'Stop!' said the priest again. This time the world didn't shake. Semian looked behind him. The old dragons were gone now. There was no sign of them or of the river or the trees, or even the smoking ruins of the alchemists' stronghold. Only the mountains were the same. Rising among them, taller than even the highest peak, a single massive crimson dragon filled half the sky. It lifted its head and stared lazily at him with eyes the size of lakes. Semian fell to one knee and bowed his head. The priest and the dragon were somehow the same. He didn't know how he knew, didn't know how that could be, but he knew it as surely as he knew the feel of his own sword in the
