Beautiful Fury

by Marc Secchia

  The Brown then roared, “And who will join me in recognising the intrepid Zuziana of Remoy, who courageously woke us up from our ceaseless slumber?”

  This time, a building actually caved in at the racket they raised, from the cheering of Humans to the jubilant bugling of Dragons, to Zankaradia’s carolling song and Aranya involuntarily setting off several gigantic peals of thunder. Oops.

  When Kassik had finished clapping the Azure Shapeshifter upon the shoulder and making a fuss of her deeds, he called, “But Zuziana, you neglected one small detail.”

  “Huh?”

  He gestured for silence. “You left us all hungry!”

  The laughter rolled and ebbed, then exploded again when Zankaradia called, “I am so hungry, Master! When can we eat?”

  The Brown said, “With that, I am pleased to announce that the first supplies run from Fra’anior Cluster is projected to arrive with us tomorrow morning.”

  Ha, so that was what had been keeping Zuziana busy! Aranya grinned at her friend, who looked suitably bashful. And …

  The Azure chuckled behind her paw. Aye, Aranya? Expecting someone?

  Petal, you surely don’t expect us to hang around here when news like that is in the air, do you?

  You are so predictable.

  The Amethyst Dragoness kissed Sapphire upon the nose. You are both incorrigible. So, how’s about we slip away after Kassik’s done and snag ourselves a tasty Western Isles warrior, Sapphire?

  She wrinkled her muzzle. Ari kissy-kissy? Yuck!

  Chapter 36: Falling

  CUDDLING ON THE job? All in a day’s work for a Dragoness.

  Zuziana was just congratulating herself on an ex-monk cuddled until he was befuddled, when her eye fell upon Iridiana and Asturbar, who were still oblivious to the world. Honestly – they called her shameless? Silvery-blue girl over there was certainly putting a few moves on her soldier. And as for Aranya and Ardan – kaaapow! There went Iridiana. Aye, after snagging Ardan for quite possibly the longest kiss in Immadian history, her best friend now contented herself with shining so gloriously, her clothes were practically transparent. Her Shadow was definitely one distracted man at this point.

  Ri’arion caressed her cheek. “Missed you, crazy girl.”

  “Absence makes the heart –”

  “Ache,” he whispered. “How are the bumps? Bumpettes?”

  “All fluttery with joy,” she replied. “Missed cuddling you, Ri’arion.”

  “Looking forward to oodles of catch-up cuddles.” His grin was wickeder than a Western Isles scimitar.

  She slapped his arm. “Ri’arion!”

  “Petal?”

  “Pack those thoughts away. How much food did you bring?”

  “Twenty-one tonnes of mohili flour, bread, oil, sugar, herbs and spices, nuts, fruit and essential medical supplies,” he said. “There are two bigger but slower shipments inbound, as ordered. One of those holds the most surprised flock of ralti sheep in history. Sheep don’t like being in orbit, for the record. We chose to travel light in order to arrive faster.”

  “You are a very nice man.”

  “Nice?” he eyed her up and down in a way that made her tummy quiver. “I’ll show you just how nice, girl. When can I start?”

  “Lots to do,” Aranya said brusquely, winking at Zip. “Boys, you are all awesome. Now, let’s go get those measurements you need for the underside of the Academy. Is your earth- and rock-moving contingent all ready?”

  “Fired up and ready,” said Ardan, slipping his hand across to tweak – oh dear!

  “Ardan – that’s my backside!” Iridiana squealed, popping into a butterfly dragonet form. She snapped her fangs at him. “No.”

  “Aargh! Twins!” he groaned, clapping his palm to his forehead. “Sorry … it’s just this pair of … ah, the same …” He opted to shut his mouth at this juncture, which was wise.

  Evening had fallen, insofar as that in order to meet Asturbar, Ardan and Ri’arion, they had flown into the planet’s shadow. Zip eyed the supplies wistfully. She could eat a few tonnes herself, having tacitly given her portion to several hungry children just a few hours before.

  Ri’arion produced a package from his pocket. “Remoyan treats, dearest?”

  “Whaaaat?”

  “With Commander Ignathion’s compliments,” he clarified, amused by her delighted response. “We sort of – well, emptied the storehouses of Jos City, one might say, and co-opted the Fra’aniorian King into our plans as well. There’s a great deal going on in anticipation of your arrival.”

  “A great deal of excitement, too,” said Asturbar. “Bearded Kings doth dance, and so on.”

  Aranya grinned. “You passed on our messages?”

  “No, we were sulking at being left out of the battle!” Asturbar growled. “However, we have arranged a Land Dragon bombardment that you should see starting … just about …”

  “Now!” the three men chorused.

  On cue, lights began flashing across a broad reach of the planet. Thousands of beams stabbed the night skies, sparkling like diamonds where they originated and flashing upward in high-focus mode, as Leandrial had taught them. Many ended in a flash-detonation and a puff of grey ash as they vaporised lurking Shao’lûkayn.

  Aranya gasped, “How many?”

  “Oh, just about every Land Dragon who can still move,” Ardan said airily.

  Zuziana clapped her hands in excitement. “Ri’arion, you organised this show just for me? You are such a peach!” When her companions looked mystified, she added, “A fruit.”

  “He’s a fruit?” Nyahi giggled.

  “A tasty fruit. It’s like calling someone sweet,” the Remoyan explained.

  Apparently this did not quite translate into Herimor culture.

  The light beams continued their search-and-stab behaviour for many long minutes, gradually generating an ash cloud visible across many thousands of leagues. The Shapeshifters meantime accelerated the supplies bubble, knowing what happiness they would bring to the Academy’s denizens. They chatted animatedly, catching up on all the news – the building progress on the Passage of Dark Fires, Leandrial’s injuries, and the deaths of the brave Chrysolitic dragonets. They had burst their little hearts trying to lift the Academy to safety.

  Seven hours later, they made their landing on the Academy’s field to an excited reception despite the early hour. Mistress Mya’adara already had all the kitchen fires roaring in preparation for her baking and the Dragons groaned to learn that meat was indeed flying in, only it was due the next day!

  One hatchling said regretfully, “Mamafire, does meat not always fall from the sky?” The little female shrank back against her shell mother’s flank. “Why’s everyone laughing?”

  Ardan bowed to her. “O noblest of living fires, I, Ardan the Shadow Dragon, do promise that within ten hours, I shall cause ralti sheep to fall from the skies, just for you.”

  “For me?”

  “Aye, and then I shall teach you to hunt and catch your first sheep.”

  Predictably, Zankaradia was less than impressed by the arrival of the flock of ralti sheep the following day. “Dragons eat these spindly-legged woolly … mites? They’re tiny! How many do you eat at once – a hundred?”

  “You might well do, your Mightiness!” Zuziana said diplomatically.

  Kassik said, “We’ve set aside five as an, uh …”

  Casitha put in, “As an appetiser, noble Dragoness. Merely to whet your taste receptors.”

  The Corundum Red gazed mournfully at the offerings. “I shall perish! They do sound interesting, however.” She champed her jaw, terrifying the sheep into a bleating panic. “Do they at least tickle on the tongue? A smidge?”

  * * * *

  Having taken and relayed all of the required measurements down to the Cognates, Ardan found Aranya elbow deep in matters in the infirmary. Much to do. He was starting to forget what the insides of his eyelids looked like.

  “Hard at work, beloved?” he asked.r />
  “Complicated birth,” she muttered. “Twins conjoined at the hip – thankfully, only by a flap of skin and a bit of the pelvic bone. Why should it rain when it can snow?”

  “They’re awfully cute,” he admitted, admiring the dark-haired pair sleeping tucked up against their exhausted mother’s side. “I just came by to tell you that I’m dashing downstairs again as Shadow can move rock faster and more efficiently than most other methods.”

  “Why don’t you Shadow our supplies?” she asked.

  “Because those constructs our clever Dragon Librarian created, somehow interfere with my Shadow powers,” he replied, stooping to kiss her forehead. “Get some rest, beloved. I’ll be back in time for the great descent.”

  “Rest?”

  “Does the world need to be saved today?”

  Aranya sat back, mopping her brow. “No, but these lives do. Tomorrow will bring others.”

  “And the day after, more again,” he kissed her once more, lingeringly, “and I love you so much for your heart, it hurts.”

  Leaving a glowing young woman in his wake, the Shadow Dragon put on a little swagger just for show, before he let the night swallow him. They still had to bring this Academy in to a good landing and he was the Dragon to do just that.

  He clenched his right fist upon his breast. Let Aranya see his heart, too.

  * * * *

  Two days later, at the crack of dawn, they initiated re-entry.

  Silver and Chymasion stood front and centre, commanding a huge team effort of Dragons as they made adjustments to the gravitational field, and the falling began. Twenty Dragons monitored the temperature at key points on the underside of their Island. They hoped that a combination of aerodynamic and thermal shielding plus Storm Dragoness-style wind control to whip away the enormous heat generated by two Islands’ worth of friction would suffice not to melt everyone and everything. Silver’s group, meantime, was responsible for stabilising and controlling their trajectory.

  Only once they were much lower would the Cognates be able to lend their unique mental strength to the enterprise. In preparation, they were clustered as near to that north-eastern tip of Jeradia Island as was physically possible.

  For the first few minutes no-one felt any sense of movement. Then, the wind began to sough and sing, and the heat built rapidly as the Islands picked up speed. They had to balance vertical speed with horizontal wind effects – today the atmosphere was meant to be relatively calm, but that disregarded the millions of tonnes of rock they planned to land upon a pinhead. The few knots of side wind which was just now picking up made the whole undertaking much trickier. Ri’arion led three teams of Dragons at ten, twenty and forty miles further down as they checked conditions ahead of the Academy’s path.

  “Aranya, make a point-six percent lateral adjustment four compass points north of west,” Silver said curtly.

  “Adjusting.”

  “Exhaust flows?”

  “Running smoothly,” she confirmed. The design funnelled cool air beneath the Academy and Eridoon Island and ejected it out the back.

  “Thirsty?” he queried.

  Aranya startled. “Uh … aye, actually. Parched.” Mercy, that Silver really did have his shell father’s facility with reading minds. She had to chuckle as an eager young fledgling puffed out his chest at the honour of being the one to fetch the Star Dragoness a drink.

  As the morning wore on, the wind’s whistling grew old and the sight of an orange glow around the Island, normal. But the vista beyond was awesome. When Aranya flew to the rim to stretch her wings and refocus, she gazed out over an Island-World sprawling to the very limit of Dragon sight. This was her place. Her patch, she chuckled wonderingly, as huge and beautiful as the Dragon who had first conceived it. Hmm. A storm brewing over Jeradia. Ri’arion had not mentioned it as yet.

  She was not the only Dragon goggling at the view; she was but one of several thousand. None of these Dragons had seen the Rim-wall mountains, nor had they imagined the realms that lay beyond. Her eyes returned to an anomaly out there – another storm seemingly rooted above the ocean, which struck her as unnatural. Why did she feel that way? Her scales prickled.

  The breeze was picking up. Aranya returned to her labours, helping Silver to make the necessary adjustments.

  Too fast? he asked privately.

  Just right. The friction will help us if we let it, well, maybe let’s slow a fraction to stop that vibration from picking up.

  Freaks, I hadn’t noticed, he muttered.

  Silver was powerful, but Chymasion was another matter entirely. He amplified power. Pass anything through him and it returned sevenfold, and oftentimes improved. Impressive. Furthermore, he did not see the world as did any other Dragon, but in a similar way to how she sometimes picked out white fires and magical constructs, he saw the world with magical sight. Just now, he was helping the Land Dragons pick out and annihilate Shao’lûkayn also falling from orbit. They could not possibly destroy them all, she had realised. And she had to wonder what other nasty surprises Dramagon would have concocted in his endless quest to better his shell brother.

  By mid-afternoon the Academy had descended five hundred leagues and was bang on course. They had weathered a high altitude jet stream and wrestled themselves back on track. Now she dived overboard with Ardan to go shoo that unwelcome storm away from Jeradia. That was a complication they could do without!

  Dragon and Dragoness dived through an eclipse shadow and then into radiant suns-light, matching each other wingbeat for wingbeat.

  Ardan called, So, you wielded your sisters to destroy Thoralian? Three as one – that must have been a sight.

  It was amazing. I don’t think I knew much about shining before then, I guess. But my grandstars made it seem so natural, and to have real live Dragonstars cheering us on from somewhere across the galaxies … it was surreal. That must be why Hualiama entitled the fourth volume of her memoirs, ‘Dragonstar.’ It was a clue all along, and she never told me. I’m going to have such words with my Aunt …

  Some secrets are too wonderful to tell. They must be experienced, Ardan said.

  Aye, you’re right. There was one more secret she had treasured up in her heart, and that was for when she returned to her mother.

  So, with all those Dragonships hovering around Jeradia, you had better blow that storm away nice and gently, alright? Don’t want daddy dearest ending up in the Rift, for example.

  You’re a rotten tease, Ardan. Race you to that thunderhead!

  Having the mental depth of the Cognates at paw was almost like cheating. They taught Aranya more about weather in the following four hours than she had ever imagined existed to be known. She was supposed to be the Daughter of Storm. What she had was a headache and a storm that was dissipating into nothingness merely by refined encouragement, as the Cognates put it, with a suitable enormity of smugness.

  Ah well. Always good to learn one’s place.

  She flitted off to find her father, and Dragoness-hugged the breath right out of him.

  “Sparky!” he gasped at last.

  “Ha. Do you always turn up so obediently, Dad?” she grinned, settling her wings with a weary rustling.

  He smacked her heartily upon the flank. “That’s not how I won your mother, and you know it. So, I hear Thoralian found Dramagon’s service stuck somewhat in his craw?”

  “We totally smoked him.”

  Beran guffawed, “Ah, you made light of such a mighty enemy?”

  “Aye, and just when it was all glowing so well for him …”

  “He contracted a terminal case of the vapours!”

  As they fell upon each other’s shoulders laughing, Ardan said to others nearby, “Would someone mind explaining Immadian humour to me? I don’t get what’s so funny. How is that funny?”

  As evening spread its gentle breath over Jeradia, the Cognates brought the volcano down at a most decorous pace. The new bedrock, shaped with meticulous care, glowed where the Thunderous Thirty had
given it one final going-over and shaping prior to them fusing the old volcano into its new resting place. The Cognates had gone as far as to trace the old magma pipe down into the Island’s roots, following the advice from above that the volcano had once been rather less dormant than had originally been assumed when the Academy was first founded. Dragons did like their water piping hot and their lava baths at a suitably scale-searing temperature, nothing less. A posse of fifteen Brown Dragon engineers were champing their fangs to get into reconnecting the newly opened pipe to ensure even better service than the Halls of the Dragons at Gi’ishior.

  Not that Dragons were ever competitive, no.

  Offshore and onshore, an audience of thousands watched from Dragonship, the air and on the ground. It looked as if both Jos City and Fra’anior Cluster had been depopulated in anticipation of the great event.

  The cheering, however, did take a noticeable wobble when Zankaradia popped her muzzle up above the rim from her hatchling nap and bugled, “Are we there yet?”

  King Beran spluttered, “What – who is that?”

  “Dad, that’s Zankaradia the Corundum Red, who was lately sharing egg space with the Academy and with Eridoon Island. Want to come meet your second Ancient Dragon? She’s lovely, I promise.”

  “She’s the size of an Island!” he exclaimed, with commendable accuracy.

  “Glad you retain your sense of proportion, Dad.”

  Ardan rolled his fire eyes. “Still not funny.”

  Zankaradia, don’t move! Aranya called. We can’t tip the Island just now.

  Oh. Sorry. I’m just so excited to see all those tiny Human flying devices and, is that your father? How can your father be so minute, and your grandfather be the Lord of all Dragons?