Stephen Deas: The King of the Crags

Time to leave. Wraithwing powered up towards the cloud. The painted dragons nibbled at the edges of Jehal's formation, happy to keep him in one place while they mopped up the remnants still flashing across the burning city. Then suddenly they were in the cloud, and even with his visor up, Jehal could barely see the dragons flying next to him. Not that it made much difference. The wind would blind him anyway. He closed the visor. Riders hated clouds. Clouds ruined formations. You never knew what was on the other side. Even the very air itself was funny inside a cloud. Principles, for example, gave dire warnings about flying in clouds. Principles, Jehal decided, could go fuck itself. Formations were for dragons flying to battle, not ones flying away from it. If Jehal couldn't see any other dragons then no other dragons could see him. What couldn't see him wouldn't try to eat him, and that was quite good enough. The dragons themselves didn't seem to mind at all. They always managed to stay together, as though they could sense each other. Jehal had no idea how they did it. As far as he knew, nor did anyone else.

A few very long seconds later he heard a dragon shriek. Three short cries. His own riders, signalling that the danger was over. The cry was echoed over and over. In the strange air of the cloud the calls sounded dull and flat. He took a deep breath and let Wraithwing guide himself south. Towards the Silver River and the Great Cliff and the Purple Spur and home. Is this as bad as it seems? What did I come here to do? I came to destroy Zafir and Zafir is no more. So is this victory? I came to take her dragons and there I've largely failed. Does that matter? I've taken some of hers and lost some of my own, and if I'm lucky I'll leave with as many as I brought. Maybe even more. So, greed aside, and ignoring the little inconvenience offleeing from the battle with my tail between my legs, this is mostly the outcome I was looking for, right? So not that bad, right?

He sniffed at his own stupidity. Yes yes. You keep thinking that, King Jehal. Maybe if you quietly gloss over the bit where you got beaten and humiliated, everyone else will gloss over it too. Or maybe you should start thinking about what exactly you're going to do that's going to stop Queen Jaslyn from hanging you in a cage beside the bones of her mother. Because if there's one thing you can be sure of now, it's that the Queen of Stone is coming.

After an hour Hyrkallan called an end to the pursuit. The cloud made it impossible to know where Jehal really was. His dragons would be scattered. They might emerge from the cloud anywhere. If there was any fighting at all, it would be scattered little skirmishes, nothing more. If Hyrkallan was lucky, Jehal and Zafir were both dead. If they weren't, the north had cause enough to strip Zafir of her office.

And now, at last, the power to do it. It was tempting to fly straight on, to cross the Purple Spin and put an end to Zafir and her riders once and for all. To do it right now. He might even have done it, except the defeated dragons wouldn't be the only ones waiting for him. Fight your wars in the skies if you must, but do not bring them here or you will find that I have other names, and one of them I wear for war. The words of the Night Watchman, the Scorpion King.

No. No need for that. No need for more. No need to risk turning this victory into a defeat.

Besides, he had other matters to attend to. Rounding up a hundred new dragons, the ones Zafir and Jehal had left behind as they fled.

When all that was done, he landed B'thannan on the outskirts of the city and sniffed the air. Smoke. Even upwind of the flames, the air reeked of it. Evenspire was dead. In a few days, when the fires were out and the wind next came out of the mountains, it would lift up the ashes and carry them away to the desert. Everyone who saw would remember how the Blackwind Dales earned their name, but by then Hyrkallan would be gone, away to drag Queen Jaslyn from her dragons and put an end to whatever it was she was doing out in Outwatch.

And then, Vale Tassan, I will come, and we will see how stubborn you are prepared to be.

Vale stood on top of the Gatehouse and watched the dragons land. Jeiros was beside him.

'Do you have enough potion to feed them, Master Alchemist?' He watched Jeiros' face, and knew the answer before the alchemist even opened his mouth. No.

'It will be a challenge, Night Watchman.'

'It will, won't it?'

'The Red Riders, the damage done at the redoubt, so many dragons flying to war. Zafir asks more than I can give. I will have to take supplies from her and from King Silvallan. King Jehal too, perhaps. From Evenspire, if there is anything left of it.' The alchemist sighed. 'It's becoming more of a problem than you would care to know, Night Watchman. But I will keep our speaker's dragons flying no matter what I have to do.'

Vale laughed. 'There don't seem to be many of our speaker's dragons left. I haven't been counting, but I'd say this is a third of the number that left. Unless I'm mistaken, most of them are King Jehal's.'

'Onyx is there.'

'Yes.' The speaker's dragon. Maybe another couple of dozen of Zafir's. A few dragons I don't recognise at all. And all the rest are Jehal's. And I have been counting. More than a hundred dragons lost? Someone's been very careless. I fear a veritable forest of cages.

The first riders were galloping up the hill from the landing fields as if they were still being chased. Vale wanted to laugh at them. You lost, didn't you? Sirion and Hyrkallan were waiting for you and you lost. He nudged Jeiros. 'If I were you, Grand Master, I would keep very much out of the way for the next few days. I don't think our speaker has had a good week.' I le walked briskly to the stairs. With jeiros safely behind him and no one watching, he permitted the grin that he'd been wearing on the inside to show itself on the outside. He wore it lot exactly as long as it took him to reach the bottom of the stairs. In the Gateyard outside, Adamantine Men were already forming up to grert their speaker on her return. Only a few of them though. Not enough that I might he accused of weakening the walls. Vale looked them up and down until he was sure they were perfect and then stood at (heir head and waited. The palace gates opened and a few dragon-knights rode in. They looked beaten. You can see it in their eyes, in the way they carry themselves. You lost and you lost badly.

Zafir wasn't with them. What he got was King Jehal. Vale bowed. Pity. I rather hoped you wouldn't come back-

'Zafir is dead,' said Jehal brusquely. He looked as though he was in a lot of pain, sitting up on the back of his horse. Two of his riders helped him to dismount and he nearly collapsed. Even standing still he had to lean heavily on his staff. Vale watched him struggle. He kept carefully silent. I did that to him. We will both remember that.

'The speaker is dead,' said Jehal, this time making it sound more of a declaration than a confession. 'We met in battle over Evenspire. We fought and I won, and by right of conquest I claim the speaker's throne until there can be a council of kings and queens to choose a successor. I call for such a council.' Jehal finally locked eyes with Vale. 'Night Watchman, that means you. Get Jeiros and Aruch and anyone else who needs to hear my claim. I'll gladly repeat it once. After that I shall become annoyed. I will retire to the Tower of Dusk for now but I expect the Speaker's Tower to be ready for me in two days. Am I understood?'

Vale bowed again. He took a step to the side and turned, a little ritual to acknowledge that whoever stood at the palace gates was welcome to enter. As though you were her husband – I have not forgotten. He waited until Jehal was level with him.