by Marc Secchia
Hurry up! Thoralian hissed. Fetch the Jewels out of his stomach, you fool!
Ardan’s grin was a study in the enigma of draconic ferocity.
Not while I live, she snarled.
The Shadow Dragon roared, AS YOU WISH, STAR DRAGONESS!
She knew his purpose with prescient clarity. She saw the vindictive clouds of Thoralian cognitive-magical calculation that poisoned his mind. Vengeance. Solace. Release! The soul power which he held and rightly feared, now rose to prominence as he curled and sprang like a dark, blurred bolt of lightning across the chamber at her. Yet in the touch of the Marshal’s fingers, she found herself connected to a most unforeseen sensation, the six-fold fires of draconic life embracing this man’s soul. Little ones. Tiny flame hearts possessed of a pearlescent purity she had only ever encountered in a few fragmented scintillas of time, when it seemed that she touched or tasted a hint of the most intimate, searing mysteries of white fires truth.
O precious infinitude of draconic life!
Aranya enveloped the egglings in a flash of brooding, maternal protectiveness, staggered by the wealth of emotion triggered within her breast by this instant of bonding. They imbued the matrix of her existence with intertwined, ethereal threads of nascent eternity.
The Shadow’s impact struck her mortal soul – that was the only word she had to describe the ghastly, distressing sensation – such a crushing blow, it should by rights have torn her verimost essence clean out of whatever hold or link of flesh or mind sustained it. The impact shook her to the core. Distinctly, she felt a frisson of flame ricochet from her paw into Asturbar’s hand, but her battered mind was preoccupied with an image of Ardan, stymied and traumatised, tumbling over her prone form as though he had tripped over an immovable obstacle during a flat-out sprint.
The Thoralians voiced an echoing bugle of disbelief. They must have known the import of that power, savouring the sweet moment when the Shadow must perforce murder his beloved – yet, she lived, and was conscious of the absence of one soul, bereft of its home … Sapphire? No! She could not bear another loss! Sapphire! O darling, where –
Here, giggled Asturbar’s stomach.
Aranya screamed!
Chapter 12: Underestimation Woes
SMOKING of SCALES, bellowing and smarting in ways and places for which he had no words, the Shadow Dragon shakily picked up a paw here and a wing there and tried to work out if everything was still connected as it ought to be. Every magical pathway of his being reverberated as if he were a gong struck by an amethyst paw, yet above all this, the sight of Aranya staring Moons-eyed at the Marshal roused his fires in the ugliest possible way. That was … the longer he stared, the more pyretic the darkest expression of draconic hubris-jealousy trembled every magical pathway of his being, burning like the exquisite application of a neurotoxin. Mine. MINE!
He cracked open his jaw, only to have it clacked shut for him. An unknowable force dragged him backward around the chamber. His talons gouged trenches in the granite, generating notes of shrill, stabbing protest. Next, a maelstrom of Dragoness-flavoured insanity fizzed past his eyes in a ludicrous, frothing blend of mauve, windswept bubbles and the flapping, tangled wings, limbs and tails of Fra’anior alone knew how many Thoralians, Gangs, bleeding corpses and blue-hued Shapeshifters. He himself was slung about by his tail as though he were a dishrag of insignificant heft, completely at the mercy of this bamboozling phenomenon, which trout-slapped his head against a wall here and casually demolished a catapult there. Any engineer possessed of half a brain must long since have fled to safety. Ardan’s aggrieved bellows emerged from lips mashed against the stone floor as he was dragged three hundred feet backward at such high speed that sparks skittered off his scales, and then his sensitive underparts smashed into a staircase. End of staircase. Reason eclipsed in blinding pain.
The Shadow collapsed in a pile of debris, stunned, trying to work out what had just hit him.
All he could think was that he had occasionally considered Aranya to be illogical or downright contrarian, but she was always, ultimately, focussed upon her goals. This was epic madness on a different scale.
Then, his debris-obstructed view of an Island-World’s reality blasted to pieces took another turn for the worse as an avalanche of Dragonflesh arrived in the chamber. Untold tonnes landed in a corpulent, quivering heap not ten feet from his nose and started splintering a solid granite floor with bone hammers the size of Dragonships.
He blenched. Azhukazi’s creation!
Ardan had never been gladder to be tucked out of harm’s way. Now, what was Aranya – she had her talons buried in the Marshal’s belly!
His neck twizzled again as a brain-frazzling stench assaulted his nostrils. The two Thoralians, one limping heavily from his earlier pasting by the Gladiator Dragon, reversed course ahead of a thumping monster of a woodpile – a perfect mountain of pretty, mauve-coloured wood that appeared to have the consistency of draconic scales and out-bulked Genholme, he estimated – and the fully-grown Dragons were shaking their muzzles and mewling like distressed newborns as the wood Dragon sprayed them with a kaleidoscopic scent barrage. That gorgeous iridium sheen. It had to be Iridiana, but how by all that was holy was she producing pseudo-draconic forms that boasted such incredible accuracy, presence and power? Her pugnacious stench hit him full force now. Immediately it seemed to him that the stink set about quarrying sizzling acid holes inside his sensitive nostrils, stinging with such raw aggression that Ardan leaped to his paws, clawing at his own muzzle in a welter of torture that out-screamed even his throbbing, bruised male parts. Flaming talons! Eye-watering pain! Ugh, he wanted to vomit …
His reflexive battle challenge emerged as a shocked squeak, however, when he saw what had just happened to Asturbar. Ri’arion sat behind him, supporting the big man as Aranya delicately extracted something living from a deep incision across his abdomen.
A dragonet!
Man birth? Never mind the end of sanity! Ardan feared the world was about to crash down around his ear canals.
* * * *
Stuck somewhere inside Asturbar’s stomach, Sapphire was being her usual sassy, rambunctious self. Aranya shook her muzzle. Playing midwife to dragonets plus her tiny dragonet friend amidst a battle with the Thoralians? She had thought Ardan singing her free of a Word of Command was zany. This beggared belief.
“Pucker up, big boy,” her inner Zuziana provoked Asturbar, drawing a double-take from the beleaguered soldier. With talons buried within his belly, snipping his guts apart, the man had reason for his confusion. “It’ll only hurt for a second. Aranya’s very, very good at –”
Time to see the world, Sapphire burbled enthusiastically, evidently more than prepared to play shell mother to these tiny, blood-streaked white dragonets. Come, my lovely brood. Let’s clear this cesspit of nastiness –
Insolent pest! snorted Asturbar.
That’s me, Sapphire chirped back. Your bowels are no warren, soldier. They’re foetid and uncomfortable.
My pleasure to return life to you, Sapphire, he replied.
Oh … spluttered the sapphire dragonet.
Rightly, that tempered the mite’s cheek. Aranya was nonetheless shocked. Had he so clearly understood the miraculous transfer, identifying Sapphire’s origin as within her being? Astute! As for Sapphire, she had apparently re-embodied full of every grain of her former vim and vivaciousness, because the dragonet was calming the clawing hatchlings now and helping them escape through the incision. Blue paws even passed them out! Now, there was a sight.
The dragonets were white at first glance, blood-streaked from their journey out of Asturbar’s stomach, but she noticed their scales evinced a delicate translucency that hinted at the subtle chrysoprase colours she had once or twice observed when exploring one of Immadia’s permanent glaciers. What would their powers be, she wondered? As the fourth evacuee emerged, the tiny dragonets gathered together into a tight-knit group as though seeking the warmth and security of a warren, and beg
an to lick and groom each other. The fourth was a couple of inches larger than the others, an achingly slender mite barely one foot across the wingtips, but he already displayed the awareness and capability that the Dragonkind enjoyed from the instant they broke the shell.
Sapphire squeezed out now! Aranya could not speak for the infernos of love igniting her being.
Embodied!
The Marshal blurted out, “Oh, she’s so cute!”
The shameless queen of dragonet-ish drama instantly began her familiar preening routine, addressing the Marshal with a coquettish whirl of her fire eyes. I’m starting to like you too, man-mommy … oh, Aranyi! I missed you!
You’re alive, my darling! wheezed the Star. Oh mercy, thought you were gone forever … and now such hope ignites my Dragoness’ hearts …
WILL YOU KINDLY HELP US? Gangurtharr thundered.
Oh! She had been responding automatically to this unfolding drama, but Dragoness Aranya now realised that her Human and both Zuzianas had meantime been taking care of matters battle-oriented. The conflict was heading into the abyss at pace, Beran would have said. As the triplicate drew untold power from the Egg, her Humansoul continued to interfere, blockading and shielding to the best of her waning ability, but the Thoralians’ strength grew apace even as she grew weaker. It was impossible to replenish one’s resources as rapidly as these successive battles demanded – even the Thoralians knew this, and were forced to support each other, constantly bellowing orders at the Shadow Dragon as if he had no mind of his own. She thought she saw darkness moving beyond the toad-beast’s immense paws. In a moment they would have another problem of the nature of Ardan, for she knew she could block him no longer. The filled-in shield had been fragmented in the fray, and now Azhukazi’s creature impeded its implementation still further.
How would the Dragonfriend have solved this problem?
Dance? Be quick! Yet she could not tear herself away from the drama unfolding around Asturbar, not for all her vaunted prowess at dividing her attention between many tasks at once. High sentiment held her in the present, and in that moment of unalloyed focus upon her friend’s renewed life, she discovered the beauty of a miracle unfolding before her entranced eyes. Its beauty soaked into her soul, slaking her cry for purpose, for restoration, for healing.
Her Humansoul carolled, Sapphire reincarnate!
One soul, one Shapeshifter, two living entities. How was that phenomenon even possible? How Aranya yearned for greater insight into these precious mysteries.
The Amethyst Dragoness gasped, Sapphire, you embodied! And Zuzi –
Still inside, girlfriend, her friend responded with the sensation of a paw-slap of encouragement. Time to go finish that job we started back in Sylakia.
Aye.
Dig deep. Her first dance step was to taste and know the adamantine purpose which had brought her this far. As she found her paws, Aranya focussed passionately upon the powers which seemed to have come last to her, but represented the most quintessential fires of her soul. Injured, battered, frustrated, marred – a Star must still shine. That was her ultimate purpose; one she had been wont to abnegate because her self-belief had been so sorely tested, Aranya realised now. She was trying to accomplish everything in her own strength, by rational endeavour, when the dance should be as simple as child’s play and as profound as the mysteries of star life.
She might not possess the resources, but she knew one who did.
One who, despite her fey and unconventional nature, might just be persuaded to annoy the Thoralians to death. Literally, her Dragoness laughed, even while her Humansoul clucked her tongue in faux annoyance at the dreadful pun.
Iridiana.
Fear! Bewilderment-pain-fury!
Iridiana, I need you. Please listen …
Aranya reached for the Shapeshifter, trying not to recoil at that spiny thornbush of a mind with its immense, ever-shifting natural protections. Heavens raining fireballs, the girl was a mental savant! She must not grapple with her in anger or vexation. No arrogant Princess moments here. Aranya soothed, cajoled and offered.
Come, wing sister, fire sister. Taste of my strength. I will help you.
Don’t touch me! I am so afraid – the Dragoness broke off, hyperventilating for a few short seconds as the Thoralians stalked Gang, and then she sprang to the Gladiator’s aid. Rapid-fire transformations attacked the Yellow-White Shapeshifters in eye-blurring succession. He beat her away with a monstrous broadside of ice that attempted to shovel her aside by main force, accompanied by psychic blows that shattered upon – Aranya blinked – a boulder? Had she just thought that solution into Iridiana?
What could that girl not do?
Iridiana wailed, Get away from me, o Star! You must – you cannot risk –
Never. You are my ally, my friend, a treasure beyond price.
I will infect you with Chaos!
The Iridium Shapeshifter flitted through three disparate dragonet forms as the Thoralians swatted at her, around her, through her – one brother struck the other a swingeing blow in his frustration. Huaricithe and Gangurtharr piled in with vicious snarls, trying to double-team the injured Thoralian, but strength suffused the pair as the third finally opened the floodgates of the Egg’s capacity. Huari, Gang together with Ri’arion, and Iridiana had all teamed up now, but they were coming under an increasingly heavy bombardment of mental strikes, magical attacks and physical fisticuffs. Metallic-seeming ice rimed the Thoralians’ paws in sheaths four feet thick, lending their blows a prodigious weight.
She supported the stricken Asturbar with one paw, having to halt any thought of healing now to concentrate on her companions. Any second now, this battle would come to a head. The Yellow-White pair grew stronger and more dangerous-looking by the second, arrogantly stalking her friends around the mighty hammering beast as Aranya shielded, averted and confused the Thoralians. Her efforts were an insect’s fluttering against a thunderstorm. The Thoralians sloughed it all off or bulled through. Their third member pounded her and Zuziana incessantly now, trying to break through by sheer, bloody-minded force – perhaps as they had overcome Azhukazi, she imagined. Melding with Ri’arion, she endured.
Softly, Aranya conversed with Iridiana, saying, I am the purity of Starlight. You are less fearsome than you seem, noble Dragoness. You feel scared and isolated. I understand that fear. Look into my memories –
NO! Madness-fire-rage-pain screamed into her mind.
Aranya absorbed the whiplash of the girl’s emotions, and returned a warm flood of wing-sister-love. How clearly she remembered this terror of the unknown flame burning within; the fear that it would explode, injuring those she loved – as she had once burned Yolathion. No. It doesn’t need to be so.
Why?
We will find a way. You have Boots; you have me and all these noble Dragons besides. Wake up! Hope is here, driving away fear. You are more than you imagine. Girl, Dragoness, Shapeshifter … she heaved a breath that clawed her throat, struggling to express what burned within her soul.
No. Aranya …
Moreover, you are MINE!!
The sevenfold, possessive cry of an Ancient Dragon’s ardour for his creation stunned Aranya even as it stunned Iridiana. MINE! Cherished possession. Beloved child. Beautiful daughter of the fury of his most elemental fires!
Ambushed by this incredible vision, Iridiana swerved into her Iridium Dragoness form and took a dreadful blow from Thoralian’s right fist directly in the base of her neck, just above the second heart. As if she had taken the brunt of that blow herself, Aranya cried out as Iridiana juddered and collapsed – they were so similar, young women and Dragonesses under attack by the same enemy, she felt an unaccountably intense sense of protectiveness toward one she barely knew. She was Aranya, in that instant. An extension of her own fire life. That was why she had cried out, MINE! Surely, for this was how Fra’anior fire-loved her, with a fierce, tender and abiding affection.
Clutching the young Dragoness by the neck, Thoralian wave
d her in Aranya’s direction. STOP! roared the Yellow-White. I have what I want – a new, greater power even than those wretched Jewels could ever have granted me. Shadow! We’re leaving, Aranya of Immadia, and you will not stop us.
I won’t? hissed the Shapeshifter Princess.
If he tried to cannibalise Iridiana, or harm her any farther, Aranya would visit such a vengeance upon that triplicate! She had to intervene. Yet she could not do this alone, Humansoul whispered within. Her paw fell upon Asturbar.
Pour your greatest strength and love into Nyahi, Marshal!
I … yes. I shall, he gasped.
The other shell brother paused to worry at a gaping belly wound before sneering, Want to watch a little Dragoness die?
The other chimed in, No you won’t, because you will be too busy saving all of these poor people I will hurl into the Cloudlands! Your choice, Aranya. Chase me, and they all die.
He intended to cast down the Mistral Fires and watch them all perish. A terrible choice – one she would not make, for she vowed she would change the fates first. Thoralian held Iridiana high, but even as her neck curved over his paw, as if lolling there, Aranya caught the slight gleam of her eye. Aye, the Dragoness was ready. One final gambit …
She cried, Iridiana, hearken! You have to trust me and let that beast out. Let her out, and let her take the vengeance you would deny yourself, upon the Thoralians. If you truly are a Chaos Beast, she is your greatest power and your greatest gift – this I swear to you.
No, I am wicked! Evil to the core!
I am the Star Dragoness. By all the authority vested in me as the great shell daughter of Fra’anior, I declare that you are mistaken.
I-I c-c-cannot …
Cast aside your fears and become who you are … the Amethyst paused. Humansoul?
Human Aranya said raptly, Know Asturbar’s love for thee, Iridiana! This man loves all that you are. Personally, I think he’s a touch Moons-crazed himself – the Iridium Dragoness almost chuckled aloud at this – but he tells me he has seen your worst, and still loves you. That’s enough. Let it be enough for this day, Iridiana. Let it be!
