The Season of Scaleward

Dawn, the 19^th of Macha, fourth cycle of Tellus

      The dawnfrost danced with the light of a thousand emeralds. Ovens blazed anew, filling the morning air with millberry and spiced mead scents. The northern town of Snowmarble came to life that morning, ready to celebrate the passing of another solar cycle, and Lily Westhaven was already on her way downstairs. She took the stairs three at a time, a song in her heart, nightgown billowing in the breeze of her own creation.

"Max! Max! Come quick, come quick! The scones will be ready soon!" Lily loved her mother's millberry scones, the best in all Snowmarble. Lily liked to think that the great spirits had passed their recipe on to her Mama; no one could better explain the delicious, sweet, iced treats. Lily's mouth watered with the thought of the first bite, straight from a warm oven. "Max!"

Max, Lily's older brother, stumbled to the top of the stairwell, having far better things on his mind than his mother's scones.

"Mama! Keep Lily quiet! I'm trying to sleep in so I can watch the Scaleward!" Max shouted downstairs, brushing his floppy bangs from his eyes. Then, finally, he turned and went to his bed, shuffling his feet with more effort than necessary to convince his family of his need for rest.

"Max, don't be a spoil. Your sister is excited about today. It's her first time at the Scaleward. You were just as excited as she when your time came," Isa, Lily's Mama, called to her son as she slid the first tray of millberry scones into the oven. "Lily, come help me with this next batch. We've got to make a dozen batches today before the gathering."

Lily dashed to her mother's side, nearly knocking the mixing bowls across the room.

"Child! Take care; if you go busting up my bowls, we won't have enough scones for everyone!"

"Yes, Mama, I'm sorry. I'm just excited! I don't know why we wait so long to bring children to the Scaleward. It's just a big fire, and we miss all the fun. The signing, the dancing, the scones…" Lily looked at her mother with a wide, toothy grin.

"Yes, yes, the scones. It's like you've never had any before, my child. Have we mistreated you so much, sheltering you from the world of various flavors of scone?" Isa asked as she continued mixing, a sarcastic grin spreading.

"Oh, yes, she's never had her choice of scones. Poor thing, whatever will she do?" Max sprang into the kitchen, startling Lily, who dropped the sweet spice bag on the floor.

“Maximillian Westhaven! If you mess up my scones…"

"Sorry, Mama. Just having a little fun. A young man's got a right to pick on his sister, even if she did just turn 12 and gets to go to Scaleward this year."

Lily slapped her brother on the arm in a huff, picked up the sweet spice, and stomped off out of the room. Sometimes she hated Max; she really did.

      “Guess I've done it now. She won't speak to me the rest of the day," Max walked over to the mixing bowl and ran his finger around the edge, getting a preview of the soon-to-be-baked scone mix. "Then again, my day will improve without hearing from her again. She'll make enough noise tonight, dancing around that silly fire and singing those silly songs."

"You really have no respect for our traditions, Max. We've celebrated Scaleward for hundreds of cycles now, and we have peace and prosperity to show for it. Without it, this village would have died long ago. Don't you know what will happen if we stop?"

"Oh, I know what they say will happen if we stop burning those dragon scales. But, since none of us have ever seen a dragon or any other evil creature, how do we know we need to keep burning the scales? And why? They're dragon scales; they can't burn. They just get hot and glow. So what's the point?" Max took a gar-fruit from the counter, biting through the tough flesh and letting the red juice run down his chin.

"Listen to me, Max. The only reason this village is still here and survives this far north and this close to the Skyshatter Mountains is the Scaleward. Every year, we remind the dragons what happened to them all those centuries ago. And every year, those scales glow hot with that memory, and we celebrate what happened. We tell stories of the Valiant Ones who climbed the Skyshatter Mountains and slew Dothus the White, King of Dragons. We burn the scales to remember the sacrifice made to keep us safe. And we burn the scales to remind the dragons of the power we still hold." Isa spoke as she formed the next batch of scones on the counter.

"Oh, yes, the slaying of Great Dothus. I've heard the story. But that's all it is—just a story to tell children and keep them from misbehaving. Nothing happens during the Scaleward. At least, nothing that I've seen. For four cycles I've been there, and for four cycles I've never seen anything other than an excuse to eat all the food, drink all the drinks, and dance around that silly fire. Do you think dragons are watching us? Don't you think they have better things to do?"

Isa gave her son a blank stare. "Your father believed in the Scaleward right up until his dying day. Isn't that enough for you?"

Max stood silent. He balled his hands into fists, shaking with anger. "Don't talk about him. And don't act like he's dead. He left us. He left when Lily was too young to remember, and I was too old to forget. And he likely didn't believe in this stupid tradition since he disappeared the year before I reached the Age of Warding. The year before my first Scaleward is when he up and left. Left us all. His memory be damned."

      Max left the room and went back upstairs. Isa watched him go, knowing how upset he was and how much she missed her husband. This day held too much pain alongside so much joy. Such was the dichotomy of the Scaleward.

She wished her family had lived elsewhere and had left Snowmarble years ago. She turned back to her scones, sliding the first batch out of the oven and sliding in the next batch. One batch done, eleven more to go.

Lily walked toward the Fire Circle in the center of town. They would gather tonight and continue the tradition of Scaleward, the annual rite of renewal that Snowmarble had completed for hundreds of cycles. This cycle would be her first as she turned 12, the Age of Warding. The town council had, years ago, decided that when children had lived 12 cycles, they were old enough to understand and participate in the Scaleward tradition. Until then, children were left at home to sleep the night away, missing out on the festivities but waking up the following day to a Gift of Remembrance, a small token from another family in Snowmarble.

Each family made their own gifts, passing them to families of children who had not yet reached the Age of Warding. Lily had a collection of wood carvings, rock shapings, and even a small dagger crafted by the blacksmith. She loved the gifts but always wanted to see the flames of Scaleward rising into the night on the wings of song and dance. She knew what a magical evening it would be and wished her father was still here to see it with her.

Alden Westhaven had been a town councilor and a carpenter by trade. Most of the homes in Snowmarble were fitted with his work, whether it be a table, chair, or some decorative entryway coat rack. Alden was a master maker and respected not only in Snowmarble but across the northern Mourian Empire. He often traveled to sell goods in other towns or deliver custom orders from wealthy nobles.

Lily couldn't forget that Scaleward five years ago, the night her father disappeared. She went to sleep before the ceremony began. The next morning, her mother told her and Max that Alden had left early that morning to deliver a table to the High Prince in Dosteim, some three weeks' journey away. Lily was distraught that she didn't get to say goodbye to him before he left but not nearly as angry as Max.

Nearly eight weeks later, the word came that a band of rogues had killed Alden on his way back from Dosteim. The rogues were captured when a local constable saw the sigil of Snowmarble on one of the thieves' saddlebags and asked how their journey was going. It didn't take long to figure out that all they were carrying wasn't theirs, and they admitted to killing a carpenter from Snowmarble. They tossed his body into a river, never to be seen again.

      Lily remembered the day that Constable Sharic came to their door to tell them the news. Max had run off into the woods near Snowmarble; her mother cried for hours. Lily was too young to understand, but she knew she wouldn't see her father again. But she could never forget how much he loved the Scaleward and how much it meant to him and Mama. Every cycle, they talked about singing, dancing, and food. During this cycle, she was so happy that she would finally be a part of what she remembered most about her father.

The hours passed until the time of the Scaleward neared. The town council had gathered the dragon scales from their keeping place in the town hall near the Fire Circle. They placed the scales on a pyre in the center of the Fire Circle. Families brought lamp oil from their homes to pour on the wood, ensuring the fire was hot enough to make the scales glow. Of course, the scales didn't burn, but the townspeople believed that when the scales glowed hot, the dragons could somehow "feel" the heat, reminding them of Dothus and his defeat. These scales were his, ripped from his dying body after his defeat. There was no doubt in the hearts of Snowmarble that the Scaleward kept the dragons at bay.

As night came, everyone gathered around the Fire Circle. Lily was the only new participant this cycle and, as such, received the honor of lighting the memorial flame. She took the torch in hand, holding it near the oil-soaked logs. Almost instantly, flames leaped from the wood, reaching toward the heavens. The awe and spectacle of the fire shocked Lily as the flames went higher than the town hall spire, stretching into the night, sparks dancing above their heads and rising to meet the stars above. Lily gazed, mouth agape, as the fire raged. Then, she looked into the heart of the fire, where the dragon scales lay. The heat came in waves toward her as wood and oil combined into a throaty beast of flame reflected in the dragon scales. Colors she had never seen dancing in her eyes from the millions of facets on each of the five dragon scales, shimmering like diamonds.

The scales grew white hot from the flame, glowing brighter with each passing moment. From behind Lily, Rowan Lightfoot, the tavernkeeper, began singing softly.

Remember the dragons of old,

With scales of gold, red, and green,

Their flame burned bright,

But now they're out of sight,

Gone, but not forgotten, it seems.

#

The townspeople slowly joined Rowan, singing as one. Lily listened to the refrain twice before joining herself. Finally, she looked at Max, standing with his arms crossed and lips drawn in a grim line.

“Max, why aren't you signing? Tonight is about remembering all that happened and letting those dragons know we'll never forget!"

Max glared at her, "No, tonight is about a bunch of people getting drunk and fat, telling stories that no one wants to hear. I just want to get through this so I can have some scones."

"Max! Papa loved this night! It's what I remember about him most! Don't you want to remember him and what he loved?"

"No, I don't. That bastard left us. He's not dead; he just left. This is a stupid ceremony, a stupid tradition, and a stupid thing to remember. There's no dragons anymore, and if there were, they sure aren't going to pay attention to us and this little fire." Max turned away from Lily and the flames.

As he turned, a great cry broke through the sounds of singing, followed by the sound of enormous, leathery wings beating the air. Then, a great white drake appeared overhead from seemingly nowhere, gliding down on ancient wings to the town center. Max and Lily both wanted to scream but could only stop and stare.

The ancient dragon, glowing in the bonfire's light, landed near the crowd. He looked toward Max, then looked toward Isa. "Is he the one?"

Isa walked toward the dragon. "Yes, Lord Dothus. He is my son and, like his father before him, does not believe. He is the chosen."

"Very well," Dothus replied in a voice that made the ground tremble. His great clawed arm reached for Max, who stared still but quickly realized what was happening. Max turned and started running, heading through the crowd.

But the crowd would not let him pass. They held him, kicking and screaming. They pushed him toward the great dragon and the outstretched claw. Max screamed as he never had, screamed for his mother, for his father. Lily screamed and ran for her mother, "MAMA! What is happening? WHAT IS HAPPENING?!"

Isa grabbed her daughter and carried her away from the crowd. "It's alright, Lily. We chose Max. It is his time to keep us safe. Just like it was your father's five cycles ago."

Lily's breath came in short gasps through tears. She looked at her mother. "WHAT? What do you mean?"

Isa wiped the tears from Lily's cheeks as Max's screams carried across the town square and reverberated in the nearby mountains. "This is what happens, child. This is how we stay safe. Every five cycles, Dothus returns to us. Hundreds of years ago, the dragons came to destroy our village. Snowmarble was built on an ancient home of the white dragons. We desecrated their lands, and they came for us."

"The first town council begged for mercy from Dothus. After great pleading, Dothus struck a bargain with the council. We could remain in Snowmarble and work these lands that, even though so far north, always took well to the plow and provided all our needs. But we had to make a sacrifice. Every five cycles, we must give up a male. Dragons need male flesh for their first meal. They need a first taste of man-blood to grow. This was the only way."

Lily stared at her mother. Her lips moved, but no words came as she tried to understand what was happening.

"You'll understand more, my child. Tonight, we will tell you all the stories. Tonight, you will understand the true meaning of the Scaleward. Tonight, you will know how blessed your father and brother were to be chosen and how much their sacrifice means for your family and your friends."

"Tonight, you will know the Fear of the Dragons and why you must never speak of these things to the children. They must never know until they reach the Age of Warding."

Lily's eyes stared at nothing. Her lip quivered with fear. Then, in her eyes, the reflection of a great white dragon shone, carrying the body of a screaming, kicking, crying boy into the blackest of nights.