by Marc Secchia
Along with the ego, Azania would be quick to point out.
Big creature. Big ego, right?
Dragon and his six taciturn escorts backtracked for four hours before being met by an eager patrol from N’ginta Citadel. By then, Azania had recovered from dangling over his paw like an overused dishrag, to the relief of everyone.
The patrol leader saluted smartly. “Sir, the royal family awaits you both for the coronation ceremony just as soon as you are able. What can you tell us about the Skartun remnant?”
He briefed the man, meantime pleasantly picturing which body part he ought to surrender for calling a Dragon ‘sir.’ A foot? An ear? That would take a great deal of precision. Maybe a kneecap? Shortly, with Azania’s help, they arranged to fly on ahead while several soldiers from the patrol detail returned at a far slower pace with the Dragon thralls.
“The royals were waiting for us?” he pressed.
“Aye, sir. It’s –”
“Call me Dragon. Not sir.”
“Uh … Dragon?”
“Dragon by name, Dragon by nature.” He shrugged massively. “It’s complicated. Family affair, you see.”
“I see, s … uh, Dragon.”
And with that, the soldier trotted on with his detail. There might have been a couple of sighs of relief, which he ignored.
“Onward and upward, Princess,” he grinned, displaying a few fangs.
She said, “Hmm, do you know what, Dragon? Your breath has a certain salty freshness about it now. Rather bracing. If nothing else, that goes to prove the changes inside of you.”
He stretched as luxuriously as his bone-weary body would allow, and … crackled. From head to toe, he snapped and popped like fat spitting in a saucepan. They both started and stared at one another. Changes? Another stretch did not produce half as a worrying a sound. Still, his scales felt odd, almost furry underneath, for want of a better word.
Truly terrifying for a reptilian creature!
“I’m not sure that was a good sound,” Azania observed, sounding about as happy as the sagging, heavily damaged outer doors of her home citadel.
“The electrical charge didn’t affect you earlier?” he asked.
“When you started your electrolysis process by trying to frazzle everything in sight? No.”
“I’m sorry if that scared you. Would you like to ride in my paws again so that you can keep your leg raised?”
“Sounds good. I’m not sure I’m going to be walking anywhere during the ceremony. Or standing.”
“I’ve got you covered, Princess. Let’s go scare the new King.”
“Dragon!”
“Aye?”
“I like you, do you know that?”
Kicking up into the air, he eyed the bundle in his forepaws with great suspicion. Azania pretended complete innocence, but he was not fooled. Schemes and mischief practically oozed out of her pores. All that remained for him was to find out what she intended.
Who was the Dragon? He would sniff it out.
Chapter 2: Princess Power
THE KINGDOM OF T’NAGRU had never seen a coronation to compare, one attended by a Dragon carrying in paw a Princess of the realm who stole the show with her truly fantastical golden attire. He was not even sure it counted for a dress. More like stiff, layered golden armour. Had he any doubt about the state of the kingdom’s treasury, the weight of jewels and finery he clasped certainly made an eloquent statement, for starters.
A starter for a Dragon’s gold hunger would be another way of putting it.
Humans might drool over such riches. A noble beast of the air panted so loudly that the Princess told him to breathe more quietly. Rasping throat. He needed something to soothe this infernal itching. Maybe a draught of cool peppermint tea?
He’d be smelling like a walking bouquet soon.
When should he begin negotiations with the new King over his sister’s ransom? Gnarr-harr-haaa!
Still, with all the speechmaking and ceremonial nonsense occupying the Dragon’s portion of the afternoon, he was thoroughly bored by the time King N’chala finally finished receiving the fealty of all of his subjects – with one notable exception, to wit, the exceptional exception in his paw. Intriguing, he thought, meeting the King’s gaze across the chamber. Dragon arched his brow suggestively.
Extending his scent senses, he sniffed out the new King’s cold sweat.
Ah, his day had just improved a hundredfold.
The Princess said, “Could you help me please, Dragon? I don’t think I could limp over to the throne if I tried, but I really ought to congratulate my brother, and say my vows. He is my King, after all.”
“Which of these nobles should I squash first?”
“I’m sure N’chala will appreciate that service another day,” she said testily, “but for now, let’s try to behave ourselves. Somewhat.”
“I like you too, Princess, do you know that?”
“Ah, but for how long, Dragon?”
“You are not a bauble to be set aside on a whim.”
Suddenly, she trembled in his grasp. “Don’t make me cry, friend.”
With a polite basso rumble, he cleared a path as if by magic. Then, the massive yet subtle tread of a Dragon conveyed the Princess up to her brother’s throne. Dominating the space, he was able to stare down at the King even though the gorgeously carved throne stood upon a platform at the end of the hall, surrounded by all the magnificent finery of a proud and ancient desert kingdom. Given a less fraught time, Dragon decided, he would have loved to bring his easel in here and set up for a long, satisfying session of painting. The fluted arches, delicate frescoes and screens, and gold-leaf decorated treasure chests certainly created a most royal space.
As Azania spoke, he returned his attention to her.
“Brother, I wish to congratulate you upon your ascension to the throne of T’nagru, despite the grief and difficulty our kingdom faces at this time.”
He inclined his head, weighted down with the great crown – it looked terribly uncomfortable, Dragon decided. A statement regarding the weighty nature of leadership. Everyone knew that this Skartun siege had only been a precursor to a much greater invasion later in the season. One Jabiz out of thirty had tested their mettle, and breached the outer gates of the citadel with a monstrous Bloodworm which still lay on the sand outside the gates.
Did flesh rot in such a waterless desert climate? Or would it simply shrivel?
Unexpected thirst tickled his gravelly throat. He coughed aside, the sound echoing loudly despite the large crowd gathered for the King’s coronation event.
The Princess said, “I am sorry that I cannot make the formal genuflections, but my injuries will not allow. I would still cherish the opportunity to give you my vow, if you will receive it. I believe you will make a mighty and just King, N’chala. However, I must report that I find my loyalties divided. As you are aware, Dragon and I flew down to T’nagru of our freewill both to help the kingdom, and to prepare the Dragonkind for the invasion of these slavers. With the help of the brave soldiers of the kingdom, we have been able to free twenty-six Dragons. This achievement cannot be underestimated.”
King N’chala said, “The Kingdom of T’nagru has never been more grateful. In noble service, you and the Dragon have far exceeded all expectations.” Rising from his seat, he bowed formally, a beautiful desert obeisance. “Without you, all would have been lost. We are forever indebted.”
Every noble and soldier in the hall bowed with him, as demanded by tradition, Dragon realised belatedly.
“When I make my vows, I would want to reserve an unusual … freedom, for a Princess of the realm,” she continued, treading delicately upon conversational eggshells. “By law, I am still this Dragon’s possession until such time as full ransom is paid. I would not like to place my Kingdom in any jeopardy as a result of my unusual position.”
Her brother’s dark eyes flashed as he considered the implicit threat.
Azania held up her hand. “Furtherm
ore, I would not want to strain the Kingdom’s finances in a time of war by demanding such a ransom, and Dragon agrees with me in this.”
Oh, he did, did he? This was news.
Good thing she was right. Again. He restrained a juvenile eye-roll.
“Here is our proposal,” the Princess continued, smiling. “We would like T’nagru to take care of these freed Dragons until such a time as they are able to make independent decisions regarding their future. Meantime, Dragon and I will fly north, seeking the help of others of the Dragonkind against the forthcoming Skartunese invasion.”
“I will not be manipulated.”
The King’s harsh reply cut into a simmering silence.
“You misunderstand our intentions, o King,” Dragon put in. “The time for manipulation has passed – we hope – and resulted in the unfortunate death of your father.”
“How do I know your magic is not active right now?”
“You have the oath of a Dragon.”
A tic pulsed in the man’s cheek. Suddenly, he realised, a fresh and different danger threatened. His eyes flickered to Inzashu, standing to the King’s right, garbed in similar golden finery. Her ten-foot train pooled around her. No warning of magic could he give her, but the glance was enough. The eleven year-old’s tiara bobbed slightly in acknowledgement. Perhaps her senses also burned to the rawness of N’chala’s grief?
Azania said, “Do our actions not speak loudly enough?”
“Sister, at the crucial hour, will you choose to serve Humankind, or the Dragonkind?”
“Both, I hope.”
He was almost certain King N’chala feared a draconic plot against the future of his kingdom. How could he even begin to explain that this act would be anathema to any true Dragon’s heart, when he well knew not all Dragons were so kind or honourable, in the Human sense?
Was honour the word to sway this young ruler’s heart?
As his emotions peaked, lightning crackled inside his jaw. N’chala and many of the nobles flinched. The other two Princes scowled as if he had just offered them a poisoned chalice each, compliments of the Dragon.
Shifting his paws, he sighed. “I apologise for my lack of manners. My powers are new and I have yet to learn all the appropriate controls. Please hear our heart, o King. We plan to leave with you a force of twenty-six Dragons who, it is my hope, will both defend and help rebuild your city far faster than you could manage with Human hands or endeavour. You know they have been shamefully misused. As a Dragon, I ask only that you treat them with honour, and not as slaves. For my part, my intention is to treat your sister and your kingdom with equal honour.”
“Our heart?” he said.
“We are Dragon and Rider. This too, is a new thing.”
N’chala said, “What of my sister’s honour? What about the price my father placed upon her head? For I will be plain with you, Dragon. You are one Dragon, of no Clan. You cannot claim to speak for any of your kind. However, I do rejoice to see my sister well and hale, even if she is engaged in an enterprise which many, if not most in this kingdom, regard as deeply unsuitable for a woman. T’nagru’s dealings with Vanrace were ill done and created a rift where solidarity was needed, especially at this time of war. Again, we have you to thank for restoring Azania’s honour in that regard.”
Suddenly, he smiled and opened his right hand. In the desert, Dragon understood, this was a precursor to settling a bargain. “Sister, what do you want?”
His steely gaze stilled a rising muttering in the hall.
In a clear, steady voice, she said, “To see you, King N’chala, and our beloved Kingdom of T’nagru prosper and be kept safe from the Skartun scourge. We would serve and protect these people, and thus, form a bulwark against a Skartunese invasion of the other Kingdoms and keep them from the Tamarine Mountains, where they seek more Dragon thralls.”
“And for the Dragon?”
“To see him grow into his powers as a mighty and noble creature of the air, and to be restored to honour, Clan and kinship amongst his kind.”
N’chala stepped forward boldly, until he was close enough that he could reach out to clasp her hand in his. “And you, beloved sister? You have no wishes for yourself?”
Prince Aragu blurted out, “Brother, I protest this shameful display!”
Without turning, the King said, “Do you?”
The middle brother of the three, Prince Yadaxu, said, “May we offer counsel, brother?”
“To a King fighting for his kingdom’s very survival? I will need all the counsel I can get, my brothers,” N’chala said, heavy of voice. “However, I will remind you both that this is our younger sister. Azania has always been one moved by her heart. As amply proven in these last few days, the heart of a woman is a force far more powerful than any of us imagined – both in spite and ambition, in the matter of Nahritu-N’shula, and in the power of a woman despised by her own father’s plotting. Yet Azania, if I hear her rightly, wishes to rise above the sorrow and mistakes of the past, and so the question comes to this elder brother’s mind, why? How far will she fly to pursue her dreams?”
He knew. Word must have reached him from Chakkix Camp.
Even as realisation set his hearts racing, Princess Azania said, “You are perceptive, King N’chala. I will admit, there is something special, exhilarating and perhaps, world-changing in the notion of being a Dragon Rider, and friend and companion to a Dragon as noble as he who holds me in his paw. However, it is as you say. My heart yearns farther – across the ocean.”
N’chala said, “Am I to understand –”
Again, Aragu burst out, “This is nonsense! Forgive that I must speak plainly, my King, but are we to believe that this disobedient and disgraced woman would fly all over the realms, spreading her seditious doctrine –”
“Still your tongue! I am your King! Have not enough died?”
The throne room rang with his fury.
After a pause as awkward as a Sea Dragon in the room, Dragon said, “May I give an answer?”
“Speak,” N’chala invited.
“First, we plan to consult with the Dragons of the Tamarine Mountains, finding one or a Clan who will speak for us. I believe that Dragon is Juggernaut the Grinder. We will ask the Clans to rise in power, wingtip to wingtip, and fly against the Skartun. In all honesty, o King, I cannot imagine such a brotherhood of Dragons coming to pass. We are famously clannish, hidebound and bearers of grudges in all five hearts, and that is my word as a Dragon. That some Clans will choose to fly is the best we can hope for.”
“After that, the Princess Azania and I plan to fly to the North, to the Vaylarn Archipelago. There, we have the promise of a Dragon army of warriors such as few have ever imagined. The Isles Dragons are masters of combat. Furthermore, as you may be aware, Azania and I had the chance to serve the young King of Vaylarn, Azerim, when his parents were struck down by treachery and poisoning. We hope to visit with him and see how they are faring. There is much trouble with Sea Serpents in their oceans. However, we also have it on the word of a Dragoness that Azerim still harbours great regard for Azania, despite the years which have passed since last they met.”
N’chala posed a query with a grim quirk of his lips.
He added, “We shall scent out the mettle of this young King’s heart, and his intentions toward the Princess Azania. If they are not worthy …”
He twizzled his neck and bared a few fangs expressively.
King N’chala grinned in return, baring his own teeth in a surprisingly Dragon-like statement of intent. “I believe we have an understanding, Dragon. Sister, is all this as you would have it?”
In a small voice, she said, “All that Dragon has said, is true.”
An eerie, scale-prickling silence pervaded the hall.
What would happen now? So many scents of discontent, outrage and distrust surrounded them. Dragon could not gain any clear sense of a future.
“Very good!” The King clapped his hands sharply, making more than a few peo
ple – and one Dragon – jump. “Citizens of T’nagru, I wish to make first official appointment as your King. I, N’chala N’gala of T’nagru, hereby appoint the Princess Azania N’gala as Roving Ambassador to the Dragons.”
Ah, how she leaped in his paw! Gasps arose from the crowd; he saw and scented naked fury in some. Dragon could not keep a grin from widening upon his lips.
“This is a new position in the realm, one carrying wide-ranging powers and authority. We shall speak about your duties and prepare letters of introduction to the Dragon Clans before your imminent departure,” he added. “Secondly, good citizens, hear my decree. I, N’chala N’gala of T’nagru, hereby decree that all citizens of our kingdom are to treat Dragons in a fitting and honourable manner, as creatures of intelligence and volition at least on par with Humans. If we are to survive this war, we must set aside old prejudices and forge a new path to freedom.”
With a grin that lit up his dark, bearded face, the young King paused to take in his sister’s utter bemusement and joy.
Heartily, N’chala said, “Ambassador, you and I need to discuss how we put a formerly rebellious Princess of the realm and her mighty Dragon to work. What say you?”
Azania voiced a wordless squeak.
Clearly bent upon ribbing her properly, he continued, “Sister, may I be the first to congratulate you upon your appointment to a position in which I believe you will add most immodestly to our Kingdom’s honour and renown? Furthermore, when you have recovered your tongue, may I humbly request the honour of receiving your vow?”
How his scales prickled! Never had he – nor the Princess, he was certain – imagined such an outcome. Traditions overturned. Nay, tossed out of the nearest window! Centuries of a woman’s so-called place in the Kingdom flouted, moreover, with full royal permission. Oh, N’chala was about to receive an earful from all his advisors and most especially his brothers, but this Dragon sensed something novel in the wind.
