Twilight of the Dragons (25 page)

S
kalg soared
, and was free.

He cast off the shackles of his flesh.

He left behind his weakened shell.

And… for the first time ever, was
unfettered.

It was like nothing he could have ever dreamed. Even from being a small boy, he had been physically inferior to his fellow dwarves. In tests of strength, or stamina, or axe fighting, he had always been bottom of the class – the shitty scum under the others' boots which they scraped off with a stick. Not for Skalg any praise and sweet cakes, honeyed wine and fresh dwarf bread. No. Only pain, as the wooden axe cracked his skull, humiliation, as other young dwarves laughed at his lack of prowess, his lack of physical attributes, his natural
weakness,
his natural
cowardice,
his ingrained and very fucking real inferiority. And in shame, with cheeks burning red beneath his young beard, he crawled out of sight again and again and again.

There goes Skalg. What a fucking weakling!

Skalg! Hoi! Wait there, I need somewhere to rest my weary boots.

Ho! Skalg! You fucking dreg. Come back next year when you've grown a pair of real dwarf bollocks.

You say you have five silver? Hand it over. It's mine now.

Pain. Beatings. Humiliation. Even from his brothers and sisters. Even from his parents.

You fucking useless child, why don't you fuck off and fall down the Great Well?

Mama, Mama, Skalg has taken all the gravy again!

What? Take it off his plate!

I will do Mama, after all, it's not like he's going to fight me for it…

And that was Skalg. Weak. Spineless. A coward.

And then… a cripple. Which, bizarrely, changed him. The mine collapse finally showed him what the prospect of death could be like… and Skalg did not want to experience death. He walked the dark side of his own understanding, and realised what it would be like to lose that one tiny precious gift called
life
; he realised that, actually, to get anywhere in the Five Havens you didn't just have to
fight,
you had to have fucking
teeth
.

And he'd done that.

Grown.

Experienced that.

But always, they laughed at him. Not to his face, not always; although those that did had a serious meeting with the Church of Hate's
Educators.
No. They laughed at him behind his back. Because in dwarf society, more than any other society he had studied, the weakling, the cripple, was worthless.

To have a strong back was the epitome of being
dwarf.

Thousands of generations of miners. Digging. Breaking rock. Searching out precious gems and silver and gold. That was what being a
dwarf
meant. Stocky. Powerful. Able to find the gold to feed his family.

That was the dwarven
way.

A cripple? With a twisted spine. A hunchback?

One might as well be dead…

But now, now, now, ah…

Skalg soared, he flew, his hazy mind sending impulses as he unfolded his great wings and cracked them against the sky, lifting himself high above Vagandrak and surveying the world below with incredibly powerful and sensitive eyes…

There, a village. Tiny people running, screaming.

Skalg took a deep breath, enjoying the scent of fire which lingered around his nostrils, and he straightened his spine, which crackled softly, tucked in his claws, folded back his wings, and dived towards that bright green-grey world below…

People screamed and shouted and ran, waving their arms in panic.

Skalg felt the most incredible exhilaration he had ever experienced. He felt not just powerful, but as close to god as one could ever hope to get. He was on a higher level than the Great Dwarf Lords, for although they, so they claimed, had transcended the physical realm, become something
more
than
dwarf,
here, and now, Skalg felt like nothing from beneath the stars could ever halt his progress.

Moraxx swept in, inhaled, allowed her glands to relax, and breathed a jet of pure white fire as she slammed down the street, chasing little running people. Several were caught in her blast, and ignited, burning as they ran.

Skalg targeted a woman, a succulent, plump woman with shoulder-length blonde hair and buxom bouncing breasts which wobbled and jiggled as she ran. He caught her in his jaws, lifting now, flapping his wings with a
boom
which he knew made the villagers' ears bleed. He held her gently, and she was in shock so didn't struggle; but then some form of courage, or a primitive need to survive, returned, and she began to struggle violently. So, as he flapped his wings, rising into the sky, Skalg squeezed his teeth just that little bit tighter, and there came a gentle
pop,
and she didn't struggle any more.

S
kalg squatted on a rolling hillside
. Night was falling. The sun was a bloated orange corpse caressing the horizon.

He looked down at the woman, lying limp and twisted on the grass. She was broken, her spine snapped, but she was not dead. Her eyes followed Skalg as he moved, backwards and forwards, strutting, trying out his new body, testing the muscles, and how his thought impulses made everything work.

“Hel… ” she said.

Skalg nodded, dropping his huge dragon head towards her. She shrieked, but could not move. Tears ran down her cheeks. Snot ran from her nose. Blood ran from her anus and vagina, and Skalg's nostrils twitched, recognising the reek, the stink, of human discharge.

Who are you? What are you?

An internal voice spoke, and the words came unbidden from the depths of his subconscious and Skalg frowned, though it was not possible to do so. He frowned
mentally,
at least.

I am Skalg. Who are you?

I am Moraxx.

I am unfamiliar with the name.

I am Moraxx, the killer of humans, the eater of dwarves, imprisoned for thousands of years, my mind churning, burning, disintegrating until I could break free and FUCKING SLAUGHTER EVERYTHING THAT MOVES ON THIS FUCKING PLANET…

Skalg was blasted back by the onslaught, and he realised, suddenly realised, that although the Great Dwarf Lords had placed him inside the mind of a dragon,
Moraxx
the dragon, her mind was also still in there. Displaced, but not dead.

Tricky.

Skalg stalked around the wounded woman on the hillside. The sun was sinking behind the rolling hills, rays fanning out in pretty red streamers. He moved close, dipped his head, and sniffed the woman.

She screamed, and screamed, and screamed.

Bizarrely, the noise hurt his head, so gently, he reached out, nuzzled her, then taking her body in his jaws, he bit her in half. The noise stopped. Two body parts fell. Blood pumped out, staining the grass; staining the soil and infecting the world.

Skalg felt…

Nothing.

He looked up at the sky, saw the infinity of stars stretching out beyond the cool blue yonder. A sudden urge came upon him. He could flap his great wings, leap up into the air, and accelerate until he reached those stars, and became a part of that glittering tapestry; and by doing that, he would live forever… merged, into an infinity of space and time.

The voice, again.

You are in my mind. You are in my body.

I have a mission.

I am MORAXX. You do not have permission!

I am here by the will of the Great Dwarf Lords…

A sneer.
Oh. Those cunts. We WILL catch up with them, sooner or later, and when we do it will be a happy day for the sycophants. For we will burn them hotter than anything has ever burned in this world before…

Interesting
,
thought Skalg.

Why interesting?

Because
, and Skalg savoured the words,
because YOU are my slave, and I have your body, and you are MY sycophant. I have all the power. The might. The fury. The hate. And ultimately, the fire…

Moraxx began a reply, but with a scream Skalg sent the mind spinning away. He pumped his wings, leaping up into the dying sky, and powered upwards, eyes seeking out the stars.

Flying…

The land falling far behind.

Distant.

A blue and green pastel scene, tinged crimson by a forlorn and dying sun.

Exhilaration grabbed him. Upwards, he surged.

Onwards.

His dragon shell was vibrating now, each scale shimmering, and as he passed a crescent of the world so the sun came up once more, swinging into view, and crimson light bathed him like a blood shower. He welcomed it. Welcomed the world. Welcomed this, the complete and utter freedom to be all powerful, to do absolutely whatever he wanted…

And the blood of the innocents?

Skalg thought about it.

And his mind went hard.

Fuck them, he thought.

The weak deserve to die.

He flew, heading for the stars…

No. Not yet.

Why?

You are there. For a reason.

I remember no reason.

You will kill the other dragons, then return and destroy the eggs.

Skalg considered this. A tiny spark ignited in his mind. And that great triangular head nodded.

Yes.

Skalg shifted his shoulder, dipping it, dropping it, and listening carefully, he could hear the distant destruction wreaked by Kranesh.

He twisted, and suddenly dropped like a meteorite towards the world of Vagandrak far far below…

G
avi was happy
. No, Gavi was
ecstatic.
He toddled across the straw floor, and grabbed hold of the rough-sawn bench by the table. He beamed up at Mama. Mama was busy sewing, her face narrowed in concentration, eyes focussed, and Gavi gurgled up at Mama, giving his biggest round smile as the happiness coursed through him… because he
knew,
knew more than anything
, that Dada would be home soon. Mama said Dada had been deep in the forest cutting down the BIG TREES with other men of the village, and that's why he had been so long gone. And Gavi had spent THREE WHOLE DAYS imagining Dada out in the woods with the other men, his big hands clutching his big axe, and swinging it with big powerful strokes to cut down the BIG TREES. The time had gone slowly, stretched off forever, and although Mama did fun things, played games with him, told him stories about the wolves in the forest and the noble dragons in the sky, tales of kings and princesses and witches and magick, of lost treasure and fun pirates, it wasn't the same without Dada there, because although Gavi loved Mama, loved her with all his heart, Dada was a GIANT and Dada was a GOD and nothing in the world would get between Gavi and his Dada.

Mama was busy, so Gavi toddled across the floor to the little stool. Mama had told him never to touch the little stool, because if he climbed on the little stool he might fall off and land on his face, and then he'd have an ugly twisted face like Padda Wa who lived in a cave and threw stones at children. But this time,
this time
Gavi knew it would be all right because Dada was coming home and he wanted to stand on the little stool and look out the window and be the first to see Dada walking down the mud road.

Gavi reached the little stool, and quietly dragged it across the straw floor, which gathered in golden strands around the wooden legs which Dada had carved himself. Reaching the cupboard beneath the window, Gavi carefully manoeuvred the little stool, his face all wrinkled up in concentration, and with maximum effort, climbed onto the little stool. He stood, triumphant, but realised in horror that he was not
tall enough
to see over the edge of the cupboard. Oh
no
! What would he
do
? Dada would be home soon, and Gavi had to be the FIRST to see him! He just had to be.

Gavi climbed down from the little stool and thought long and thought hard. He glanced at Mama, who was still sewing and muttering to herself about something. Come to think about it, she looked quite angry right now. Her brow was creased and Gavi didn't like that because it stopped her being pretty like she usually was.

And then, an idea filtered into his head. And he knew it was
genius
.

Yes, he was not tall enough to see out of the window. But with the little stool, he was tall enough to reach the door latch.

Gavi dragged the stool sideways, gathering more errant strands of straw around the legs, and balanced it near the door. He climbed slowly onto it, and stood there wobbling, having sudden horrible thoughts about Padda Wa. He didn't want to end up with an ugly face and living in a cave and throwing stones at children! No! But he calmed himself, and turned, with little pigeon steps, and eyed the latch. He reached out, and caught the metal prong, and lifted it, pulling the door slightly towards him. Success! He climbed down off the stool and tugged it out of the way, checked to see if Mama had spotted his actions, and she hadn't, but he knew she'd understand because Dada was coming home and it had been sooo
ooo
long since Gavi had enjoyed his hugs and his smell and his wild stories of life in the forest chopping down the BIG TREES.

Gavi gripped the edge of the door in his podgy fingers, and pulled. A cool breeze drifted inside, and the evening light made him squint. When the gap was wide enough he let go, and toddled out into the street, his feet running away with him for a moment before he got his balance once more.

Freedom!

Dada!

He looked down the street one way, but there was no sign of Dada. And so he looked down the street the other way, and there was still no sign of Dada. He looked back at the door, and there was no sign of Mama. So he toddled further out into the street, and looked around at the big world, his eyes wide and his mouth open. Everything was so…
huge
!

Something glittered in the sky.

It was silver.

Is it a star?
thought Gavi, and a wide smile took over his face.
Oh by the Seven Sisters! It is! It's a star! It's a silver star flashing with silver light!
He lifted his little hand and pointed.