68

The Rock of the Ever Night

They ate chocolate cake until they could eat no more. It was every bit as good as Zebulon had promised. The icing was dark and rich, the sponge light and moist. Candle swallowed a mouthful of sweetness and let out a contented sigh. She hadn't eaten anything so delicious in a very long time, and after days of deprivation it made a welcome change. The last time she had eaten cake was probably on the morning of her birthday, so many months ago. Her spirits fell at the thought of that hastily stolen meal, and of the pile of ashes that was all that remained of her childhood home. But that part of her life was over, and those shades would trouble her no more. Right now her stomach was full, she had cake to spare and new friends. She looked down at Zephi, who had fallen asleep in her lap. New friends, and new purpose.

Zephi mumbled something in her sleep. The child's pale face was smeared with chocolate. Small, sticky fingers were curled around Candle's arm, and her silver horns were digging into her leg. They were as hard and unyielding as iron, and Candle shifted, trying to move to a more comfortable position without waking the girl. Zephi stirred and her eyes fluttered open, staring up at Candle in sleep-blurred contentment.

"You're my best friend, Candle," she said, her words hazy and indistinct. "But Zebulon is also really nice." She sat up suddenly, with a sharp intake of breath, her eyes wide and staring. "Don't let them eat all the cake!" Zephi flopped back down onto Candle's lap, her breathing turned deep and regular as sleep returned. Candle waited, but the child didn't stir again.

"You should get some rest too," said Asher, who was sitting nearby. His back was ramrod straight and his lips pursed as if he could not imagine how he had found himself in such a situation. He kept wrinkling his nose, and Candle wondered if it was a personal quirk, or if he found the scent of slumbering human distressing. She suspected the latter. His younger brother, however, had no such compunctions. Zebulon was sprawled on his back, snoring gently.

"It's fine," said Candle, softly so as not to wake Zephi. "I'll keep watch."

"There's really no need. We are safe here."

"What about wights?"

Asher looked surprised, as if he had never considered the possibility. But then, what danger did the undead pose when you could burn them to a crisp or take to the sky in a matter of moments?

"If they come they will be dealt with," he said. "Do not lose sleep over it. Your humans will be safe."

He was probably right, but for some reason, the handsome man-boy set her teeth on edge. The list of his infractions was long - the way he was both like and unlike Jotham, and his haughty demeanour featuring near the top of the list. Candle had come late to her freedom, and she found that she did not like being told what to do. Especially by people she had just met who thought too well of themselves.

So Candle kept watch in the darkness, seated next to the last burning embers, until the whole makeshift camp was lost in dreams. The stars were good company, and she found the silence a balm after the drama of the last few days. The last embers crackled gently in the fire pit. Occasionally an ashen branch would collapse, sending a tiny spray of orange sparks dancing skywards.

At the edge of the faint circle of light, she could see Murmux lying with his hands under his head, staring up at the Highway of Souls. Apparently, he could not sleep either, for she could see the gleam of his eyes when he turned his head. They did not speak but sat watching the stars as they rotated slowly above them.

Once she was sure everyone else was fast asleep and that the lightning bird was lost in his own dark thoughts, Candle tipped her last piece of cake into the coals. The fire was just hot enough to consume the sponge, and she muttered a quick prayer to her Ancestors. She was surprised that no one else had made offerings. Perhaps they were just too hungry to care, but she had felt too self conscious to feed the flames in front of them. It felt too personal, now that she had met Cai and the others. And she had a feeling that Zephi might have strong feelings over wasted cake.

Her movement had caught Murmux's eye, and she met his gaze over the ashes. She raised an eyebrow, daring him to comment.

"Sleep," he whispered, "I will watch."

Eventually, she did.

There was, of course, no dawn in the Night Nation, just the perpetual, beautiful Night. But after eight hours or so, people began to stir, stretching their limbs and yawning. Once the children woke, the decibels rose, and the last remaining sleepers were roused from their dreams. After feasting on a breakfast of cold meat and leftover cake, they set off, plodding across the narrow strip of isthmus towards the Roseland Peninsula. The sea was visible to both left and right, and a warm crosswind swept the scent of brine across their path in tantalising bursts.

A few short hours later and they were beneath the shadow of the Old Man of Sterlester. In the Night Nation, there was no city built within the circle of his arms and the distinctive slopes were wild and free of buildings. It was an unsettling sight. Candle had expected something to be there, even if it was just a few ruins, but there was nothing – just a proliferation of night roses, and the wind rippling in undulating across the dark mountainside.

Once past the craggy bulk of the Old Man, they turned to follow the southern coastline, trudging along the rainshadow trail in ones and twos. The wind was rising, whipping the waves into peaks, each one topped with a star-frosted cap. The line where the ocean met land was an incandescent shimmer of magic, and the mountains rose heavy and black to their right. Candle knew the twelve peninsula peaks as the Twelve Lords of Hammett, but here, she found they were called the Twelve Midnight Queens. Candle had to guard her tongue and came close to slipping up more than once. Always, she could feel eyes on her, waiting for her to say something odd. Zebulon and Asher seemed to accept her story, but at the back of her mind lingered the image of the dragon she had met on her first day in the Night Nation – the dragon who had chased her through the clouds, demanding that she disclose the location of the gate. She shivered, although the Night was warm.

"The day after tomorrow we'll be home," said Asher. Candle nodded, as if the thought was pleasing, and not the cause of great anxiety.

As they followed the path the landscape became even more rugged, as the distance between sea and mountain narrowed. The cliffs drew in overhead, rising high enough to blot out the stars. They passed a few human settlements, nestled in the sheltering arms of the Midnight Queens, but did not stop.

"Our vassals," said Asher, as they passed. "There is not room at the Rock for all the humans, not at this time of the year. They are safe enough here, and this way they can gather adequate food from the sea and shores."

"Hmmm," said Candle, casting a wary eye over the closest structure. The buildings were more fortress-like than homely, and the inhabitants looked hard and unfriendly. The people they could see glowered at them from behind tall walls, melting away when Zebulon transformed into his dragon body and took to the skies. He started doing loops overhead to the delight of the children below.

"So easily bored," said Asher, watching with a wry smile. The human children and Zephi ran along the beach below, waving and laughing. The "vassals" in their settlement seemed to find the sight less amusing, slamming their shutters closed and vanishing inside.

Candle's opinion of Asher had softened as they had journeyed. He still set her teeth on edge, and she had once or twice suggested he fly ahead in an attempt to get rid of him. Always, he refused with polite gravity, claiming he couldn't possibly leave without her. She was impressed that he had stayed with them for the arduous trek. Zebulon's clearly enjoyed the novelty and seemed starved for amusement. The young dragon seemed intrigued by the humans, but Asher's motivations were more of a mystery. His disdain for the company he quite clearly considered beneath him was self-evident. He also made it obvious how much he disliked walking. As a result, everyone gave him a wide berth. And as Asher clearly preferred Candle's company, that meant she was often isolated from the rest of the group. Zephi was the exception. The small Necromancer girl was not in the slightest bit intimidated by Asher, no matter how many scowls or cutting remarks he tossed in her direction.

Despite his arrogance, Asher possessed a dry sense of humour that Candle occasionally found charming. He was also an engaging conversationalist. Although, perhaps the novelty of someone seeking her out was merely going to her head. She snuck a look at him as they traversed the winding coastal path, his jet hair blowing in the stiff breeze. Her stomach fluttered. It was nice to have someone to talk to.

Zebulon was clearly a crowd favourite, romping with the young ones, and bantering with the adults. The escaped prisoners soon lost their fear of him and treated him almost like one of their own. Murmux, on the other hand, was tolerated rather than accepted. He made himself useful, but it was hard to forget he wasn't human with his living tattoos. Candle looked back over her shoulder, seeking him in the crowd. He was holding a young child on his hip, and walking alongside the young mother. Murmux waved back at her when he saw her looking. She scowled back at him. Perhaps he didn't deserve her distrust, but here was another creature who made her grind her teeth.

They slept again against the shelter of Midnight Queens, the sound of the sea lapping against the shore in constant lullaby. They passed the hours undisturbed but Candle arose sandy-eyed and anxious. This day would see their arrival at Angarrack

The group walked quickly, and without much chatter. Everyone seemed eager to arrive, and their legs soon ate up the remaining distance. After a couple of hours travel, they arrived at a windy stone stair which cut up the cliff face from the beachhead. Once at the top, they crossed a flat, windswept plain, and there in the distance was their destination.

"Finally!" Said Zebulon, as everyone paused to gape.

Angarrack, the Ever Night, rose from the bones of the earth. Sheer chalk-white cliffs rose from turbulent waters. The approach was rugged and rocky, the sea dashing itself against the rising walls on three sides. Churning waters flung foam high in the air, splattering the towering walls while hundreds of seabirds wheeled in the air above, screaming and cawing. The sky was full of movement – veins of magic twisting and interwoven with gusts of wind. And then there were the dragons.

Candle's breath hitched in her throat. She had never seen a more glorious sight. Never had she imagined there could be so many, that the sight would be so both fearsome and so beautiful. They rode the air currents above the Rock, surfing the currents and blotting out the stars with the great leathery mass of their wings. Dark shadows, flickering in silhouette against the brilliance of the Highway of Souls, while starlight glinted off a thousand scales and claws. The thrust of the dragons' wings scattered the gulls who croaked and called, swept aside by the leviathans of the sky.

"Well, that's a sight," said Narimab, her eyes rather wild.

"Home, " said Asher, his eyes warming momentarily.

"That's a lot of dragons," said Zephi, planting her hands on her hips and gazing up. Candle could only stare.

The towering walls of the castle were raw and ancient, appearing more mountain than building. The raw crags were punctuated by cave-like openings and ledges. Here, Candle realised, was a castle built by the Ancestors and used for its original purpose. The scale of the structure was immense. Many of the ledges contained basking serpents, the whole place a swirling maelstrom of skyborne activity. One or two of the creatures clung atop the craggy spires, their talons wrapped around the turrets that seemed built for the purpose.

"What do you all eat?" said Zephi.

"Small children who ask too many questions," said Zeb. Zephi stuck out her tongue at him.

"Arrangements are made," said Asher, "but it's a logistical nightmare. Fortunately, the clans only congregate in numbers once a year."

"And there's always the Night Market," said Zeb, "for when we are in small folk form."

"I suppose," said Asher, regarding Candle with a sardonic twist to his lips, "that I will be unable to persuade you to use the appropriate entrance? I am unaccustomed to arriving on foot."

Candle's heart thumped harder at the thought of flying in front of all those dragons. Besides, she was not confident the humans would be well treated.

"You go ahead," she said. Asher signed and shook his head, smiling as if it was some bizarre quirk of hers, to want to make sure everyone was safe. Her hands curled tight at her sides, and she had to make a conscious effort to unfurl them. After all, Asher had walked all this way by her side. He had saved Zephi's life, back on the plain in front of the isthmus.

The approach was a narrow path that wound across the windswept plain. The castle was perched right at the very end of the peninsula, its point jutting out into the dark ocean. The wind buffeted them from either side, as they stumbled in ones and twos across the rough track.

"I hadn't realised the road was so poorly maintained," said Asher, catching Candle by the elbow as she tripped over a jagged rock.

"And when was the last time you came this way," yelled Zebulon, over the roar of the wind. "Have you ever? I bet this is the first time you've walked through the low entrance."

Asher pursed his lips but said nothing, and Candle had to hide a smile. Her smirk fell off her face as she tripped again. To her abject embarrassment, Asher took her hand with solicitous care, guiding her over the path as if she was a clumsy child that needed assistance. Her cheeks burned, but she was unable to take her eyes off the looming castle. It drew her gaze when she should have been paying mind to her feet. Angarrack was impressive enough from a distance, but as they drew nearer the true immensity of the place became apparent. It blotted out the stars with its monstrous girth, appearing almost mountain-like in its proportions. It was the single largest structure Candle had ever seen, and no wonder, since it had been built to house dragons.

"It's quite something, isn't it?" Said Asher, not letting go of her hand. It felt dry and cold clasped around hers. She nodded, not trusting herself to answer.

The entrance was intimidating in the extreme. Nothing was scaled to human form, and the wrought-iron doorway was large enough to accommodate three dragons walking side by side. Although she doubted the dragons did much walking. Candle's heart beat very fast as they passed beneath the vast archway of the open gate and into the courtyard beyond.