67

Paved With Good Intentions

Oh fun, said Zebulon and transformed likewise into a human body. He beamed up at Candle, who stared at the pair of them in surprise. In his human body, Asher looked even more like Jotham, or rather what Jotham might have looked like as a young man. When he spoke his deep, gravelly voice seemed an odd match for his youth, and he moved with the feral grace of someone supremely confident in his own skin. He and Zebulon shared the same copper skin and the same shocks of black hair, but there the comparison ended – where Asher was solemn and intense Zebulon bubbled with enthusiasm. Asher's eyes were gold and cat-like while his younger brother's were silver-flecked grey. Both brothers were striking in their way, and Candle felt small and dowdy as she transformed into the girl's form she had worn for most of her life.

The three dragons in human form stared at each other with mutual interest for a long moment. All three jumped as a crack of lightning split the heavens. Murmux transformed into his own human skin, leaving the air humming and the lingering scent of charcoal wafting on the breeze. He glowered at Asher and Zeb. Folding his arms across his chest, the living tattoos on his skin wriggled and writhed with agitated energy beneath the bloody scratches. Candle wondered if he would let her heal him, but one look at his face told her now was not the time to ask.

Asher looked at the birdman with doubtful eyes and opened his mouth.

"Let's go," said Candle, before he could say anything. She turned and gestured to the group of humans who were watching them with some trepidation. "Come on," she said, setting out across the flats of the isthmus. Asher shut his mouth with a grimace, and the whole oddly assorted group trailed behind her. Candle walked with purposeful strides but was soon forced to slow down so as not to outpace the others. She stopped on a slight rise to look back. The tired humans shuffled across the green in a bedraggled string. Asher's expression was sour, marring the lines of his admittedly handsome face, and she wondered if he really intended to walk with them all the way to the Rock. How much easier it would be if everyone could fly – but there was no point wishing.

The ragged group made its way slowly across the isthmus at a snail's pace. Candle and Asher walked side by side in silence, listening to Zeb's chatter. The young dragon positively skipped across the ground, a broad smile on his face and excitement oozing from every pore as he attempted to engage the tired humans in conversation. Most of them merely grunted at him or looked up with wide eyes. Disappointed, the young dragon sidled up to Murmux.

"So... how did you end up here?"

Murmux scowled and continued on as if he had not heard. Undeterred by this frosty reception Zebulon poked a finger at the lightning bird's living tattoos. "What do these mean?" he said, peering at Murmux's chest, his nose barely an inch from his skin. "I've always wondered."

Murmux slapped the finger away with a snarl and turned on his heel. He stamped towards the back of the group and grabbed a toddler from his surprised mother. Settling the child on his hip, he wound the remains of his tattered shawl around his head, as if it was a ward against unwanted attention.

"Alright then," said Zebulon, his enthusiasm seemingly undampened. He skipped next to Candle. "It really is nice that you are here. I'm so bored of the same old faces. Is this the first time your parents are letting you come? Are they here? They don't mind you coming alone? Do you have any brothers or sisters? Why didn't they come with you?"

"Don't bother her, Zeb," said Asher.

"I don't mind," said Candle, opening her mouth to reply. But then she thought back to Jotham's rule – don't talk to anyone, his family was not to be trusted, stay away from anyone or anything with silver body parts. She had broken all his rules so extensively what more could a little hurt? Still, she wasn't keen to share any more personal information than necessary. The location of the Gate needed to be protected, and the easiest way to do that was to pretend she came from the Night. "I don't have any brothers or sisters," she said. Which was true. Ishbel had travelled the Highway of Souls and Rasmus...She really didn't want to explain to anyone that she had killed her brother.

Zebulon waited, clearly expecting her to talk more and when she didn't, his face fell.

"Fine, fine," he said. He spun on the spot and started walking backwards, looking up at the slowly receding Night Enchantments. "This is going to be very boring if I don't have anyone to talk to."

"You can always fly back to the Rock," said Asher.

"Nah," Zeb kicked at an old bone that jutted up through the carpet of moss. "Not yet, anyway." His gaze landed on Abernethy's uncle. "Well, hello there," he said. "Have you ever been to the Rock before?"

Abernathy's uncle shook his head, the whites of his eyes showing around the edges.

"Zeb–"

"What?"

"Candle might not want you talking to her humans."

Candle started.

"It's fine," she said. "I mean, they are not my humans." Zebulon and Asher stared at her. "I mean, I'm just helping them," she said. "They belong to themselves. They can talk to anyone they want."

"Right," said Asher. "Is that how things are done... up north?"

Candle shrugged.

"See!" Zeb pulled on Asher's sleeve, to his older brother's evident embarrassment.

"I don't think grandfather would approve," said Asher.

"Grandfather isn't here."

"You talk too much."

The dragon brothers turned their heads to look down at the small Necromancer girl who had appeared at Zeb's elbow. Zephi had escaped Narimab's supervision but at least with her muddy hair and her horn's hidden she looked passably human. Arms akimbo she stared up at Zebulon with abject fascination.

"I do like to talk," said Zebulon. He smirked at his brother, then turned back to Zephi. "So, small one," he said, his voice serious. "What's it like being a human?"

Candle's heart lurched.

"What's it like being a dragon?" countered Zephi.

"Amazing, obviously," said Zebulon. The pair fell into a spirited discussion ranging from types of edible mushrooms to the aerial tactics used by the lightning birds. Candle listened with some alarm until it became clear that the small Necromancer girl had the common sense to hide her origins from Zeb, and then she was able to relax a little. The fact that Zephi had no idea what Zebulon was talking about most of the time was no deterrent to the conversation and the Night rang with the sound of her chatter.

Overhead, the clouds lifted, and so did Candle's spirits. The drizzle stopped, and the stars came out along with a warm breeze that dried their clothes. It was unlikely that anyone would attack a group with three dragons and a lightning bird, she thought with some satisfaction. Perhaps the escaped humans and Zephi would be able to make a nice home for themselves at the Rock of the Ever Night, or whatever it was called. Then Candle could go home with a light conscious. A smile tugged at her tips at the thought. It slipped a little as she looked sideways at Asher's haughty profile. The way the dragons talked was not encouraging, and she remembered, with some unease Jotham's talk of his sister, and why she had been forced to leave the Night Nation in the first place. What would Asher and Zebulon think of her if they found out she was human? That she had been born human, that she was half human?

"Are you sure I can't convince you to fly?" Asher said, interrupting her thoughts. "We could be dining at the Night Market right now instead of slogging our way across the isthmus."

Candle looked back at the Enchantments. Despite walking for several hours, they were barely halfway to the Old Man of Sterlester.

"I'm sure," she said. She looked over at the bedraggled group. The humans all looked tired and pale, and she knew they must be hungry.

"What's the Night Market?" asked Zephi, pulling on Zebulon's sleeve.

"Oh, it's amazing," said Zebulon, his eyes lighting up. "It's a special event, just for the Mid-Winter Festival. Merchants come from all over the Nation to set up stalls. You can buy almost anything you want."

"Anything?"

"Anything!"

"What about a lion kit? Or a wolf cub?"

"Alright, so I've never seen a wolf cub for sale. But I've seen nightingales and rock rabbits and jewellery and maps and books and toys both magic and mundane. Last year there were breezes trapped in eggshells and silver harps that play themselves! And food and drink... oh the food..." He rolled his eyes back in his head and rubbed his stomach, making small noises of appreciation.

"What kind of food?" said Zephi, her eyes bright. Behind her, most of the humans leaned in to listen. Candle's stomach rumbled painfully.

"Anything! Pan seared scallops freshly gathered from the shores of Polkerris and fried with lemon and garlic, rich, pungent cheeses from the Arghan Meadows, the sort that melts on the tip of your tongue, and my favourite – chocolate cake." He groaned before continuing. "Chocolate cake made with spun sugar and sprinkled with glittering dust that tastes like moonbeams and happiness."

"What is... chocolate cake?" asked Zephi, her eyes practically aglow.

"You wouldn't like it," said Murmux, from somewhere at the back of the crowd. "Not enough protein."

"You've never had chocolate cake?" asked Zebulon, his mouth dropping open. Zephi shook her head.

"Ah, that's it," he said, shaking his head. "I've made myself too hungry. Now I have to go and eat something. See you all later."

He took to the sky in a flurry of scales and claw, transforming mid-leap, with a finesse Candle could only admire.

"Selfish bastard," muttered Murmux.

Candle sighed and looked around at the tired and hungry escapees. Their pace across the isthmus had slowed to barely a crawl.

"We should stop for the night," she said. "I'll go hunting for food."

"For the Night?" asked Asher, with one raised eyebrow.

"For a rest," Candle corrected herself. She looked around at the open plain of the isthmus. It provided little in the way of shelter, and the ground was damp. The Night was warm, however, and at least the soaking rain had ceased to fall. They would have adequate shelter at the Rock soon enough.

At her suggestion, the humans settled themselves on the ground, leaning against each other, too weary to complain. The children were half asleep already, eyelids fluttering as they settled against their elders. Zephi was yawning, although she refused to sit down.

"See if you can find something to make a fire," Candle said to Murmux. He scowled but said nothing. He and Zephi set to work rummaging through the sparse undergrowth to find wood dry enough to burn.

"I'll come with you," said Asher.

They took off together and were soon gliding high above the isthmus. A few powerful wingbeats later and their companions appeared as specks against the landscape far below. The air was warm, and the stars were bright, but Candle was too hungry to appreciate them.

What do you have in mind? Asked Asher. Candle envied him the grace of his flight. He flew with the same confidence that he walked. Beside him, she felt gauche and awkward. She was keenly aware that she had only learnt to fly months previously. What would it be like to have flown from the cradle? Or the egg? She started in the air as the thought struck her. Had Asher hatched? Had Jotham hatched? Why was he looking at her like that? Oh yes, he had asked her a question.

Squid, maybe? It needs to be something big enough to feed everyone.

How about auroch? Asher banked and on the slopes of the Night Guardians Candle spotted a herd of the giant beasts. Her stomach rumbled. As a human, she found the thought of eating meat slightly barbaric, repugnant even. Her dragon self could not get enough.

Alright, she said. But I've never hunted auroch before...

She realised her mistake immediately as Asher's golden eyes narrowed.

You've never hunted an auroch? How is that possible?

I mean, not recently. Of course, I have hunted them. Candle felt the weight of his gaze as they flew towards the herd. The animals were grazing peacefully on the mountainside, unaware of the apex predators circling high overhead. I just don't have a lot of experience.

Asher moved his shoulder blades beneath the glittering black of his scales and flexed his talons. He lifted his head, tasting the air with his serpent tongue.

Well then, he said, follow my lead. He dived, cutting through the air with his wings tucked in tight against the bulk of his powerful body. He plummeted like an arrow from the sky, and the giant beasts scattered, bellowing and churning the moss beneath their hooves. Asher swung down and came back up in one fell swoop, a wriggling, panic-stricken auroch clutched between his talons. With one brutal movement, he broke the creature's neck. It hung limp, some six tons of fleshy animal carried with little apparent effort between Asher's powerful limbs.

Your turn, said Asher, baring his fangs in a reptilian approximation of a smile. His eyes were bright with exhilaration. Candle watched the frantic herd below, and her talons twitched.

That should be more than enough to feed everyone, she said.

It's fun, though.

It is, she said. But I wouldn't want to waste a life needlessly.

They are just beasts.

Candle shrugged and flew towards the isthmus, her wings spread wide to catch the updraft. Asher followed at a slower pace, the dead auroch clutched carefully beneath him.

I fear that if I were to travel north, said her companion, I would not understand the customs at all.

Murmux and Narimab had got a small fire going in their absence, and in very little time, the warm air was pungent with the smell of roasting meat. They all sat around the fire, drowsing and half asleep but too hungry to ignore the enticing aromas. The blaze was a luminous beacon in the night, and Candle would have been nervous, but Asher assured her the no one from the Necromancer's keep would bother them.

"Not this far across the isthmus," he said, "not this time of year. They wouldn't dare. "

He glared at Murmux's back as the shifter threw a large branch onto the woodpile. Murmux stood up, feeling the stare on his back. He met Asher's gaze across the fire and threw down another log with unnecessary force. Asher turned away with a sniff.

"He's right though," Murmux said when the dragon was out of hearing. "The Necromancers and the dragons have...an arrangement."

"An arrangement?"

"The Nation is carved between them," he said. "It is an uneasy alliance, but it keeps the peace – most of the time. The Queen would not want trouble with the dragons while they are at strength at Angarrack. She values the balance. It would take something of grave importance for her to risk disturbing the truce." He paused. "Of course, what each party does in its own territory is their own business – more fool the individual who crosses the border without making their allegiance clear."

The meat was soon ready and distributed to grateful and eager hands. For a while, there was quiet as everyone dined by the dying light of the embers. Candle ate with the others, the meat warm and filling in her stomach. Despite the lack of spices or cooking implements, it was one of the best meals she had eaten in a long time. She licked her fingers with great enjoyment and helped herself to second and third helpings. The auroch was so massive there was more than enough to go around. They should cook the rest up to take with them, she thought, eyes drifting over the remains of the beast.

When she was finished, she felt much better, cheerful even. Sitting around the fire reminded her of the happy times she had spent with the Ancestors Own, eating food Pasco had prepared under the stars at Dawn Watch. Although her companions, this time were more dangerous. Asher was sitting across from her, straight backed and haughty, staring into the fire. He had eaten one small piece of meat, which he consumed without evidence of enjoyment. Murmux hadn't eaten anything at all.

"Not hungry?" Candle asked, moving across to stand next to the lightning bird. The dying embers bathed his face in warm light and softened the angles of his face.

"I prefer my meals... a little less cooked," he said. He met her eyes briefly before nodding towards the remains of the bloody carcass. "I will help myself later. Thank you for your concern."

They stood watching the flames lick the last embers into ash.

Candle looked at the deep scratches that crisscrossed his arms and chest. The cuts were beginning to scab over, but they still looked painful. One or two were open and weeping thin trails of crimson. As the lightning bird shifted, Candle could see the lines on his elbow reopen. A drop off blood trickled over the muscle.

"Can I heal your wounds?"

His brow furrowed.

"You can do that? You would do that?"

"Of course. Do you mind?"

Murmux held out his right arm and Candle closed her eyes, breathing in threads of magic. As always, it was an easy matter in the Night Nation. The perpetual twilight was an abundant source of magical energy, something she would miss on her return home. She traced the healing rune in the air with her index finger and opened her eyes. Veins of magic rippled across her skin, making the air around her briefly luminescent. She touched a finger to Murmux's arm. The cuts on his body started to heal, one by one. Starting with those on his limbs and spreading across his torso – smooth skin replacing the jagged wounds, scratches and scores disappearing as if they had never been. Murmux's eyes shone in the darkness, and he flexed his arm, testing the freshly healed skin.

"Thanks," he said, his brow still furrowed. He turned away and disappeared in the shadows.

"Generous of you," said Asher, from behind her. Candle looked up at him in surprise.

"Why? Would you let someone suffer?"

Asher shrugged, his eyes following the shadowy form of the lightning bird.

"It is not for me to question your choice of servants–" he said. He paused, and Candle got the impression he was choosing his words with great care. "And as I said, I am unacquainted with the way things are done north of the Oglen–" He was interrupted by the beating of heavy wings. Candle tensed, and sparks flew from the embers as a large body landed with a thump, shaking the ground. The sleeping humans sat up in alarm as the large body shimmered and disappeared in the dark.

"Sorry, sorry!" Zebulon's voice carried across the plains like a bell. "It's just me! I'm back! I didn't mean to startle you all." He walked forward out of the shadows, and Candle could see he was laden with several boxes, tied together with string. Zeb held them up triumphantly.

"I brought cake!"