Chapter Ten

Named by a Songbird

His fellow Knights and their squires gathered around the corpse laid in the courtyard. The grey, snow-coated stones looked even more dull and mundane compared to the ruby-red scales of the dragon's corpse.

She had been a proud if vicious creature in life. In death, she seemed weak and diminished. Her power and ferocity had been extinguished forever.

Kaden removed his helm and glared down at his vanquished opponent. His squires hovered behind him, both of them having to carry his colossal greatsword and struggling with it.

The dragon was still bleeding. Her blood had started to cool, but was still reducing the snow around her corpse to slush.

'Fine work, Sir Kaden.' One of his fellow knights, Jorsen, had knelt to examine the dragon's head. 'You honour the order.'

Kaden ignored the flattery. Weiß Wache was just a stepping stone in his long quest. He was normally at Dragon Keep, but he had decided to come here personally when a red dragon had been sighted.

He still had a score to settle.

But this dragon had not been the one he had sought. Wrong gender for a start, though given what he knew of the Eldwurms, gender was somewhat irrelevant. Some did not know this, but he knew that the "lesser" dragons were little more than soulless husks driven by animal instinct.

He did not resent having come out here to kill the dragon, even though she had not been the one he sought. Her death brought him one step closer to his goal: the end of all dragons, and his vengeance against Slyrak.

Kaden closed his eyes, briefly seeing his friends aflame before his eyes, screaming in agony as they melted away into nothing more than smouldering puddles of steaming matter. Slyrak would die.

He would die by Kaden's hand, no matter the cost. Every living creature could be killed, even an Eldwurm.

'Sir Kaden!' One of the newer recruits came hurrying over. He was momentarily stunned by the sight of the dead dragon. He shivered in the cold, then leaned over and whispered in Kaden's ear.

Kaden's face gave nothing away, but his hard eyes narrowed as the man spoke. His gaze flicked to a young man loitering on the far side of the courtyard, his unruly blond hair ruffled by the wind.

Bram had been waiting for Davion to turn up for days now. The boy was worried about his friend, having failed to find him back in Barreltown. He had come here in a hurry, so terrified at the thought of an Eldwurm on the loose that he had not thought to search Haupstadt first.

He might not have been eager for Davion to return if he had. He would have learned the truth outside the city gates.

Bram would not have to wait much longer to see Davion again. But the reunion would not end well.


Davion stumbled into the cave, his teeth chattering, covered almost head-to-toe in snow and ice.

Wrapped up in his cloak and held in his arms, Marci trembled feebly. Not much time left.

The light spilling from the eye-shaped amulet around Marci's neck revealed every nook of the small cavern, and Davion was relieved to find that it was empty.

He put Marci down, unslung his pack and dug out the wood in a frenzy. Quickly, he arranged the wood and tinder, then set about lighting it. He swore several times as the sparks failed to catch.

He kept striking the whetstone against the blade of his sword, hard, not caring that he might damage the weapon.

He almost sobbed with relief when the sparks caught at last. He carefully blew on the flames to make them spread, then returned to Marci.

Marci was barely conscious now. Her clothes were still damp, leeching what little precious heat remained in her body. In the light of the fire, the amulet had dimmed.

'Sorry, Marci.' Davion dug around in the pack again. 'I hope you'll understand.'

It was a good thing he was well practised.

Davion tried not to look too closely as he removed Marci's cold, damp tunic and leggings and swapped them for a dry set. He left her small-clothes untouched, mostly for the sake of her dignity. They wouldn't affect her temperature too badly, or so he hoped.

It wasn't that he found her unattractive. He did find her attractive. It was very odd for him not to pay rapt attention to a woman scantily clad, but he respected Marci too much for that and it wouldn't have been right. She was hardly in any condition to slap him, or break his fingers.

Nevertheless, he could not help but notice the scars on her arms, old marks made faint by time and healing, but still visible in the firelight. There were a few on her body too, including what appeared to be a fairly recent puncture wound on her abdomen.

Davion considered her extremely lucky, and extremely resilient.

Most people would have succumbed to the cold long before now. He might have. He also knew that her clothes should have been frozen to her skin after her immersion in the freezing water. Whatever they made their garments from in the Nightsilver Woods, they had chosen well.

There was one more thing he had to do. Leaving Marci close to the fire, he took the spare cloak from the pack and used his sword to prop it against the entrance, leaving enough of a gap to let the smoke out. He hadn't gone to this much trouble just to choke the two of them to death.

He also left his shard poking out into the air. If Mirana was out there, it would hopefully guide her to them.

As for the un-dead, he'd just have to hope that they had stayed in that cavern, or that they wouldn't see it, or that they were too stupid to realise what it was.

With that done, he returned to Marci. As he lifted her into his arms, he quickly checked her for signs of frostbite. Again, she had been extraordinarily lucky. Unlike many Dragon Knights and wanderers who had gone astray in these mountains, she would keep her fingers and toes.

The wound on her right temple was not as bad as he had feared. It looked worse than it was, and was actually shallow. So far she had showed no signs of concussion, which was a great relief.

On the other hand, her trembling was subsiding, which was unsettling. Her eyelids were drooping and she was unaware of what was happening. She had been lucky, but that luck was running thin.

If she fell asleep, she would likely never awaken.


Marci felt the shivers slowly cease. A gentle warmth was creeping through her limbs. It started at her toes and fingertips, seeping through her arms and legs and spreading through her body. Her eyes closed, and she was reminded of... home. She forgot where she was, thinking that she was back in the palace, dozing off in a warm bath.

A voice called her name. Mirana? Had she gotten in trouble? Lost something? Marci knew that she had to get out of the bath and see what was wrong, no matter how content she was. She wasn't really supposed to use it, but Mirana insisted. She thought that her closest friend and confidant should enjoy the same luxuries as she did. It was only fair that Marci help her when she was needed.

But she was so tired. Sleep would be bliss.

Something pinched the skin of her wrist sharply and she snapped back into reality. She would have raised a hand to retaliate, but her limbs were too numb to feel and she seemed to be restrained by something solid.

'Marci!' The voice was not Mirana's. Her befuddled mind struggled to remember. 'I'm sorry, but you need to stay awake. You must stay awake. If you sleep, you'll die.'

Davion.

He was holding her close, pressed against his chest and wrapped up in his cloak. Marci felt the shivers begin again and she pressed her body tighter against his. He felt warm against her trembling skin.

She felt the urge to sleep creep up on her again and her head tilted down. Davion cupped her chin and lifted her head. He peered into her pale face.

This was the closest she had been to him. She was mesmerised by his deep, dark eyes. They were kind and warm. If her mind had not been so foggy, she could have counted every eyelash. His warm breath wafted across her damp fringe and she felt soothed.

'Marci, please! You have to fight it!' He wobbled her head gently, trying to rouse her. 'Back in the tunnel, you were whistling something. Can you do it again?'

Whistle? How... When...

Marci forced herself to remember. Slowly, she pursed her blue lips and blew. It was not really a tune now. It emerged as a weak, disjointed warble. But trying to whistle the tune was making her concentrate, keeping her awake.

Davion gamely tried to hum with her. Despite everything, she felt a smile warp her cold lips. If Mirana had been here, she would have laughed. Together, she and Davion were turning a light, happy tune into a monotonous droning with a slightly shrill and shaky high whistle.

Davion returned the smile as he hummed with her, holding her close. She felt warmth start to return to her, painfully at first, like icy claws tearing into her skin, but slowly giving way to relief.

For a moment, she felt unusually content. She wondered how long they could stay like this.

It was some time before Davion spoke. He kept humming with her, still holding her close, warm against his chest, and she was a little surprised when he finally said something, as if startled out of a dream.

'You're full of surprises, Marci.' Davion murmured softly. 'Have you considered fighting dragons? I bet you could knock their teeth out easily enough. And you're much tougher than you look. I wouldn't mind having a partner like you.'

Marci felt her cheeks heat at the comment. The warmth felt blissful. She looked up at him and shrugged—not easy since he was holding her so tightly—managing a small smile.

Davion returned the smile. 'You certainly have a thick skull.'

Marci frowned. She wanted to swat him but couldn't like this. Instead, she lowered her face and butted him in the chest with her forehead, not hard enough to hurt, but firmly enough to indicate her annoyance.

'I think that proves my point!' Davion laughed. 'It was a compliment, Marci.' She felt his powerful muscles press against her and her face grew even warmer, and there was a strange... stirring. She was aware of her heart beating faster and a flush of blood and heat in her neck and chest.

If he suggested something now, she would not have refused.

'Don't get me wrong. I admire your stubbornness, but you are a bit too reckless for your own good.' Davion had stopped laughing and he spoke softly and seriously once more. 'Mirana would be devastated if she lost you.' He paused for a beat, his face betraying something she struggled to read in her current state. 'I'd miss you, Marci, so don't go jumping down any more chasms. I don't mind being here with you like this. But you damn near scared me to death.'

His words only made her feel warmer, and her heartbeat quickened. At this rate he was going to give her a heart-attack, or cause her to melt. That might have been ironic considering how much trouble he had gone through to save her.

Davion pulled the pack closer and rummaged around, his eyes narrowed with concentration. He smiled again as he pulled a piece of flatbread from the pack and held it close to her mouth.

Marci's mouth watered and she leaned forwards to bite off a chunk. It didn't embarrass her that Davion was hand-feeding her almost as one would a child. She was too hungry, and too content, to care. She looked up at him curiously, but he shook his head and let her eat the whole thing. It was meagre as meals went, but it was one of the best she had ever eaten.

'Here,' Davion held a flask to her lips now. 'Take it slow.'

Marci sipped carefully. It was alcohol of some kind and it burned as it went down. Hardly an Icewrack White, yet it felt heavenly as it warmed her stomach. She could feel her strength returning.

Marci looked up at Davion, her smile wide and grateful.

'When you're ready, we'll see about finding Mirana and Sagan. I bet she's worried sick about you.'

It was a massive understatement, and they both knew it. Marci felt a surge of guilt twist her warming insides. Here she was, delighting in Davion's company despite her brush with death, and poor Mirana was still out there, probably tearing the mountain apart looking for her.

What if those things were out there?

Mirana needed her.

Davion must have read the distress on her face and in her eyes. 'Calm down, Marci. She has Sagan, she's good with a bow, and you're no good to her as an icicle.' He indicated the billowing cloak he had stuck across the cavern entrance. 'I left a marker. My gauntlet is outside. If she's close, she'll spot it.'

Marci did not relax. She continued to look up at him, her eyes pleading.

Davion sighed. 'Marci, I have never known anybody so stubborn.' His face broke into another admiring smile. 'Nor have I known anybody so loyal. I admire that, I really do.' He eased his hold on her. 'If you're sure you're up for it, then we can leave now. The blizzard was easing last I saw, it might not be too hard to find Mirana.'

He was trying to lift her hopes. Finding Mirana up here would be incredibly difficult. It could take days—days which could cost them all their lives. But she still appreciated his efforts.

Davion helped her onto her feet and stamped out the fire. She gathered up her damp clothes as Davion took down his sword.

She heard his yell of shock and heard the rasping growl.

One of the un-dead creatures had found them.

Davion, still clutching his sword with one hand on the blade, lashed out with his foot. The creature was forced back into the blizzard and Davion followed through with the blade, cleaving its head asunder.

Marci jumped to her feet, wobbling slightly, as Davion yanked the warsword free of the corpse's skull. Davion picked up his gauntlet and handed it to her. 'Just in case. It's sharp enough to cut dragon hide.'

Marci slid it onto her hand. It was too large for her, so she clenched her fist to keep it in place. The glowing blade might help Mirana to find them.

They stumbled out into the blizzard, wading through the white blanket of thick snow. Marci was still not fully recovered, but all the warmth in the world would not save them from the shambling corpses now hunting for fresh meat.

Davion swore as he saw more of them shuffling towards them. Hypothermia was not going to bother them, their blood had gone cold long ago. Luckily for them, the blizzard and the deep snow was slowing them down.

The problem they faced was simple: they were lost.

They could try to run, but all they could see right, left and ahead was an endlessly grey sky suffused with billowing snow. Behind them lay the peaks, and maybe more caverns filled with un-dead.

Even if they knew where to go, they would not make it. They had the one pack of supplies between them, most of the wood depleted and very little food left. If the un-dead did not catch them first, they would freeze to death.

Davion reached a boulder rendered into a mound by the deepening snow. He took one look round and swore loudly. Marci could see it too: they were surrounded.

Davion lifted his sword, his face drawn and grim. He unfastened his cloak and let it drop. He did not want his mobility hindered.

This was going to be a last stand.

Marci nodded to him. He returned the nod. They took up their position, back-to-back. Davion held his sword in both hands, tight enough for control and loose enough for speed. Marci lifted her fists, the shard glowing next to her face.

The first rotten fiend to reach her fell back, its skull crushed by her boot. She was still not at her best, but if she was going to die here, she was going to take as many of them with her as she could.

Davion was of the same mind, hacking the shambling corpses apart with strong, controlled swipes of his sword. They had little blood left to shed, but she heard their foul flesh tearing and their old bones splintering and splitting.

Marci drove the shard in Davion's gauntlet through the skull of what had been a young man, his features corrupted by rot and decay. She no longer felt the cold, only the surging adrenaline and the determination to keep fighting. They could rip her skin, break her bones, but she would keep struggling to the end.

She had always been a fighter. If she was destined to die fighting, so be it.


Davion bellowed a fierce cry as he cut another one of the creatures in half. Its upper body continued to crawl towards him. He stamped on its skull, reducing it to shards of broken bone and a greyish paste of decayed brains.

He could sense Marci kicking and punching behind him, hear bones breaking and bodies falling in the snow. The corpses piled up around the mound, but they could not hold out forever. There were simply too many of them.

The song was ever present as he fought. It had become a crescendo of vague noise as he swung the warsword, swelling with the blood pumping in his veins.

If he gave in now...

Perhaps in his monstrous form he could destroy all of the un-dead monsters. He could save Marci.

But if he lost control, she would die anyway.

He took in a deep breath. They were going to die anyway, but he would rather go down with a sword in his hand than risk killing Marci.

Even so, he heard the song more clearly than ever before. He could feel the scales beginning to cut through his skin.

The change was upon him.


Marci brought her leg round, sending one of the dead things sprawling down the slope with its ribs shattered.

She thought she saw something moving in the blizzard, an indistinct grey mass in a sea and sky of white.

Something small and straight flew high into the sky, a glint of silver catching her eye.

Her hope soared with it.


Davion felt rather than saw Marci stop fighting. He risked turning his head and saw her gazing up at the sky, staring with wide eyes.

He followed her gaze and felt his own eyes widen with shock. Falling towards them was a rain of silver missiles, sharp as the points of spears and as brilliant as stars.

Davion had never seen this before, and the first thing he did was seize Marci and push her down, shielding her with his own body. He did not need to, but she did not stop him.

The silvery arrows fell upon the shuffling, rotten horde, slicing through their dead flesh and searing their splintered bones. Steam rose from their tattered forms as they toppled into the snow, twitching weakly as the silver darts dissipated into motes of white light.

Davion lifted his head as Sagan came bounding through the snowdrifts, carrying Mirana on his back. The Princess all but fell from the saddle in her haste, fighting her way through the blizzard.

Her eyes went round as saucers when Davion straightened, allowing her handmaiden to stand. 'Marci!' Mirana cried, dropping her bow and hurrying over. She pulled Marci into a desperate hug, pressing her handmaiden into her chest and weeping into her hair. 'Marci! I'm so sorry, Marci! I'm so sorry!'

Davion peered around for more un-dead. There were corpses beyond counting piled around them, the blizzard sweeping across them and quickly burying them. Whatever Mirana had done, it had been enough.

Mirana opened her teary eyes and fixed Davion with an intense, wide stare. Her blue eyes no longer seemed cold or unfriendly. He saw her gulp thrice, her throat working around a painful lump. 'Davion... thank you.'

Davion became aware of the sword still clutched in his trembling hand. It took him a couple of attempts to fit it into the sheath. He approached, managing a strained smile. 'It's no trouble,' he gave their shoulders a gentle squeeze, then smiled down at Marci. 'Besides, I still owe you one, Marci.'

Marci smiled warmly up at him, her eyes full of adoration.

Mirana wiped her eyes and fought to compose herself. Her efforts made little difference, for her voice was still shaky and her eyes brimming when she spoke. 'Let Sagan carry you, Marci, until we find shelter. Davion? Sagan can—'

'No. He's carrying enough weight. Let him carry Marci.' He picked up her bow and handed it over. 'I owe you one too. We both do.'

Mirana half-smiled and sniffled. 'You might. Marci owes me nothing. I, on the other hand, owe her. Don't look at me like that, Marci, it's true.'

Marci did not seem convinced, but she was too tired and too cold to argue. Just for once, she could not find in herself to be stubborn.

At least they were back together again. Perhaps they would make it after all. Mirana helped her onto the saddle and took the reins. With Davion leading, they set off in search of shelter, disappearing into the diminishing blizzard.


Mirana found another cave located higher up, sheltered from the slowing blizzard by an outcropping.

If there were more un-dead out there, they were either hunting elsewhere or had stayed in their caverns. All was quiet and still, aside from the flurries of snow.

Davion lit a fire, glancing over at Marci as the flames caught. She was wrapped up in a cloak, leaning against the wall with her legs stretched out before her. She smiled at him, gratitude and relief all over her face.

Davion returned her smile. This time he allowed her to close her eyes. She was in no danger of slipping away now, and she was in dire need of rest.

Sagan grunted and laid his head on his paws, relieved to have the weight taken off his back. He was fast asleep in a heartbeat, warm and content.

Davion stood, stretched his aching limbs, and moved towards the entrance. To his surprise, Mirana shook her head and intercepted him. 'No, Davion. I'll watch. You should rest.'

'I'm fine, Mirana.'

'Davion,' Mirana wore a rueful smile, 'you were right. I nearly got us all killed. I nearly...' she broke off and sighed, glancing at her dozing handmaiden. 'If I had lost her... I never would have forgiven myself.'

Davion glanced at Marci. 'What exactly is there between you two?'

Mirana leaned back against the wall. 'She's my friend. My dearest friend. For a long time, Marci was my only friend in the world.' She hesitated. 'I was... a spoilt child, Davion, born into privilege and wealth many could only dream of. I treated people under me like dirt. But when I met Marci... she was different. She reminded me that other people were like me, just not as fortunate. She was so trusting and devoted. She still is. And I have asked so much of her, and I wish I did not have to.'

A soft whistle drew their attention back to Marci. She was awake again, her gaze fixed on Mirana. In her eyes was nothing but adoration and trust.

Mirana sniffled and wiped a tear from her eye. 'I'm touched, Marci. But you should be asleep.'

Marci looked to Davion, her eyes still warm, and shaped her lips. She whistled a soft, musical trill and smiled at him. The sound reminded him of a songbird.

'What does that mean?' Davion asked quietly.

'She's named you.' Mirana explained, also smiling. 'That's how she's going to say your name.' She picked up her bow. 'Get some rest, both of you.' Though it was an order, her tone was soft and quiet. 'I'll keep watch.'

Davion unfastened his sword-belt and propped his weapon against the wall before settling down close to Marci. He appreciated Mirana's kindness, for now he was aware of just how tired he was. His arms ached from swinging the heavy warsword and carrying Marci. His legs had long stopped shaking, they now felt like lead instead.

Davion started to close his eyes. Sleep was briefly driven away by the sound of something shuffling and the feeling of something warm and soft settling against his chest. Something feathery tickled his chin: the hair bunched at the back of Marci's head.

Davion instinctively put his arms around her as she rested her head against his chest. When Mirana looked round at them, they had both fallen asleep. Marci had a small, sweet smile on her face. Her head moved with the gentle motion of Davion's breathing.

Mirana could not help but smile. Marci had been right to insist on saving him, both times. Though he did not consider the debt settled, she was unspeakably grateful to him.

Mirana went back to watching the snow fall, the blizzard finally coming to an end. Tomorrow, they would press on and make their way towards the Dragon Knight keep. If Davion wanted to go there, that was his choice. But Mirana knew that she too would miss him now.

Maybe if she told him what they were after... no. That was her burden. He had done more than enough for her. He had the right to choose his own path. Even so, she knew that she would feel sorry for Marci if he left them. He was one of the few people who had really wanted to know her.

Mirana glanced round at them again, the sight of them sleeping peacefully clearing her doubts for the moment.

The scales did not threaten to push through the Dragon Knight's skin that night, and the handmaiden suffered no nightmares as she slept warm and safe in his arms.