#iclyn

They still tried to sing cries of help now and again if they thought the Gaolers guarding them was not watching to punish them for it, a horrible symphony to her ears and the warden general grimaced to hear it - though her lieutenants had mind enough to swat the brats into silence.

“Must we really do this? They are only children!” Came the plea from Jonah, the youngest of her new recruits, wet behind the ears and not yet jaded to their ways nor wise to the horrors that he now called Children.

Iclyn snarked, rounding on him sharply, Jonah backing up from her much more considerable height “what you name as children are the horrors of our ancestors! It is better we do this now than let them become those same beasts! Or it will be your children who suffer them!” She stalked away from him, gesturing sharply to her aids, leaving the whelp to watch helplessly after her as they barred his way and she crossed the way towards the cowering banelings.

There was no mercy here, only justice and the swift hand of the executioner - her lieutenants pinned them in, spears raised downwards as she spoke to her troop

“Many of you remember the tales of our ancestors, of a burning blight carried on wings so numerous as to block out the sky in their swarming - what you see before you, is that very same blight! Born again in a cheat of our maker’s swift sentence! You may Look upon them now and see no monster, but know that to leave them to live, is to leave an infection to spread! A cancer to grow! And know that something so inconsequential may become terminal for all of us! For they will seek our deaths for their own ancestors!

So I ask you my friends, is it not better we strike while the wound may be cauterised? I ask you, think of your homes, your families, your friends - and then I ask you, what should the sentence be?!” Iclyn’s voice raised above the crowd that had gathered, her troop and those others that journeyed with them.

As one they roared “DEATH!” And Iclyn was pleased.

She turned to her faithful with a nod and the executioners made for the hatchlings, they mewled and cried with nowhere to run - Iclyn watched impassive, for this was the work of their lord, this was to be their duty fulfilled to their ancestors,

This was their triumph,

In a moment the world seemed to hold still, the hatchlings crying out desperately the only sound as hush descended upon the crowd watching fro blood,

But the night was broken with a song of discord

A song of rage,

From those dark skies flew the shadow, on wings of fire given form - a hide scored with flash frozen scars from that terrible tale so long ago and eyes of terrible blood-red.

Iclyn looked upon this beast and saw deaths very shadow - for it could not be,

but it was

“A survivor?” Was the shocked whisper, but how?

And Unlike the hatchlings, this one was not so helpless.

The red burning rage of the ancient lit the night as cries went up from the crowd, they ran to flee the ear piercing wails of the howling dread that banked above them, flying through the smoke, the flame and the ash that kicked up and swirled around her form, casting frightening silhouettes in the late sky, embers dancing from burning corpses.

Iclyn steadied herself and roared as her aides turned to flee the nightmare “fight you cowards! Fight for our lord against the devil itself!” But they did not heed her cries and she snarled turning back, white-blue eyes landing on the hatchlings that now looked upon their terrible saviour with awe in their shining eyes.

Fury burned through her, the righteous wrath of the icewarden, for she could not let this come to nought,

She advanced on the hatchlings, intent on blood for blood, But another blocked her path,

It was Jonah, the young whelp singed from the fire but miraculously still alive - and what irony, her most squeamish would be the most brave - she sneered at him “move aside whelp, I must stop this madness from escalating” but Jonah did not, instead he crouched protectively before the hatchlings, who peered from under his singed fur, confused and dubious of the turn of events.

The whelp spat at her, face half singed and scarred as debris fell down around them, the awful calls still ringing from above

“I will not”

She growled, lips upturning “move aside fool! Do you not see around you? This s exactly what I must prevent! I must stop this here and now!” She roared but Jonah only shook his head

“I will not help you murder innocents”

Iclyn blinked pausing, then laughed “there are no innocents here! Only the symptoms of a malignant tumour that must be torn from sornieth! And if you will not stand aside Jonah...” she looked him in the eye, the smoke billowing around them as the fires slowly consumed the stage

“Then I will kill you too”

Jonah flinched minutely But he remained where he was, curling his tail further about himself and the huddled hatchlings now hiding underneath him, if he was to die...

Then so be it

“Then I will die with my honour intact”

Iclyn snarled and threw herself at them, Jonah braced himself, cringing over the crying hatchlings,

Then down came a wash of flames and between the space of two blinks, Iclyn was there,

And then simply, gone.

A gust of breath, sulphurous and ember sparked brought him to gaze upwards into the eyes of the night fire, the horror of childhood tales and distant memories,

A full grown banescale, in the flesh - one that was as ancient as the ice that had melted around it no doubt.

Jonah braced himself, expecting the worst as the beast finally landed with a cacophony of snapping wood - tail lancing out to brush away a burning beam in their circle of fire.

But the banescale did not attack him - merely regarded him with wary eyes, at least until a ruckus of peeps and tiny plaintive cries issued up from below the fluffy tail that had guarded them and six tiny hatchlings came tumbling forth, excited even in the midst of ruin to greet their dark winged ancestor.

Jonah watched in the fire light as the fearsome beast seemed to soften and croon, gently lowering itself to greet the much smaller figures that attempted to clamber its onyx snout.

Of course, it’s attention didn’t stay distracted for long as the ancient’s crimson gaze found him again and an angry rumble resounded in its barrel chest, as it - she? He? - gathered the hatchlings under its immense wings and seemed intent to finish the nights job and Jonah knew then he would not be leaving alive, but he was glad at least that he would not die a murderer of children, he would not be like his late mentor,

And yet it seemed not to be,

For the angry rumblings were interrupted by plaintive squeaks and when Jonah opened his eyes, it was the hatchlings this time coming to his defence and the elder Banescale seemed to be listening, for it regarded him again anew

It leaned up and stalked towards him a few paces, carefully keeping the hatchlings within it’s wings.

“They say you saved them, why?”

Jonah blinked up at the banescale, dumbfounded, this was not what he’d expected.

“What?”

She - for he knew now - seemed to grow annoyed, her tail lashing behind her and she snapped “I asked why you saved them, Ice warrior”.

Jonah’s mouth opened and closed a few times uselessly before he replied “because it was wrong to kill them for crimes they have no blame for”

She seemed mollified yet puzzled by this explanation - he could reason perhaps, given her likely recent reawakening, she had expected more enmity the like of which Iclyn had had, perhaps - the red gaze glanced around and then finally down at the hatchlings who sang up to her, only then did her consideration return back to him

“What is your name ice warrior?”

“Jonah”

“I am Howl”

Later, after he has been left outside of the burning pyre of what was once their latent base, he the last of their troop - he watches as the night fires shadow sofas skyward, a precious burden of six new souls clinging to the spines of her back.