The Order of the Scales Deas - The Order of the Scales

‘Wherever you like.’

‘That would be across the sea then.’

‘If that’s what you want.’

And that was that. No argument. No bitter parting of ways. No pain.

‘Listen,’ he said, because he couldn’t really believe any of this. ‘The dragons from your eyrie-’

He didn’t get any further than that. She put a finger on his lips, and all he could think to do was push himself next to her and rest his head against hers and close his eyes and try not to think about how long it might last. They’ll be awake soon. Every city, every eyrie, every town and every village in the realms will go up in flames, one after the other. Nothing we can do will change anything. But if we’re too late, if we can’t reach the sea in time, I’d rather spend the few weeks before I burn with you than be alone. Couldn’t tell her that, but at least he could think it.

Nice work, Kemir. Looks like you could fuck her a few times while you’re at it too. Before you sell her to the Taiytakei.

Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! He held her tighter. She squeezed his fingers between her own.

‘I’ll find us a boat then.’ His voice was raw. Kataros put a hand on his cheek and turned his head to face her. She kissed him, slowly.

‘I suppose,’ she whispered, ‘if that’s what you want.’ She was reaching a hand into the pocket where he kept the pouch of dust. ‘No. Stay a little while. One night. Lie with me. Stay with me. Don’t do anything. Just hold me close and let me feel you.’ She took a pinch of dust to her nose and sniffed sharply.

Outside he heard strange sounds. Scattered shouting and something else, something distant.

Kataros jumped up and ran out; Kemir followed. It took him a moment to see through the pointing arms, but high over the middle of Gliding Dragon Gorge a cloud was coming. A dark cloud of long bodies and beating wings. Dragons. Hundreds of them, from the south, across the gorge and the Fury. They were heading straight for Watersgate. Wagons stopped in the street. Drivers turned, looked up and stared.

‘Run,’ he whispered in Kat’s ear, and pushed her. More words than that were wasted breath. He didn’t know which way they were going, only that it didn’t matter.

‘What?’

He took her arm and pulled her away from the crowd in the street, back towards the river. ‘Just run!’

The dragon they called Silence had been starving for a week when the little ones sent a Scales. They sent it to be sure that the dragon hadn’t somehow escaped. The Scales had no conception of what dragons truly were. Had little conception of what the old man and his ilk did to dragons, and none at all of what they had done to the Scales themselves. The dragon would have eaten him if he could, but it couldn’t. So it snared the little one’s thoughts and showed him the truth. All of it. By the time it was done, the Scales was broken inside. In some ways, the dragon found that more satisfying than simply eating the man. Which it couldn’t because of the chain around its neck.

Scales. The little ones chose them to fall in love with dragons. Made them fall in love with dragons. They ended up loving their dragons more than people.

The dragon listened to the broken Scales’ thoughts as he ran away. Listened to the old man. In fragments and pieces, it could hear what the old man was thinking. The old man knew that the dragon had done this and the dragon was pleased.

There were other thoughts, other minds, other little ones, but they’d never come close enough to become familiar, so the dragon merely sensed that they were there, little flickering things on the edge of its perception.

Send more so I can ruin them too. The dragon felt the old man jump right out of his skin, the dragon’s thoughts crashing uninvited in. Fear. A flash of terror. An after-tang of dread. Delicious. You treat your own kind in the same way as you treat us. They do not know, these keepers you make. Send more so I can show them. Poisons and potions and lies, that is all your kind know.

It felt the old man, amidst his fear and confusion. How far, he was thinking, how far can the dragon reach?

I have tasted you. I have something you desire to know.

‘I have nothing to say to you, abomination.’

The dragon you call Snow is coming, little one.

‘No.’ The dragon felt the old man close his mind and hurry away.

The dragon returned to waiting.

The old man wasn’t long in coming. The dragon felt him long before the door to its prison opened. Others came with him. They brought a weapon they called a scorpion, broken into pieces. The dragon spat fire at them. The chains around its neck were strong, though, while its flames were starved and weak. The little ones moved with care and carried shields of dragon-scale to turn what was left of them aside. They carried their weapon in pieces to the end of the cave, where the dragon couldn’t reach. Where sunlight and the open air and freedom called. Methodically, they put the weapon together. The dragon watched. Their thoughts showed it what the weapon was and what it was for long before they finished. The dragon waited though and said nothing until the last piece went into place, until the first bolt was being loaded and the weapon was armed. Then the dragon turned.

You are pointing that the wrong way, old man.

‘No. I should have done this weeks ago.’

Yes.

‘Shoot it.’

The dragon paid them all its attention now. Its eyes drooped almost closed but its mind climbed into theirs, watching, seeing, waiting. One of the little ones called Adamantine Men aimed the weapon called scorpion at the dragon and fired. The dragon sprang straight up into the air, exactly in time. The scorpion bolt missed.

The old man became angry. ‘It knows what you’re trying to do. Load another and fire again. Sooner or later it won’t be able to get out of the way. We have as long as it takes, and I have all the scorpion bolts you could want. Don’t try to be clever. Aim at its body. If we have to put fifty bolts into it before it dies then that’s what we’ll do.’

You are wrong, old one. You have no time left at all.

‘And why is that, monster?’

Because the one you call Snow is coming, old one. Coming here. Coming now.

‘They happen to be coming, right here, right now?’ The old man shook his head and picked up another bolt. ‘You’ll not fool me as easily as that, monster. I’ll do it myself.’

Coming because I have called them as I called you. Look. They come. It is no longer necessary for me to distract you. The dragon let his thoughts fill with venom and glee. The old man couldn’t help himself. Looked over his shoulder, out into the expanse of open air beyond the cave mouth, past lake and fields and farms into the distant desert sky.

A dozen dragons were coming. They were close. Not close enough yet for the old man to make out what colour they were or whether they had riders. Human eyes. So dim.

No riders, old one. The one you call Snow comes.

The old man didn’t know what to do. Incomprehension fogged his mind. Disbelief. Confusion. Fear. Realisation. Alarm. Comprehension. Dread. Despair. The dragon revelled in them all. The last most of all. We are all dead.

Yes. You are.

The onrushing dragons split. Most climbed. One kept straight. By then even human eyes could have no doubt. All the little ones could see now. White riderless death.

The dragon called Silence soaked up their despair like a lizard basking in the sun.

‘Go!’ the old man shouted to the other men. ‘Go and get your hammers and do what you came to do. All of them! Smash them all!’ The old man took the weapon called scorpion himself and aimed. ‘You’ll not live to see this, abomination.’ Fired. Missed. The dragon laughed. Swords and arrows were wasted weapons, however big they were.