Book Four

Fire Eater

 

Ravi Matriya is now a celebrity. There is talk in Folvin of some people who helped Chief Torglif repel the dragon prince, but nobody has seen much of them. There is also talk of an avian gentleman with mesmerising plumage and impeccable manners, and everyone has seen him. He was seemingly everywhere, the previous day – helping those trapped by fire, guiding people to safety, leaping across rooftops and quelling flames the Chief’s rain couldn’t entirely defeat. A gallant, exotic stranger in a town gives the people something to talk about that isn’t the trail of new saplings marking graves in a quiet corner of the park.

Ravi wanders the streets, greeting people courteously and hoping the way his ears burn at the whispers and feminine giggles that follow him isn’t visible. He had thought he might continue making himself useful around the city, but, with the fires extinguished, people are proving the tenacity that has seen them through all the previous attacks. He finds himself at a loose end, a small but insistent part of him regretting not accompanying Riyo and Rolleck to the volcano.

They will probably be fine.

Probably.

“You wear a pair of idle hands, avian,” a woman says as he passes a small group of people. He turns to find they are crowded around one of the dryads, her silken skin almost translucent in the cascading afternoon sunlight.

Ravi is unsure what the protocol is for talking to them, but, given their exalted position in Folvin, he decides to err on the side of flattery. He bows to her.

“Sister,” he says, because he has heard others refer to them so. “Is there something I can do for you?”

The gaggle of onlookers, who had apparently been watching the dryad fix their houses with her arts, are now muttering and smiling. The Sister pays them no heed.

“You chose not to travel to the volcano with your companions,” she says. “Why is that?”

“I didn’t feel I would be much use to them,” Ravi says. The strands of guilt that have been plaguing him all morning start tickling the bottom of his stomach again.

“And it has nothing to do with the danger a city of dragons presents?” the dryad says. She wears a smile that says she already knows the answer.

Ravi does not want to say it out loud.

“It’s perfectly acceptable,” she says, still smiling. “If this could be solved with words, the Chief would already have seen to it. It is a dangerous expedition with no chance of success.”

“Then why did you let your apprentice go?”

“Clara has something to prove to herself,” the dryad says. “For a human, her powers are strong, but she has only the Sisters to compare herself to, and so she feels inferior. Maybe this journey will help her find her worth, or maybe it won’t. She cannot know until she tries, but it speaks well of her character that she has chosen to undertake it. When she is ready, she will bear us beautiful, strong children.”

“Um. Us?” Ravi says. There is probably something important to him within the dryad’s words, but he is rather distracted by the last bit.

The dryad nods, smiling wider at his surprise. “The leaf guild is just the name we take in the Folvin parlance, Sister just a title we have adopted from them. We dryads are born to a colony, then, once we come of age, we wander the forest alone, sometimes for decades. When we find a new colony that accepts us, and that we accept in turn, we join it. In human terms, it is akin to marriage, but to many rather than one.”

“So… Clara is your wife?” Ravi asks, blinking. His brain is travelling down a path of imagination that involves a harem of beautiful, scantily-clad dryads. He tries to focus on the dryad’s glittering brown eyes rather than her exposed curves, but it does not help much.

“Yes,” the dryad says. Her eyes shimmer like gemstones. Ravi suspects she is teasing him, though why she would do this, he cannot fathom. “The dryad reproduce slowly. Conception is difficult, gestation long and often painful. We have found, however, that humans who share our powers can also bear our children, and they do so on a human timescale with much less risk. It is greatly beneficial to take a human into our colonies.

“And it helps that she is so young and pretty.” The dryad adds. She gains a faraway look for a moment, and Ravi tries in vain not to follow her train of thought to a place of drooping greenery exposing pale skin…

“Why are you telling me this?” Ravi asks in desperation.

“We have drifted a little off-topic, haven’t we?” Her smile is unashamed. “My point, was that Clara feels she must find worth. She thinks it is for us, but she is already everything we could wish her to be and more. Many of the colony, myself included, are deeply infatuated with her. She seeks worth for herself, and we wish her to find it, so we allow her to walk into harms way in seeking it. You have the look of someone who seeks the same worth.”

“I…” Ravi says, but falls short. He hasn’t thought about it. Hasn’t thought about anything but his village and its curse for so long that he had resigned himself to that fate. Now that he is free of it, he doesn’t really know what he wants.

“The trees tell of your village, Ravi Matriya,” the dryad says, grinning at his surprise. “You did an admirable thing for this forest and its denizens, but now you must move on. Seek your worth. To do that, you must decide what it is that will make you feel worthy.”

Ravi is silent for a moment. The dryad’s words have expelled his baser thoughts, allowing him to think of himself. What did he want? What would fulfil him, now that he walked the earth with no darkness looming in his wake?

“Think on it,” the dryad says, turning back to her work. “And know that, even though you fought alone, your actions have made you friends both here in Folvin and across the endless forest. Even if all they can do to aid you is share their wisdom, please receive it graciously as thanks for what you have done.”

The group of humans who had been lingering far enough away to be respectful sense the end of their conversation, and return to the dryad, offering help and thanks for her rebuilding their livelihoods.

Ravi frowns after her for a moment, not really seeing anything. His thoughts gnaw at the dryad’s words like feral kingrats, trying to find a juicy truth within them. Instead they find a hole that needs filling, and a creeping sense of guilt. He looks toward the volcano and sighs. Outside of Fefille he has nothing, but he owes a debt to Rolleck and Riyo. And, truth be told, he is rather fond of them. It is just a hunch, but he feels that his worth may lie with them. And if he is to find it, then he will probably have to stand face to face with a dragon.

 

 

“Excuse me?” Emerald says. The girl’s cheery grin does not jive with her words, and, though she is small of stature and skinny of frame, she wears a dangerous aura.

“I can’t squish dragons,” she explains. “I need to work out how to do it if I want to find the sunlight stone.”

“You are in our home,” Emerald says. The anger that flares in her is a surprise. She does not belong here. Even so, the notion of someone threatening this place reminds her of those memories that brought her back to her father’s side. She might not see her people in the light he did, but just knowing how he felt is enough. “If you are not very, very careful, you will be ‘squished’.”

The girl rolls her head to either side. The sound of her neck cracking echoes in the hot dark space.

“Gravity Mould,” Riyo says. Her reality rolls out in front of her like a corridor. She has always defaulted to opening it as a sphere, but the smaller it is, the greater her capacity to manipulate things within it. If she is to overcome the dragons’ ability to resist her, she will need to find ways of increasing her strength. She must become more adept not only at manipulating things within her reality, but at manipulating her reality itself.

Emerald blinks as something soft and ephemeral envelops her.

“I see,” she says. The girl’s confidence begins to make a little more sense. Emerald has encountered crafters before, however. Whatever the girl’s reality does, she will find Emerald even more capable of resisting it than others in the crater.

“Are you ready?” the girl says.

Emerald narrows her eyes.

“Here we go.”

Weight. Emerald feels as though the cave has collapsed, and Yl Torat rests on her shoulders. Her knee hits the stone beneath her and it shatters, making the cavern quake and sending wriggling cracks webbing out around her. She puts a hand down, struggling to breathe past the vice grip around her chest. Her talons etch new grooves into the rock, her wings press painfully into her back. She feels it in her ears, in her chest, in her belly. Her muscles strain and scream, but she cannot even raise her head.

She is being squished. By a human.

“It’s better, like this,” the girl says. “But it’s easier because you’re a smaller target.”

Emerald barely hears her over the rushing of her blood. The shock of it is wearing off, and anger floods in to replace it.

“You think me easy?” she growls.

“No,” the girl says. “You’re resisting harder than the other dragon I met.”

“Well then,” Emerald says, and drags in as deep a breath as she can.

She has travelled the Everstall Song and learned much of the people and creatures that live there. In doing so, she has learned even more about herself. The dragons’ pride in their instincts, in what comes to them from birth, has blinded them to what they can be by examining those instincts. And by surpassing them.

The pilot flame in her throat burns backwards, down into her lungs. Dragonflame licks at the blood that comes to take oxygen, and her bloodstream ignites. Fury burns all the way through to her heart, rushes up to the surface of her skin, seeps out from beneath her scales.

Riyo’s mouth drops open as the dragon before her is wreathed in pink flame.

It opens even wider as she stands up, her wings unfolding with a burst of heat that tousles Riyo’s hair. Amber eyes crackle in the magma-lit gloom, enough anger in their depths to shame the sun.

This. This is what a dragon should be.

Emerald roars, and the pressure leaves her body completely as she sends a thin stream of raw indigo flame at the girl. It melts the wall opposite like ice, rock turning white hot and sloughing down to the floor.

The girl is gone.

“That,” her voice says, the echo making her difficult to locate, “was amazing.”

Emerald’s eyes pierce shadows to her left and right and find nothing. She growls and turns her attention to the ceiling. The girl is standing upside-down, her hair windswept but rolling over her shoulders as if she were on the ground. Sweat drips upwards over her bare stomach.

“Let me show you more,” Emerald says, curling her talons and feeling the fire flicker through her knuckles.

“Please,” the girl says. She sounds excited. “Even if I keep trying, I can’t squish you.” She raises a foot and slams it down on the ceiling. Rock sunders and the whole cave shakes, spilling crumbling debris towards the floor.

But it doesn’t reach. A starscape of floating stone fills the space, each one spinning gently in place.

The girl pulls a pair of needle-like daggers from her belt. Holding both in reverse grip, she falls into a fighting stance.

“Round two,” she says.

 

 

Rolleck the Lost could get lost in a place like this. The caves are all the same scorched black stone, lit at intervals by oozing magma. They twist and twine and turn, with branches and fissures that could lead to the other side of the mountain or dead-end a few metres into their darkness. The air is a soup that is not diluted by his sweat. The soft layers of ash make his footfalls crunch like he is walking on a carpet of autumn leaves.

Bracken growls behind them, and he flinches. Clara gives a little whimper. Though the dragon has been nothing but courteous, he is still a dragon. Rolleck has not had long enough to become accustomed to having him in his blind spot.

“It is quiet,” he says.

Rolleck has been wondering about this. Yl Torat is called a kingdom of dragons, but, so far, the guard at the gap and Bracken are the only two he has seen.

“Is there a meeting, or something, planned for today?” Clara asks. Her voice shivers as though she is in the middle of a blizzard.

“No,” Bracken says. “But if one were to be called, perhaps by a certain prince in response to the news that humans have come to the crater for the first time in more than fifty years, then…” He growls again, turning them into a passage that angles upward. “The meeting hall is close to the surface.” He takes a few massive strides and then growls a third time, turning back to Rolleck and Clara as they catch up. “This will be undignified and uncomfortable,” he says, putting a claw down, ‘palm’ up, “but it will be far quicker. I have a bad feeling.”

Rolleck glances at Clara, then shrugs and steps up onto the dragon’s claw. He figures that Bracken is one of the stronger dragons in this kingdom, to earn the rank of general. He has had plenty of opportunities to crush them and has taken none. He helps Clara up after him, and Bracken lifts them awkwardly to his back. His scales are hard, and though the ridges of his spine offer something to hold onto they are not ideal for it.

“Hold on as best you can,” Bracken says, and begins to trot through the caves. They are bumped and jostled around, but Rolleck has to agree that they cover ground much faster this way. They twist and turn through identical passages, Bracken’s talons pounding the rocks and kicking up ash that settles quietly back to the ground in their wake.

Rolleck grabs Clara’s arm to keep her from tumbling from the dragon’s back as it comes to a grinding halt that leaves deep claw marks in the rock. The barbs of his sword arm dig in to his flesh where he is hugging the sole spine keeping them from a harsh fall onto hard stone. He then looks around, eyes finding shadows and shapes in the gloopy magmalight. He can feel Bracken’s tension, a tangible omen of something terrible.

The ground begins to shake.

 

 

Emerald ducks as another meteorite rockets through the space her head just occupied. It smashes into the ground behind her, making another crater and sending fragments of stone and billows of ash ricocheting through the field of floating debris. The thunder of the impact rolls through the cave, followed by a rainfall clattering.

The girl is in her face again, and all she can do is bring her arms up to block. Her punches fall with the same impact as the rocks, and, though Emerald can resist them, even her flame cowl will not negate them completely. She feels herself slide back and growls in anger, loosing a wide arc of fire from her throat. The girl is gone again.

She moves quickly, changing direction at a whim and bouncing between her asteroids, each one a potential projectile. Emerald quickly determined that her most intense flame was too slow to touch her, so she had switched to releasing wide billows in the hope of catching her. For her part, the girl now has a vivid red burn on her left arm and shoulder, and two gruesome scratches have made grooves in her left thigh. They are not deep enough to be fatal, but hot red blood drips out of them over her ruined trousers.

If one were to glance at their battle, see Riyo’s dishevelled hair and clothes, her bleeding leg and sooty face, it would seem that she is losing. Emerald knows that this is not the case, and it infuriates her. Her cowl is the only thing keeping her from being crushed by the girl’s reality, and it is running out. She can already feel it. A sensation no dragon should ever know. Her own blood is burning her. And it hurts.

She attempts to grab the girl as she sweeps by, but her talons rake through nothing but air. She spins and is forced to slam aside another igneous fastball, the impact on her forearm sending a monumental lance of pain through her that temporarily masks the rising agony of her every blood vessel. A guttural cry of pain escapes her throat, and the cowl flares violent and bright around her. The shadows shudder along the walls. Emerald spies the girl amidst her flock and breathes her utter fury straight at her.

Riyo is running out of time. Her body is tired, and she is straying into overtime on her reality. Too much longer and closing it will render her unconscious. Longer than that, and she is in real trouble.

The next gout of flame is enormous. She cannot reach its edge safely, so she pulls in her satellites, smashing them together into a shield then pushing the air around her away, keeping the impossible heat from giving her any more blisters. It’s another strong manipulation, and Riyo decides she has one more move to end this.

The flame begins to die, and the earth begins to shake.

Emerald stops, panting. Each breath is torture, and with a final growl she lets all the air from her lungs and waits. She starves the fire in her blood as the deep, ominous note of the earthquake builds in intensity. Her chest throbs with the aching need to breathe, but she has to be sure the cowl is extinguished, or she will harbour the flame too long and burn herself from the inside out.

Riyo lets her shield crumble. The dragon is kneeling, her body still. The flames around her die down, losing their brightness and letting hot darkness seep back into the world. She doesn’t really get it, but it seems their fight is over. She lets her reality close. A searing pain fills her mind with a brand-new kind of fire, seeming to scorch her very thoughts. She screws her eyes closed and bears it for as long as she needs to. The only sensation of time passing is the rumble of the volcano, growing louder and stronger.

When Riyo opens her eyes, the only light is the distant magma flow. The dragon’s crimson scales are dark, her eyes barely catching the glow. They are both breathing hard, watching each other without moving.

Emerald feels it, then. The quake becomes something else, the shifting of earth and magma taking on a shape she recognises. A rumbling wail of despair. Of sadness. Of loss.

“No,” she whispers. Her muscles ache in protest as she stands. Her blood no longer burns, but it still runs hot through her veins. Her arm throbs where the girl’s rock hit it, and another blooming bruise on the back of her hip makes itself known too. She shoves down all the pain, turns, and starts running.

“Wait,” Riyo shouts, but the dragon does not. “That was fun!” She cups her hands around her mouth. “Let’s do it again sometime!” Her voice echoes for a moment and then falls silent. She looks around at the battered tunnel, long swathes of the walls missing or crumbling, melting or falling. She looks forward into darkness, and then backward into darkness. “Where the heck even am I?” she asks nobody.

 

 

 

Though dust had ruffled down from the ceiling in sheets and the very stone that surrounded them seemed to roar like an animal, Rolleck doesn’t notice any true structural damage as a result of the quake.

All is still once more, save for Clara, who is at risk of vibrating into her constituent atoms.

“What w-was that-t?” she moans.

Bracken is quiet. Rolleck feels that the moment that passes now is deep and powerful. That the dragon beneath him has changed.

“Yl Torat mourns,” Bracken says. There is a coldness to his voice that was not there before.

“The king,” Rolleck says, closing his eyes. “I am sorry.”

“His time was here.” The dragon begins walking. “Yet knowing it does nothing to gentle the pain.”

“You were close?” Clara asks. Her trembling has lessened somewhat, though there is still a quaver to her voice.

“Not in a personal sense,” Bracken says. “We shared the brotherhood of comrades. In some ways distant, but in others much closer than even lovers. We shared victory and defeat, as well as serving each to each other, at times. Truthfully, I don’t think words can encapsulate our relationship in any definite way, except to say that it was long. I don’t think you can share your life with someone for that long without them becoming a central part of it, or without there remaining a chasm when they leave it.”

It’s minutes more of walking in contemplative silence before they begin to hear a low, churning growl, as though some horrific creature is moving through the walls. Bracken turns a corner, and the tunnel opens up into an enormous cavern with a pool of magma bubbling in its centre. The growl is not one monster, but more than a hundred. Dragons muttering to one another in small groups creates a bass susurrus that vibrates the very rock of the volcano.

Bracken stays close to the entrance rather than strolling into the meeting with a pair of humans on his back.

“This is a very poorly timed coincidence,” Rolleck says, looking over the mass of dragons. That they should all be here the very moment the king dies, while there are humans present in the volcano, smacks of conspiracy to his police officer’s instincts.

“He wouldn’t…” Bracken says.

Gruff emerges from a tunnel on the other side of the cavern, still favouring his leg and with his eye closed where Rolleck struck him. He is accompanied by the massive dragon that met them at the gap, the one Bracken had called Rival. The earthquake murmur of dragon gossip falls away as Gruff steps up onto a crop of stone that forms a podium.

“People of Yl Torat,” he says. His voice is even harsher than it had been when he was promising to destroy Folvin. “My father is dead.”

The dragons roar. It rolls through the caverns of Yl Torat, unfolds across the Everstall Song like a thunderclap, and the forest shudders before it. Rolleck feels it in the marrow of his bones, has to brace himself against the air as it shakes. Clara’s cry of pain and fear is lost to its grand cacophony.

When it dies away, Gruff grips the edge of his platform with the talons of his good claw. They dig deep into the stone, crumbling it and sending streams of dust down towards the crowd. The next comes out as a furious hiss, that sucks everything out of the cavern.

“Murdered.”

Silence so complete that every heart in the space is still. Disbelief robs the world of its senses for an eye-blink moment.

“By a human.”

A wall of noise hits Rolleck once more. The previous roar brought grief and despair with it, but this time there is no unity of emotion. Dragons clamour in a thousand shades of confusion and anger. Chaos threatens with gnashing teeth and gouts of flame. He feels Bracken’s voice only because the scales beneath his feet vibrate in a different pattern to the air. He grabs Clara and drops to the ground, ignoring the girl’s confusion.

“You must leave. Immediately,” the dragon says. His voice is near-deafening to overcome the fury behind him. “Go until you reach a turn, then turn left. It will take you out into the crater. Return to Folvin and warn them that oblivion comes for them.”

“But…” Clara says. The noise is falling, so her yell is audible, if only to them. “He must be lying.”

Bracken’s claws bury themselves in the rock, grinding like a whetstone against a blade. “It does not matter. Deception is not in the nature of dragons, and we are equally poor at recognising it in others. That Black declares it will be proof enough for most, and spell destruction for Folvin and the Everstall Song. Go.”

“What will you do?” Rolleck asks.

“I cannot stop them now that the king is dead, but I can buy you time.”

“Thank you,” Clara says, putting a hand on the dragon’s claw. She is still shaking, but Bracken nods before turning towards the congregation of dragons.

“What we must do is clear,” Gruff’s voice echoes out through the caves as Rolleck and Clara begin running.

“Nothing is yet clear,” Bracken replies.

 

 

 

Riyo pursues an anguished wail into a grand chamber. The heat here makes her skin numb, makes her eyes water and her knees weak. The magmalight ripples as the air shimmers, melting Riyo’s entire world.

The ceiling has collapsed, spilling huge chunks of rock down into the centre of the cavern. And onto a dragon.

Her crimson-scaled rival kneels before the cascade of stone, sobbing onto the snout of the unfortunate soul that sticks out from the pile. Riyo walks slowly up to her.

Emerald wails again. All of her guilt for not coming back sooner sticks swords into the gaps between her scales. It feels as though her heart has burst and beats no more. It feels as though everything she is has drained away, leaving emptiness. It feels…

She slams her fist into the ground. Trying desperately to turn this devastation into something she can understand. Into an emotion that makes sense.

She tries anger.

The human woman is by her side, and Emerald’s claws are ready to rip out her throat and cast her body into the fires of Yl Torat. Her breath seeps out as flame as she growls, furious that this creature would interrupt her grief.

And the woman stands still. Her head bowed, her hands clasped before her. Her eyes closed.

Emerald stays her hand. Her anger is not for this woman. She looks up, to where rock has been carved with claws and melted with flame.

“Is there anything I can do?” the woman says. Her voice is soft. Kind.

“The rocks,” Emerald manages, looking back to her father. Little of him is visible. “Uncover him. Please.”

Riyo nods and whispers open her reality. The debris rises, delicately, from the body of the dragon, then drifts to the back of the cavern where magma churns like boiling stew in a deep cauldron. Deep, molten splashes mark the steady demise of the cave-in, revealing the gruesome battering the elderly dragon has endured. His scales are darker than his daughter’s, faded with time to the near-black of coagulated blood. Despite the ruin of his body his expression is serene, his features calm, his eyes closed.

“Stand back,” Emerald says.

Riyo nods, retreating towards the cavern’s entrance and watching with solemn interest. She has many questions, but even she recognises that this is a time to keep her silence.

Emerald kneels by her father’s head. She lays a delicate kiss on his snout.

“I’m so sorry, father,” she says. “Your end should not have come this way. To be abandoned by your daughter and betrayed by your son. To have built something so great, only for it to be ignored by the one and used by the other. We are neither of us worthy of your legacy.” She stands and moves around to his neck. She feels a tear slip over her cheek as her claws rake through the scales of his throat. His arterial blood dribbles from the wound, thick and still hot, but without the drive of a heartbeat.

“Born of flame, so returned to it,” she says. “May your power be shared by everyone you love, may your life be written in ash and smoke across the history of this world, and may your soul join with eternity, an ever-burning flame.” Her pilot gathers in her throat. She holds it, channelling her grief and pain into it. It builds in intensity, until pure white light shines out between her fangs. With a scream that echoes her loss through the cavern, she ignites her father’s blood. It burns deep into his body, roaring into his heart and out through every vessel. Indigo light flickers from his back, then near his left forearm, then from a dozen other places, tracing patterns around his scales until they join together to form his final grand pyre.

“Your father was a great dragon,” a voice says from the entrance to the hall. Riyo spins around to find three dragons entering, their scales fading into colour as magmalight reveals them. The largest, on the left, is clad in deep violet. The second, not so much smaller than the first, and on the right, is a blue as proud as the clear sky. The smallest in the centre glimmers like gold. Or bronze.

“His strength in uniting the dragons and building this kingdom will no doubt be remembered for millennia.”

“Bronze,” Emerald says, turning her back on her father’s funeral pyre.

“What they’ll remember best about him, though, is his son.”

“Where is he?” Emerald growls.

“Your father may have built this kingdom, but Black will build an empire. This world will bow before him. And you…”

“Where is he?” Emerald’s yell carries her anger into the walls, shaking the mountain once more.

“Your name will be trampled in the dirt. You will be spoken of with hatred as the human-loving filth that harboured his murderer.”

“What?” Riyo says.

Emerald glances at Riyo and she scowls. “So, he’s in the audience chamber.” She shakes her head. “You think you’re being so damn clever, but I’ve seen human infants with more guile.”

“And yet we trap you here anyway,” Bronze says smirking. “And once we present the human’s corpse to the kingdom and declare you the fool who brought her to this very chamber, not one of them will believe you innocent.” He turns and begins receding into the shadows once more. “Kill the human, restrain the princess.”

Malt and Riches smirk and step forward.

“You’re content to help my brother, knowing he killed our father?” Emerald says, low and cold.

“Your father was on the brink anyway,” Malt says.

“He was too weak to do what Prince Black will,” Riches says.

Riyo frowns. “I think a dragon that commands the respect of an entire kingdom and leads them with wisdom is far stronger than one that has to lie and murder his own father to make people follow him.”

“He was stronger than any of us,” Emerald says.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Riyo says, turning to her. “And I’m sorry I never asked your name, too.”

“Emerald,” Emerald says. “Your name is Riyo, is it not?”

“That’s right.”

“I apologise for attacking you earlier, Riyo.”

“My fault. I phrased my search for a sparring partner kinda badly,” Riyo says, turning back to her leering would-be murderers.

“You did it on purpose so that I wouldn’t ignore you.”

Riyo smiles. “I guess you see through guile a little better than a toddler.”

“Not really, since you got what you wanted.”

Riyo tries to feel chagrined, but she is pleased that Emerald isn’t upset with her. “So, what now?”

“You said you wanted to learn to squash dragons.” Emerald gestures towards the violet-scaled dragon. “Malt has volunteered to be a test subject.” She comes to stand before Riches, looks up at him, and curls her talons into a fist.

The two large dragons glance at one another, both scowling at being ignored.

Malt breathes her flame at Riyo, while Riches steps forward and stamps on Emerald.

This does not go as either of them plans.

 

 

Ravi wipes his brow. It is a hot enough day that the shade of the trees is little comfort, the sunlight dancing freely between leaves and needles to find his flesh. Even the soil beneath his feet holds the heat. Were he not heading towards his sure and certain death, he might call the weather nice. With the volcano looming ahead of him, though, the sweat on his skin feels like a portent of flame that makes him deeply uncomfortable.

His plan is to go to the lip of the crater and try to spot the others without getting spotted himself. It seems unlikely that they would go inside the volcano unless something has gone very badly wrong. If that’s the case, then… Well. He will come up with a new plan once the first proves to be insufficient. For now, he concentrates on the trek, on the relentless motion and the silent forest.

“Ravi Matriya,” a voice says.

Ravi leaps. He snatches hold of a branch and swings onto it, pulling his bow over his shoulder and knocking an arrow. It is a swift, seamless movement that requires no thought, allowing his eyes to scan the woods around him.

They are still empty. His perfect eyes see nothing.

“Ravi Matriya,” it says again. From behind him.

He spins, a flicker of blue light responding to his sudden fear, crackling down his bowstring. The trunk of the tree glares down the shaft of his arrow, unamused.

“Yes?” Ravi says slowly.

“Oh good, you haven’t passed the treeline yet,” the voice says. It is coming from the tree, and it is warm and feminine.

“I take it I am speaking to a dryad?” he says, feeling a little embarrassed. He has been moving quickly, but the edge of the forest is still a way away.

“Yes. My name is Tremythenira, we spoke earlier.” There is a sliver of unaired laughter in her voice. “I have news. I’m afraid you are best served by returning to the city.”

“Um,” Ravi says.

“The dragon king is dead. It seems an attack is imminent.”

“Oh.” Ravi realises he still has his bow drawn and relaxes, carefully returning the arrow to its quiver and putting the bow back over his shoulder. Simple movements. Simple thoughts. “That’s quite bad, isn’t it?”

“Clara thinks so, yes. She and your friend Rolleck the Lost have just reached the treeline and relayed the news. The chief was hoping you all would hang around and see if you can help?”

Ravi sits down on the branch with a sigh. “Help with what? An evacuation?”

“Or a defence. The city council are arguing with him about it now. The Sisters are going to go along with whatever plan they come up with. Personally, I’m not sure there’s much point in evacuating. Gruff will start burning the rest of the Song once he’s done with Folvin.”

Ravi watches the shadow of his legs whip across the ground below as he swings them back and forth. He had thought he felt set adrift after liberating Fefille, but while travelling with Riyo and Rolleck he’d at least felt as though he had a destination. Now he is merely wandering around, being pulled back and forth by his own indecisiveness. He is realising that he needs some manner of direction, at least until he becomes happy without his shackles.

“I will wait here and return with Rolleck and Clara,” he tells the tree. “Whatever they decide to do is what I will do.” A moment passes. “What about Riyo?”

“Apparently some complications arose during their talks with the dragons.”

Ravi finds himself smiling. The sweat on his skin is already starting to feel less ominous.

“That does not surprise me.”

 

 

 

In a simpler, better world, the things that Riches steps on give way to his strength, are crushed and broken. In a simpler, better world, things Malt breathes on ignite and die screaming.

In this world, Emerald catches Riches’ talon and stops it dead. The rock beneath her cracks, sending up a billow of dust.

In this world, Riyo creates a wedge of shifted gravity as she had in Folvin, peeling the heat and flame away to either side of her.

When dust settles and fire dies, both Emerald and Riyo are smiling.

Riyo’s run of bad dragons has ended. She has determined that, while many dragons suck, it is not true of all of them. Emerald and Bracken have renewed her faith in an image of terrifying but beautiful creatures of legend. As with humans, however, it seems that only a few can be legends. The rest, despite appearances, are boring. So, though she has not yet found the power to squish them, she is at least strong enough to defeat them.

A leap takes her right into the dragon’s face. She has seen fear in the eyes of a dragon once before, and she is gratified to see it again here. This time it is all for her, and it only has time to widen Malt’s eyes before her kick connects with the side of her snout.

Emerald takes hold of Riches’ claw with both hands and roars as she snaps the digit it is attached to. She then twists, planting her own claws deep and wrenching the larger dragon around. The throw sends him rocketing into the wall on the right side of the cavern entrance just as Malt hits on the left. Twin booms of shuddering earth and cracking stone chase each other through the tunnels of Yl Torat.

Riyo grimaces as she closes her reality again, pain jabbing needles into the back of her eyes. Emerald collapses with a sigh and looks back at her father. He has burned away to bone, and even that is becoming ash. She is tired. But she is not done yet.

She still needs to kill her brother.

She looks up and finds Riyo standing over her, hand outstretched. She takes it and lets the human help her up.

“What now?” Riyo says, looking towards the tunnel the bronze dragon had taken.

“I make my brother pay for what he’s done,” Emerald says.

“Okay, but…” Riyo yawns. “I’m not sure I can hack another big fight.”

“You need not be involved,” Emerald says. “You need not be here at all.”

“That’s true,” Riyo says. “But that bronze dragon seemed pretty confident the other dragons would believe him over you. You might have to fight all of them. Seems like that might be pretty difficult alone. Especially since you’re tired.”

“And whose fault is that?” Emerald says with a glower. Riyo has a point, however. The other dragons, having been informed of Emerald’s ‘betrayal’, will burn first and ask questions later. Such is their nature, particularly when they are angry. And Black will ensure they are angry.

Riyo grimaces. “I had no idea when I provoked you that we were about to be framed for killing the king.”

Emerald growls. She cannot let Black and Bronze get away with their treachery, but she also cannot reasonably fight the entire kingdom. She needs a way to convince them of her innocence before they claw her to pieces.

“I need to speak to Bracken,” she says.

Riyo nods. “He seems pretty reasonable. Strong, too.”

“The strongest dragon I’ve ever known,” Emerald agrees.

“I hope he was able to keep Rolleck and Clara out of this mess.” Riyo frowns. “I should probably go and find them.” She turns back to Emerald. “See you around, I guess.”

Emerald grabs her before she gets more than a few steps.

“Are you an idiot? Do you even know the way out from here?”

“No,” Riyo says. She shrugs. “I usually end up where I need to be eventually, though.”

“Just follow me,” Emerald says with a sigh. “If Bracken is with your friends then he’s probably close to the surface anyway. I’ll take you out and then find him.”

“Oh ok. Cool.”

Riyo pauses by the entrance to pay her final respects to the dragon king, who is now only embers amidst ash. Emerald returns to him and bows her head. She whispers a final “I’m sorry,” under her breath, then takes one of his claws. They are the only part of him able to withstand his flame. She slips it into the strap around her waist and together, she and Riyo head for the surface.

Riyo is reminded of how hot she is. While she has had other things to focus on, she has been able to mostly ignore her sweat slicked skin and growing thirst. As they walk in silence, however, the air reasserts itself. It presses down on her as though she has given it extra weight herself. She seeks to distract herself.

“Why do you wear that stuff?” she asks, waving generally at Emeralds collection of leather straps covered in various bits and pieces from around the forest. She is also curious as to how it survived Emerald setting herself on fire, but she is willing to chalk that down to dragon magic.

“I travelled,” Emerald says, glancing down at her collection. “The forest always appealed to me far more than the volcano, so I left home as soon as I could. I gathered things I liked and kept gifts I was given by the people and creatures I met.

“My father always used to say I was strange,” she smiles at the memory, but it quickly turns sour as she recalls the blaze of his funeral pyre. “He was always so good to both of us. He indulged us each in our own desires. Black always wanted to be strong, to be the pinnacle of what he thought a dragon should be. Father trained him, encouraged his growth at every turn. And when I told him I wanted to leave, to explore, he had Bracken teach me everything he could of the world, then sent me out into it with a smile. He built this kingdom, but he never forced its weight onto either of us.”

“Sounds like he was a good dad,” Riyo says. She doesn’t wonder about her own parents, simply accepts that they were never there. Perhaps their reasons were good, perhaps not. It doesn’t really matter. She would be a different person if she had had a kindly father, a different person again if her father had been a dragon. She is who she is, and that is fine with her.

“Maybe. Or maybe if he had imposed on us a little, I might not have ignored the responsibility entirely. Black might have seen this kingdom as more than just a means to destroy the Everstall Song.”

They fall to silence again, but it is not long before they reach the surface. They do not get there before Black and Bronze, however.

“The people have accepted my plan, general,” Black growls.

“And as I keep telling you, that is not how monarchy works.” Bracken sits in the entrance, the sun behind him as it slides towards the lip of the crater. “If your father had wished for you to take his throne, he would have said so. Instead, he was clear that it would pass to his first born.”

“So, you would make a traitor queen?” Bronze says. He and a cluster of Black’s bloodthirsty coterie stand in opposition to Bracken. There are perhaps twenty of them, a rainbow of scales glinting in the afternoon sunlight.

“I am no fool, Bronze,” Bracken says, narrowing his eyes. “Spare your lies for those with fungus behind their eyes. They may traipse behind you for a while, but when your deceit in unveiled you will find you are the ones branded traitors.”

“And who will find the truth?” Black says. “Now that the human is dead, and Emerald is imprisoned, nobody remains to dispute what I say.”

“You underestimate your sister,” Bracken says. “And humanity, as well, apparently.” He looks at Emerald and Riyo then, amusement in his eyes.

Black turns, along with the rest of the group of dragons, and fearsome snarls break out across their features.

“Bronze?” Black snarls.

Bronze is silent for a moment, wearing a perplexed expression. “Sorry, my heart. It seems I did underestimate them. I will deal with it.”

He and several other dragons step forward, but a crash draws their attention back to Bracken.

The black dragon has slammed his claw down, shattering the ground.

“You will do no such thing,” he says. A number of the other dragons take a step back from his anger.

“Make yourself light,” Emerald mumbles. Riyo glances at her, then nods. Her reality opens, flush against the surface of her skin and clothes.

“I respected your father, Black. He was far stronger and wiser than you, and he knew that to declare war against humanity was foolish. He carved out this kingdom to keep the dragons safe from them. Your naivete has made our people trust you, but it will also get them killed.”

“What?” Black scoffs. A titter of laughter passes amongst the dragons, but it dies quickly in the intensity of Bracken’s stare. “Humans are pathetic and weak. Perhaps in their swarms they might slay us alone, but acting together, we are unstoppable. We will burn them.”

Bracken shakes his head. “I have been out there. I have seen them. Your father trusted my knowledge of battle enough to make me general, and I know what our people are capable of. Should the humans have reason to destroy us, they will. Utterly. Do not give them that reason, Black.”

“You have grown weak,” Black says. There is pity in his voice. “Just like father. I will show you just what we can do. Starting with that one.” He tosses his head towards Riyo. “Kill her.”

Emerald grabs Riyo, and before she can feel the rush of passing air they are standing beside Bracken at the cave entrance. For his part, Bracken does not blink at this turn of speed.

“Go,” he says.

“He killed my father,” Emerald says. “If you are going to fight them, I’m staying.”

Bracken shakes his head. “Even the two of us cannot beat twenty, and you do not look like you are at your best.”

“I am fine,” Emerald says, staring into her brother’s good eye; a mirror of her own but for the darkness dwelling there. A festering hatred that is born of ignorance and rides on arrogance, it dulls the amber they have inherited from their father, steals the light he gave them.

“You are not. Go. Rest. I will try to convince your brother of his foolishness, but if he will not be swayed, then the humans will show him that which I have tried to warn him. Fight with them, and you will see justice for your father.”

Emerald is silent. Torn. There is wisdom in Bracken’s words, and her heart burns to see her brother pay. To crush the very life from his throat with her own claws.

“What about you?” Riyo asks.

“Black dare not kill me. Not yet. Our people do not know Emerald – even those who did so when she was a child believe her corrupted by the outside world. I, however, have their respect. Should he kill me, they will begin to question him. With scrutiny, they will see his lie about the king’s death, and he will be undone. I will be restrained.” He smirks. “Or I will put them all in their place. If there is no attack on Folvin by tomorrow, assume these old scales proved tougher than I thought.”

Emerald growls. “I do not like this.”

“Nor do I.” Bracken’s tone is serious once more, the deep rumble of distant thunder. “Now go.”

Emerald turns her back on her brother.

“Good luck,” Riyo says.

Emerald grabs her by the belt.

“Hey, hang on. Can’t I just ride on your back?”

“Not a chance,” Emerald says, and leaps, spreading her wings in a great crimson arc. They catch the air, pushing heat and sunlight back towards the earth as they drive her higher into the air. Riyo dangles from her hand like a suitcase, weightless and complaining.

 

 

Black watches as his sister escapes, his teeth grinding once more and hatred burning in his gut. If she had just stayed gone, lost herself in the forest she loves so much, this would have been so simple.

“She is no longer important,” Bronze says, nudging him gently with his snout. “Either she will return as powerless to change the people’s minds as she is now, or she will fight with the humans in Folvin, further confirming her treachery. We must focus on the general for now.”

“We kill him,” Black growls.

“No,” Bronze says. “He spoke out against us at the assembly. If he is killed, the people will think we wish him silenced. But they agreed to the destruction of Folvin, so for him to stand against us here is in defiance of the people’s will. For us to show mercy will only make us more credible, and him, less. For us to pity him, to explain away his treachery as irrationality born of grief for his fallen friend, will deflect attention away from what we do not wish them to look at.”

Black nods. He loves Bronze for the way he sees Black’s ambition as his own, and more, sees the way to achieving it.

“Stand aside, general,” Black says. “It is the dragon’s will, the will of Yl Torat, that the human city be destroyed. You can lead our army to victory, as you did for my father, or you can let us pass. Anything else is betrayal.”

“I will happily betray liars and murderers, my prince,” Bracken says. “I will happily fight for your father’s ideals, even if it means fighting his son.”

“Then you leave us no choice,” Black says.

“You chose the path that brought us here. Not I,” Bracken says. “But perhaps this is for the best.” He widens his stance, spreads his wings. “I have had no luck convincing you that the world beyond this mountain is not our rightful domain, but theirs. Instead, I will show you. Everything I learned out there. Everything they taught me.” He inhales his pilot, a deep, powerful breath that sets a torch to his blood as it passes his lungs. His cowl builds, and burst forth from beneath his scales, drawing shocked gasps from several of the dragons before him. “Watch carefully, young prince,” he roars. “All of my power is but candle to the inferno the humans can bring to life. Test me and see if you still wish to ignite their enmity.”

He charges.

 

 

Six figures wait at the gate of Folvin, lit by a pair of flickering torches that barely hold the newly-gathered darkness at bay. Emerald lands gracelessly before them and tosses Riyo to the ground, where she wakes with a start. She regained her weight when she fell asleep, but even under normal gravity she is lighter than she looks. She looks quite light.

“Ouch,” she says, standing, then, “Oh, we’re here. Hey guys.”

Emerald recognises the bird man that chased her out of Folvin and the fire chief, who stands as tall as her and twice as wide. A third is a leaf-clad dryad, her arm around the waist of a short, similarly-attired human. The last are a human with a sword strapped to his arm by cruel wires and eyes with iron in their depths, and a scrawny human with greying hair and a twitchy demeanour. His hands clutch at an exceptionally-crafted wooden cane, and his clothes are smartly-cut.

All of them look hard at her save for the twitchy man, whose countenance is one of uncertainty. There is tension in the way they all stand, like animals that are not sure whether the situation makes them predator or prey but are ready to act as either.

Emerald drops to one knee. Her flight has given the day time to catch up with her, and she is so tired she can almost feel the grave pulling her towards it. Her father is dead, her people have cast her out and chosen violence over reason, and the physical exhaustion of her fight with Riyo still aches inside her muscles.

“Um,” the grey-haired man says. “There is a dragon here.” He looks to the chief, his expression a war of fear and anger. “Chief? Can you… Can you deal with her?”

“It might be prudent to listen to what she has to say first, Mister Mayor,” the dryad says. She does not invest his title with much in the way of respect.

“It might also be prudent to kill her before she kills us,” he says, his voice rising in pitch as Emerald turns to look at him.

Riyo turns to the fire chief and whispers open her reality, shaking her head. “Anyone who touches her gets flattened.”

“Speak your piece, dragon,” the dryad says.

“My name is Emerald.” She sounds as tired as she feels. “My father was once king of Yl Torat, but now he has passed.” She turns her gaze to the well-beaten soil before the gate, fearing they will see the fresh tears threatening in her eyes. “My brother has framed Riyo for his death and cast me an accomplice. He will come here tomorrow with his closest, most zealous companions, intent on Folvin’s destruction. I am sorry I was not able to stop this.” She scrunches her eyes closed. “I’m sorry for… so many things. Decisions I made that brought us all to this place, for the ignorance and bigotry of my people. These things I cannot change before tomorrow, but I would like to humbly request that you let me fight alongside you.” She waits, hurting inside and out.

“We can’t trust her,” the mayor says. “She’ll turn on us.”

“No she won’t,” Riyo says, scowling at him.

“And why should we trust you? Who are you, anyway? And you people, too,” he gestures at the bird man and the swordsman. “I am the mayor of this city.”

“But you are not its protector,” the dryad says. “Your ancestors invited us into Folvin, and we built her walls, her homes. We fended off the creatures of the forest and repaired the damage the dragon prince did to this place. You were happy to let us do these things, and no doubt you were expecting us to fight with you tomorrow. I say the dragon princess fights with us, or the dryads withdraw to the forest and do not fight at all.”

“If she is the equal of her brother, then I think it’s worth the risk,” Fire Chief Torglif says. “How many dragons are we talking?”

Emerald shakes her head and glances at Riyo. “Bracken will not go down easily, but they will seek to overwhelm him with their numbers quickly.”

“Somewhere between fifteen and twenty,” Riyo says.

“Velum forefend,” the mayor says, his eyes going wide. “We should begin evacuating Folvin right now. We would as well go chasing the sunlight stone as try to defend these wooden walls.”

“One thing at a time,” Riyo says. “Besides, most of them are small-fry.”

Rolleck raises an eyebrow.

“Small-fry by dragon standards,” she clarifies. “You could probably take a couple.”

“That is gratifying to hear,” he says, rolling his eyes. “What about the remaining eighteen?”

Riyo yawns. “Ask me after I’ve had a nap.” She lifts an arm and sniffs gingerly at her armpit, then recoils. “And a bath.”

“If you’re going to stand with us tomorrow, you can stay at the same place again, free of charge,” Torglif says.

“Sweet,” Riyo says, and makes for the gate. She closes her reality again, and almost falls.

Ravi steps forward and grabs Riyo’s shoulder, then frowns around as everyone else winces or touches their head uncertainly. Odd looks pass around the group, then gather on Riyo. She doesn’t seem to notice and laughs off her stumble before heading in through the gate. Ravi accompanies her, with a backward glance for Rolleck.

The mayor seems nonplussed, not making any necessary connections. “I see a decision has been made.” He taps his cane a couple of times, irritation plain on his face. “I feel, however, that this should be put to the people.”

“I actually agree,” Torglif says. “They should be warned.”

Aetokelishpa taps her lips with her free hand, then nods. “We will tell them that the attack comes, and that we intend to repel it. We will also remind them of the dragon prince’s repeated promise to burn the entire Song. Then they may choose to leave and take their chances in the forest or shelter within Ilintorphrassil.”

Clara’s eyes widen. “Will the others agree to that?”

“It is the safest place in the city, and large enough to accommodate everyone. We dryad prefer our privacy, but there are exceptions. You are one of them,” she kisses Clara on the forehead, making her blush, “and the imminent approach of a war-party of dragons is another.”

The mayor gains a thoughtful expression. “I suppose I can accept that.”

“Then I will triple the night watch,” Torglif says. “Should the horns not sound before then, we will meet at dawn.”

The gathering nods, and heads into the city.

“I have a favour to ask of you,” Emerald says to the fire chief.

 

 

Riyo feels nothing. It is pleasant. Though she floats in the hottest bath, compared to the Heart of Yl Torat it is like a mild summer breeze. Far above her, clouds hide twinkling stars. They gain a golden-blueish tinge towards the eastern horizon, where the crystals of the Voiceless Desert shine their light across their undersides. Far beyond that, they will begin to curve upwards into the sky, forming an inconsistent tunnel around the Reach. Wind and the gravity tide will drive them into the atmosphere of Calis, where they will swirl and join and separate, dropping rain that crystalizes as it falls through the strange magical energies above the ant’s nest of mana caverns where the sunlight stone hides.

Riyo finds her mind often drifts with those clouds. It would be a simpler journey if she were a cloud. But if it was simple, she wouldn’t be doing it at all.

The sound of rent wind cuts across the rooftop, followed by the gentle tap of claws on wood.

“You bathe late, Riyo Falsemoon,” Emerald says.

“I’m probably punishing my skin even more, but it doesn’t feel that way.” She keeps her eyes on the clouds. “Care to join me?”

“That’s okay,” she says, appearing at the wrong angle in Riyo’s peripheral vision. “You would be surprised how little dirt remains on you after you’ve set yourself on fire.”

“Unfortunately, you probably wouldn’t be surprised by how little skin remains on a human after you set them on fire. I think I’ll stick to my hot water for now.”

“That’s fair.” Emerald dips out of sight, and there is a faint splish as she puts her feet in the pool. “I wanted to ask. Why is it you’re fighting here?”

“I told you,” Riyo says, watching the clouds’ eternal flow and riding with them to her destination. A destination where things much more terrifying than dragons await her. “I’m not strong enough.”

“There are better ways to become strong.”

“Those ways involve being like my master,” Riyo says. She imagines she sees the robed figure of Elvolar Lightseer amongst the shadowy mess above her. “Strict training regimens and concentrating on things. Books. Lectures. Headaches.” She rolls backwards, kicking her feet into the air and bringing them down with a waterlogged crash. She surfaces in front of Emerald, scattering water across the roof. “I need excitement. Challenge that goes beyond wracking my brains and learning new words. I need to butt heads with the universe hard enough to crack it open, then learn from what I find inside.”

Emerald rubs her bruised forearms. She finds she is smirking at the memory of her fight with Riyo. She had known, much better than other dragons, how strong humans could be. Riyo has taught her a little more, but she has also learned that she still barely knows anything at all.

“Hey,” Riyo says, drawing her attention back to the little blonde human. “What are you going to do after we win?”

Emerald looks up to the endless night, then back down, to where a mountain burns with the breath of hundreds of dragons. “If I win, I will be queen.” She swallows a lump in her throat. “My father created a great and powerful kingdom. He poured his life into uniting them, making them see each other as comrades. As family. It’s my job to make them see the beauty in the home they have found, to teach them the worth of their neighbours, to show them what Yl Torat can be, free of war and malice.” She looks down at her hands. “I see that now. I think it’s why my father let me out to wander. He had to focus on the dragons themselves. It’s up to me to look to the outside world.”

The weight of it is different from Riyo’s reality, but it presses down on her scales all the same. Her life will become something different tomorrow and, though she has accepted that, it comes with sadness. Even should she defeat Black and expose his treachery to the rest of the dragons, she will still feel as though she has lost far more than just her father.

Riyo nods. “Sounds like you’ve made up your mind.” She splashes water at Emerald’s face, startling her out of her melancholy. “But you know, your face says you’ve decided to walk into a prison and stay there forever.” She mutters to herself, and Emerald feels the tingle of her reality. “Where I’m from, a queen is someone with a lot of power.” Some of the water from the bath rises before her, and she fiddles it around with her fingers, until it forms the shape of a crown. It is a delicate weaving, considering she must have done it only by shaping the direction of gravity around the water. She places it on her head. “Someone who can make decisions, maybe even change the way the world works with a word. Of course,” she whispers again, and the crown collapses, dousing her head, “where I’m from, kings and queens only exist in stories.” She moves her damp hair away from her eyes.

“So, what will you do, if we win tomorrow?” Emerald asks.

“I’m going to find the sunlight stone,” she says. Water lifts from the pool once more and forms two spheres, one a little smaller than the other. They rotate around each other in a slow, mismatched waltz, joined together by a thin strip. Riyo reaches into the smaller sphere and closes her fist. The water splashes back down, and she opens her hand and stares at her palm.

“How do you know it even exists?”

She shrugs and flicks the remaining moisture from her hand into Emerald’s face. “I don’t, but it’s going to be fun to find out, and then I’ll know. And nobody else will. Not for sure.” She grins.

Emerald stares at Riyo for a moment, and then laughs.

Riyo stretches, arching her back. “I’m one big prune,” she declares. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Wait,” Emerald says as Riyo climbs from the bath. “I have a gift.” She stands and pulls it from the strap at her waist.

Riyo blinks. “Is that…?”

Emerald runs a finger tenderly down the blunt edge of the sword. “My father’s.” She has spent the last couple of hours with a weaponsmith recommended to her by the fire chief. The result is a little rough and unbalanced, but her father’s claw is now a sword capable of piercing dragon scales. And balance is just a matter of weight.

She turns it and offers the hilt to Riyo. “Dragon’s aren’t sentimental people, normally.” She gestures at her collection. “I’m a special case, and I took the claw in the hope that it would let me carry him with me.”

“Then you should keep it,” Riyo says.

She shakes her head. “It’s not going to work. My only memories of him come from years ago. They serve to remind me that I abandoned him. That I returned too late to help him. Save him. It carries a monstrous weight of guilt that I am already struggling to shoulder. And if we win tomorrow, then it will only grow heavier.”

Riyo reaches out and grips the sword. It is a much larger blade than she is used to wielding, and its inward curve is severe enough that it is more a sickle than a sword. Even so, it is lighter than it looks, and with a little practice she thinks she might be able to use it.

“Carrying heavy things is my speciality,” she says, propping the blunt edge of the sword on her shoulder.

“It suits you,” Emerald says.

Riyo raises an eyebrow, glancing down. She is naked and par-boiled to a shimmering red sheen.

“You’re right,” she says. “A few more claws and I will be the lobster I was always meant to be.”

Emerald snorts out another laugh, shaking her head. “Sleep well, Riyo.”

“You too. And Emerald,” she holds out the sword, “we all have our weights to carry, but sometimes you can let others share the load, and other times you can choose to pick up something different instead. Something lighter. Don’t get so focused on an idea that you forget that there are always other paths.”

Emerald turns away with a sigh. “Would that it were as simple as that.”

She bounds from the roof, wings crashing against the warm night air. She will sleep in the forest, amidst the scent of trees and the soft noises of nocturnal creatures at hunt. It may be the last time she ever does.