Beautiful Fury

by Marc Secchia

  Iridiana reached over to pat Zip upon the head. “Smallest general ever.”

  “Bossiest,” said Pip. “She’s so bossy, Aranya.”

  “Like a Dragoness in disguise?” Aranya suggested.

  Like Pygmy, Sapphire chirped, drawing the desired round of laughter. She zipped over to Pip’s shoulder, but not before indulging in three celebratory aerial somersaults complete with five twirls.

  Pip introduced the twins and Zuziana to her young but white-haired boyfriend, Silver, who appeared understandably squirmy as everyone scrupulously did not mention his relation to Thoralian. He quickly returned to looking after their shields, as the matter of providing enough oxygen for the volcano’s denizens would soon become a pressing issue. He had a team of eager scholars of both the two-footed and four-pawed kind who were zealously making his life a misery by quizzing his every calculation. The discussion grew heated.

  Catching Zip’s eye, Aranya breathed, Is now an opportune moment?

  Aye, petal.

  Taking Zip by the hand, Aranya strolled over in Master Kassik’s direction, exclaiming, “That was awfully bold of you, Remoy, taking charge of the vast and complex operations of this fine Academy.”

  “Aye?” Zip pretended to puzzle.

  “I believe that the noble Master has now recovered all of his faculties,” the Immadian declared, playing along.

  Turning toward them, the handsome, scholarly leader of the Academy began to raise an eyebrow as though expecting student mischief, before he clearly recalled who he was speaking to. “Noble Star Dragoness,” he said, with great formality.

  Being Jeradian, Kassik was a strapping man, and being a Brown Shapeshifter, he had a tangible presence that Zuziana imagined had practically melted students who dared to tread upon the famous strip of carpet in front of his desk. Apparently, Pip had made that carpet her personal playground. Now, it seemed her high-minded friend was intent upon doing the same.

  Aranya bowed as if the volcano’s field were her personal fiefdom, but she had a wink for Zuziana upon rising. “So, Master Kassik, with the battle being largely resolved and Zankaradia sweeping up stray Shao’lûkayn, I thought this an opportune moment to resume normal operations. Ah – normal, as in, let’s all return home to our Island-World, so to speak.” She smiled delicately. “How’s about I start by removing random Remoyan power grabbers from the vicinity?”

  “As if,” Zuziana snorted. “Yelegoyans, however – ouch!”

  Aranya and Casitha smiled at each other as each removed a foot from one of Zuziana’s. She hopped up and down crossly.

  Kassik grinned broadly. “I’d like to employ the Princess Zuziana in my administration in the future, should she and her noble House be found willing. She possesses many useful skills –”

  “I’ll sell her to you for a blade of grass,” Iridiana put in.

  “Silence, Chaos!” Aranya demanded.

  “Oh no, I like that offer,” Kassik said, stroking his beard approvingly. He spat upon his palm. “Shake on it, Iridiana?”

  “Hey,” Zip protested.

  With a smirk aimed at Zuziana, Iridiana plopped an ungainly blob upon her own palm and squidged hands with the Master. “Ha. Interesting Northern customs you have. Done and sold!”

  Pip said, “In the interests of making a profit, Master Kassik, I am prepared to offer up to four grass blades for the Princess. That’s an immediate three hundred percent return –”

  “Hey!” Zuziana yelled. “I stand down. I abdicate. I am no longer a General.”

  “As you wish, Princess,” said Kassik.

  “However, I do have a list of improvements for the Academy I would be happy to share with you, Master Kassik,” Zuziana said sweetly. “After all, you are one hundred and fifty years out of date. Times have moved on, Casitha reliably informs me.”

  The Master’s self-control very nearly slipped. “What … Casitha?”

  Casitha had her hands on her hips in a very Zip-like pose. How annoying. Was she truly that Remoyan? “Don’t you drag me into your schemes, monk stealer.”

  “Monk stealer? You’ve an interesting history, Princess,” the Master noted.

  Finally, the blush she had been fighting did steal up Zip’s cheeks. “Fine. Ex-monk, just to clarify. Moving swiftly on, shall we discuss my employment prospects? I believe that I have the following to my credit: organising the re-conquest of the North, bearding various tyrants, crossing the uncrossable Rift not once but twice, fighting numerous Dragon battles, commanding armies of Land Dragons, Lesser Dragons and Humans, flying to the Mystic Moon, birthing an Ancient Dragoness …”

  “And the attitude,” Iridiana put in. “Don’t forget your humble, rule-abiding, docile att –”

  As an opportunity to lose her rag, this phrasing excelled. “Docile?” Zip exploded. “Don’t you docile a pregnant Dragoness, you … I’ll docile your head off your shoulders!”

  * * * *

  Fra’anior looked very much the worse for wear. One head was missing an eye and another looked like a mouse chewed over at considerable length by a feline, while his scales were blackened and slashed in many places. Golden Dragon blood slicked his flanks in runnels as thick as Cloudlands-bound waterfalls. Even his customary boom-and-grumble personal storm appeared a touch muted on this occasion, as the Stars and Zuziana spoke to him in Aranya’s familiar soul space.

  “Dramagon did fare worse,” he declared belligerently. “But I thank thee for inquiring after my welfare, little ones. As Immadians might say, it took some small effort to deter him from interfering in thy battle, but I eventually persuaded him to desist.”

  “Might I –”

  “Thou, Aranya,” he bugled with open delight. “Thy desire honours mine Dragon hearts. Share with me these tidings of thy … great grandstars, didst thou say?”

  Come on, Pip, Iridiana and Zuziana.

  Touch the Great Onyx? Pip breathed. Her eyes were as huge as Aranya had ever seen them.

  Of course. He’s every inch as great as they say, and so much more. He loves us to the ends of the Universe, and his hearts are true. Aranya smiled fiercely at her sisters. Plus, he’s ours. If you ever sought proof, Pip’úrth’l-iòlall-Yò’oótha of the Pygmies, that was sealed the moment you began to shine. And I am going to tell him so. I’ve always wanted a little sister.

  Pip scowled. You already have one.

  But the nuances of her Dragonish betrayed her happiness.

  As they flew up to the Island that was his paw, Aranya recounted for Fra’anior every detail of their encounter with Astralior and Quinesstaralia, the star entities who claimed kinship with her through Istariela and Izariela. She also listed the remedial efforts that the Stars had suggested in order to stimulate Mystic’s magic to heal itself, and a few improvements that they suggested for the planetary shield.

  “Those proposed tasks will consume many years of thy time,” Fra’anior observed as they winged to their landing.

  “And require multiple visits to the Mystic Moon!” Zip enthused. “Uh, meaning no disrespect, Great Onyx … your world is just so amazing …”

  “Indeed, little ones.” Laughter detonated from his throats, before the smiling of his less injured heads grew grave. “Dost the danger posed by marauding Nurguz and the Sankûraguz not meantime wax most dire?”

  “That’s part of the full paw of our job, o Fra’anior,” Iridiana explained shyly. “One of the challenges we face is that the full integration of their language will apparently take many years to mature in our young minds, so they desisted from attempting to explain every nuance. The great grandstars proposed that, essentially, we divert part of Mystic’s energies into generating a false beacon of draconic life somewhere faraway across the galaxy. Every decade or so, we should adjust it to point to another of the ‘dead zone’ planets. There’s no danger of visiting their destruction upon any other living thing, they said.”

  “Not in our neighbourhood of this galaxy,” Iridiana noted, wide-eyed at the thought.


  Aranya added, “At a future date, they would be happy to share their location with us, and the results of their investigations into where your mighty Egg might have originated from, o Fra’anior.”

  “Indeed, thou asked this detail?” His brow ridges twitched.

  Why did he keep expecting family not to act like, well, family? He had started all this by falling rainbows over the Islands for Istariela!

  Aranya said, “Respectfully, they are far older than thee, Fra’anior – which makes us all less than hatchlings in their estimation.”

  How he roared with laughter!

  At length Pip added, “They can’t get over how our draconic fire-lives survive out here in such a hazardous quadrant, but we know that’s thanks to your paw work, our noble progenitor. They say our Island-World has other surprises in store for us. And well do you say we’d long to meet those great grandstars, o Fra’anior, but you too have our longing – I mean, meeting like this is awesome fun, but we’d really love to meet you in person.”

  His muzzles bowed in appreciation.

  However, when Aranya explained her belief that Pip might indeed be her missing third shell sibling in a spiritual sense, and set forth her proofs, the Ancient Dragon’s fires reached a rumbling peak like a slow-motion earthquake. She paused, chagrined, but he said at once:

  “Let thine fires not be downcast, most cherished treasure of mine hearts! Mine fires sing in fullest accord with thine words. Indeed, it is only that thou teachest me the most profound tenets of our inmost fires that I responded so.”

  Turning to Pip, his fires genuflected with an immense susurration. The doughty Dragoness tried but failed to disguise a backward stumble as he thundered, By every spark that callest me Dragon, by name and paw and heart and mind, I declare thou art mine, Pip’úrth’l-iòlall-Yò’oótha! MINE! Beloved of mine fires! MINE! And thricefold do I swear, thou art blood of mine blood, flesh of mine flesh, and bone of mine bone – BEAUTEOUS OFFSPRING OF MINE INMOST FIRES!!

  Speechless, Pip could only lower her head.

  Iridiana nudged her, before throwing a sisterly wing about her trembling shoulders. And mine, so I swear.

  Aranya whispered, And mine, forever.

  The Pygmy Dragoness wept softly, for joy.

  At length, Iridiana asked, “O Fra’anior, will you take Zankaradia with you now?”

  His laughter reverberated between his disparate necks and torsos. “I rather suspect she’d like to see something of the Island-World before she departs, little ones. You should ask her.”

  Kneeling upon his paw, Aranya summoned her healing power and began to pour herself into her work, as she always did. He was vast and severely cut up in many places by trenches hundreds of feet deep, but Fra’anior also possessed internal resources and magic she could only dream of. In many cases, it was simply a case of ordering the body to initiate its natural healing processes, or re-balancing what had been damaged. Could she do this for her mother?

  At length he sighed and said privately, Thou pourest thyself out exceedingly much, Aranya. Don’t –

  Don’t? she huffed crossly. For thee? O Fra’anior, when is enough, enough?

  Exactly the pertinent question for thee, mine unceasingly dedicated grand shell daughter, said he. I thank thee, who hast Istariela’s gift, but also I adjure thee, learn when you have given enough, for no-one can be poured out forever. Put another way, when this is over, thou must take rest from thy mighty labours.

  Is this thy command? she inquired wryly.

  If it must be, he returned, with typical draconic obfuscation.

  When she laughed aloud, she had to summarise their conversation for her friends, and they chuckled too. He knows you too well, Zip teased.

  Furthermore, he added quietly, when thou returnest to Izariela, pray include me in thy analysis of her condition before thou attemptest such healing. Mayhap I might provide some vital insight.

  I thank thee, she whispered.

  Aranya wondered quietly if Fra’anior enjoyed their laughter and banter, for he seemed reenergized by the time he spent with them, and eager to learn details of their lives and the battle with this final Thoralian. She was glad to have been able to be the one to help him for a change, and he had declared himself much restored by her ministrations.

  Departing, he said, Aye, he has truly flown, little ones. The spirit of Dramagon’s lackey no longer tarries within thy environs, and I have no need to express the depths of mine relief, nor of mine admiration and gratitude for the incomparable works of thy paws. Now, speak thee to thine allies and thy lovers below, and have them shoot down as many Shao’lûkayn as possible, for I fear they shall convey a spirit-remnant of Dramagon with them. Mine shell brother’s taint has a most unfortunate way of spreading where least desired. Now, burn the heavens, o kindred I am proud to call mine own!

  * * * *

  As the Academy sailed upon its homeward course, a select group of Dragons, Riders and Shapeshifters prepared to return to the Mystic Moon to make what repairs they could, and to check that Dramagon’s Bequest had truly been emptied and was not perchance refilling with its toxic payload. They would also lay the foundations for the false beacon and fully repair at least one layer of Fra’anior’s shield, if not two. The remainder would need to wait several years for the Moon’s magic to heal itself. Other groups prepared to fly relatively short distances to destroy those thousands of Shao’lûkayn which had found their way into low orbits of the Mystic Moon, or longer distances to hunt many tens of thousands more which had already traversed the gap between the Moon and their planet in search of draconic life. The destruction of the shield continued, but at a much slower rate than before, and that was diminishing by the hour as Zankaradia made her forays.

  After three days’ intense labour at Mystic, the group returned to the Academy and prepared to make the long descent through the atmosphere. Any fresh food they might have stored had long since perished, as had most of the ‘non-perishable’ food stores. Most of what was left was a few hardy types of grain, and an even hardier breed of rock goat which had survived the journey. And rats. Plenty of rats. Kassik and his team discussed the matter and prioritised children, pregnant women and Dragon hatchlings. The rest would have to make do with a meagre two spoonfuls of grain per day, plus the mineral-rich lake water.

  Delicious!

  Not exactly the diet anyone would have prescribed for people and Dragons recovering from hibernation.

  As Mistress Mya’adara put it, “Best be hurrying home then, mah pets. And don’t yah be kissing that boy where yah think Ah can’t see, Pip!”

  “I did not!” Pip protested.

  “Huh. I’m watching yah real good.” Ready, aim, swat!

  Pip jumped. “Mistress!”

  “Huh. Don’t yah think a hundred and summat years puts mah hand out of practice, young scallywag.”

  Given the food rationing, a traditional Jeradian feast would have to wait upon a successful landing. Aranya, Pip and Iridiana therefore focussed on sending messages via light-flash communication in the evenings. As their facility with the method grew, so did the number and variety of demands, until Pip joked that half of the Island-World would be waiting for them in Northern Jeradia and Iridiana promptly leaped into her diamond form – wrapped around the Pygmy Dragoness’ neck.

  Silver’s eyes grew round. “How does she do that?”

  Zip advised, “Tighter, Iridiana!”

  “Silence, children,” Aranya admonished them. “Kassik’s about to speak.”

  The scene was unforgettable. The Academy volcano floated toward the upper atmosphere, a hazy azure sphere seemingly thousands of leagues ahead of them, easily visible over the volcano’s rim as this portion of the journey was effectively weightless. Silver had unobtrusively angled their flight to provide the best viewpoint. His use of gravitational manipulation had improved to the point where nothing had to float anywhere anymore, unlike the time he had flooded the field outside the school buildings with lake water and rece
ived no end of ribbing from damp Dragons and Humans who had been bivouacking there. At this hour, although it was evening down below in the crater of their home, the twin suns appeared to rise over the planet ahead, casting glorious golden beams across the ivy-clad buildings. The grass was golden but just starting to develop a tinge of green following its inadvertent watering and now abundant suns-shine. Despite the gleaming suns-rise, uncountable stars filled the blackness all around them.

  Magical. Just magical.

  Every available person and Dragon, right down to the wobbliest new hatchling born just three hours before, had come to hear Master Kassik speak. There must be thirty-five thousand present, Aranya thought, and perhaps more.

  Every last soul fell silent as Zankaradia’s muzzle appeared over the volcanic ramparts and she fluted, “Oh, am I late?”

  Despite her terrific size, she still had a hatchling’s naïveté.

  Aranya tipped her wings. “Join us, noble Zankaradia.”

  The Corundum Red had found a favourite place between the Roost Volcano, a secondary cone within the main caldera, and the lake at its base. She slithered down the slope with sinuous ease, coiling herself up as she arrived until the bulk of her body overshadowed the entire secondary cone, and her neck and muzzle dominated the available space opposite Master Kassik and behind the great crowd. Before she quite laid down her head, she lifted two giant tortoises out of harm’s way with a delicate bit of talon-tip work.

  Taking his stance on the raised section of lawn just in front of the buildings, Kassik boomed, “I am delighted to tell you that the war we fought has now officially ended!” Cheers! “Thoralian, whom we knew as Marshal Re’akka, is finally dead!” The thundering shook a few more tiles off the already battered buildings. “Thanks to the dauntless labours of the Star Dragoness, Aranya –” he had to pause to make himself heard over the resultant clamour, “supported by our own Pip – and Iridiana –”

  Bedlam!

  After Kassik had thanked Silver, Chymasion, Casitha, Arosia, Zankaradia, Yaethi and many others, he asked Pip to recount the tale which was so fresh in their minds, the tale of the assault over the Rift and their response to it culminating in Re’akka’s defeat and their retreat into the Egg. Aranya then picked up the tale, telling how she had discovered her Dragoness powers and together with Zip, determined to stand against Sylakia’s tyranny North of the Rift. That led to their discovery of the Thoralians and the theft of the First Egg, and so to a quest which spanned the world they knew.