I will not burn, he thought bitterly. He traced his hand over the hilt of the black sword.
On the next morning, riding into the rising sun. The Fire Star burned beside it. The desert shimmered like liquid gold: Marith looked back and saw Thalia’s face glowing as she sat next to Rate in the cart. Her hair and eyes blazed, reflecting the sun. As beautiful as the dawn. I don’t want to die, he thought. It grew hotter than ever, the sun remorseless, still no running water and no shade. They sat for lunch in the small shadow of the cart, dried meat warm and rancid in the heat, drinking warm rancid water from their water-skins.
Thalia pointed, shielding her eyes against the bright sun. ‘There’s something flying up there. Circling us.’
Alxine looked up too. The sun was right in his face, blazing. He squinted. ‘There’s something … a bird, I think. No, wait … it’s too big. Too big …’
Thalia screamed then, for a great dark shape came down out of the sky, blotting out the light. A stink of hot iron. The beating of vast wings.
The dragon was grey, a deep, storm-cloud grey in which all the colours of the world flickered. Its eyes were green, the green of trees and leaves. Eyes that knew things men could never know. The other dragon, the little dragon, had been an animal. A creature. This dragon was something else.
It settled in the road in front of them. Perfect and beautiful. A wonder. Utterly real. Everything else around it ceased and fell to nothing beside it. It sat and watched them, perfectly still, only its eyes moving, and the flames beating and smoking in its nostrils as it breathed.
Its eyes flickered as it looked at Marith. Something that might have been a frown or a smile came across its face. Its black tongue came out, twitching in the air. It lashed its tail twice.
Ah gods. Amrath and Eltheia. Be kind. Be kind. I don’t want … I don’t want to die.
Marith stepped forward. The dragon hissed, showing white teeth as long as a man’s arm, cruel and sharp. It beat its tail, sending up a cloud of dust. Another step. Another. He stopped perhaps ten paces from the cavernous mouth. He drew his sword and raised it aloft, staring back at the dragon with great dark eyes. Blue fire crackled down the length of the blade. When he spoke his voice shook.
‘I am of your blood, and the blood of she that loosed you. I am of your blood, and the blood of He that slew you. You will not attack me, or my companions. I command it. By my name and my blood and my sword, I command it. Else I will kill you.’
The dragon looked down at him. For a long moment the two stood facing each other, eyes locked. There was absolute silence. Tobias, Thalia, Alxine and Rate crouched in the dust, trembling. The horses rolled their eyes but stood still.
The dragon could snap a man in two, grind him into nothing, burn him to ashes. Not a human thing. Like bidding a rock to move, or water to flow uphill. Like bidding the sun not to set.
But slowly it bowed its head, and blinked its vast green eyes.
Marith laughed then, a wild laugh that was barely human. The same sound he had made that night in Sorlost when he had killed Emit and drunk firewine and laughed like something rotted and dead.
The dragon hissed long and angry, and then it spoke, its voice clear and ringing, the deep music of a great old bell. Its breath was hot like a furnace, flame riding on its words. Its voice seemed to echo beyond language, deep into the mind. Itheralik, the Old Tongue, the tongue of Amrath, the tongue of the Godkings of Caltath. What other language would dragons speak, save that spoken by dead gods?
Studied it. Struggled over it. Hated it. And now it came clear in Marith’s thoughts, the words and the answers, like he was born to it.
‘Amrath Tiameneke emnek geklam. Kel Altrersnanet kel imrahnei Amrathek?’ Amrath died fighting a dragon. Do you think you are greater than Amrath, little Altrersyr boy? It shifted itself up, beating open its great wings. The skin of them was deep red. Dried blood red. Firewine red. Almost the same black-red as Marith’s hair. ‘Ren nanel ykelesti Altrersnanet. Ren se kel memrak. Kekelmen enoheles arelasivs. Keneken na ylik nekast. Kekelmen bek malis.’ You are far from home, little Altrersyr boy. Very far. And you have weakness in you. I can taste it, when I look at you. You run from your own shadow.
Marith said quietly, ‘Kekeme hast i kane, Tiamenekil?’ I am not running from you though, am I, dragon?
The dragon snorted fire, growling and flexing its wings again, vast and gleaming, like a wave breaking on the shore. ‘You killed one of my sons, little Altrersyr boy.’
‘I killed my best friend, dragon. Do you think I care about your son?’ Marith gripped his sword more tightly, trying to keep his gaze fixed on the dragon’s eyes. He could control it. He could perhaps even kill it. He held it bound to him on a thin tight leash of his will.
So much power, he thought. In it. In him.
The dragon moved its head a little, surveying the four figures behind him.
‘Curious company you keep, little Altrersyr boy. Your woman, is she? And your servants?’
‘You do not look at her!’ He raised his sword again and the dragon jerked and hissed and laughed.
‘I see her, too, little Altrersyr boy. An interesting choice of woman for you. For the path you take.’
‘Leave here. Leave us in peace. Go back into the wilds and do not follow us. Swear it.’ The blue fire on the sword flickered. ‘Ahmeniket!’ Swear it!
The great green eyes stared down. ‘But I am hungry and angry, little Altrersyr boy. I long to kill. I hunger to kill. The men of the desert offered up prayers and chants and dances to me, then sent out a fool man to kill me. But all it did was stir up my desire. The man burnt me, little Altrersyr boy.’ It spread open its wings again, and Marith saw a jagged dark tear in the skin of the left wingspan. The wings closed, like a fan closing, the body lowered, like a dog coming into a crouch or a horse kneeling to be ridden. ‘Ahmenieken ekliket Ansikanderakesis. Ansikanderakesis Amrakane.’ Marith jerked his head and the dragon snorted. ‘If I was stronger, I would kill you now. Better that I did. You know that as well as I, little Altrersyr boy.’ Another laugh. ‘Ahmenieken ekliket. I swear it. But I must be revenged on something. For what the little mage thing did. For what you will do. And then I will leave you be.’ The great head twisted, the long neck sinuous, snaking round to view the four figures crouching defenceless in the sand. ‘Not your woman, no. Though it would be kindness to her, perhaps. But—’
Fire burst from the dragon’s throat. It roared and leapt forward, knocking Marith to one side. He stumbled, dropping the sword. The blue flames died. The dragon mounted into the sky, wings blocking the light. It shone in the sun like heat haze. Clouds of dust stirred up and falling, sand grains sparkling gold. Like broken glass falling. Like coloured stars.
Thalia screamed. Rate screamed. Tobias cursed.
Alxine lay in the dust, torn to pieces, his head ripped from his body, limbs crushed and bent.
Chapter Thirty-Nine