Inspired by All Quiet on the Western Front, by Erich Maria Remarque

And They Cried No More

Chapter 1

Kingdom of Ice

As was normal for the end of autumn, there was a storm raging over the far north of Pyrrhia. The wind howled furiously as it lashed between the many columns and archways of Queen Glacier's palace, pelting the exposed IceWings with flurries of snow as they hurried about, eager to finish their business and return home to weather the storm. Amongst the towering spires of the palace, one young IceWing aristocrat was fighting hard to stay aloft and keep from slamming into things as he flew along, trying to return home from school before the storm worsened much more.

Winter often found it ironic that storms were so dangerous for the very dragons who made this windswept realm their home. It seemed logical that, like all the other tribes, their home should empower them, not endanger them. He felt as though he should love this weather, and yearn to fly out bravely into the storm looking for adventure. But no, the IceWings had to hunker down when their kingdom unleashed its fury upon them, unlike all the other tribes.

Although, he often wondered, maybe the other tribes suffered the same shortcomings. Afterall, he had never met a dragon of another tribe, maybe the ocean could be as treacherous to the SeaWings as the north could to the IceWings. Either way, he had been taught not to mind. As his instructors had reminded him once more today, the storms that the IceWings weathered made them stronger. It prepared them for what they would face in the future, and forged them into tougher warriors because of it. Maybe it was better that the Ice Kingdom always tested its wardens, weeding out the weak and further toughening the strong. Afterall, the Ice Kingdom surely would not be able to hold its own against the SkyWings and MudWings together if its dragons spent their days moping about like a gaggle of lazy RainWings.

IceWings were made to fight from the moment they hatched. Unlike other tribes who coddle their dragonets, IceWings have to fight tooth and claw to escape their shell, and every moment from that point onward is a battle. Winter knew this truth to be absolute. Every action counted towards the rankings, everything he did was about climbing them, about earning a spot for himself above the rest and bringing honor home to his family. That was his fight, and one he seemed predestined to lose.

Unlike his perfect brother and nearly perfect sister, Winter seemed to be the one who always made mistakes. Bowing to the wrong dragons, tripping in front of a First Circle dragon, looking away while his instructors were talking, every little mistake he made was punished in the worst way possible, a fall in the ranks. Just today, he had earned himself another loss of ranks, this time by sneezing while the Queen's Daughter, Snowfall, had been giving a presentation about SkyWing anatomy, and the ideal places to easily incapacitate them. The look of scorn and superiority on his fellow royal's face had been bad, the subsequent plummet back down from his hard earned spot had been worse.

A sudden gust of wind as the storm changed direction forced Winter out of his head, and he let out a shout as he nearly collided with a thick pillar of ice that loomed suddenly out of the whiteout conditions that he was flying in. With a shake of his head, he instantly regretted his actions while simultaneously feeling thankful that no one was there to witness it. He could almost hear his parents' voices in his ears, berating him for allowing a mere glimpse of death to rattle him. Shouting out, especially in fear or surprise, was a sure way to earn a hard cuff to the ear and drop in the rankings in Winter's household.

As he climbed higher, beating his wings furiously against the swirling winds, he finally found the walkway he was looking for, alighting as eloquently as he could on the ice bridge connecting two elegant spires, he hurried under the awning, eager to escape the wind and snow. As he made his way along, he squinted hard at each dragon he passed while they did the same, trying in vain to determine who was supposed to bow. In the end, most times both dragons went on their ways without a bow. The desire to escape the storm and the difficulty seeing through the snow, especially as the evening set in, was causing a temporary lapse in royal protocol.

The wind was so strong that the ceiling no longer served its purpose, as snow blew in through wide windows,and pelted Winter's face as he hurried along. When he had been younger, before a real storm had hit, Winter had not known why storms were so dangerous, but soon he understood. Storms were an enemy to be understood, mastered, and appropriately respected, lest they consume you. Afterall, storms had been the leading cause of premature IceWing deaths before the war began.

The war. At least Winter finally had something to look forward to when he returned home. Hopefully it would even be enough to let his parents overlook the loss of rankings he had incurred upon himself at school. That was because today was an extremely important day for any IceWing aristocrat. For the last year, the last batch of aristocrats had been training to fulfill their role as the elite of the IceWing army. Those who completed the rigorous training would be allowed to take their place in one of the Ghost Battalions, elite raiders tasked with daring missions behind enemy lines to surprise, disrupt, and defeat the enemy anywhere they existed. It was the assignment that all IceWing aristocrats dreamed of. Completing it was a ticket to First Circle, and the assignments that followed were those that were inscribed forever in the IceWing histories, and told for generations in taverns across the north, and beyond.

A year prior, the last group of Ghost aspirants had departed for an island somewhere in the far north, where their training would occur. That group had just returned, meaning that the next group would soon be departing. For Winter, this was the chance of a lifetime. While he made frequent mistakes when it came to royal protocol, Winter knew that physical feats were among his strong suits. While nothing like Icicle or Hailstorm, Winter knew he was a good hunter and fighter in his own right, and was well liked by his battle trainers. He believed wholeheartedly that he had what it took, and saw the Ghosts as his chance to pull himself out of his mediocre place in the rankings and earn the pride of his parents, just like his siblings. When the Ghost aspirants departed, Winter fully intended to be with them. All that remained now was delivering the news to his parents, and hoping that that would help bury the embarrassments that had occurred earlier in the day.

Finally, Winter arrived at his home, high up on the spire just adjacent to the Queen's where Narwhal and Tundra had earned their places. With a rattle of the many spikes that trailed down the length of his body, Winter shook the snow from himself as he stepped from the walkway through the door into his home. He folded his wings against his body to slip through the doorway and swung the door closed behind him.

"You're late," the clipped voice of an adult male IceWing echoed through the icy icy anteroom chamber.

Winter turned to find the frowning faces of his parents, Narwhal and Tundra. Winter did not answer, instead dipping into a deep bow, knowing better than to offer excuses for his tardiness. His parents would not care that he had fought the greatest storm in half a decade to make it home. He was an IceWing prince, and extraordinary was the expectation.

"You're fortunate we did not start dinner without you," Narwhal growled, opting not to return Winter's bow and leaving him with his head and knees bent by the doorway. Winter winced inwardly at his father's departure, wondering how long he would have to hold the bow this time.

"If it were not for the day's significance, I would have you here all night," Tundra hissed, then gave the slightest bow, releasing Winter from his predicament. Quickly, but with all due eloquence, Winter raised from his bow and assumed the position of attention, head up, eyes forward, tail curled, shoulders straight, wings back.

Tundra began pacing in front of him, while Winter kept his eyes forward and breath steady. With an irritated snort, she began, "Your father and I received a messenger from your school today. You and I are both aware of what he told me. I do not want to know what goes through your head when you make such careless mistakes. Icicle and Hailstorm were beyond such blunders before their first birthdays, so I want you to reflect on why these errors, these avoidable lapses in judgement, keep happening. Do not tell me," Tundra paused to stare directly into his eyes as he fought to avoid dropping his gaze, "I don't want to know. What I do want to know is why you couldn't hold this nonsense for just one more day. You are aware, are you not, what this significance of today is?"

Sensing that this question was not rhetorical, Winter answered, "The Ghosts will be taking the next unit of aspirants for training."

"Indeed," Tundra nodded, resuming her pacing as the SkyWing teeth on her neck gave an eerie jingle, "Your brother and sister have both already given their applications. Tomorrow, they will begin their flight north to commence their training with the other Ghost aspirants."

"I intend to go with them," Winter reported immediately, fighting to keep the enthusiasm from his voice, so as not to further dishonor himself, "I will complete the training and become a fully fledged Ghost, as just you and father before me. I will do my duty to her majesty, Queen Glacier and to the Ice Kingdom, and bring great honor to myself and my family. I know you and father must have your doubts, but please, I beg of you, give me this chance. I have always done better in the field than in Royal protocol, you know this, please let me go, and I won't let you down."

Tundra did not immediately reply, leaving Winter's heart pounding in his chest as he fought to keep his emotions from spilling onto his face. Tundra cocked her head at him and grinded her talons against the floor of ice with a sharp hiss, like she usually did when she was thinking.

"It's time for dinner," Tundra finally said, turning and marching out of the room with a swish of her tail, "You've kept them for long enough."

As he followed his mother down the short hallway and into the dining room, he focused on her words. Passing the many shrined portraits of old family glory that lined the hallway, Winter contemplated his mother's words. There was a hesitance that he was not expecting, as if she might forbid him from joining. That would be a catastrophe, and just the thought of it sent tingles of fear down his spine.

The dining room was well lit by several moon globes floating gently over the length of the table, shooting long shadows along the ice walls of the chamber. On the floor was a thick carpet of seal pelts sewn expertly together by the Ice Kingdom's finest artisans. A lesser family might fear dirtying the precious pelts, but that was not an issue here. Any spill would be punished harshly and immediately, and was a mistake that even Winter managed to avoid.

Along the table's sides, Icicle and Hailstorm stood perfectly at attention, waiting to be released by Narwhal, who stood impressively at the end of the table like a huge and terrifying gargoyle. The other end of the table was occupied as Tundra took her place.

Winter quickly made his way to his place across from Hailstorm and beside Icicle, who managed to shoot him the slightest sneer without attracting their parents' attention. Evidently news of his blunder at school had already spread, as it usually did. With as much haste and elegance as he could manage, Winter snapped to attention as he had a million times before, perfectly mirroring his brother and sister.

"I am sure all of you know the importance of the occasion," Narwhal began without releasing his offspring from their stances, "The last unit of Ghosts has completed their training, and are currently on their way to the south to join the fight against the forces of Burn and Blister. This means that the next unit will be heading north to commence their training. Those who complete it will earn their rightful place in our histories, and will bring great honor to themselves, their families, and their Queen."

"Hailstorm, Icicle," Narwhal went on, "I have already taken the liberty of offering both of your applications. The Ghost officer in charge of the aspirants sought me out to request the two of you specifically."

With his own name omitted, Winter felt as though claws were beginning to close around his rapidly beating heart. No, he told himself, they wouldn't, surely father offered my name as well. Forcing his breath to steady and his heart rate to slow, Winter fought off his emotions before they could appear on his face, hoping that this was not going the way it seemed to be.

"The two of you should be immensely proud of your accomplishments," Tundra added with the closest her voice ever came to revealing any kind of emotion, "It is not often that the Ghosts request anyone specifically. I dare say they did not even offer such an honor to either your father or myself. Recognize this accomplishment, and allow yourself a modicum of pride, you've earned it."

"Indeed," Narwhal nodded in agreement, "Icicle, Hailstorm, you're dismissed. Your meals are in your room tonight. Your mother and I need to talk to your brother."

Icicle and Hailstorm both bowed respectfully until Tundra and Narwhal each returned it, then hurried out of the dining room, Icicle looked as aloof and painfully superior as she always did, while Hailstorm shot Winter an apologetic look, sending further alarm bells ringing loudly in his head.

"Winter," Narwhal hissed the moment that his siblings were gone, "What do you have to say for yourself?"

For a moment, Winter was as frozen as the walls around him, of all the conversations he had prepared for, this was not one of them. Quickly, Winter swallowed hard then said, stumbling over his words, "I-I intend to join the Ghosts with my siblings. I will bring honor and glory to my family, kingdom, and myself."

"No," Narwhal growled, "You will not."

That was it, the moment he had been dreading since he walked in the door. Every muscle in his body tensed as his hopes and ambitions were crushed in a span of a few seconds. His ear twitched slightly as his perfect composure slipped momentarily, causing Narwhal's head to snap towards him like a cobra towards its prey.

There was a long moment of tense silence, and Winter finally asked in a voice higher than normal, "May I speak, father?"

"No!" Narwhal nearly shouted, causing Winter to realize how much trouble he actually was in. Father never broke composure, not even in his own home, and Winter suspected there was more involved here than his blunder at school.

"Fifth Circle, Winter, Fifth Circle!" Narwhal roared, "Have you ever seen your siblings that low?! Ever?!" he lashed his tail furiously and began pacing, slamming it into the wall with a clatter of spikes while Tundra looked on with a neutral expression.

"Fifth Circle, and I would have expected you to be much more motivated to regain your placings with your sister in Second Circle and brother in First Circle," Narwhal growled, "But no, you went to school at the bottom of Fourth Circle, and decided that wasn't low enough for you, was it? Winter, I know for a fact that our expectations are not too high, because your siblings are able to reach them effortlessly. Tell me, Winter, why I should allow you to join the most elite unit of IceWing warriors, when you can barely maintain yourself as well as a one year old dragonet? No, I will not receive another messenger telling me about your terrific aptitude for blunders and mistakes, and especially not one from such a prodigious unit."

Finally, Narwhal finished with a snort, as he continued pacing back and forth in silence, slamming his tail angrily from side to side. Winter felt as though his heart had descended from his body into the ice below. This was hopeless, he knew there was no way he would ever return from this pit. To fail out of the Ghosts would be bad enough at least they would be guaranteed a place in the officer's academy. To be the only aristocrat in generations to not even make the attempt was unimaginable. To the many aristocrats, he was already that dragon. The Ghosts were supposed to be his ticket out of that pit, not the curse that kept him there forever.

Tundra spoke then, with a tone more controlled than her mate's, "Winter, we have done all we can to ensure your success. Every resource, every opportunity has been right there in your claws, if only you had taken the same initiative that your siblings did. You, however, did not. You make mistake after mistake, and your place in the rankings reflect it. We cannot in good faith send you out with the other aristocrats to only bring further dishonor to yourself, and reflect poorly on your siblings. Your father and I have already spoken at length on the matter, and determined the appropriate course of action."

There was a brief silence before Narwhal spoke again, in a much more measured tone than before, "Tomorrow at dawn, when your siblings depart for the north with the other Ghost aspirants, you will be accompanying General Snowdrift out to the Shimmer Scale Expanse, where he is to be inspecting the recruits who will have just completed their training, and are set reinforce the Northern Front. With their departure, the new recruits will begin their training, and you will be among them."

"Your father and I have decided that perhaps your royal upbringing has not suited you," Tundra added, "You need to experience what it is like to lose that, so that perhaps you might appreciate what you have. We believe the army will be good for you. Earn honor for your name there, and prove to us that you are worthy of your title, and your place in the palace."

"That will be all," Narwhal snapped, "Dismissed."

Winter ducked quickly into a bow, which his parents returned promptly this time. As he made his way towards the door, he hesitated ever so briefly, and Narwhal quickly snapped, "Not a word from you. Be grateful we are giving you this opportunity. There are not many left."

Winter ducked out of the room as quickly as he could, and hurried up the stairs and through the door into his room. He shut the door gently behind him, then hurried over onto his bed and curled up with his head under his wing, trying to hide his face from the world.

This was a disaster, a complete and total disaster. IceWing princes did not belong in the regular army, with all the nameless peasants who populated Queen Glacier's realm. It did not matter what his parents said about regaining honor, or anything like that. From this point on, he would be known as the dragon who failed to qualify for the Ghosts. The prince who associated with peasants. Any respect anyone left in the palace had for him would evaporate. He felt his heart rise in his throat and his eyes dampened, which he immediately fought back with a furious snort. He may be the only dragon prince in memory who fought with the peasants, but he would not be the one who cried about it. With an angry growl, he curled up tighter on his bed and ignored the food on his small desk. Sleep did not find him easily.