There was no dragon in sight when the prince and Rafiq cautiously approached the Enchanted Keep. Rafiq, bearing in mind the prince’s information that the princess was kept captive in the highest room of the tallest tower, was sourly amused to see that the Keep only boasted one tower. It was built on a jagged outcrop of stone and dark green grass, rising white and slim against the blue sky from a white, paved courtyard; and it didn’t seem big enough to obscure a dragon from their sight. Or, if it came to that, hide the approach of one.
Rafiq began to feel slightly uneasy. He could sense the magic of the Keep spreading through the surrounding air like heat shimmer, warping and changing everything it touched. The very air around the tower was thick with magic, the breaching of which was like plunging into a thick fog.
“You’re Burdened,” Prince Akish said, thickening the air still further.
Rafiq snarled at the added weight. -What are your instructions?-
“Kill the dragon. Preserve my life. Complete the First Circle of Challenge.”
Short and sweet. Rafiq savoured a laughing curl of fire in his throat. Prince Akish had learned that it was safer to give Rafiq clear, simple commands without any other possible interpretation than the obvious one. In this case, the prince was being even more careful than usual.
Formally, he said: -I hear and obey- and took to the sky in a swirl of wing-spikes and grass blades.
The first few strokes of his wings were heavy and laborious, but once he was properly in the air there was a fresh, strong updraft that wouldn’t have been out of place by the sea. That made him uneasy, too. None of the surrounding countryside had led him to expect strong breezes here. Still, it made his ascent much easier. As he rose, the tower of the Enchanted Keep kept pace with him, a slender cylindrical edifice in pale bricks that turned out to be both much higher than it seemed, and much larger than it seemed. The closer he got, the clearer it was to Rafiq that the tower was not in fact built of a pale sandstone brick, but massive slabs of white marble that sat gravely one upon the other. From a distance the marble had looked like regularly sized bricks: closer to, Rafiq could see that each of the marble slabs was at least as big as he was.
There was still no sign of the other dragon. Rafiq, bound to ensure Prince Akish’s safety as well as slay the other dragon, kept to his lazy, spiralling ascent, his gaze alternating between the prince and the scenery. The courtyard of the Keep made a small square beneath him, drawing in the velvet green countryside around it until the grass seemed to pucker by the force with which it was pulled. Rafiq found himself thinking that perhaps this time, Crown Prince Akish had bitten off more than he could chew.
The roof of the tower was light blue and gently conical, shingled in circular layers. Rafiq was inclined to admire the scale-like structure of it until it seemed to untwine itself dizzyingly from the top of the tower, and it occurred to him that the roof was moving. Only it wasn’t the roof, it was a dragon that had been coiled around the pale blue roof, now uncoiling itself.
No: herself. This lithe, blue and silver beauty sweeping her tail around the spire of the tower was a she-dragon. Rafiq thought that he hung in the air without moving, even to flap his wings; but the hot and steady thump in his ears was certainly his wings beating against the updraft as they held him aloft. He purred deep in his throat and arched his wings before he knew what he was doing, but—perhaps fortunately—the she-dragon didn’t respond in kind. Instead, her underscales irradiated with a rippling tide of burnt orange, bespeaking caution, and a slight edging of magenta that said she was curious. The growing rise of orange through her scales bought Rafiq forcibly to mind of his Burden, and the fire in his belly seemed to turn to ice. He tried to pull away and circle back to Prince Akish but the Burden clawed tight into his soul and sent him headlong at the she-dragon; a blunt, battering pass that she avoided with consummate ease.
His own unwilling clumsiness brought Rafiq to the unpleasant realisation that whether or not he wanted to, he would be forced to murder an innocent she-dragon. The only question was whether he would allow the Burden to do it for him in slow, clumsy, battering strokes, or whether he would do it himself in the quickest, most painless way possible.
The she-dragon danced on the updraft across the tower roof, light and quick, her scales now utterly black. Rafiq, with bitterness in his heart, clipped his wings tight to his sides and dove for her. The she-dragon fought like a shard of quicksilver, sharp and fast. She was faster, but Rafiq was stronger and his reach was longer: he was certain that once they came to grips the battle would be done. The problem, he discovered, as he twisted once more out of reach of her claws, was getting to grips with her. She was in and out with her slender claws before he had the chance to meet and close with her, leaving thin tears on his underscales. Fortunately his underscales were tougher than most and her claws didn’t penetrate deeply enough to do more than draw blood. The slight pulling discomfort was enough to distract him slightly, however, and having to watch out for the prince didn’t help his concentration.
Rafiq pulled himself tighter, protecting his underside, and the she-dragon went for his wings instead. He rumbled a fiery laugh and twisted, slicing hard and fast with his wing-spikes. She dodged, but he saw the spurt of red from one of her wings and the way she staggered in the air, and dove after her immediately. This time she wasn’t quick enough, and Rafiq, with a surge of mingled regret and exultation, closed with her at last. He bound her tail with his, her wings pinned to her sides by his claws, and with a clean slice of his wing-spikes he slit her throat from one side of her jaw to the other shoulder. Then he held her close, warming her last moments with the fire that burned high and hot along his underside, and carried her gently to the courtyard below, blood bubbling over her scales and his.
***
In the smallest room of the Enchanted Keep a young woman in serving garb lay sleeping on a narrow cot. A scar, lit from within, spread on her neck from one ear to the other shoulder. As a dark, complicated shadow sank past the window her eyes flew open and she sat up, gasping.
“Oh no!” she said, scattering pillows in her haste to scramble from the bed. “Oh no, no, no!” She leapt for the door without stopping to find her shoes and sprinted down the hall, her bare feet slapping against cool marble. A shadow passed the window again as she ran, huge and rising fast; but she ignored it.
As she approached the grand stairs that swept down into the receiving hall, a booming gong sounded through the Keep. The girl took the stairs three at a time with the practised ease of one who has done so many times before, fairly flying across the red-marbled hall below until at last she was by the grand doors, her breath quick and short. There she took a moment to straighten her head-dress and neck-scarf, unwrapping it completely only to wrap it again more carefully around the new scar. At last she took a slow, careful breath in, released it just as carefully, and hauled open one of the massive front doors.
The First Circle is ended