stop you. Not sure where all this water’s going to end up though. Probably worth thinking about that before you scarper down the mountain.’ He started to turn the crank. For a moment it wouldn’t move. Ice cracked and groaned but nothing happened. Wood began to creak and metal moaned.
‘Don’t!’ The Scales voice was a whisper. ‘The dragons…’
‘Yes. The dragons.’ Kemir smiled grimly as he turned the handle again. There were some more grinding sounds, a loud crack from down by the metal gate, and a trickle of water began to run past the Scales’ feet, melting away the snow. Kemir’s grin grew wider. He turned the crank some more. It moved freely now. The trickle of water turned into a surge; he gave it another few turns. Water sprayed out of the sluice in a torrent. There were more groaning noises from the gate.
‘Right.’ Kemir danced away from the spraying water as a part of the bridge shook and then collapsed under the force of the rushing water. ‘I think now we’d better start running after all. It’s going to get a bit wet.’
When you had a big empty hole inside, there was nothing quite like smashing stuff up.
5
A Reason to Live
He ran, slipping and sliding in the deep snow on the embankment, the Scales floundering in his wake. He heard a crash as the sluice and then the bridge finally gave way, the rush of the water tearing them both apart. The lake was emptying itself in its own way, sending everything that had held it cartwheeling down the mountainside in pieces. A part of Kemir still thought he should have sent the Scales down there too. Slit his throat and kicked the body into the torrent of water. Would probably have been kinder than taking him back to Snow. But the man was making his own choice. The Scales could run away any time he liked.
And then there was the dragon, who probably wouldn’t manage to keep any of her precious alchemists alive for long enough to ask any interesting questions. A Scales was better than nothing. The dragon would be grateful… He laughed at himself for that. Grateful? Snow? No. Now he thought about it, he wasn’t even sure why he’d emptied the lake. Because he could. Because alchemists did to dragons what riders did to outsiders. Because, even at their worst, he’d rather have dragons than dragon-riders…
Really? And if it had been a dragon without a rider who’d come to our little village, would the end really have been any different?
He was almost grateful for the errant piece of building that tripped him up and sent him sprawling in the mud. The twilight was fading now, the mist-shrouded blaze of the burning eyrie the only real light. Made it hard to see where a man was putting his feet, but then there was so much snow on everything out here that maybe that didn’t make any difference either. Up above, the castle was burning properly now. Flames reached out of the windows to lick the night.
He picked himself up and hauled the Scales after him, back towards Snow and whatever was left of the alchemists she’d found. They passed the barracks where the dragon had landed, smashed to pieces now. Parts were still burning inside. Around it, the ground was bare and black and soaking wet, the snow all melted in the heat. The air stank of woodsmoke and burned flesh and damp. Further on, where the alchemists had lived, Snow was where he’d left her, pacing up and down over the ruins of what had once been some stone building, raking the ground with her claws.
Tunnels. They have fled under the ground.
Behind Kemir the Scales let out a scream. It went on and on and on. For a few seconds Kemir thought it might never stop. Then the Scales took a deep breath. He looked as though he might be about to start again, so Kemir punched him in the stomach. The Scales went down. Kemir clutched his fist and swore. Either the Scales was wearing armour or he truly was well on his way to turning into stone.
‘I brought you this one,’ he said to Snow.
He followed you, Kemir.
‘He’s a Scales. Which means he’s stupid.’
A Scales. Like the one who was with me when I awoke. Kailin. He was the only one of your kind I have found who was not afraid of me.
‘Oh yes. Another one of the people who tried to help you and ended up eaten for their troubles.’ He’d forgotten the man’s name. Almost forgotten he even existed. He shrugged. ‘I think the potions they take for the Hatchling Disease means they can’t think properly.’ He hauled the Scales to his feet. ‘He might be useful; he might not. Hey! Scales!’
The Scales looked at him. He was white with fear.
‘Well, this one isn’t not afraid of you.’
This one understands. Snow stamped on the ruins of the alchemist house and the whole mountain seemed to shake. I feel them in there, Kemir. I will clear away one of their holes. You will go in and hunt them for me.
‘No, I bloody well won’t, dragon. I’m not going in any dark holes full of soldiers, thank you.’ He sniffed and looked at the quivering Scales. ‘When it’s daylight, maybe. After I’ve dealt with the riders up in the castle.’
Why do you seek to anger me?
‘I’m just not going to get killed for you. I don’t give a stuff whether that angers you or not. Live with it.’
She looked at him and he felt her wonder. You fear me and so you defy me.
‘Don’t be daft, dragon.’
I see it in you. You fight your fear by defying me. It is a curious thing to do. It does not seem… wise.
He could almost feel her poking around inside his thoughts. The sensation was like having an itch in a place you couldn’t scratch. ‘You know what? I think I’m going to lie down somewhere and get some sleep. Maybe I’ll help you once it’s light again.’
Snow lowered her face towards him and bared her teeth. Again you test me?
Kemir cringed. ‘You have bad breath, dragon. Take that away!’ He could see her tail begin to twitch. Not a good sign. With a quickness that belonged to a much smaller animal, Snow sprang across the stones. As she landed sideways, her tail lashed out into the darkness. There was a scream. When her tail emerged from the wreckage, something dangled from the tip. She tossed it up into the air. There was a limp flailing of limbs before the dragon caught it between her teeth and swallowed it down.
Shall I keep this one you have brought me alive? Shall I keep it as a means to persuade you, Kemir?
‘Clutching at straws, dragon. You’ll need a much better threat than that and you know it. Learn to wait. Your alchemists will still be cowering in their holes come the morning. They might be more interested in talking by then.’ He could feel the anger boiling inside her so he turned away, kept his steps slow and measured and didn’t look back. The dragon was right. He fought his fear by refusing to be afraid, no matter how bad it got. It was what he’d always done.
Didn’t need to have someone poke inside my head and point it out though. He kept walking. The eyrie was littered with places to hide and away from the fires it was dark now. He made his way to the barracks where Snow had first landed. The end she’d smashed was still burning nicely and looked like it would be going for some time. The other end wasn’t much better, but not so shattered that it wouldn’t offer some shelter. In the middle of the floor he almost trod on what turned out to be a jewellery box, half covered in ash. The outside was scorched and ruined, but inside he found a small stash of coin and a pouch filled with Souldust. He stared at it, wondering what to do. What use it was.
Six months ago I’d be jumping for joy. That’s a month’s pay and never mind the dust. But now what? Coins I can’t spend and dust I don’t want? He almost threw it away, but a lifetime of living from day to day got the better of him and put the coins and the dust in his belt bag instead. Then he propped himself up against a piece of stone wall in the middle that looked like it wasn’t going to fall down on top of him while he slept. He huddled down and tried to make himself comfortable, massaging his feet until he could feel his toes again. It was pleasantly warm from the fire and at least the ground here was dry. Like a dead dragon, burning from the inside.
The dragon had changed since they’d been on the island. Since she’d awoken three more of her kind, one had become four. Maybe that was it, maybe having company of her own kind was what had made her more remote. Or maybe she’d always been that way and he simply hadn’t wanted to notice.
