“Find my sister!” Vars commanded. “Find out what happened here!”

He sat there atop his horse while his men spread out, watching as they moved from building to building. Vars sat with his hand on the hilt of his sword, not knowing what he would do if attackers were to leap from the buildings around. Would he strike out at them, or sit there frozen, or flee? Certainly, he wasn’t going to go into the buildings first, seeking out danger.

A part of Vars hated himself for that.

“There’s someone here!” the sergeant called out from over by the inn’s stables. “She’s alive, barely!”

That was enough to send Vars down from his horse, hoping against hope that it was Lenore. If she was dead among all of this…

He burst into the stables and found the sergeant helping a young woman to her feet. She wasn’t Lenore, didn’t even look like one of her maids. Instead, she wore simple clothes that marked her out as a peasant of some sort, perhaps a servant at the inn. Vars strode up to her.

“What happened here?” he demanded. “Where is my sister?”

The young woman cried out at the violence of his tone, and only the sergeant’s soothing grip on her stopped her from pulling away completely. Vars had no time for that. He needed to know what had happened here, needed to know just how much trouble he was in.

“What happened here?” he demanded. “Where is Princess Lenore?”

“Gone,” the servant said. “The Quiet Men… they took her…”

“Quiet Men?” Vars said, unwilling to believe it. He’d heard the stories. King Ravin’s trained killers, taught to cross the bridges to do his bidding.

“They… they killed most of us,” the woman said. “They took over the inn, kept only a few of us for… for…”

Another man might have said something soothing in that moment. Vars just watched her.

“Where is my sister?” he repeated.

“They took her,” the servant said. “They waited until she came into the inn with her men, and they killed the men, and… they captured her; her and her maids. They kept her here, hurt her, and now they’re riding for the South.”

“And they left you alive to tell us this?” Vars asked, not entirely believing it. When one did evil things, it was better to do them in secret, away from prying eyes. He knew that as well as anyone.

“They wanted people to know,” the young woman said. “They killed some of the maids, but others… they sent them out with the news. They left me here. They want people to know what they did, that they could get to the princess even here. That they have her.”

Vars let out a shout that was pure frustration and anger. Those around must have taken it for anger that his sister had been captured like that, that she was in danger. It was more than that, though, so much more. It was the fact that others knew what had happened here, thanks to those the Quiet Men had let go. It was the frustration that others would, inevitably, know about his failure.

It was the understanding of what he would need to do next.

“How many of them are there?” he demanded.

“A… maybe a dozen,” the woman said.

A dozen had done all of this? Still, at least there was one advantage to that: they outnumbered them. Vars liked it when he outnumbered his opponents.

“Gather the men,” Vars snapped.

“What about this one?” the sergeant asked, with a nod to the woman who’d been left.

“My sister’s the one who matters!”

She was the one whose safety would count to their father. Come back with her, and Vars could make up any story he wanted about being delayed on the road, then still be counted as a hero. Come back without…

It wouldn’t come to that; Vars wouldn’t allow it.

He went to his horse, vaulting into the saddle like some hero out of a song. The irony of it wasn’t lost on him as his men gathered, forming up together as precisely as if they’d been commanded by a real leader.

Vars drew his sword, which was more than he usually did in a fight. He looked out over the men.

“You, see if there are any horses left in the stables. The rest of you, get ready to march, double time.” There were a few murmurs from within the ranks, but Vars silenced them with a glare. “My sister, your princess, is in danger! King Ravin’s men are taking her back to the Southern Kingdom, and that means crossing the bridges. If we reach them first, we can still stop them, still save her! Every man here can be a hero!”

They all could, but he would be the biggest hero of all. Save his sister, and men would tell stories of how brave Prince Vars had fought the best that King Ravin could offer. Fail… fail and his father would probably have his head.

Kill a dozen men to stop that? Vars would do that and more.

“Forward!” he yelled, and heeled his horse onward. “We need to get to the bridge in time!”

CHAPTER SEVEN

The first surprise for Nerra was that she woke at all. Her eyes flickered open, and she could breathe, her body not threatening to consume her. She sat, and the second surprise was the bed that she sat on. It was a thing of stone, covered in blankets, in what appeared to be a long dormitory of similar beds.

On each of those beds, a figure lay, most of them moaning, many of them so still that it looked as though they were only breaths away from death. Nerra could smell sweat, and a kind of heat that seemed to be bone deep. The figures wore a variety of clothes, as if they’d been brought here from all corners of the world, but here and there Nerra could see a patch of bare skin, marred by black, scale-like lines…

They were like her.

Nerra looked round sharply, trying to make sense of this. When she had passed out, there had been only the forest, and the dragon…

“You’re awake.”

The man who stood near the door was the third surprise. He had a long, curling beard, into which he seemed to have woven shells, each painted with a different sign. His graying hair was also long, falling to his shoulders. He wore a tunic and britches, frayed here and there through overuse. He was tall and broad shouldered, with features that seemed weatherworn and lined by care.

“Who… who are you?” Nerra asked, standing. “Where am I?”

“You are where you need to be, in the last refuge for those with the dragon sickness,” the man said. Nerra frowned at that; in the Northern Kingdom, they called it the scale sickness. Did that mean she wasn’t in the Northern Kingdom anymore?

“I… I feel…” Nerra began. “I was dying.”

“You were,” the man agreed, in a voice that seemed too calm for the words. “But we have ways of stabilizing the sickness, for a time.”

“But that’s incredible,” Nerra said. “If people knew… my father is—”

“I know who you are, Princess Nerra,” the man said. “I know that you were cast out for what you are, but you are safe here. This is a place where all of those with the sickness can live out the days of humanity they have left. Where we do what we can to extend those days a little.”

Nerra frowned at that. “You still haven’t told me who you are.”

“I am Kleos,” the man said. “I am the keeper of this place. I saw your arrival; it is rare for one to be brought directly by a dragon.”

Rare, but apparently not so rare as to bring out shock in the man there.

“You’re talking as if you’ve seen dragons before,” Nerra said. “Where is this?”

“Come,” he said. “It is better if you see for yourself.”

He led the way out of the dormitory, into a large open space that seemed to be almost like a village. People worked there, tilling small plots of vegetables or carrying water. Each and every one seemed to have the scale mark somewhere on their body.

The land around the village was rocky, rising on slopes that led up to the lip of what looked like a volcano. Other rock formations lay scattered around in basalt, dark and angular, as if grown from the volcano’s fire. There were trees on some sections of the slope, growing out of the dark soil, while in the distance, the ground fell away toward the surrounding sea, making the whole place into an island. A jetty down below suggested how most people reached there.

It was what lay beyond that caught Nerra’s eye most, though. So far off that it was barely visible on the horizon, she saw a shoreline far larger than that of the island, volcanoes rising up from the landscape to give it a jagged, toothed appearance. Above the volcanoes, here and there, she saw circling dots. It took a moment to realize just how huge they would be, and it was only then that she realized what they had to be: dragons.

“That’s Sarras,” Nerra said in shock. She had never seen the third continent, but there was only one place that it could be. If true though, it meant that her dragon had carried her halfway across an ocean. “I’m on Sarras.”

“Not quite,” Kleos said, gesturing to the small community around them. “This is Haven. Our island sits quite apart from the horrors of… that place.”

“What horrors?” Nerra asked.

Kleos shook his head. “This is not a place for that. This is a place of peace, where those with the sickness can live out their days, and find a graceful death.”

“A…” Nerra shook her head at that thought. She was supposed to just sit here and wait for death? “What is this place? A prison? Am I supposed to be a captive here?”

“This is a place of refuge,” Kleos said. “Where those with the dragon sickness can be safe from the world around them, and the world can be safe from them.”

“That’s the second time that you’ve called it that,” Nerra pointed out. “Is it just because of the scales?”

“It is because of what people with the sickness become,” Kleos said. He paused for a moment. “I… I could show you, but it might be better not to. There might be more peace in not knowing what awaits.”

Nerra didn’t hesitate. “Show me.”

No one else had been able to truly show her where her disease was going to lead. The physicker had told her, but that wasn’t the same, not even close. Nerra needed to see it for herself. She followed as Kleos led the way to a different part of the community, to a stone building whose door seemed solider than the rest. He took out a key, unlocking it.

“We must be careful within,” he warned. “The ones here… they have little humanity left.”

“But you said that there were ways to help,” Nerra said.

“There are,” Kleos agreed. “But do not let that lure you into false hope, Princess. There is no cure. Eventually, even with all I do, it leads to this.”

He stepped back to let Nerra inside, so that she could see. Inside the building it was shadowy, the darkness cut through by the whimpering and moaning of those within. There was nothing human about this sound, though.

There was certainly nothing human about the creature that rose up in front of her. It was larger than a man, with scaled, clawed hands, teeth that looked as though they could bite straight through flesh, and features that had been distorted into a kind of lizard-like snout. Its body was bulky and misshapen, muscles seeming to grow under the skin in ways that made no sense. Its eyes were human, but there was no humanity left in them, only rage, and pain, and hunger. It was a thing that was no longer human, but wasn’t quite a dragon, either, caught somewhere between, unfinished, twisted out of one form but not quite into the next.

It lunged forward at Nerra, and she was too slow to dodge in that moment. The bulk of the creature was on her then, knocking her to the ground and looming over her. Its claws rose up, ready to strike, and Nerra was sure then that Kleos had only brought her there to die at its hands for reasons she couldn’t begin to fathom.

Then Kleos was there. He had a wavy blade in his hands that seemed to have been made of some dark metal, the knife as long as Nerra’s forearm. He thrust with it, catching the creature in the chest so that it shrieked out in an animal cry. It fell back, claws up as if to ward off more cuts, but Kleos was already advancing.

“I’m sorry,” he said, as Nerra started to stand. “When I brought you here I did not know that this one would be quite so far along. It… it is time for him.”

“That used to be a person?” Nerra asked. She couldn’t believe it, wouldn’t believe it, because… that would mean that she would end up like that. “Isn’t there anything you can do to help?”

“Only one thing now,” Kleos said, and stepped forward after the creature. His expression was filled with pity, but even so, it didn’t stop him from stepping inside the circle of the dragon-thing’s claws. He thrust sharply with the blade he held, this time up under its jaw, up into its brain. Nerra heard the creature give a gasp that seemed part shock, part relief, then Kleos dragged his blade clear, letting the beast slump back to the floor.

He stood there over it for several seconds. From deeper in the building, Nerra could hear growling that suggested more of these things… these people, were there.

“Help me to carry him outside,” Kleos said. “He has found peace now, and we will treat his body with honor.”

Nerra didn’t know what to do, so she got a hold of the creature’s legs, helping while Kleos lifted.

“Will that…” she began. “Will I…”

“Will you end up like Matteus here?” Kleos asked. He bowed his head. “Some do not live so long. The dragon sickness tears them apart. But yes, you might.”

“And when I do, you’ll kill me?” Nerra said.

Kleos nodded. “I will give you peace, when there is nothing left in you that knows it.”

Nerra felt sick then. Her dragon had brought her here, had saved her, yet now… now it looked as though the only thing it had saved her for was death.