Sand

Sand. This one is called Sand.

Another city of the north filled with little ones. An oasis surrounded by nothing. The same vast rivers flowed out of the World-spine and slowly died in the sun until they expired in the desert of salt, but the river here still ran strong. Not a city that could be starved and strangled. A city that met them with stones and scorpions. Brave but futile.

They flew in circles around the city walls, pouring fire inside it, building a whirling storm of flames, an inferno with a life of its own. Nothing was allowed to leave. It took a day, and then they stopped while the flames burned on and on, licking at the skeletons of stone that remained, searching for food. Some of the humans had sought shelter underground. Snow could feel their thoughts. She listened curiously as the few survivors slowly cooked to death in their cellars. The dragons didn’t feed here. They were already fat.

When the city was dead, they turned to the eyrie beside it. The little ones had long since disappeared deep under the ground. What would burn was burned. What could be crushed or smashed was ground to dust. When there was nothing left to do, they let Silence and the other hatchlings loose in the tunnels that remained. In Bloodsalt they had freed younglings and found eggs. Silence had carried them out, one by one, and the dragons had taken them and cradled them and stolen them away into whatever dark hidden places they could find. Here Snow already knew it would be different. There were no dragon thoughts. This was like Outwatch. Hatchlings all poisoned. Eggs smashed. Nothing left.

The dragons splashed around in the Last River, cooling themselves.

They don’t try to fight. They know we are here. Everything is poisoned.

No matter.

When one dies, another is born.

Eggs are easily made.

They hide in their holes.

They spawn like insects.

We will never be rid of them.

Where next?

Where next?

They were looking to her, Snow realised. Another city, not far away. A day of flying. And then. . . And then the thrill of what was coming threatened to overwhelm her.

Evenspire, brothers and sisters. The blemish you feel is called Even-spire and we will burn it. And then to the mountains and over the other side. To the city they name after us. The palace where their kings claim to rule. The heart of their land.

They would free as many as they could. And then . . .

The Spear of the Earth. We will take it. We will face our makers.

And then? The makers?

They left this world. It is ours.

A roar of thoughts lifted her up. Fire. Fire and burning and flames. Nothing more and nothing less.

Where next to conquer?