Part I: Aries Chapter 1: The End of the Brumation

Spring is here, and it's time for the creatures of the mountain to awaken.

The creatures of the Mighty Dragon’s Spine were well attuned to the regular changes in weather that the first day the sun’s path passed through Aries, at no matter the elevation they dwelt, they would know that winter’s Brumation was over. The start of the snow dripping down in drops through the mountains’ many cracks would not stir them at first, yet when spring began and steady streams fell from above would those down below take notice. By this time the fires that let life thrive inside the many caverns would be dim, yet even with the reduced warmth the changing air would seep into the creatures’ bones to let them know it was time to wake. Those new to the mountain range would still be nestled in their nests, hoping to survive a few more hours until the sun brought heat directly to them for their journey; several that had found a place before the winter would have perished from the cold.

Inside the mountains, some of the most ambitious creatures would be rising well before the sunrise. It didn’t matter the mountain, how high, steep, cold or dangerous, there would always be some taking advantage of the last hours of slumber to further their advances. Often, this meant trying to take a sleeping neighbor’s gold, weapons or other resources, and this was always a risky venture. Seldom, this meant beginning their work early to appease their king or queen, though this even more seldomly received any sort of reward other than some extra time to rest while the rest of the mountain toiled with their own duties.

Madragast Mountain had a few creatures currently engaged in both endeavors. It was one of the tallest, one of the coldest, and one of the steepest in the Mighty Dragon’s Spine�"though it reigned supreme in none of these descriptions. It did have two claims above all others. First was that it was the first inhabited, centuries ago, presumably by King Madragast the Benevolent (this word used in mocking at this time) and Grand Master Algon the Worldwise Tortoise. Hundreds of years of stealing gold from human travelers and wandering tribes of other creatures gave it its second distinction: the richest mountain in the land. This reputation always brought with it the fiercest dragon, who, upon seeing the dutifulness of its creatures to serve it, would accept the role as firetender as well as ruler of the treasure and the mountain.

It would be the duty of the creatures of each mountain to serve its great beast. But that was not the only duty they had, as the few creatures awake in Madragast knew all too well. Two hours before the sunrise, in a large private chamber near the peak of the mountain, a scene between six creatures played out. First and greatest of them all was Grand Master Algon, a tortoise wrinkled in face and limb yet strong in stature and posture, who was watching the sky through his telescope. Shortly below him, off to the side, was a thorny lizard and a bullfrog staring each other down menacingly. The former was Sir Filigree, Captain of the Knights, bearing a savage sneer at his opponent; the latter was Master Tullery, Master of Merchants, skilled in all manners of gold and trade with a healthy fat body and smug grin to lord over all, including the thorny lizard. Lounging bored in a corner was the Master of Servants Pallas, a goanna with scales blue as icicles and limbs thick and powerful. Lying in another corner was the leader of the snakes Radnarost, with scales grey as charcoal and a grimace as nasty as the knight’s. The Grand Master’s thick regal shell, ringed with age, was shone and tended to by the Polisher.

“For the last time, Filigree,” Tullery said in a deep voice full of joviality, “She is tending to me first this year.”

“And by what means do you have to claim that right, fat boy?” Filigree spat at him.

Tullery’s grin widened. “I’m the one that pays it. That entitles me to be attended to first and foremost�"below the Queen, of course.”

Filigree snarled at his rival’s having caught his own mistake. “But I protect it, and the knights protect it. You have no sword to enforce your power�"”

“I have the gold to buy any of your swords, dear boy. What power do you have over gold?”

“What power do you have to keep your gold, should I command them to kill you?”

Tullery’s grin melted into a snarl. In a show of force he threw his prized necklace down onto the table in the center of the room. “We are not going to enforce idle threats, my dear boy. Polisher, you will polish my royal pectoral first, or you may expect no food for all of Aries.”

The Polisher made no acknowledgement of his words.

A moment later a large sword clanged onto the table on top of the necklace. “Polisher, if you don’t polish my sword first, I shall give you a scar that will shame you even after you leave this mortal coil!”

The Polisher finished the Grand Master’s shell and turned to the two items on the table. On top was the Dragon’s Demise, a zweihander comfortably wielded with one arm by the captain. Blackened steel rested six feet long and one foot wide, with a guard two feet across made of iron and a hilt one extra foot long wrapped in black leather and a pommel made with the skull of a human dipped in gold. Resting underneath that was a necklace made of gold with a few ornaments adorning it: a sun with a one-foot-large ruby in the center and rays of gold another foot projecting from the center, a bloodstone full moon, and a brooch in the middle with an effigy of himself, with onyx eyes and emerald skin. Both were magnificent examples of their craftsmanship, yet both were dull from the winter and neglect.

“Mine’s on top, Polisher,” Filigree said, stomping close to the table. “So mine should be done first.”

“I placed mine down first,” Tullery countered. “So mine should be done first.”

Filigree turned to him. “I could cleave you in two if I so desired, my friend. You have no protection here.”

“You could, but then who would be the master of coin? Master Brastol? Bah! He couldn’t host a party if his life depended on it. He’s so utterly boring and unwilling to curry favors with any of the important creatures of the mountains. He could never thrive in this environment. No, I’m indispensable, my friend. Unlike yourself.”

Filigree hissed. “Replaceable? Have you forgotten my deeds? Your parties last for one day only, but my legends will last ages. I’ve slaughtered countless companies of human knights, raided plenty of villagers to sate the Queen’s greed, even slain my own dragon! Everyone knows me, everyone respects me, everyone fears me, everyone loves me!”

“Yes, but your squire is apt to take your place soon enough, I would wager.” Eyes narrowing on Tullery spurred him on. “He is a bright, strong youth that will lead the mountain well once you’re gone. He’s certainly appreciated my parties more than you have. As I am irreplaceable, you could die before sunrise and your squire would be ready to take your place.”

“Bah! My squire is far from ready. I am the best teacher he could ever have, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s a gecko, and is therefore weak! It will take many more years before he’s ready to usurp me and take this title. Your parties would make him as fat as you, no doubt!”

“That would merely endanger me.” Tullery stepped towards him. “The mountain depends on me. I make sure that we manage our money enough to trade with each other and the other mountains, I make sure we have celebrations and festivities that keep our spirits high in this gloomy, dreadful mountain�"”

Grand Master Algon glared at him.

“--And I alone make sure that the Queen is satisfied with her ever growing hoard. Your knights must surely know this, and would protect me to save their own skin.”

“And surely you know that everyone looks up to me to protect them. I alone can face the ugly beasts of the Spine without fear, and lead them to safety and ever growing glory. Your downfall would bring great wealth to us�"”

“Wealth that I can easily distribute�"”

“--And which can be easily taken. I protect the mountain�"”

“No more than the Queen does. Don’t tell me that no one envies your position.”

“No more than they envy yours!”

“I control the mountain!”

“No, I control the mountain!”

“Neither of you control the mountain,” came Algon’s old, commanding voice. “This mountain is controlled by Queen Kaisja,  and counseled by the wisdom of its founder. I would not allow either of you to sully that title.”

“But you are old, Grand Master.” Everyone turned their attention to Radnarost, who was chuckling away in his corner. “Surely either of them can overpower you with their size alone.”

The two quarrellers and Pallas looked over to the tortoise, while the Polisher continued to work. Algon grabbed his cane and rose very slowly, his legs shaking as he pushed up. Radnarost continued to chuckle at the sight. The others waited in anticipation.

Then before even a snake could react, the cane was flung like a throwing knife at Radnarost. Before he knew it, the handle of the cane wrapped itself around his neck and threw him against the wall. The wood dug into the earth behind it, pinning him there.

The others laughed. “You are a fool as well as a traitor,” Tullery guffawed. “The Grand Master is old, but he is both wise and strong. At least we know not to offend him so brashly, not without planning several steps ahead.”

“Even then,” Algon said, “You are powerless.”

Sir Filigree shook his head. “Enough with those two! Polisher, I say you�"”

Before he could finish, the two who had so passionately fought earlier were now looking down at the table at their items, polished to perfection for the new spring. The Polisher placed the tools back into the wicker basket. The two took their items and looked them over, and then stared at the Polisher.

“Whose did you polish first?”

The Polisher merely turned and began to slither to Radnarost.

“Polisher! We asked you a�"”

“Drop it, you two,” Pallas growled with amusement. “You know as well as I do that she’ll never tell.”

The Polisher ignored them and approached the fellow snake. He hissed at her with aggravation. She ignored him and, wrapping her tail around the cane, pulled at it until it broke free. He fell to the ground, and then dashed to face her directly.

“You took your sweet time!” he spat. “Where’s loyalty to your own kind?”

“She did help you, didn’t she?” Pallas asked, walking over to them. “She could’ve just as easily left you there for us to laugh at. But, of course, the Polisher doesn’t like jokes.” 

She turned as Pallas held her whip towards her. As Radnarost continued hissing next to her, she grasped the bundled whip and took it to the table. Now that she was occupied with the metal tips and handle of Pallas’s tool of choice, everyone turned their attention back away from her.

“Radnarost,” Pallas began with mock sincerity. “You should get yourself something nice for the Polisher to polish. Look at how nicely your superiors shine with their toys.” The two leaders behind her sniggered.

“They are not my superiors,” the snake said with a glare. “I am my own leader. And I don’t need someone as worthless as the Polisher to do anything for me.”

They waited for the Polisher to reply. She gave none. Tullery broke the silence. “My friend, Filigree, the Dragon’s Demise rests fine and beautiful along your thorns. It is a sight to behold for friend and foe alike, and it would do well to remind the mountain of your power at my next party.”

Indeed, the sword well complemented his skin green as dull pine needles, and let his thorns green as moss shine clearer with danger. Filigree laughed at the compliment. “I’m sure this year’s party will shatter all the snow from the peaks of the mountain, my most esteemed comrade, and we shall show off your pectoral to remind others that you shine in the sunlight and the moonlight! It sits tight around a figure well gained from your great wealth and intellect.”

The gold and jewels made a stark contrast to the frog’s skin brown as light mud, and his fat body jostled the necklace as he laughed. At that moment the door opened, and in entered a tall gecko with scales green as ferns carrying a suit of armor. “Master,” he began in a voice that had finished maturing with cockiness yet held its youthful nervousness. “I have your armor, sir, here to be polished.”

“Bah!” Sir Filigree swatted him away. “Begone, Jutron! I shall greet the Queen with my natural armor this year! Let her see the true glory of the Captain of Madragast’s army.”

“Yes, master.” He bowed, and turned to bow less lowly at everyone else. Only the Polisher returned the bow. He left swiftly.

“Come, then,” Tullery shouted with mirth. “Let us go and present ourselves to the Queen!” They both strode out of the room, only stopping to fight over who would leave first.

“Hmph, what a waste of time.” Pallas strode to the table and snatched her whip as the Polisher finished it. “What a waste of time you all are.” Still, they all caught her smiling slyly as she looked over the newly brightened tips ready to bite into the other creatures of Madragast. She made her exit without another word.

“We snakes don’t need this,” Radnarost spat at the remaining two. “We don’t need any of you. None of your approval, none of your reprimands, none of your help. I’m done with the likes of you.” He slithered out in a dash, his angry hisses echoing down the hall.

The Polisher picked up her basket and set it on her back. With a bow to the Grand Master, she began to make her own exit.

“You know, Polisher,” he croaked, “sometimes I wish it were just the two of us that greeted the new year.”

She bowed to him once more and then took her exit.

“Although,” he continued just within earshot, “it would no doubt be a great bore.”

---

Madragast was full of creatures with stories to tell. Radnarost’s story would be full of control, rebellion and treachery, while Sir Filigree’s would consist of long miles travelled, bloodshed and burning villages. Tullery’s would start with mentioning that he had a glut for all things worldly and would build up to greater and greater experiences in hedonism, while Pallas would start with an unbearable boredom and come to where she gained control over all the maids of the mountain. Grand Master Algon had stories dating even before he founded Madragast; his own stories would fill several dozen tomes.

But this story concerns the humble Polisher that, unlike the other five, traveled in silence down the hallway up the mountain. Let’s examine her more closely. Her body was as thick as a python’s and stretched twenty-one feet from snout to tail, and though that made her the second-longest snake in Madragast, neither of these sizes were striking compared to the other adult snakes. Her kind could either have round or slit eyes; she was born with round eyes with thin irises green as emerald. Her scales were red as the sunset sky, and they had no stripes, rings, rosettes, spots or any other markings. At her sides was a hood that could flare out three feet to either side of her and reveal a design on the underside with a large spot surrounded by a ring, giving the impression of massive unblinking eyes, though she rarely had cause to show this off. Her teeth and fangs were healthy, though showing them off was even rarer for her.

She silently continued slithering down the hall past several warrens until she came across the wrought iron door that led to the cavern of the knights. Her destination was past this, but she stopped to peer inside. A cacophony of snoring and a pile of sleeping bodies underneath thick blankets were the first things she saw. Past that, near the beds of the lesser leaders, was Jutron the First Squire preparing everything for his master. To his left were his siblings, all of whom were shorter and slightly pudgier than him, tending to their own masters. Though she saw Delilah and Trevius working diligently, her attention was particularly driven to the youngest child, Hammot the Fourth Squire, if only because his clothes had grown too short for him. He stood as tall as he could with skin yellow as the fruit of a banana and confidence constantly beaten by the snide remarks of his older siblings. He bore it with childish impudence and knightly patience.

She smiled at them. They would be ready for their first raid this year, she had no doubt about that. She would make sure their weapons were presentable for the Queen. 

She continued upward past several warrens, stopping only to challenge a newly awakened creature looking for its first fight. Only one lizard dared to lunge at her, and she swiftly reminded him of the natural speed of a snake. The others left her alone, opting to make their way up the mountain to await the Queen.

Several hundred feet she climbed without a word until the tunnel broke instantly to the grand hall. Even here, where the grandeur of Madragast was greatest, the firelight was dim from winter’s toll. Still, what fire there was illuminated three hundred feet of walkway from the entrance to the throne. The ground was blackened from the fires of dragons fighting to claim the throne, yet there were no claw marks marring the earth. Multiple braziers lined either side of the pathway. At one end, where many creatures were already clamoring and fighting for the frontmost spots, sat the mighty throne large enough to comfortably fit a dragon lying down. Carved from the rock and smoothed by the lesser creatures for their leaders, it stood fifty feet tall and cast an impending shadow when the firepit behind it roared in its full glory. Above the room, a chandelier hung covered in decades of dust and cobwebs. Any decorative banners and artwork stolen from the humans didn’t last long against a dragon’s rage.

On the other side of the Hall, to the Polisher’s right, was the upper entrance to Madragast. An outcrop cracked with years of mighty claws digging into it held firm as it protruded from the cave. Only dragons, scouts and the occasional clueless or fearless birds could land there with ease, though oftentimes many lesser creatures would use the rock to look down upon the rest of the land, five thousand feet above the ground as it was. As the other creatures fought for the right to witness the Queen upfront, the Polisher slithered into the cold air to look at the land.

No sunlight came from behind the mountain to shed light on the landscape, but the moonlight was enough for her to see the Spine stretching out ahead of her. Madragast was found near the east of the range, with only Giant’s Mountain and a relatively small unnamed hill stretching further near what would be the head of the Mighty Dragon. Every peak was covered in snow that she assumed was beginning to melt like their own. Rivers that formed on a few of the mountaintops flowed with chunks of snow, carrying winter north and south to the human villages. No lights from any of the distant cities or castles could be seen. There were no lights in the mountains, which meant one of two things: either the human miners and trappers had stayed home or they had frozen in their attempts to claim resources in the sleeping land. A howl from a distance also brought to the Polisher’s mind the possibility of Mother Wolf finding them as their prey. The sky was overcast with grey clouds, and as always the wind blew strongly, sending a chill down her body.

She looked down at the mountain face by chance, preparing to turn back into the hall, when something caught her eye. A small thing moved up the mountain not a hundred feet from where she lay. A larger body was just below that. She slithered down the side of the outcrop to get a closer look. The smaller had a cool heat to its body; the larger, one nearly succumbed to the cold.

“Come on, Mama!”

She watched the two creatures with fascination. The smaller one came within fifteen feet of the cave, and then stopped. She could see that it was the young of their species, a kind of skink. She could also see that the little one’s arms were shaking with exertion, and that there was nowhere else for her to grab onto.

“Mama!” the little one cried. “I need your help!”

“Coming, Malas,” a weak voice called from below.

The mother is too far down to reach her. The girl will fall. The Polisher descended the mountain with ease, lowering herself until she was only a foot away from the little girl. Melted snow ran along her body, chilling her, but she ignored it. Malas had been staring at her mother, but when she looked up she saw the snake within a breath from her.

“Aaaaah!” So shocked was she that she let go of the final ledge. Before she could fall even a foot, the Polisher darted down and caught her by her dress. It took a while for the girl to realize she wasn’t falling, so occupied was she at fighting her savior.

“Malas!” the mother cried hoarsely. “I’m coming!”

She needs heat, the Polisher thought, looking at the frigid body of the mother clawing her way up the mountain. She pulled the girl up to the ledge and let her go, ignoring the bewildered kicks at her side. Then she slithered further down the mountain. The wind batted at her entire body. The mother, seeing this, began to panic.

“Malas,” she cried weakly. “Malas.”

“It’s okay, mama!” Malas shouted. “It wants to help us!”

The Polisher reached her and dropped her tail down to wrap around the frail skink. The mother’s body quivered in her grasp. 

“Hail!” She heard Jutron calling from above. “Who are you?”

“Mama’s still down there! The snake has her!”

The Polisher grunted and began her ascent up the remaining forty feet to the warmth of the cave. A yellow head peeked out, followed by a red one. Hammot and Trevius watched her climb with confusion and excitement. “What’s that?” Hammot called. “And how did it get this far up the mountain?”

Trevius reached down to take the skink’s hand as they reached the outcrop. “She’s nearly frozen! Polisher, was it worth it to get to her?”

She ignored his question and took the mother onto her back. She began to slither to one of the braziers, but soon found herself unburdened. She found Hammot carrying her to the fire to warm herself. Behind her, Trevius walked to the girl, who was talking to Jutron and Delilah.

“What’s your name, skink?” Delilah asked, fiddling with the girl’s dress. Now that they were out of the wind and snow, Malas’s dress could be seen as a soft pink cloth; a coat made of reeds was wrapped around the top of her body.

“Malas,” she answered with a boldness shaken by shivering. “My mama and I climbed up here to become one with Madragast.”

Jutron knelt down and examined her body. “Why didn’t you use the commoners’ entrance? That would’ve been less foolish than climbing up a cave you couldn’t climb through.”

“Why go through a commoner’s entrance,” Malas said with a grin, “when I can go through the entrance of royalty? Why not prove myself worthy of being a royal?”

A swift smack on the back of her head brought Malas tumbling to the ground. Her mother gasped in the distance, but could not rise to come after her. Their commotion drew the attention of others by the throne waiting for the Queen.

“A mere feat such as that only shows your foolishness!” Delilah barked. “Why would we give royal treatment to one that has just arrived with no gold or trinkets to give to us?” Malas hissed at her, drawing another smack. “The only thing you’ve proven is that you and your mother are idiots.”

“I don’t know,” Trevius said. “They did climb a long way up, more than you have, sister.”

Delilah turned to him with a glare fit to burst. “And neither have you, brother. You couldn’t make that even if you were fully grown.”

“I don’t know,” he continued slyly. “Perhaps you’re jealous that a little girl like her could do something you can’t�"”

The next instant saw the two of them on the floor, wrestling for dominance. The Polisher shook her head and raised Malas from the floor. The girl swatted her away with a hiss. The snake didn’t react.

“You oughta learn to recognize who you can speak down to,” Jutron said with a smirk. “We’re the squires to the great knights, and you’re nobody to us.”

Malas puffed from her nostrils and stormed off, leaving the satisfied gecko to watch the brawl with his siblings. The Polisher watched the girl walk over to her mother, who was still shivering but not as much. “Mama, are you just going to watch them do that to me?”

“Your mother’s too cold,” Hammot told her. “She can’t do anything right now.”

With no other option, Malas sat next to her mother with a pout. The mother reached for her, but Malas turned away. 

The Polisher slithered past Hammot and lifted the mother up. The flames were dim, but the skink warmed up faster. Hammot, realizing the Polisher was helping someone and he was not, took the mother into his own grasp and held her up. Her face nearly fell into the ashes, but the Polisher stopped it just before. Slowly but surely, her body began to glow with heat again.

“Mmmmm…” The mother’s legs eventually firmed up. Hammot let go prematurely, but she was able to keep her balance with only a little buckling from her knees. “Th-th…”

“Welcome to Madragast Mountain, I guess.” Hammot ran away to watch the fight. 

The Polisher approached the mother to get a better view of her. She saw a puddle of water around her that only grew larger with the water dripping from her dress. Her skin, dripping with melting frost, was green as the sea, much like her daughter’s. She was as just shorter than Hammot at five feet even, and thinner than anyone she had ever seen. Her legs bent with exhaustion, her arms shaking as she supported her meager weight on the brazier. Her dress was blue as cornflowers and just as thin as Malas’s, though it went down to her ankles. Her eyes were soft with irises blue as aquamarines.

“Are you alright, Malas?” she asked.

Malas rose from her spot and ran to the crowd, which had grown considerably larger. The mother reached after her, but fell to the ground. The Polisher caught her just in time.

“Why does she not listen to me?” She lifted herself up. “I’ve already lost my village… I can’t lose you too.”

“You expect little girls to listen to you?” a shrill, gleeful voice asked from above. “Even your own egg? No, Madragast has her now.”

They looked up to see Tokoru, the scout of the mountain. All scouts were flying lizards, and he was no exception. He was fit enough for his kind with a slight pot belly forming from months of inaction. His skin, green as sage, and his wing membranes yellow as flaxseeds, were healthy enough, and his grin, vibrant with a heavy chin, was on the verge of mania.

“You are the fools using my entrance to make your entrance!” he cackled. “What a joke! Everyone will be talking about the two of you from now until Taurus arrives. And how despite making it nearly all the way up, the boring Polisher had to save you.” He said this last in a pitying tone before cackling once more.

Saylah whimpered at the words. The Polisher said nothing.

“Aww, are you going to cry?” He landed next to the poor skink. “Are you thinking about leaving? It may be fun to see how quickly you can climb back down. Oh, you and I are going to have such fun together.” With a final laugh he ran away, spreading his arms out before gliding off into the distance to convene with the scouts of the other mountains. The Polisher knew he would be back before the Queen’s awakening.

The Polisher guided her back to the brazier. She waited until she was resting, and then turned to slither away. All this time, creatures had been passing them to wait for the Queen. She had to prepare for her arrival. The skink was now as safe as she could be. That was all she could do.

“Thank you.”

She stopped and turned at once. What did she say?

“We wouldn’t have made it if you hadn’t come for us,” the mother said, her tenderly demure voice having shaken off the bitter cold. “We wouldn’t have needed it had Malas not run off before the land warmed, or if she hadn’t passed the commoner’s entrance to climb all the way up here. Still, we are in your debt. My name is Saylah.”

The silence allowed the Polisher to notice she was gawking, and she returned to her normal stoic posture. She gave her a nod, and then went her way. Even after all of this, how she can manage a kind word…

By this time, the hall was nearly full of the creatures of Madragast. At the front was the Grand Master who sat on the steps leading to the throne. Next were the merchants, whom none sought to anger lest they be deprived of all the gifts they could bestow upon them. Then came the army, swords in hand, blade and armor waiting for the dragonfire to make them shine among the rest of the modestly dressed crowd. The other two hundred feet was occupied by the servants, maids and other citizens of the mountain, a mixture of lizards, frogs, salamanders and all sorts of other creatures in one room. More and more came in by the second.

Silence refused to fall even as the mountain’s castellan, Ja’Gnash, emerged from above. A creature unique in the castle, an iguana that towered above most of the room, with skin green as sage and small spots yellow as corn speckled on his hands and feet. He bore a brown robe that hid the stripes, grey as coal, that travelled down his body. His head was slender, his neck long, his muzzle strong, his eyes darting. In his hands was a golden staff a foot taller than he was, with two crosses formed at one end of it. The bottom was flat, and it banged against the ground loudly enough to catch several creatures’ attention. Several more bangs silenced the rest. He cleared his throat.

“The Queen shall emerge soon!” A cacophony of impatient yells erupted from the crowd. “We cannot force the Queen out of her cavern sooner than she wishes! Your complaints do nothing!”

The complaints continued regardless. The Polisher watched only briefly as all of the attention was either on the proud iguana or a neighbor they were quickly losing patience with. She, as always, was unnoticed.

Which was just as well. If the Queen refused to come out, she needed to be.

As the shouting continued and the threats began, she slithered to a fissure on the west wall. It was too thin for most creatures to slip into, but was no issue for a snake of her size; the bottom of the fissure was just large enough for her basket. She slipped in without a soul noticing.

The way forward was complete darkness. She would never have travelled this way if the Queen hadn't asked her to travel up it�"or rather, to travel down it. There were some sharp jagged cracks along the way, though nothing caused her any sort of trouble. She had to climb a hundred feet up the mountain and through several bends only just accomplishable by a snake. Thankfully, there was only one path she could go. There was no chance she could become lost.

Eventually, she came to a wall. There was no way around it. There was enough space in front of it for her to stretch herself out. She set her basket down and, using her tail, knocked on the rock.

A rumble came from beyond it. She waited as the rumbling grew closer. A sharp movement of air followed, and then the wall began to move. “You’re late,” a low voice growled from behind the wall.

She bowed an apology and, grabbing her basket once more, slid through the crack. The wall closed behind her.

Even after three years she was still awestruck by the sea of gold that covered every inch of the floor in this chamber. Even in the dim firelight the gold gleamed and shimmered in rivulets like the waves of the ocean. Droplets of coins gathered over centuries clattered innumerable, many golden and silver treasures rolled on top forever out of the reach of the humans that made them. A rainbow of gems cut and smoothed to perfection dotted the surface, offering only brief distractions from the vastness of gold the Queen trod on.

“You’re late,” came a quiet voice�"as quiet as a dragon could manage.

On top of it all, moving away from her to lie back down onto her golden bed, was Kaisja, the Queen of Madragast Mountain. The Polisher had only seen two dragons in her life thus far, and though her queen was the smaller of the two, she still rose over a hundred feet tall when she was inclined to show her height. Her body stretched mightily and elegantly as she lay herself on her treasure, exposing the scar on her stomach that branches out several yards as if a bolt of lightning had struck her. Her arms and legs were thick and sleek, unlike the massive powerful limbs of king Myter; each hand was as long as the Polisher’s entire body, each claw longer than she could raise her body. Her wings twitched with anticipation, ready to take advantage of the warmer weather. Her spines were pointed sharper than arrow tips, most of them taller than the Polisher. Her scales, red as plums, glimmered from the fire. Her razor-sharp teeth were bared, her amethyst eyes glaring at her.

“Get on with it.” She slid her lengthy tail to within inches of her.

The Polisher nodded and began to climb up her master’s tail. She made sure she didn’t touch any of the gold on either side of her by snaking her way through the spines. It took an entire minute to climb up the back to reach the base of her neck. The Queen’s impatience could be heard passing through her neck.

Once she was nestled between her shoulder blades, the Polisher pulled out a cloth from her basket and set the rest of her supplies down. As she wrapped the cloth around her tail, she waited as the Queen reached to a dark rocky corner of her chamber and grabbed a few rocks that looked like pebbles in her grasp. The rocks were brought to her and dropped without warning. She only had to move back a little to avoid the raining.

Pumice stone was a Polisher’s best friend. The Queen had told her they came from a range of volcanoes far away; that she had felt it important to bring them to a land with no volcanoes just so the Polisher could do her work was both an honor and a mystery she had trouble believing. She figured it was more likely bought from the merchants who had travelled far away bearing exotic gifts. Whichever it was, the gray stone was soft to the touch, some of it crumbling as it hit dragon scales. As the Polisher picked it up, she grinned at how such a soft, porous stone could do the wondrous things that it did.

A puff of smoke from the Queen snapped her out of her admiration. That’s right, she had a job to do.

She picked a scale a foot above the Queen’s shoulder and placed the pumice stone on it. The plum-red scale glimmered underneath the stone’s shadow. Then, pressing down, she ran the stone down it. The months of dust and weathering that had accumulated on the Queen were wiped away in an instant, leaving the redness shining in the light. A growl from above her gave her the approval she needed to continue.

A few more brushes from the pumice and a cleanup from the rag gave the scale new life. She didn’t wait to marvel at it, as there were hundreds more to polish. She began to move down from the base of the neck to the left shoulder, down through the arm and to the impatiently twitching claws, rubbing each scale with the pumice until it shone in the light. Then she climbed back up and did the same thing on the Queen's right arm. By that time the claws were drumming the gold beneath it with impatience.

Then she began to move down the back. This would take an hour alone, leaving her with plenty of time to listen to the Queen’s growls, steamy exhales and occasional words.

“Another long and lonely winter.” She began to swirl the golden coins below her as one would the surface of a pond they were lounging at. “And no doubt many creatures succumbed from the cold. I’ve always thought it an odd exchange, a dragon’s fire as a hearth when survival is not guaranteed. Even now, I hear their bickering and brawling, and it is a multitude less lively. My castellan is worthless to stop it. The only thing to stop it… is me.”

The Polisher mulled over these words as she continued her way back. Each scale polished to a gleaming shine was like pulling a wintry shawl off of her, though an unpolished scale behind her was only slightly less brilliant.

“Do you hear that, Polisher?” The Queen turned her head to stare down at her. “I’m the only one that can fix things around here. So I command you to polish faster!”

She nodded and scraped faster, only sparing three well-placed runs of the stone before moving on to the next one. She got through two scales when suddenly,

“Stop!” She froze and waited. “Mmm… No, it doesn’t even begin to compare. Do them again!” She nodded and went over them once more. “I curse the day they brought you that fallen scale of mine. I curse that they thought it wasn’t as grand a treasure as they could ever hope to obtain. I curse the day you put your filthy tail on it and wiped away the dust and grime from it. I curse the day I saw what you did to it. I curse the day you filled me with that burning jealousy against myself. And I, most of all, curse that you’re so slow with it!”

The Polisher continued with her business, having made the two scales as radiant as the others and working her way back. 

“Hmph.” Kaisja relaxed her head. “At the very least, you don’t waste my time with worthless prostrations. Though it oft bothers me how little you cower before me. Am I not mighty enough for you?”

She started to answer, but the Queen cut her off.

“Of course I am. What a foolish question that was. You are just… a good servant. Nothing more. And what does a good servant have to fear of their master?”

The Polisher nodded, and for several moments didn’t hear anything more from her. The dragon’s back was soon finished, and she moved down to the hindlegs. At times the Queen would stretch herself out, jostling the Polisher in the process, as a mixture of both impatience to get out of her cave and to get any sort of reaction of the snake. Still, she endured with patience, and soon both legs were shining like the rest of her. The impatient twitching was far more evident when she tried to polish her tail. It swayed from side to side, tired of being cramp for so long. Many times, it swung with enough force to throw her off if she hadn’t been prepared.

But the Polisher had done this before, and she knew to grip herself around the tail when it was about to thrash. Eventually the Queen gave up and went back to waiting, and soon from shoulders to toe and tail her scales were polished to a sheen. Whereas the Queen’s body merely glinted in the light, now it shone a deep red.

The Polisher bowed her head and awaited judgment. A few seconds’ observation�"perhaps admiration�"passed, and soon a growl of satisfaction emanated from Queen Kaisja’s throat. 

“Come, Polisher. Finish it.”

She bowed and climbed back up the hill of her master’s body. The dragon lowered her head onto her horde, her snout resting on a lone rock in the middle of the gold ocean. Now that the Polisher found herself on the neck of the great beast, the irritable breathing shook her body as it passed through her master. 

The Queen didn’t speak anymore, and so the Polisher worked in silence. Whereas working down her body was like removing a blanket, working her way up was like removing a veil. The spines were much smaller the closer she got to the dragon’s head, but they were sharper as well. Still, as each scale was meticulously scraped and wiped off, the Polisher travelled up and around without any issue.

At last, she reached the head. Before she could land on the Queen’s brow, she coiled herself up and, with basket in her grasp, launched herself at the rock. With practiced precision, she landed on it without either touching the Queen’s cheek and snout or the gold below. The Queen’s mouth twitch with a smile, and then returned to an impatient snarl. She merely set the basket down and returned to her business. The Queen, seeing the Polisher wouldn’t say or do anything else, closed her eyes and waited.

She started by polishing the closest cheek from the back of her jaw to the snout. A cloth went over the nostril to stop any errant flakes of stone or dust from entering as she went over it. The Queen moved her head to put the other side of her face close to her. The same business proceeded from jaw to nostril. Finally, the Queen tilted her head to allow the snake to reach the brow and forehead. 

Kaisja raised her head and brought it to a mirror behind the Polisher. “Mmm… yes, I look absolutely magnificent.” She turned to the rest of her body. “From head to toe, I shine brighter than a ruby!”

The Polisher nodded and set her cloth in the basket. After a minute or two of the Queen observing herself with glee, she turned to her.

“Now, my pumice!”

She set it down on the ground. The Queen snatched it up and tossed it with the others, and then searched the basket for any pumice or treasure she may’ve stolen. Upon a satisfying search, and after looking in the Polisher’s mouth and hoodskin, she took the snake and basket in her grasp and brought them to the rock in the wall.

“You took far too long with that!” The Queen shoved the rock out of the way. “I can’t have any good help at all. Now get out, and remember�"”

The Polisher nodded with such obeisance the dragon didn’t finish her sentence. Without another word, she turned and began to climb down the pitch-black passageway. The rock slid behind her quickly, as if frustrated at having her there for so long.

After a few minutes of wending her way through the darkness she found herself back at the grand hall. Making sure no one was watching her, she slid out and slithered to the back of the room with the other quiet creatures. Saylah and Malas were both near the back of the room, the former shrinking to hide herself, the latter batting everyone away who would do her mother harm. Tokoru was standing on a rock high above them, watching the crowd with mirth. She took her place in the opposite corner near the entrance.

“Well, well, well, you’ve survived another year.”

She turned and nodded, making sure not to make eye contact with the juvenile dragon next to her. Compared to Queen Kaisja, Kruul the royal chef was much younger and far more prone to losing his temper. His scales were just slightly lighter than gold, his spines white as ivory, his belly huge and jiggling, his legs strong yet struggling to support his weight. His eyes were green as emeralds and filled with anger.

“Why don’t you just disappear with the other snakes?” he spat at her, making sure saliva flung down at her. “Radnarost has convinced the others not to attend the Queen’s awakening. Did you know that?”

She shook her head.

“It’s a disgrace!” he roared, much to the delight of the other creatures. “But that’s no different for you lot. Are you going to join them in disrespecting the Queen?”

She shook her head once more.

“Hmph. Filthy, worthless snake.”

“Is this all that survived the Brumation?” Ja’Gnash shouted. The Polisher and Kruul turned to him, as did everyone else in the hall. “The snakes are not here�"good riddance, I say, savage treachery they bring�"but what of the others? Did the cold claim them? Did winter creep in and consume us?”

The Polisher looked around, seeing that the crowd of citizens, merchants, maids and knights were sparser than last year. But no one mourned. Fewer creatures meant more food, more gold to go to them, more room near the throne, more chances for them to be noticed by her. And that meant more empty space in front of her. Some fifty feet of the hall was empty.

“No matter, I suppose. Welcome, one and all, to a new year!”

The crowd of reptiles and amphibians cheered, and Kruul gave a roar of approval.

“Let me not keep us waiting any longer!” Ja’Gnash shouted, banging his staff against the throne of the stone. “She comes now. Let us welcome our Queen!”

Suddenly, the mountain began to quake. The crowd began to holler and jabber incomprehensibly to even one another, so were they overtaken with excitement. Finally, without much waiting or anticipation, the Queen leapt from her tunnel to land right behind her throne, her scales gleaming like plump plums in the firelight. The throng of Madragast citizens all cheered for her arrival before being drowned out by a triumphant roar. 

The Polisher, usually silent, also cheered as the snakes do, with an open-jawed hiss. Only one creature took notice of her, though, and it was the one creature she didn’t want near her. She fell silent as he approached her, a sneer on his face.

“Look at her, Polisher. Look at how she gleams in the firelight. Doesn’t it make you sad, Polisher, that you’ll never be able to polish anything to even half as intense a shine as our beloved Queen?”

She nodded.

“Fire, fire, fire!” the crowd chanted. For a moment the Queen’s face looked on with irritation, but that irritation turned to glee. She began to walk forward. Every creature, naturally, clamored out of her way.

The Polisher bowed and stepped aside as she approached. Kruul, however, crept forward. “My Queen, how lovely it is to�"” 

A sharp growl sent him scrambling back; the Polisher had to move to the right to avoid his claws, much to the Queen’s satisfaction.

The dragon was about to take off, but then paused. The Polisher looked up to see her regarding Saylah and Malas with some interest. Salyah was bowing lower to her than any other creature. Malas, meanwhile, stared in wide-eyed wonder.

“Wow,” the little girl said. “I’ve never seen a dragon before.”

The Queen grinned, showing her array of teeth. One claw slowly moved towards the little girl, who instinctively reached out in curiosity. The Polisher bowed her head, knowing what was going to happen next. The sound of the girl being forced to the ground could barely be heard over the laughing of the nearby crowd.

“Bow,” was the Queen’s only word. And then she turned and with a running start took off into the early morning sky.

The crowd cheered after her. Kruul bellowed in admiration. The crowd ignored the skinks who were both crying.

The Polisher shook her head and slithered over to them. Malas was hunched over, forehead to the ground, arms wrapped around the top of her skull. While the little girl was sobbing, the snake looked at what she could of the Queen’s touch. There was a slight bruise, but nothing worse. Clearly, the Queen had merely been correcting her, rather than showing any displeasure at Malas’s ignorance.

She moved to help her up, but was batted away. Malas uttered a hiss at her.

The Polisher saw it with a mixture of satisfaction and some emotion she couldn’t name. The girl had adapted then and there. She would be just fine against the initial onslaught of creatures wanting to test her, to steal from her, to harm her for sport. She looked over at Saylah, who looked on pityingly. She wondered how long she would last.

They heard the distant sound of the Queen blowing her fire down below, and soon the mountains troughs, the braziers and the imposing firepit behind the throne roared to life. The heat of the flames hit them all like the waves of the ocean. The crowd broke into jubilant cheers and dancing, feeling the hard winter’s cold melt with the heat of dragonfire.

The Brumation was now over. Madragast was alive once more. 

Author's Note

This is not the final draft. This is the draft I am satisfied with to move on to another chapter (for this one, this is roughly the fifth draft of this chapter).