71

(Candle)

Moonglade

Candle slept well, despite her worries. There was not enough furniture to go around so she slept on the ledge in her dragon form. The distant roar of the sea soothed her, and the rising moon cast ripples of moonglade a mile wide, illuminating the sleeping faces of her new friends in pale radiance. She breathed in the salt-laden air and felt the tension unravel from her shoulders. The ability to see the sky was soothing and she had missed the rocky ledges of Jotham's cave. After a few hours of restful sleep, she woke and lay in her scales pondering the distant horizon.

At some point during the night, Zephi had snuck out of bed and fallen asleep leaning against Candle’s flank. Candle stared at her fondly and wondered again how she could even contemplate leaving her behind. She shuddered and shook her head, trying to get the image of Lady Hezekiah's hall of trophies out of her mind. Swallowing, she shut her eyes, but the image of those glazed eyes, human, lighting bird, dragon, all stared at her from the back of her eyelids. Their bodies were behind her, somewhere in the castle. She could almost hear their uneasy shades crying out. But no, it was just her imagination and the whisper of the wind through the spires.

For a few moments she contemplated sneaking back to the gallery, saying the rites and reducing the entire place to embers and ash. The fantasy burned bright in her mind, before she sighed, and dismissed it as unwise. Candle loved being a dragon. The freedom of flight, her magic, her flame, the thrill of the hunt, the feeling of raw power that coursed through her whenever she leapt from a high place and soared on outstretched wings – she loved every moment of it.

The latent aggression was something she had pondered at length. As a human, the sight of blood made her queasy. She could barely stomach well-cooked meat in a stew. As a dragon, she craved meat, and the fresher the better. When she hunted in her scales, the scent and taste of blood was sweet on her lips. In her dragon form she was quick to anger, her instincts fine-tuned for destruction. In all this time, Jotham had been her role model, and while his casual propensity for violence sometimes unnerved her, she had never seen him use it against the undeserving or the innocent. He was not cruel. If anything, Jotham went out of his way to avoid conflict. She knew he had fled the Night Nation after disagreements with his family. But somehow, she had expected something different. She had been excited to meet other dragons. She liked Asher and Zebulon. But she could not reconcile her fondness for them with the casual brutality of that passageway.

"Ancestors," she whispered. "Help me."

The smell of wild mountain herbs tickled Candle's nose, and the shade of her long dead grandmother appeared on the ledge next to her. The old lady's white hair blew back in the sea breeze, and she smiled at Candle, her cheeks forming dimples.

"Oh, my dear," she said, tottering, and peering out across the sea with great interest. She clung to Candle's scaly forearm, her touch soft and ethereal. The moonlight shone through her as she moved. "That is rather a formidable drop. But what a view to watch the approaching storms!" She turned her snowy head towards Candle, eyes softening as she took in her grandchild’s dragon form. "And how magnificent you look, dear one!"

There was a soft thump, and the shade of a dragon appeared, filling the remainder of the ledge with his sea-green bulk. Cai inclined his head, silver eyes glittering as he phased in and out of reality. The effect was somewhat disconcerting.

"Granddaughter of my heart, it warms me to see you in your true form." Candle's heart swelled as she looked up at her grandmother and her great-great- something grandfather. "What troubles you, child?"

The smile slipped from Candle's face and her stomach tightened into a knot.

"I thought the dragons of the Night Nation would be noble creatures." She swallowed. "I thought I could bring these people here, and they would be taken care of. But it seems they treat humans as little better than slaves, and they hang their heads on walls."

"How unsanitary," murmured Granny Meraud.

"Why did you think they would be noble?" Asked Cai, flexing his neck in one sinuous motion. "Were you not forewarned? Did you come here blindly? That was foolish."

"I mean...Jotham told me he left the Night Nation because he disagreed with his family. He told me humans were not safe here, he told me his sister fled after taking a human lover..."

"Then why are you surprised?"

Granny Meraud patted Candle's knee.

"It's one thing to hear of a thing," she said to Cai, "and quite another to witness it. And our girl here only recently discovered her scales."

Tears started in Candles' eyes at the old woman's kindness, and she dashed them away angrily. Cai was right. Why had she expected to find anything different? What would Zeb and Asher think when they found out she was human? Or half human?

"You should not be ashamed of your dragon heritage, " said Cai, as if he had read her mind. "Likewise, you should not be ashamed to be human. Each species has the capacity for great good and great evil."

"They have heads on the wall," she repeated. The image of those staring eyes would haunt her forever. She had expected more from her kin. They were her kin. Distant though the connection was, they shared her blood.

Cai was silent for a while. Granny Meraud shook her head, patting Candle's forearm, and muttering reassurances under her breath.

"It is true that whilst in dragon form we have certain... instincts," Cai said, at last. "That does not mean they cannot be controlled."

"Look at that no good brother of yours," said Granny Meraud. "He didn't even know he was half-dragon. Didn't stop him from being a bad apple."

"I suppose.”

"I understand your longing to see the old country," said Cai, after another pause. "Perhaps it is fitting that the home Jowanet created for us in the Twilight Kingdom was superior."

"Is that why our family turned their backs on their dragon heritage?" asked Candle. "Because they were worried they were too aggressive?"

"Perhaps," said Cai, his scales rippling as he shrugged. "I died before the decision was made, but the Kenning was discussing it, even before my death. Or it might have been for secrecy."

"Dragons are rather hard to miss, dear one," said Granny Meraud, squinting at the horizon. "Cluttering up the sky with their great leathery wings."

"And where there are gates there are dragons," said Cai. "At least that was the way of it, when I was alive."

The three of them sat, staring out at the waning moon in silence..

"Is that what you wanted to talk to us about, dear?" asked Granny Meraud.

"Partly," said Candle. She swallowed and nodded towards Zephi's sleeping form. "I can't leave them here. I had hoped that my friends would be able to make a home for themselves with the dragons. But now I see...they would not be safe. But I'm worried. I'm not even supposed to talk to anyone, let alone bring anyone with me through the Gate. I promised Jotham."

Cai straightened up, a haze of steam billowing out of his nostrils to mist the air around them.

"The Gates must be protected," he said, "no matter the cost. I gave my life for the Hanternos Gate. I sacrificed myself, as did many others. Over the centuries so much blood has been shed, enough to turn the sea crimson, all in the defence of those Gates." He turned his great head towards her, the blue of his scales gleaming a dull metallic in the distant light of the moon. "You swore you would protect them. Do you treat your vows so lightly?"

"She can't leave them here, Cai," said Granny Meraud, "didn't you hear what she said?"

"I heard," the great dragon shut his jaw with a click. He gestured to Zephi's sleeping form with one talon. Earlier that night, Narimab had washed the mud from the child's hair so that it was back to its natural flame-licked crimson. Her silver horns were visible, poking out of the thicket of her curls. "I understand your compulsion to save the humans. But this one is a child of violence. Who knows what shades of darkness spawned her? From what sanguine tree did she fall, and what blood-soaked tendencies lurk in her veins? Who knows what she will become? What shattered lives she will leave strewn in her wake?"

Candle placed one wing over Zephi's sleeping form, covering her protectively.

"Surely not," said Granny Meraud, "Just look at the lamb."

"You say dragons are not predisposed to violence," said Candle, "why judge another so harshly? She is half-human, after all."

Cai looked troubled.

"Perhaps," he said. "I know little of Necromancers. Perhaps you speak truly. I do not know. And what of the lightning bird? But my death weighs heavily upon my soul. Be careful, young one. You are at a crossroads and you must choose your path wisely. You risk the lives of everyone you know and love to protect these few who you have known but a short time."

"I know," said Candle. "I will be careful."

"Then do as you must," said Cai. "I can give you no reassurance. May your descendants judge you kindly."

He shimmered and disappeared.

Granny Meraud pressed a kiss into Candle's brow, her lips the barest brush of air.

"Could you live with yourself if you left them behind?"

"No," said Candle, her voice cracking.

"Then you have your answer. Good luck, my dear one and take care. And don't forget to send me a painting. It's been a while."

"Of course, grandmother," said Candle. “Thank you.”

The old lady vanished like sand in the wind, leaving Candle to her dark thoughts. She breathed in a lung full of salt air and let it out in a great shuddering breath. Cai was right, she was foolish. Foolish to believe her troubles would end with the death of a demon.

At her side, Zephi stirred.

"Who are you talking to?" she whispered, her voice heavy with sleep. Candle started, guiltily, wondering how long the child had been awake.

"My Ancestors," she said.

"What do you mean?" Zephi sat up, rubbing her eyes with her knuckles.

"Just their spirits," said Candle, glancing over her shoulder, to make sure everyone was still slumbering. "Humans talk to their Ancestors as well as Necromancers."

Zephi curled a fist around the single finger bone she wore as a necklace, her brow furrowed.

"Mama talks to me in my sleep sometimes," she said. "After I give her rats in the fire."

"If you would like to talk to her more, you could give her other things," said Candle, "things she might like more?"

"More than rats?" Zephi's mouth dropped open. “What could be better than rats?”

"Maybe she would like some cake?"

The child's mouth popped open even more. With Zephi neatly distracted, the conversation soon turned into a spirited discussion of Devotions, culminating in Candle offering to teach Zephi how to draw. As talons were impractical when it came to the finer art of holding an implement, Candle transformed back into her human form. After a brief hunt for some parchment was victorious, she and Zephi sat drawing figures under a bobbing witchlight.

The child's art was unrefined, rendered with more passion than skill, but Zephi listened to Candle's instruction with gratifying attention. She was soon covered in charcoal powder, drawing with her tongue stuck out of the corner of her mouth. It was a pleasant way to pass the time, and the bubble of tension in Candle's stomach eased a little as she sketched the distant thunderheads.

As they were burning the Devotions, a disturbance in the air announced a visitor. Asher landed on the ledge in front of them, fanning his wings to keep his balance. Candle put down a hand to stop the remaining parchments from flying away.

"What are you doing?" he asked, by way of greeting, shaking out his spine spikes in a ripple of movement. The thud of his landing shook the room briefly.

"Candle is teaching me how to draw," said Zephi, brandishing a stick figure portrait at him. "Can you see who it is?"

"Humans are not allowed flame," he said to Candle, before casting a dubious eye over Zephi's artwork. "Is it a wight?"

"No!" She cried, much offended. "It's Candle!"

"And why," asked Candle, trying not to bite the words off, "are they not allowed flame?"

"Grandfather doesn't want demons here," Asher shrugged. "And humans are too base to work magic without giving into their animalistic impulses. Best not to risk it. Surely you don't let your humans run amok back home?" He peered into the depths of the room. "Why are there so many here, anyway?"

Candle opened her mouth to retort, but then shut it again. There was no point antagonising him. She had made her decision. The sooner she left, the better, she just needed to find a way to leave discreetly, taking all her people with her. And then smuggle them through the Gate in secret. Simple.

"I like the company," she said, plastering a bland smile on her face.

Asher looked at her sideways, his golden eyes quizzical, as if she was a puzzle he wanted to solve.

"If you are looking for company," he said, "I was going to offer to show you around a bit, maybe we could go to the market later–"

"Oooh, the Night Market! Can I come?" Zephi's dark eyes widened in excitement, and she put down her latest drawing. Out of the corner of her eye Candle saw it was a rather unflattering rendering of a dragon she suspected was meant to be Asher. .

"Of course," said Candle, to his obvious annoyance.

"I was planning on flying," he said. "Perhaps Zephi could join us later?"

Candle inclined her head. She did not want to push him too far. And it had been a while since she had stretched her wings.

"Tell Narimab I will see you all later," she said to Zephi, who was pouting. "At the market?"

"I'll tell her," said Murmux, from the back of the room. Candle hadn't realised he was standing there.

"Thanks," she said, "please take care of everyone." He nodded, and Candle leapt off the ledge, following Asher out into the starry night.