It was shortly before sunrise when I landed in a dark and muddy field no more than a mile from the city walls, my approach silent enough that the only creatures that noticed our arrival were a few field mice and the disappointed owl who had been hunting them. Tatyana slid off my back with a groan, and set about stretching herself this way and that. It seemed the romance of flying upon a dragon had been rubbed away by the uncompromising seat my scales offered. Once she had finished complaining she tucked Fronsac’s list into her pocket and headed off towards the city with a wave and a promise to return before sunset.
I bid her farewell and, once I was alone, set about finding some food for myself. I liked farm animals; they were generally well fed and trapped in handy pens, and it wasn’t long before I was savouring some roast pig. I generally tried to respect sorcery by not using it to hunt, but since I’d killed the pig with a well-placed bite I felt justified in using a touch of it for the roasting. I scooped the offal out for the jackals and crows. Unlike most animals, crows didn’t seem to mind my presence and their raucous cries soon filled the air as they set upon their breakfast and perched on my horns. I listened to the crows bickering for a while, then hunkered down for a nap, satisfied that they would warn me of anyone approaching.
When I woke, I was surprised to see that the sun was dipping towards the west already, and I rose and stretched lazily before turning my attention to the path I expected Tatyana to use. She’d warned me that it was a large city, and likely to take her some time to find the authorities, so I was content to wait a while longer. I gave her the benefit of the doubt until the last crescent of the sun was sinking below the horizon, whereupon I lifted my head and tried to find her scent, but all that came to me was the trail she had left that morning. None of the crows had seen her either, and something about that set my teeth on edge.
I closed my eyes and reached out with my sorcery, tracing the healing spell within her once more. In its new form it was easier than it had ever been and I knew without putting much power into it that she was active and moving about quite quickly. Perhaps she was hurrying towards me, but even as I thought that, I felt her distant pulse quicken and the connection flare with a surge of emotion. Anger. I knew it too well to mistake it for anything else. It wasn’t long before I felt a sudden flare of the healing construct activating. She was hurt, not seriously, but hurt nonetheless. I sat up and fed more power into the construct, enough so that I could get an impression of what was happening.
My vision blurs as they pull something over my head. Others are holding my arms. Shouting around me, calling me a spy and a witch. Their fists fly and pain flares in my ribs and stomach. I taste my own blood.
I spread my wings, spooking the crows into flight, and once they were clear I released my wind construct, driving me into the sky with a blast of compressed air that tore the nearest hedges from the ground. I rose higher into the air with swift strokes of my wings, and it was not long before the city was spread out below me. Unlike Falkenburg with its natural slopes and high walls, this city was built on the flat of the plain, and was a low sprawling mass of wood and stone buildings that gave the impression that becoming a city may have taken it by surprise.
I spread my wings and caught the column of warmer air that rose from the city, circling it like an eagle as I worked to marry the sorcerous trace of Tatyana’s healing against the layout of the city below. By the time I had fixed her location in my mind the unmistakable signs of panic were spreading in the streets below. I woke my night vision and found myself baring my teeth while my hearts pumped with renewed vigour as hundreds, if not thousands, of squirming figures clogged the streets, the taste of their fear rising with the warm air.
I dipped my wings and swept down, low enough that I passed by the windows of the tallest cluster of buildings, my tail smashing chimneys and balconies to rubble as I twisted between the rooftops, slowing at the last minute to settle in a muddy square outside the ramshackle building that hid Tatyana. I released the roar that had been building since I sensed her pain, my sorcery painting the sound with the rage and hate that festered within me as it echoed through the streets, sending a storm-cloud of panicked birds into the air and setting every animal and not a few humans in the city to howling and bleating. Those in the streets fell to the ground screaming for their mothers and gods.
I crossed to the building and, ramming my claws through the windows, I flexed the great muscles of my arms and ripped the entire front of the building away. Timbers and glass rained down around me and revealed a gang of men clustered on the lowest level; Tatyana stood in the middle of them, her mouth bloodied and her armour missing. One of the men had an arm around her neck, and a knife in his other hand. Most of the other men were shouting and screaming, drowning out whatever he was saying, not that it mattered to me.
Metal loves heat, and I was fireborn. It took less time than the taking of a breath to melt his knife; it pulsed with an orange light and dissolved into its molten state, burning through his hand as if it wasn’t there. He screamed louder than the others then, and was still screaming when Tatyana rammed an elbow back into his face, sending him sprawling, whereupon she stamped on his throat, silencing him. The others stood frozen in terror, unable to do more than scream the same things over and over.
I beckoned her towards me and, once she was safely in my grasp, I sprayed a jet of fire-bile into the building, burning the others where they stood and sending a plume of orange flame and black smoke coiling into the air.
I lifted Tatyana onto my shoulders as more men spilled from the neighbouring buildings. I swept the flame across them too and they scattered, several of them burning like torches. A sweep of my tail smashed the rest of the building to kindling, sending a fountain of sparks high into the evening sky.
‘Enough, Stratus,’ Tatyana called, but the sight of her torn clothes and spilled blood had ringed my vision in red. I could still feel their hands squeezing me, my strength stolen away by their numbers, their stinking breath choking me.
My fist pulped several more men, and my tail whipped once more, sending another building tumbling into the street in a cascade of smashed wood and stone. I swung my head around, ripping the roof from another with my crest of horns, then threw my head back and roared again as smoke and blood filled the air.
I launched myself into the air, scattering more of the burning timbers, and rose to hover above the city. The streets were clogged with fleeing humans and the mean walls bristled with soldiers trying to bring their all too few siege bows to readiness.
‘Stop, damn you!’
I turned and looked at her. ‘You are blood to me. Your enemy is my enemy.’ I bared my teeth. ‘And my enemies die.’
‘And they’re dead, damn it. Look what you’re doing!’
I looked down at the fires burning below and shrugged. ‘But they hurt you.’
‘God’s teeth, Stratus, I get hurt for a living.’ She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, then patted my neck. ‘God help me, I understand the sentiment, but enough! You’re doing our enemy’s work for them.’
‘Are you certain? I can follow the scent they have left on you and destroy their bloodlines if you wish.’
She didn’t answer immediately. ‘That’s almost as terrifying as it is tempting. But no. Watching them burn to death was enough.’
‘As you wish.’ I circled higher before they could ready those bows. ‘Did you get the stones?’
‘Really?’
‘Yes.’
‘No. I was too busy getting jumped by those bastards.’
‘That’s disappointing.’ I dipped my wing and swung to the east.
‘Where are you going?’
‘I recognised the shape of the river, and that mountain over there, the one that looks like a hunchback.’
‘So? Where are we going?’
‘You’ll see.’
It took a few more miles for me to start remembering all of the landmarks and to re-orient myself to the gentle pattern of the Songlines, but the memories soon came back.
‘Hold on,’ I said, and began the long, curving dive towards the bog that I had sought. The wind was blowing towards us and even from a good distance the unmistakeable rotten egg smell of the bubbling grey waters rose to my nostrils. If anything, it seemed even larger than I remembered it.
Even though I knew the sun was rising, it was as if I was descending into a strange new world inhabited by shapeless, gurgling creatures. I sent an orb of light ahead of me to guide me through the vapours, and finally found a spit of dry land, an island amidst a gently bubbling sea. I settled down upon it as delicately as I could, the wind spells I used to control my descent dispersing the sharp smell for a few precious moments before it closed over us once more. I maintained the binding spell on Tatyana, loosening the bonds that held her slightly but ensuring that the fumes didn’t burn her lungs, or worse, make her vomit on me.
‘Wait,’ she said, ‘is this Rotlung Bog?’
I shrugged my folded wings. ‘In my tongue it’s Kraz Gur. The Fire Waters.’
‘And what are we doing here exactly?’
I turned to look at her. She looked quite comfortable perched where she was. ‘The same thing we have done all day. If I am to face my great enemy and free my beloved, I will need every tool and weapon at my disposal. First amongst these is fire.’
I smashed a fist against one of the spherical rocks on the edge of the rocky shore of the island. It cracked and fell open, revealing a glinting yellow mass within. ‘This place is rich with all that I need to produce fire-bile.’
‘Fire bile? Are you telling me that dragon’s fire is actually vomit?’
I nodded.
‘Well, that kills a little of the romance.’ She rubbed her face. ‘Does it hurt?’
‘Only if I don’t control the stream. It doesn’t care what it burns.’ I picked up the cracked rock. ‘This shouldn’t take very long.’ I bit into it and began to grind the soft rock into a bitter paste.
‘Wait, wait, wait. What do you mean by if you are to face your great enemy and free your beloved? I thought Navar and her were both, you know, dead.’
I swallowed the powdery mass, gagging at the bitterness of it, then lifted the other half. ‘Navar is dead, of that I have no doubt. But he is not the one I was speaking of.’
She slid down along my wing, towards the knuckle, an uncomfortable sensation but one I chose to tolerate. ‘Slow down. Are you telling me there’s another goddamned necromancer out there?’ She stopped suddenly, gripping the curved thumb that protruded from the junction of my wing knuckles. ‘And Anakhara? Do you think she might be... alive?’
I watched her as I chewed the last chunk of brimstone into something that wouldn’t get stuck halfway down my throat.
‘I’ve been thinking about it more often that I had, forcing myself to face the most bitter memories.’
‘And you think she might really be alive?’ she said, abruptly sitting down.
‘I believe she is. Climb back up and I will tell you.’
‘We’re done here?’
‘Yes.’ I could feel the stones grinding together inside me, the strong acids in my secondary gut leaching the minerals from them and changing as they did so. I was glad to be away from the bog, and took several lungfuls of clean air to blow the last vestige of the stench from my nose.
‘Are you going to tell me or not?’
‘Patience, Tatyana.’ I swooped down across some neat fields and helped myself to a few sheep, then landed on an isolated mound some miles away where I skinned and set about roasting them with no complaint from her. We ate heartily while the sun chased the shadows from the lands and then I told her about the archmage Talgoth, the cunning fiend who had trapped me, and the fragments of Anakhara’s voice that I had been hearing, giving me strength when I needed it most.
‘If he could trap me, he may have done the same to her. It would explain why I have never found her body, only scales, teeth, and blood.’
She was silent as she watched the light bleeding into the eastern sky. ‘We have to find her.’
‘We?’
‘Your enemies are my enemies.’
I flashed my magnificent teeth in a smile and stood up. ‘Speaking of which, it is time to return to Falkenburg.’ She ran up my arm and vaulted onto my neck. ‘It is time for me to keep my word to your prince.’
I steadily gained height as I flew back towards Falkenburg, enough so that the Penullin army was a dark spot on the landscape below me.
‘What are you going to do from here?’ asked Tatyana.
‘Fall,’ I said, adjusting my position slightly so that when I did drop, I would be hidden in the glare of the sun. I could feel Tatyana’s excitement radiating from her, and quietly bound wards around her that would deflect arrows and the like before I began my dive.
‘What do you mean, fall?’
Her question became a shriek as I folded my wings in and began plummeting towards the army. The dark spot began to expand rapidly, the single mass of it gaining definition as the distance between us vanished. The silvery light radiating from the mages’ tents was the first detail that I saw, and from that point of reference the rest of the camp was easy to understand.
I flared the fins on my tail, steering me towards the bulk of the tents and slowing me enough for me to extend my wings without breaking my shoulders. The soldiers looked up as one as they snapped out but it was too late for them to do anything but gawp. I clenched my throat and felt the pressure of the fresh bile press against the back of my mouth, a strange but familiar sensation. I tilted my head and spat a stream of it as I skimmed across the camp, the wind of my passing tearing tents loose and making their flags and pennants snap briskly, spreading the bile in my wake. I tilted my wings and revelled in the strain on my flight muscles as I pulled myself up in a climbing loop; I was almost at the apex, looking down at the camp, when the bile ignited.
A line of flame the colour of molten gold sped across the camp from east to west, billowing outwards as the wind of my passing dispersed droplets of it, spreading the carnage. I had spat extra as I passed over the wizards’ encampment, and roared in delight as more than half their tents disappeared in a roiling mushroom of orange flame.
Now the alarms sounded, a wild cacophony of bells and trumpets that drowned out the screams of the dying. I twisted through the air as Tatyana howled like a wolf upon my back, then made another pass from north to south, quartering the camp. A handful of arrows chased me, but none found their mark. Fire bloomed below me as I fell towards the camp again, sweeping my wings back and forth and spreading the fire even further.
A beam of violet light speared towards me from the wizards’ tents, followed by flashing rain of fiery bolts, each bursting against the shields I had set. I raked their remaining tents with sorcerous lightning, then swept down, spinning my body as I landed so that my tail whipped through the air, the bony end pulverising several of the slower wizards, dead before they hit the ground. I could feel the unearthly presence of the Lance throbbing within the one tent that wasn’t on fire, but with my sorcery at full strength and its power not yet fully woken I didn’t hesitate. I tore the tent away and sprayed the cluster of wizards within with bile. They had enough time to think about fleeing before it ignited. Those few who had escaped the spray scattered, tossing their staffs aside and fleeing as fast as their legs and robes allowed. All but one.
This one strode forward, his purple robes smouldering, and sent a beam of killing energy at my breast. Typically for his kind though, he gestured with his staff, an affectation that gave me warning of the attack and its direction. I angled my shields and felt the energy scrape across them, an impressively vicious blast that could have done some serious harm had I been the dumb animal he clearly thought I was. My hands were still busy crushing the life from a few of the survivors, so I lunged at him with my head, a risky option but there were few other men here who I considered a real threat. He tried to leap away, but his legs tangled with those of a half-burnt wizard who was still thrashing about next to him. He screamed as I snapped my jaws shut and drove at least eight teeth through his torso, the snap and crunch of his ribs eminently satisfying. His scream was choked off by the blood that fountained from his mouth.
I twitched my head to the side and bit again, severing both his legs, then tilted my head back and swallowed the rest of him.
I twisted around, scanning the area for others of similar courage, but the rest had fled or died, all aside from one yellow robed wizard lying on the ground screaming for his mother. I pushed more energy into my shields, then plucked the Lance from the air, gritting my teeth against its unpleasant, greasy feel. The chill of death was already thickening around it, but the spells that would wake its full potential were not complete and it was nowhere near as powerful as the one Aknak had been.
I bent it twice upon itself and tossed it into the middle of the Penullin camp, where its enchantments failed catastrophically and consumed fully a quarter of the camp in a blast of pale light, dragging scores of panicked men and animals through into the world of dead before the energies dispersed and the gateway snapped shut again.
I charged the nearest concentration of soldiers, laying into them with my claws and tail, something which men always forgot to watch for. I whipped it forward, scything their legs from under them, then pounded them into the ground with my fists and feet.
I was still killing when I heard more trumpets, a different note from the Penullin horns. I launched myself into the air, the blast of air scattering burning debris and bodies. A column of horsemen and foot soldiers were charging from Falkenburg, the blue banner of the royal house flying next to the symbol of the paladins. I hovered and watched as their charge smashed into what remained of the disorganised army, their swords glittering with reflected firelight as they chopped down every man who didn’t wear the blue.
The end was not long in coming. The Penullin army was in disarray and large mobs of their soldiers threw down their weapons, while on the outskirts small groups of cavalry charged down those who tried to flee. The trumpets blew again and a great cheer went up from the soldiers of Krandin.
At Tatyana’s bidding I circled over the cluster of blue banners, making the paladins’ horses rear up and whinny loudly, although not one of them bolted. Another cheer went up as I came around for a second pass, and this I answered with a roar of my own before fanning my wings and heading back to the city.
To my surprise, Henkman retreated from the dragon’s territory, whereupon he set about calling for reinforcements while the priests argued about who was to blame for their god not smiting the creature. I left them to their blathering and used the additional time to prepare my spells.
Once Henkman had whipped his newly swelled army of crusaders into a suitable religious fervour we set out towards the battlefield once more, newly reinforced with great siege bows and a gaggle of mediocre wizards who kept their distance from me.
Henkman radiated a supreme confidence as we approached the valley and arrayed ourselves in a clever new formation that would make it difficult for the dragon to kill so many with a single breath. At noon, when the symbol of their god shone brightest in the sky, he bellowed his challenge again, buoyed by the priests’ magic.
It did not take long before the dragon answered his call with a roar that turned many men’s bowels to water. The blocks of infantry and archers took up their staggered positions on the valley walls, and the great arrows on the siege bows gleamed with the enchantments his wizards had laid upon them.
The beast arrived with a clap of thunder and flash of fire, and his neat plans were torn asunder. The archers loosed arrows until their fingers bled and the siege bows thumped like great machines, the crews working themselves to the point of death, but their efforts only seemed to enrage the dragon more as it moved from formation to formation, burning and scattering the brave fools who thought swords and arrows could stop such a creature.
I kept far to the side as I began my casting, trusting that there was enough death in the valley to keep the creature busy. Finally, my spell was ready, and I cast it out into the valley, exulting in the perfect symmetry of the net as it expanded and fell across the beast’s sail-like wings as it passed overhead.
It gave a shriek like a scalded cat and crashed to the ground, wiping out an entire regiment of spearmen as it thrashed and roared. I could feel it turn its magics against me as it fought my spell, and had I not yoked my apprentices into sharing the magical load it would have been my brain liquefying, not theirs. With each of them that fell, the strain on my mind became worse, but then Henkman rallied his paladins and they fell upon the creature with their enchanted swords. Its attention shifted away from me and I sealed the spell and set about the next, working feverishly before Henkman and his idiots could kill it.
I had never imagined that there was so much blood in the world. The valley was thick with death when the beast finally succumbed to a combination of its wounds and my spellwork. The cheer that rose from the survivors seemed thin and weak after its great roaring. I drew in the energy that so much violence had released as I waded through its scalding blood, relishing the power that filled me.
It was immense, easily thrice the length of a warship even without its muscular tail, and quite beautiful where it wasn’t cut and maimed. Some of the men had already hacked scales from it, believing that the iridescent golden shimmer on their edges was precious metal, but had swiftly thrown them aside when they saw that it was nothing of the sort. Henkman was standing on its tapering head, his sword held to the waning sun as a prayer of thanks tumbled from his lips.
It was surely a stirring sight for his ragtag band of survivors, but I was more interested in the flicker of raw magic I sensed within its skull as he cast a blessing upon his stalwart band.
The beast was alive, and the relief that my spell had worked was enough to convince the men around me that I was also giving thanks.
I remained with the fallen creature when darkness and fatigue sent the survivors retreating to the camp to grieve or celebrate as the mood took them. The numbers of the dead and the extreme violence of their deaths had opened the Gateway wider than I had had experienced and I drew the energy into me until I was almost drunk with it. Holding so much negative energy was dangerous of course, and I could already feel it gnawing away inside me but I focused on the promise of what the dragon’s power offered. If I succeeded, the risk would be repaid a thousand times over.
I spun my final spell in the grim watch of the night, binding the creature with chains of runes, the strain of it such that blood rose from my skin like sweat. At last, it was ready, and I watched in such terrible fear as the magic enveloped the beast and sped it away to the prison I had prepared. I laughed even as I sank to my knees in exhaustion.
It had worked. The she-dragon was mine.