The Order of the Scales Read online

‘Look at you,’ grunted Kemir. ‘You’re almost a statue.’ Ancestors! The world outside was ending and this idiot was out looking for a piece of rope? Why aren’t you running away?

  The Scales bowed awkwardly. ‘It’s the new hatchling.’ He looked out across the flat shoulder of the mountain where the bulk of the eyrie was now ablaze. ‘Did you see them come?’ He cringed as two huge gouts of fire lit up the night. The snow had stopped now, clearing the air so you might have been able to see properly, except that everything was now shrouded in warm mist instead. Everywhere buildings were burning. The Scales wrung his hands but he still seemed to be more confused than anything else. As if none of this actually mattered. ‘Whose riders are they? Are they from the speaker?’

  Kemir licked his lips. By the look of things, the worst that this Scales was going to do to him was give him a dose of Statue Plague. And if he lived long enough to die of that, well then that would be a lot longer than he’d been expecting. ‘Do you really want to know?’ He shrugged. ‘No one’s riding them, Scales. There are no dragon-knights giving the orders here. The dragons are doing it themselves.’ It was hard to read the expression on the Scales’ face. Hatchling Disease had him well enough in its grip that he almost didn’t have one at all, just a hard mask of skin like stone. ‘I think after this they have some ambition to destroy the world or something like that.’ He shrugged and stepped closer so he could look the Scales in the eyes. ‘If you’re wondering what you should do, I recommend running away. Not that it’ll do you much good. Or you could wait until it’s all over and then hope the dragons aren’t hungry any more. Which is pretty much just as futile, since, as far as I can make out, dragons are always hungry. So what’s in all these huts then?’

  The Scales looked about. ‘Empty barrels. Rope. Crates. Bit of firewood. The alchemists use them to store all the things they don’t need any more.’

  Kemir pointed out into the gloom, away from the glowing mists and the fires and the shadows of the mountainside and towards the great empty space of the valley below. There was nothing there, no shape, no silhouette, just the edge of the mountain and then a big grey nothing. And the path around the lake. ‘Where’s that go?’

  The Scales shrugged. ‘The sluice at the end of the lake. Then I suppose it goes on down the mountainside. I never looked.’

  ‘That way then. I recommend you run that way.’

  He turned away, one knife drawn just in case. Past the huts was the place where the dragons came to take their water. The snow was thin, a light frost of white. The ground beneath had been torn into a great sea of mud, filled with huge craters now frozen hard, uneven, begging for a man to trip and twist his ankle. Beyond, an embankment rose up to the edge of the lake, while the path itself dropped below the level of the water. On the other side, Kemir could see the edge of the mountain, not far away and getting closer with every step. He twitched, uneasy. The sun was setting, the eyrie was already in shadow. The darker it got, the more chance he had of being ambushed.

  Or of escaping.

  The Scales was following him. He wondered briefly whether he should just put a knife between the man’s shoulder blades and keep on walking. Be done with it. Get back to being on his own, wandering, wondering what in the name of all his ancestors he was doing here. Didn’t seem fair really, though. The only other Scales he’d really come to know had been nice enough. Not that that had saved him from being eaten by his own dragon.

  He reached another cluster of sheds, sandwiched between the slope up to the lake and a sheer drop into the valley far below. The snow between the huts came up past his knees. Kemir waded through it; the drop down to the valley was every bit as sharp as it had looked.

  ‘It goes down there, Scales. Gets steep by the looks of it. Go easy on the running. Won’t do you any good if you go over the edge.’ He stopped as he came to a bridge, so small he barely noticed it, half buried in the snow and covered in ice. ‘Did you say a sluice?’

  There it was, right beneath his feet. A channel for the water to run off and down the rock. Little more than a ditch really, frozen and covered in snow, with a metal gate set into the base of the embankment, almost lost in the darkness and shadows of the twilight. A sluice. Which meant that . . . There. That was what he was looking for. A crank to lift the gate, tied in place by a very old and thick piece of rope, bound in a knot that probably hadn’t been touched for years. He scrambled off the bridge, floundering through the snow. He didn’t even bother trying to undo it, but set to work with a knife.

  ‘What are you doing?’ asked the Scales.

  ‘Opening this. What does it look like.’

  ‘No!’ The Scales came at him, arms flailing, floundering in the snow. Kemir swatted him away, knocking him to the ground. The Scales sat where he fell, face full of shock and disbelief. ‘The dragons will have nothing to drink!’

  Kemir burst out laughing. ‘The dragons will have nothing to drink? This is the Worldspine, you idiot! What isn’t rocks is either trees or water. Close your eyes for a minute or two, walk in any direction and you’ll wind up wet. And probably fall off a cliff. That’s a little joke we used to have among ourselves, us outsiders.’

  ‘You’re an outsider?’ Even through the slabs of hard dead skin, the look of horror on the Scales’ face was obvious. Kemir rolled his eyes.

  ‘What? What is it they tell you about us? We’re the ones your dragon-lord masters harvest for slaves to sell to their Taiytakei friends in Furymouth. Or else they burn us for the simple pleasure of it. I can believe that now. I always used to think they must have a reason, some cause I simply didn’t understand, but I realise now that no, they do it simply because they can.’ The Scales was still looking at him aghast. Kemir stopped and then sneered. ‘What? Have I grown horns?’

  ‘They’ll die!’

  ‘What?’ It took a moment for Kemir to understand what on earth the Scales could possibly mean. ‘The dragons?’

  ‘Yes!’ The Scales was almost in tears.

  Kemir stared at him in disbelief. ‘Die?’ he burst out. He laughed again, then held up a finger. ‘Do you want to know how to kill a dragon? You kill a dragon the same way you kill a man. You take away all his freedom, and then if that’s not good enough you can feed him full of poison. For dragons that means those lovely poisons that the alchemists have hidden away in their houses. For us outsiders it’s a little easier. Dust and cheap spirits usually do the trick. Then you just stand back and watch us burn until everything inside is dead and all we are is a hollow shell. Kill a dragon?’ He shrugged, laughing to himself. ‘I saw some soldiers shoot one with oversized crossbows once. I think that probably hurt it at least a little. Certainly annoyed it. Now get up!’

  Without any protest, the Scales got to his feet. His movements were clumsy and difficult, as though he was an old man. Hatchling Disease did that. In the deep snow he was pathetic, almost comical.

  Kemir finished cutting the rope that held the sluice handle. ‘You can still run off if you want. I won’t try to stop you. Not sure where all this water’s going to end up though. Probably worth thinking about that before you scarper down the mountain.’ He started to turn the crank. For a moment it wouldn’t move. Ice cracked and groaned but nothing happened. Wood began to creak and metal moaned.

  ‘Don’t!’ The Scales voice was a whisper. ‘The dragons . . .’

  ‘Yes. The dragons.’ Kemir smiled grimly as he turned the handle again. There were some more grinding sounds, a loud crack from down by the metal gate, and a trickle of water began to run past the Scales’ feet, melting away the snow. Kemir’s grin grew wider. He turned the crank some more. It moved freely now. The trickle of water turned into a surge; he gave it another few turns. Water sprayed out of the sluice in a torrent. There were more groaning noises from the gate.

  ‘Right.’ Kemir danced away from the spraying water as a part of the bridge shook and then collapsed under the force of the rushing water. ‘I think now we’d better start running after all. It’s goin
g to get a bit wet.’

  When you had a big empty hole inside, there was nothing quite like smashing stuff up.

  5

  A Reason to Live

  He ran, slipping and sliding in the deep snow on the embankment, the Scales floundering in his wake. He heard a crash as the sluice and then the bridge finally gave way, the rush of the water tearing them both apart. The lake was emptying itself in its own way, sending everything that had held it cartwheeling down the mountainside in pieces. A part of Kemir still thought he should have sent the Scales down there too. Slit his throat and kicked the body into the torrent of water. Would probably have been kinder than taking him back to Snow. But the man was making his own choice. The Scales could run away any time he liked.

  And then there was the dragon, who probably wouldn’t manage to keep any of her precious alchemists alive for long enough to ask any interesting questions. A Scales was better than nothing. The dragon would be grateful . . . He laughed at himself for that. Grateful? Snow? No. Now he thought about it, he wasn’t even sure why he’d emptied the lake. Because he could. Because alchemists did to dragons what riders did to outsiders. Because, even at their worst, he’d rather have dragons than dragon-riders . . .

  Really? And if it had been a dragon without a rider who’d come to our little village, would the end really have been any different?

  He was almost grateful for the errant piece of building that tripped him up and sent him sprawling in the mud. The twilight was fading now, the mist-shrouded blaze of the burning eyrie the only real light. Made it hard to see where a man was putting his feet, but then there was so much snow on everything out here that maybe that didn’t make any difference either. Up above, the castle was burning properly now. Flames reached out of the windows to lick the night.

  He picked himself up and hauled the Scales after him, back towards Snow and whatever was left of the alchemists she’d found. They passed the barracks where the dragon had landed, smashed to pieces now. Parts were still burning inside. Around it, the ground was bare and black and soaking wet, the snow all melted in the heat. The air stank of woodsmoke and burned flesh and damp. Further on, where the alchemists had lived, Snow was where he’d left her, pacing up and down over the ruins of what had once been some stone building, raking the ground with her claws.

  Tunnels. They have fled under the ground.

  Behind Kemir the Scales let out a scream. It went on and on and on. For a few seconds Kemir thought it might never stop. Then the Scales took a deep breath. He looked as though he might be about to start again, so Kemir punched him in the stomach. The Scales went down. Kemir clutched his fist and swore. Either the Scales was wearing armour or he truly was well on his way to turning into stone.

  ‘I brought you this one,’ he said to Snow.

  He followed you, Kemir.

  ‘He’s a Scales. Which means he’s stupid.’

  A Scales. Like the one who was with me when I awoke. Kailin. He was the only one of your kind I have found who was not afraid of me.

  ‘Oh yes. Another one of the people who tried to help you and ended up eaten for their troubles.’ He’d forgotten the man’s name. Almost forgotten he even existed. He shrugged. ‘I think the potions they take for the Hatchling Disease means they can’t think properly.’ He hauled the Scales to his feet. ‘He might be useful; he might not. Hey! Scales!’

  The Scales looked at him. He was white with fear.

  ‘Well, this one isn’t not afraid of you.’

  This one understands. Snow stamped on the ruins of the alchemist house and the whole mountain seemed to shake. I feel them in there, Kemir. I will clear away one of their holes. You will go in and hunt them for me.

  ‘No, I bloody well won’t, dragon. I’m not going in any dark holes full of soldiers, thank you.’ He sniffed and looked at the quivering Scales. ‘When it’s daylight, maybe. After I’ve dealt with the riders up in the castle.’

  Why do you seek to anger me?

  ‘I’m just not going to get killed for you. I don’t give a stuff whether that angers you or not. Live with it.’

  She looked at him and he felt her wonder. You fear me and so you defy me.

  ‘Don’t be daft, dragon.’

  I see it in you. You fight your fear by defying me. It is a curious thing to do. It does not seem . . . wise.

  He could almost feel her poking around inside his thoughts. The sensation was like having an itch in a place you couldn’t scratch. ‘You know what? I think I’m going to lie down somewhere and get some sleep. Maybe I’ll help you once it’s light again.’

  Snow lowered her face towards him and bared her teeth. Again you test me?

  Kemir cringed. ‘You have bad breath, dragon. Take that away!’ He could see her tail begin to twitch. Not a good sign. With a quickness that belonged to a much smaller animal, Snow sprang across the stones. As she landed sideways, her tail lashed out into the darkness. There was a scream. When her tail emerged from the wreckage, something dangled from the tip. She tossed it up into the air. There was a limp flailing of limbs before the dragon caught it between her teeth and swallowed it down.

  Shall I keep this one you have brought me alive? Shall I keep it as a means to persuade you, Kemir?

  ‘Clutching at straws, dragon. You’ll need a much better threat than that and you know it. Learn to wait. Your alchemists will still be cowering in their holes come the morning. They might be more interested in talking by then.’ He could feel the anger boiling inside her so he turned away, kept his steps slow and measured and didn’t look back. The dragon was right. He fought his fear by refusing to be afraid, no matter how bad it got. It was what he’d always done.

  Didn’t need to have someone poke inside my head and point it out though. He kept walking. The eyrie was littered with places to hide and away from the fires it was dark now. He made his way to the barracks where Snow had first landed. The end she’d smashed was still burning nicely and looked like it would be going for some time. The other end wasn’t much better, but not so shattered that it wouldn’t offer some shelter. In the middle of the floor he almost trod on what turned out to be a jewellery box, half covered in ash. The outside was scorched and ruined, but inside he found a small stash of coin and a pouch filled with Souldust. He stared at it, wondering what to do. What use it was.

  Six months ago I’d be jumping for joy. That’s a month’s pay and never mind the dust. But now what? Coins I can’t spend and dust I don’t want? He almost threw it away, but a lifetime of living from day to day got the better of him and put the coins and the dust in his belt bag instead. Then he propped himself up against a piece of stone wall in the middle that looked like it wasn’t going to fall down on top of him while he slept. He huddled down and tried to make himself comfortable, massaging his feet until he could feel his toes again. It was pleasantly warm from the fire and at least the ground here was dry. Like a dead dragon, burning from the inside.

  The dragon had changed since they’d been on the island. Since she’d awoken three more of her kind, one had become four. Maybe that was it, maybe having company of her own kind was what had made her more remote. Or maybe she’d always been that way and he simply hadn’t wanted to notice.

  Or maybe it was something else. He caught a hint of something in the dragon’s thoughts sometimes. Something to do with the ships they’d seen when they left the island. The Taiytakei they were called, but the dragon had spoken of something else. Silver men. She wouldn’t talk to him about the silver men, whatever they were, but they were in the dragons’ thoughts and made them uncomfortable.

  Which led him nowhere. If the dragons weren’t going to tell him then he wasn’t going to find out. That was that. End of. Time to get some sleep. Amazing how easy that still was, falling asleep, with the world on fire around him.

  He woke up frozen stiff. A cold dawn was lighting up the peaks on the other side of the valley, making them shine like giant lanterns. Above, through the broken bones of the roof, he could s
ee the sky, clear now, a deep violet blue, waiting for the sun to breach the mountaintops. The snow clouds had gone, off to bother someone else. Where he lay was still dark, wrapped in leftover shadows. The wall, so deliciously warm when he’d fallen asleep, was like ice, sucking the heat out of him, but what had woken him were screams. Long, piercing screams, over and over.

  He tried to stand up. When that didn’t work, he settled for climbing as far as all fours. Every muscle in his body seemed frozen solid. Eventually he managed to get to his feet. He could have kicked himself. Amazing how easily he fell asleep, and just as amazing how quickly he’d forgotten how cold these mountains were when you had a dragon to keep you warm every night.

  The screaming was still there, fading in and out until it eventually stopped. There were embers glowing in the far parts of the barracks. Kemir went and sat by them until he felt warm again. That took long enough for the sun to creep over the summits, for it to light up the eyrie and let him see what the dragons had done. Every building had been smashed flat and then burned. Barracks, storehouses, stables, the houses of the alchemists, everything. Where the little lake had been there was nothing but mud and the fractured remains of a vast sheet of ice. Higher up, the castle seemed more intact, although a pall of smoke hung over it. Snow was still prowling around where the alchemists had been, picking at the wreckage, lifting out the occasional fragment of wall and tossing it aside. He couldn’t see the other dragons.

  Kemir sighed. Wearily, he walked over to her. All the snow was gone, melted by the heat of the dragons.

  ‘Well, dragon? I heard screaming. Did you get one?’

  Snow stopped. She regarded him with a steady glare. Does it matter, Kemir? Another human. I would have spared her, but you were not here and I was annoyed and bored, so I toyed with her and then ate her. Is that what you wished to hear? Nothing about her thoughts suggested she was joking. Kemir shivered. It is light. I require an al-chemist. I feel them, deep beneath the earth, on the edge of my thoughts. You will get one for me now, yes?