Stephen Deas: The King of the Crags

Kithyr paused. He fixed his gaze on Rider Semian. 'There is always a way. In time, the Silver King took us to a place, to what has become the alchemists' redoubt. To the caves there.' He smiled. 'What do you know of the alchemists' secrets? There are certain moulds and mosses and lichens that grow in the caves there, yes. The sorcerer showed us how to make potions from those that would tame the dragons. But there was more to it than that. It needed a sacrifice, you see. Blood. Death. A soul.' He smiled again, this time at Jostan. 'You've been there, Rider. Perhaps you know. The alchemists don't need blood any more. Do you know why?'

Jostan, despite himself, shook his head.

'No. Because that is where the Silver King taught us his greatest secret, that anything and everything was possible if the sacrifice was right. Because we blood-mages learned that lesson well and there and then made a pact. We all gave of our blood and we bound the demon-sorcerer to our will and took his blood instead. We held him down and split open his skull and took out his spirit, which was like a luminous silver snake. I imagine he's still there, still bound by our blood-magic, still pouring his life energies into the potions the alchemists make to keep the likes of you in the skies. It was hard, the hardest thing we ever did. It cost us a great deal of our power, all of us. Look at us. Reviled and hated while our little brothers the alchemists, who were once our apprentices, rule over everything.' He grinned. 'I suppose you think that it is the speaker who wields the power…'

Semian stood up and loomed over the mage. 'Can. It. Be. Done?'

Kithyr didn't flinch. He met Semian's eye with a lazy gaze. 'My point, Rider Semian, if you must have it so soon, is this: If blood-magic can be made to tame dragons and to enslave gods, why then ves, it can do a little thing such as make men blind. Yes, it can be done. But there would have to be a…' Kithyr pursed his lips. 'There would have to be a sacrifice.'

And here it comes. Jostan sat back to see what would happen. How many of you are actually ready to die for whatever this is? Because it's certainly not going to be me.

Semian gave a decisive nod. 'Whatever it takes.' He looked at Nthandra, who nodded, and then the others. They nodded as well. Then he clasped Kithyr's hand. 'Whatever it takes, Kithyr, we will do. We will bring the speaker to her knees and burn her on her throne.'

One by one they got up and left for their beds. Jostan watched them go in disbelief. Maybe the ease of today's victory had gone to their heads. Maybe that was it. Maybe that's why they weren't thinking. The speaker's palace was guarded by two hundred dragons and ten thousand Adamantine Men. In times of war, the walls and towers could be be lined with five score scorpions on every side, exactly according to the rules of Prince Lai's Principles. Even a hundred dragons wouldn't be enough, and the Red Riders had what? Twenty?

'Jostan, walk with me.' Semian was offering Jostan his hand, Jostan stood up. He glanced uneasily at Nthandra and Kithyr, the last left in the tent. He never felt comfortable leaving them alone. The blood-mage had had a sickening interest in Nthandra from the very day they'd arrived.

Semian was tugging him away. 'Leave them, Jostan. I know you mean well but she doesn't need your protection.'

'She's not even old enough to be called a rider, not really.' But he didn't resist. He let Semian push him gently outside.

'That's war for you.'

'Are we at war?'

'Yes.' Semian put an arm around Jostan's shoulder, something the old Semian would never have done. 'We all loved Queen Shezira, but there's nothing we can do for her. We have to look past that. Zafir will execute her and nothing we do will change that.'

As if you cared. 'Rider Hyrkallan doesn't agree.'

'I lyrkallan should go home. Jaslyn will need riders like him for the war. She needs riders like you too. And there will be a war, Jostan. The Great flame has shown it to me.'

Jostan felt something inside him break. 'Are you sending me away, Semian? Are you telling me you don't want me here with you?'

Semian shrugged. 'You only came because Jaslyn sent us both away. I know how you used to look at her. I felt the same way for a while. And yes, she's a princess, soon to be a queen, but in war who knows what could happen? The Red Riders don't mean anything to you, Jostan. You came because you had no dragon and nowhere else to go. Well now you have a dragon, and if you go with Hyrkallan then I'm sure Jaslyn will have you back. She will need every rider she can get. Please understand: I don't want you to go if your heart is here, but it isn't, and I don't want you to stay while your heart is elsewhere.'

Jostan looked back. Semian was walking them steadily away from the tent.

'Don't tell me you want to be with Nthandra.' Semian shook his head. 'She's not right for you, Jostan. She's one of us. She's given herself to the Great Flame. She embraces the fire and the fire brings her joy. Have you given yourself to the Flame?'

Jostan shook his head. 'I don't even begin to understand it.'

'You see. You belong with Hyrkallan and Princess Jaslyn and the riders of the north. What we're doing here is…' He frowned, reaching for something. 'It's something special. You were a good friend, Jostan, almost a brother to me, but do you see how our paths must move apart? And Nthandra has chosen too. I'm sorry for you that she didn't choose you.'

Jostan closed his eyes. 'She's a girl, Semian.' Even more than Princess Jaslyn was. He wasn't sure which one he feared for the most.

'Yes. And I will look after her.'

'That's not what I mean. I mean that's not why I'm going to stay, Semian. I'm not going back to the north, and I doubt you'll rid yourself of Hyrkallan so easily either. But even if you do, I'm staying with you because I remember who you are and because of what we endured together. Because you are almost a brother. Because I don't trust your new friend the blood-mage, and I think someone should stay to look after you. Besides, who knows, maybe the Great Flame will touch even me given time, eh?'

Semian stopped. He shook his head and looked Jostan up and down, and for a moment Jostan thought he was going to get a rebuke, but then Semian smiled. 'Then you're as good a friend as I'm likely to find and I shall be proud to fly with you. There may come a time when you wish to change your mind. You know you can leave whenever you want. We'll give you everything you need to get back to one of our queen's eyries. I'll even give you a dragon.'

Jostan laughed too. He couldn't help himself. 'You realise you're talking as though the Red Riders are already yours.'

'Oh, they are.' Semian was still smiling. 'Hyrkallan just doesn't know it yet. He and the others who haven't been touched by the fire, they'll leave soon enough. But you can stay. I still have hope for you. Come.' He tugged Jostan into motion again. 'Whatever Kithyr and Nthandra had to say to each other, I'm sure it's said.'

He was right: the blood-mage was gone when they returned. Nthandra was almost asleep, and as Jostan and Semian lay down one either side of her, she made no move to go to either of them. Jostan felt the weight of his arms and his legs and his head pressing him into the ground. A good fight was always a guarantee of a good night's sleep. The last thing he remembered was Nthandra's hand, snaking between the blankets, reaching out and holding his own, squeezing tight. She almost seemed happy. And then the darkness engulfed him and sucked him down into a place so dark and so deep that he thought he might never escape; and as he sank he dreamed, and in his dreams he saw his friend Semian, crying out against the tyrannies of the speaker. He saw riders rally around him, a few at first, then dozens, then thousands, and among those laces were riders he knew were his friends. He saw the riders rise as one and descend upon the Adamantine Palace from all sides, an irresistible tide of fire and scales. He saw the speaker and her lover caught naked and whipped: he saw Queen Shezira freed and given the Speaker's Ring. He saw the realms rejoice and sleep in peace. And amid the teeming happy crowds, through the endless celebra-tion, he saw Princess Jaslyn, smiling at him, reaching out her hand. He saw everything that he wanted to see and he felt a presence at his shoulder, an old and wise and respected mentor whose name he couldn't quite remember, whispering softly in his ear.