The King of the Crags (42 page)
I barely noticed. These dragons carry food and water too. You should take it.
‘Do I have to?’ He didn’t feel so hungry now, only sleepy.
There will be no more for many days. I will take your guidance, Kemir. I must wait for these dragons to awaken, and so we will fly out over the sea where none of your kind will find us. They will look for us but they will find nothing. We will seek land again far away from here. Until then we will starve.
‘Great.’ The effort of getting off Snow’s back and rummaging around the other dragons for food seemed impossible. Snow might as well have asked him to scale the cliffs.
It is fortunate that I fed so well before this chase began, Kemir, is it not?
‘Whatever.’ Wearily, Kemir unstrapped himself. He put his hand to his head again. The wound was still bleeding, and he had a lump the size of an egg right between his eyes. ‘What do you make your scales out of?’
Whatever we eat, Kemir.
He turned around to slide off Snow’s shoulder and staggered as he landed, dizzy and close to collapse. If he was really lucky, one of the dragons would catch him with an idle swish of its tail, shatter every bone in his body and send him flying over the edge of the cliff. Where the sea would then smash what was left of him into a sticky mess to be slowly eaten by crabs.
He sat down heavily and rubbed his head again.
‘I hate you,’ he grumbled. Then he saw that Snow had a last rider trapped under her front claw. Still alive.
Take the food and water, Kemir. Eat, drink and sleep.
Kemir glanced at the trapped rider. ‘What about that one?’
We are bringing this one with us. This one is useful.
‘Useful?’ Kemir moved closer. ‘How?’ He stopped. The dragon-rider had lost his helm.
Her
helm. Long hair straggled out between Snow’s claws. He caught a glimpse of her face. Terrified.
Her
helm. Long hair straggled out between Snow’s claws. He caught a glimpse of her face. Terrified.
This one knows where other dragons may be found.
Kemir blinked. The dragon-rider’s eyes caught his. Pleading. He’d seen that look too many times before. It made him hate her.
‘Give her to me and I’ll make her talk right enough. Then I can tell you everything you need. You can have her back when I’m done if you must.’ As Snow lifted her claw, he stepped forward, pulled the dragon-rider to her feet and threw her down again. Hard. Then he was on her. He punched her several times in the face, bloodied his knuckles, but somehow that wasn’t anywhere near enough; he started ripping off her armour, tearing at the clothes underneath, swearing and screaming at her while Snow watched over his shoulder. The dragon-rider didn’t even fight back that much. She struggled, but most of her whimpers were pain. Snow had already broken one of her legs, maybe done more. He had her armour mostly off, was all ready to tear open the soft flying shirt she wore underneath when the dragon stopped him dead.
Why?
‘What?’
Why, Kemir?
Revenge, that was why. Revenge for all the men and women raped and enslaved by the mountain king’s riders. It wasn’t about lust or desire or need, just cold and bloody and vicious revenge. Mostly what he wanted was to rip her to pieces with his bare hands. Not for anything he knew she’d done, but simply for what she was.
You see, Kemir. Do you see now? That your kind are all the same? That there are no differences between you.
Kemir spun around to glare at Snow. ‘Yes, there are! These riders come and—’ He wasn’t allowed to finish.
A human is a human. Some are taller, some are shorter, some are darker, some are lighter, but on the inside do not tell me you are different. This one is useful. When this one has told us what it knows, it will no longer be useful. Then you may mate with her in any way you wish; but for now you will stop. For now you will leave this one alone. Eat. Drink. And then we will leave.
Angrily, Kemir did as he was told. When he was done, Snow gently gripped the rider in her claws and took to the air again, and the other dragons followed. It was true that Kemir felt a lot better for having some bread and water inside him. He had no idea where they were going and his head and his nose still hurt like buggery. But they were alive. The King of the Crags had come after them and they’d bloodied his nose too. Nine riders dead, one rider and three dragons taken. That was a start, wasn’t it?
He closed his eyes. He tried not to think about the town Snow had burned. He tried not to think about the people who had lived there: the men who had simply wanted to feed their families, the women who only wanted to see their sons grow into men, the children who—
The children who might have one day grown to be alchemists, poisoning my kind with their potions? The women who bear dragon-rider sons? The men who build their castles and forge their swords and harvest their food? Do not say they have done nothing, Kemir.
They sheltered under the wings of the dragon-lords and in turn the dragon-lords stood on their backs. Perhaps that ought to have been enough. Perhaps Snow was right. Or perhaps not. Perhaps Snow was wrong and they really had done nothing.
Either way, Nadira was not one of them. You shouldn’t have eaten her.
Either way, Nadira was not one of them. You shouldn’t have eaten her.
And you should not have tried to force yourself on this female, Kemir, yet you did. Why? Because it is the essential nature of your kind, that is why. You are what you are and so am I.
The dragon-rider. He’d almost forgotten that he’d tried to rape her.
Would
have raped her if Snow hadn’t stopped him. Vaguely he knew that it would have been wrong. Sollos would have stopped him too. But somehow he couldn’t find any feelings of regret. No remorse. Not much of anything. When the dragons had finished with her, he’d probably settle for killing her. That would do. Would probably be a mercy by then.
Would
have raped her if Snow hadn’t stopped him. Vaguely he knew that it would have been wrong. Sollos would have stopped him too. But somehow he couldn’t find any feelings of regret. No remorse. Not much of anything. When the dragons had finished with her, he’d probably settle for killing her. That would do. Would probably be a mercy by then.
Wasn’t that what Snow had said about Nadira? That she wanted to die?
Do you know how many dragons fly at the command of King Valmeyan, Kemir? I know that you do not, but I see the answer in the thoughts of this rider. Four hundred and then more, Kemir. Knowledge that is useful. We have taken but three today. Do not waste your thoughts on that which you cannot change. Dwell on that which you can. Think on that, Kemir. Three is a beginning, nothing more.
We. She had said ‘we’ again.
Kemir tried to think about the town, about Nadira, but the memories kept sliding away. He looked left and right at the three dragons flying alongside Snow, one a mustard yellow, another a sooty grey who reminded him of a dragon he’d seen somewhere before, and Sunset, a gleaming ruddy brown.
Yes, it was a beginning. A beginning of what, though?
Kemir tried to think about the town, about Nadira, but the memories kept sliding away. He looked left and right at the three dragons flying alongside Snow, one a mustard yellow, another a sooty grey who reminded him of a dragon he’d seen somewhere before, and Sunset, a gleaming ruddy brown.
Yes, it was a beginning. A beginning of what, though?
As he wondered, unease settled deep into his bones.
Am I becoming like her? Or was I always this way?
Am I becoming like her? Or was I always this way?
35
The Heart and the Head
Jehal leaned into his walking staff. At least he
could
walk now, even if one of his legs was still next to useless and every step made him wince. Jeiros wanted him back in bed, numb with Dreamleaf, but Jehal had had enough of both. He hauled himself out of the Tower of Dusk and found no guards on the doors to stop him. No Adamantine Men in sight at all except for a few up on the walls. He stopped at the doors, half afraid to step out into the Gateyard. The sunlight was overwhelming.
So bright.
could
walk now, even if one of his legs was still next to useless and every step made him wince. Jeiros wanted him back in bed, numb with Dreamleaf, but Jehal had had enough of both. He hauled himself out of the Tower of Dusk and found no guards on the doors to stop him. No Adamantine Men in sight at all except for a few up on the walls. He stopped at the doors, half afraid to step out into the Gateyard. The sunlight was overwhelming.
So bright.
This won’t do.
He forced himself out into the light. Someone finally noticed him. They ran away.
Presumably off to tell someone else. Maybe I’m still a prisoner after all. Well I might as well stay here and see who comes. I’m hardly about to run off anywhere.
He forced himself out into the light. Someone finally noticed him. They ran away.
Presumably off to tell someone else. Maybe I’m still a prisoner after all. Well I might as well stay here and see who comes. I’m hardly about to run off anywhere.
He wasn’t disappointed. After he’d sat in the sun for ten minutes, idly watching the men on the walls, the Night Watchman himself strode into the Gateyard. He looked haggard and a lot older than a few weeks ago. He stopped in front of Jehal and bowed.
‘Forgive me if I don’t rise, Night Watchman.’ Jehal smiled as pleasantly as he could bear. ‘I seem to be inconvenienced in that respect.’
‘I wish you a full and speedy recovery, Your Highness.’ Vale’s face was as flat and unreadable as it always was.
‘I’m sure you do. You know what? I think I might get up anyway. I think I might like to take in the view from the Gatehouse.’
And why did I say that? Now I have to walk across a quarter of the palace and climb more than a hundred steps, which I’m clearly not capable of doing.
And why did I say that? Now I have to walk across a quarter of the palace and climb more than a hundred steps, which I’m clearly not capable of doing.
Vale offered his hand. Jehal waved it away and struggled to his feet on his own. The Night Watchman’s face didn’t change. ‘If you like, I can put one of my men at your disposal to help you.’
Bastard
. ‘No, thank you, Night Watchman. It is not as bad as it seems.’
And now I have to get to the Gatehouse all on my own. Still, it
is
going to be worth it.
. ‘No, thank you, Night Watchman. It is not as bad as it seems.’
And now I have to get to the Gatehouse all on my own. Still, it
is
going to be worth it.
Vale gave a deferential shrug. ‘I am inclined to applaud, Your Highness. It is wise to exercise an injury as soon as it is ready.’
‘I do not require your applause, Night Watchman. If you wish to help in
that
regard, you can send some of your very fine whores to my bed.’
that
regard, you can send some of your very fine whores to my bed.’
‘Ah, that I could, but Speaker Zafir has commented more than once that overexertion may simply mean you take longer to heal, Your Highness. In that particular regard, I have heard rumour that Prince Tichane is looking after your interests and doing so very well. I won’t pretend to understand what that is supposed to mean.’
‘Really?’
Vishmir’s cock you don’t. But you don’t know that I’m watching her. You don’t know about my little mechanical dragons. In fact there’s rather a lot you don’t know . . .
Vishmir’s cock you don’t. But you don’t know that I’m watching her. You don’t know about my little mechanical dragons. In fact there’s rather a lot you don’t know . . .
Vale gave a nonchalant shrug. ‘Perhaps that means he will be supplying ladies to your bed when you are well enough to enjoy them.’ He smiled faintly. ‘Or perhaps you used to have some whore and now he’s looking after her for you. Such things are hardly my concern so I give them no thought.’
Jehal fumed. ‘Night Watchman, if I ordered you to be still so I could hobble over and break your nose, I suppose you’d comply without hesitation?’
‘My nose is of little value to the realms and has been broken many times before. Consider it yours.’
‘Then I shall treasure it like a gem.’
And cut it off one day
. ‘If I’m a prisoner, I shall simply return to my tower. I wouldn’t wish to embarrass you.’ His eyes narrowed and he watched the Night Watchman carefully. ‘I’m sure I seem harmless enough, but you never know quite what might happen if you allow one of your prisoners to roam. I might roam to your brothel and overexert myself or something equally terrible. Who knows - I might push someone off a balcony.’
And cut it off one day
. ‘If I’m a prisoner, I shall simply return to my tower. I wouldn’t wish to embarrass you.’ His eyes narrowed and he watched the Night Watchman carefully. ‘I’m sure I seem harmless enough, but you never know quite what might happen if you allow one of your prisoners to roam. I might roam to your brothel and overexert myself or something equally terrible. Who knows - I might push someone off a balcony.’
The smallest flicker of a shadow crossed Vale’s face. That was enough. Inside, Jehal smiled.
Vale turned away. ‘The speaker has not withdrawn her order regarding your confinement, but she has since ordered Jeiros and the alchemists to care for you as best they can. We shall call this exercise a part of your rehabilitation. I shall escort you myself.’
‘Very kind of you.’ Jehal found he couldn’t resist. ‘But are you sure you can spare the time? You look like you’ve just got out of bed.’
‘I apologise if my appearance troubles you, Your Highness.’ They began to walk towards the Gatehouse. ‘The tension in the realms has grown a great deal of late. I have been busy.’
Walking across the Gateyard and climbing the steps to the top of the Gatehouse ought to have taken a few minutes. By the time Jehal got there, he’d spent the hardest half-hour he could remember. He was soaked in sweat, his leg was in silent shrieking agony and he was ready to collapse. The Night Watchman didn’t say a word, didn’t offer to help. It was almost as though he understood the necessity of what Jehal was doing.
He smelled Shezira before he saw her. The cages where she and Valgar hung were not far from the gates, suspended from huge poles. There wasn’t much left of either of them but it was a warm day and the wind wasn’t in the mood to spare Jehal’s nose. By the time he reached the top, he was ready to retch. He made himself stand and stare at them both anyway. Somehow he found it satisfying.
In a sort of I’m-alive-and-you’re-not kind of way.
In a sort of I’m-alive-and-you’re-not kind of way.
Other books
Confessions from the Principal's Chair by Anna Myers
Charlie Joe Jackson's Guide to Planet Girl by Tommy Greenwald
In Search of the Trojan War by Michael Wood
Centurion by Scarrow, Simon
Bringing It All Back Home by Philip F. Napoli
The Other Side of Midnight by Sidney Sheldon
Dark Reservations by John Fortunato
Promises, Promises by Baker, Janice
The New Noah by Gerald Durrell
The WishKeeper (The Paragonia Chronicles) by Timm, Maximilian