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

The spear tumbled lazily through the air. It came down, jammed itself point first in the wood at Kemir’s feet and quivered.

Take us!

The voice in his head this time was no dragon. This was something else. Some things else. He took a step forward. Up close he recognised it. The Speaker’s Spear.

The black dragon was strangely still.

We kill dragons, said the spear.

On the shore, the gold dragon had the Picker impaled on the end of his tail. He dropped him into his mouth, bit him in half and turned to look at Kemir.

Leave, little one.

Kemir took the spear in both hands this time. Ignored the cold shiver that ran down his spine, the electric tingle that touched his skin. He wrenched it free of the planks and raised it high. Behind the dragon, Hammerford lay wreathed in smoke. A pall of it hung in the air, drifting slowly towards the river. He could hear the distant flames, the sounds of beams cracking and groaning, of buildings tumbling. There were probably lots of people noises too, shouting and screaming and cursing, but he couldn’t hear those over the roar of the town’s death.

The spear.

Amid the rubble and the bodies something moved. The figure of a man. In a flash, the dragon snatched him up. It took Kemir a second to realise that the dragon was holding Kithyr.

You know this one.

‘Yes. It’s all the same to me if you eat him, but don’t blame me if he doesn’t taste very nice.’ As he spoke, he could see the dragon’s claws turning slowly orange. Blood, perhaps. The dragon dropped the mage as though he’d been stung. He stamped on him twice, still holding his fore-limb out in front of him. Kemir felt the pain and the rage pulse out of the dragon in waves. What have you done to me?

The dragon’s claws, he saw, were melting. Little curls of stream rose from the talons and drops of something dark dripped from them and splashed onto the waterfront.

‘I’d go and see to that if I were you.’ He readied the spear to throw. The dragon turned, furious, but still didn’t strike. It stared at him.

You may keep your life if you give me the spear.

‘You’re running out of claws to hold it.’ The dragon’s fore-limb was little more than a stump now. The steaming had stopped, though.

You know what I am, little one called Kemir. I have seen your thoughts before and I see them now. Throw your spear if you wish. It is the Spear of the Earth. If your aim is true, nothing will turn it and I will die. If you miss, I will kill your mate first, the one who hides in the water beside you. I will roast her slowly. I will crush your bones and then you will listen to her screams. I will leave you beside her. You will be alive but you will be broken, so broken that you can barely move. The river will quench your thirst. For food I will leave you the roasted flesh of your mate. I will leave you alive to choose whether you eat her or starve. The other one was closer than you are now and the spear did not save him. Now give it to me!

There were probably the best part of couple of hundred corpses littered about. Kemir took a step and then stopped. He lowered the spear and then raised it again. If the dragon wanted him dead, why was he still alive? It could burn him from the air. Could burn him from where he stood right now. Could pick out pieces of building and throw them at him. He might evade the first boulder, the first blast of fire, but sooner or later the dragon would get him.

How long will your mate remain down there in the river? She is tired, Kemir. And cold. Give me the spear, little one. That is all I desire of this place. Give it to me and I will be gone. I will tire of this soon enough and then I will kill you for it.

It dares not strike you. Kemir jumped. The new voices in his head were the spear itself, harsh and violent and metal. We will protect you. Strike at us and we strike back. That is what we are. The dragon knows this.

The dragon twitched and Kemir felt its anger. Give it to me, little one. It is not what you think.

An interesting thing to say, since he hadn’t the first idea what it was that he did think. He waited, but the spear stayed silent. He could feel it, though, a gentle power coursing down his arm, filling him with certainty. What are you then? What are you supposed to do?

Give it to me and I will go. The dragon turned to face Kemir squarely. It rocked back on its hind legs and flapped its wings a couple of times. Its tail flicked restlessly from side to side. Readying itself to spring.

He was moving before he even knew it. Wasn’t even sure why, except that simply standing rooted to the spot while a dragon pounced on him was stupid. He was running, screaming, spear raised. The dragon drew its head back and Kemir’s arm did the same. Kemir’s arm and the dragon flew forward in the same moment. The spear lanced through the air and vanished into a blossoming cloud of fire. Kemir hurled himself sideways, rolled across the jetty and fell over the edge. He closed his eyes. Fire filled the air. Heat seared his skin and then the water reached up and sucked him down into its cold roar. He thrashed blindly. Near him something vast smashed into the river. The dragon, it couldn’t be anything else. For a moment the world filled with light, one great flash of it. He pawed at the water, flailing helplessly until his hands touched something solid; he pulled himself towards it and then hurled himself to the surface. His head burst back into the air. The last fragments of the jetty were gone, smashed to splinters. The golden dragon lay half in the water, half out, head raised, wings and claws outstretched and reaching right over Kemir’s head. It wasn’t gold any more, it was grey. Turned to stone.

Kemir stood up. Here by the shore the river water came up to his chest. He wasn’t going to die after all. He wasn’t going to drown and he wasn’t going to burn and he wasn’t going to be torn to pieces.

I killed a dragon. The thought hit him like the river. Me. I killed a dragon.

He was grinning like an idiot. ‘Kat! I killed a dragon! Look.. .’

The grin faded. Where the jetty jutted out into the water, where he and Kataros had hidden themselves, nothing was left except shattered wood. He splashed towards where she had been. His feet slipped out from under him and he fell back into the water. He sank under, thrashed and flailed, hauled himself up again, spluttered and splashed and pulled himself towards the shore. It took him another few minutes to find a place where he could climb up out of the water and make his way back to where the dragon lay.

‘Kat!’ There was no sign of her. The post that they’d both clung to was gone. The spear was gone too. Sunk beneath the water or stuck into the petrified dragon somewhere where Kemir couldn’t see it. He couldn’t bring himself to climb onto its stone back to look for it. Even touching the dragon felt strange. It was cold. He’d never known a dragon be cold.

He ran up and down the riverbank but there was no sign of her. Bits and pieces of debris, bodies and the shattered remains of boats littered the shore. The air was thick with smoke now, bitter and choking. He could barely see between blinking his eyes clear of tears, but the river was quiet and dead. No one splashing about and shouting for help.

Kataros was the one who’d pushed him into the water in the first place. She was the one who’d helped him find the pile to hold on to. She could swim; he’d seen her. Maybe… Maybe when she was knocked free, she had swum down the river away from the fire. Maybe she was just fine. A little cold but otherwise just as perfect as ever.

And maybe holding that spear for a while made me the new speaker. He cleared his eyes once more and peered out at the dark water. I tried. I really did try. Blindly, he set off downstream along the bank. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for. Kat, in another life where endings were happy and when unexpected things happened they were sometimes good. Or her body. At least then he’d know she was dead and he wouldn’t be left to choose between guilt and futile hope.