by Marc Secchia
“I am far too wing-weary to give you the drubbing you deserve, little girl, but remember, a Dragon never forgets. I am storing all these things up, I warn you.” He breathed down her neck, making her sable curls rustle slightly against her shoulders. “You’re just a morsel.”
Whirling upon her heel, she planted a kiss upon the point of his nose before he could pull away.
“What was that for?” he gasped, rubbing the spot.
“Don’t do that.”
“What?”
“Rub it away. That’s just rude – and don’t you go scowling at me now. I’ll unload our gear just as soon as I can. It is getting less and less the farther we travel. That kiss was to remind you that I’m a big, dangerous, Dragon-Riding Princess, and you’re just a sweet little Dragon I completely conned into carrying me halfway across the continent.”
Gnarr, he disagreed, his most obnoxious effort.
“Indigestion?”
This time, he did swat her, and instantly regretted it when she fell over. “Sorry.”
Springing up, she kicked him in the ankle bone. “Pick on someone your own size, Dragon.”
“Ah, but I am, in worth.”
She shot back, “Oh? Do you know what I say to that?” Gnarr!
They both burst out laughing.
Chalice looked at them as if they were completely barmy.
Night had fallen by the time someone managed to remember that there were Dragons skulking in the gardens. Possibly Yardi, they thought. A stream of visitors had been arriving from late afternoon until just after the suns set in the farthest reaches of the ocean. Dragon and Princess sat beneath the spreading walnut tree, watching the suns set the darkening, ever-restless ocean alight with magic and mystery.
Were these Yardi’s relatives? Exactly how much explaining was going on in there?
He snuck a paw behind Azania’s back; she leaned against him with a long, long sigh and closed her eyes for a few minutes.
His family was right here.
Hard, amidst the poignant beauty of such an evening and a homecoming, to remember that very far away, across the desert, the Skartun war machine was warming up to wage total war upon these kingdoms. People here had no idea. They had their idyllic lives beside the ocean, their city of perfect blue turrets and their effortless comfort in riches. Was that necessarily wrong? People and Dragons alike often yearned most for peace, love and security.
Even an idyll such as this could conceal a broken family.
Azania spoke politely to the senior servant who had come to apologise to them. A butler, she said. What Dragon understood of butlers was that they were the kind of servant who thought they were more important than any other servant. This stiff-kneed elder was humble and sincere, by the scent of him, and affrighted of Dragons.
Clearly, one should take the stories he had read with a healthy dose of fiery scepticism. None of them had Princesses escaping from high towers and flying away Dragonback. Foolish writers. What did they know?
The butler led them along a garden path to the north side of the house, where a gorgeous reception room opened out onto a patio area that overlooked the moonlit ocean. Artworks of ocean scenery adorned the room’s walls; he decided promptly that he should have a look … if he could fit through the doorway, that was. Job for the spectacles and an outdoor viewing, more likely. Even the twelve-foot interior roof height would pose a challenge.
No Dragon wanted to be dragging the candle chandeliers off one’s host’s ceiling.
What did the Dragon drag in?
Murr-hurr-hrr!
Relatives and friends chatted amiably around chest-high tables set upon the grey granite flagstones, or lounged in comfortable couches off to one side. A most genteel gathering, although one or two guests seemed bent upon emptying the Lord’s wine cellar as fast as possible. Oddly, despite the enormous gulf of difference, it reminded him of a Devastator Clan family gathering. Earnest conversation, laughter, in-jokes and the ease of long, long friendship, mingled with darker undertones. Always something concealed beneath the scales at such gatherings. A troublemaker. A pariah. A creature on the fringes desperately hoping for acceptance – that had always been him.
Hard not to feel those echoes here.
The gentry of Hamirythe wore flowing trousers and loose-sleeved shirts for the tall men, generally in shades of blue with white, cream and coral tones, while their women wore elegant full-length dresses gathered high at the waist. He almost did not recognise Yardi, who had changed from her travel clothing into a powder blue evening gown.
“She looks splendid,” Dragon said, nudging Azania.
“I feel rather underdressed, but I doubt any of their clothing would fit. Quite tall as a people, aren’t they?”
He curved a talon about the small of her back, feeling unaccountably possessive. “You’re a desert barbarian. Maybe you should behave like one – you are the only woman wearing a weapon.”
“I am too weary to care about that.”
“For the record, you are as resplendent as always.”
From her other side, Chalice purred, “Let the Dragoness wear her scales, say I. Look, the servants have prepared flame-grilled veal for us.”
“Thoughtful,” Dragon agreed, licking his chops. His belly growled eagerly. “Where did they get peppers – ah no, those must be something similar. Delicious aroma, wouldn’t you agree, Chalice? Just imagine that meaty umami flavour upon the tongue …”
She flicked her wingtips in amusement. “Males. Stomachs on paws.”
“May I?” he asked.
The Dragoness’ eyelids flickered in that way he remembered. “Please.”
To his surprise, a servant appeared at his elbow as if summoned from the aether by magic, bearing a golden platter of steaming, perfectly chargrilled veal. “May I interest sir in a snack?”
Forgive the poor serving girl. She looked as pasty as if Dragon had asked her to investigate the inside of his gullet.
“Thank you,” he said, flicking his fore-talons out of their sheaths.
Gasp!
Dragon paused, and waggled his talons in the light. “I apologise for the state of my cutlery. I wish you to know that even the most ravenous quadruped is perfectly capable of distinguishing between a pretty girl and the offerings upon her platter.” He plucked up a joint with judicious care. “Chalice, this is for you. Now, one for me.”
She quavered, “Will that be all, sir?”
He forgave her the racial slur. Who called a Dragon ‘sir,’ as if he were some knight?
He said, “Do call me honoured Dragon, and Chalice ‘honoured Dragoness.’ Keep this delicious veal coming, and we shall be the very best of friends.”
The serving girl departed with a lurch, as if her knees had come slightly unhinged.
With a wink, Azania said, “My, Dragon, we do have a way with the ladies.”
He purred contentedly.
Excusing himself from the group he had been chatting with, Lord Ivarn strolled over with a woman who must be his mate, he assumed. She was as tall as Yardi but twice as plump in all dimensions. By his wings, it appeared that Human women could have ample haunches after all! How refreshing. Although, despite their woefully diminutive dimensions, Azania’s buttocks – one must use the correct terminology for Human females, and never mention the aforementioned body feature in polite conversation, he reminded himself with a fussy flick of his wings – possessed a power out of all proportion to expectation. He had seen men turn into mindless idiots at first glance.
Lord Ivarn said, “Welcome to our home, Princess Azania. This is my wife, Lady Ishana.” They greeted one another cordially. Azania introduced Dragon and Chalice. Ivarn continued, “Please forgive our preoccupation with my mother’s return, and our daughter’s, too. We did not even give you a chance to refresh yourselves.”
“I’ve been made most welcome, my Lord,” she said, smiling up at him.
“I understand that you flew our daughter and my mother all the way
up from Chakkix Camp in T’nagru?”
“We did. It was Yarimda’s wish, which my Dragon was gracious enough to honour.”
Both of their eyes danced with wonder. “You … ride? Uh …”
“Many times in his paw, or more recently upon his neck here, or at the top of his shoulders,” Azania said, pointing out the spots. “That’s our battle position. We worked out a way to mount a Dragon bow, and to have me strapped in so that both hands are free to fire either arrows or quarrels. A Dragon is a mighty and deadly foe, as the Skartun learned to their detriment at N’ginta Citadel, but a Dragon who is additionally armed with ranged weaponry, oil bombs or other assorted nastiness, is truly terrifying.”
Lady Ishana said, “We heard report that you two took on an army of thousands, together?”
Her tone posed the lightest of questions.
“Aye, my Lady,” Azania said. “I know I don’t look like a great, muscular knight, but this Dragon has inspired me to become the best warrior I can be. You’ll be surprised what a girl can do.”
Dragon put in, “Azania’s skills pulled me out of trouble upon many an occasion. However, her greatest gift was to help me find my fires. I was a fireless Dragon before, outcast and belittled. Now, I have discovered fires like unto the Sea Dragons of yore.”
He showed the tiniest, controlled output of fire upon his tongue.
Lord Ivarn puffed out his cheeks, and then said excitedly, “I can’t believe it! White – look, Ishana! Do you remember …”
“Of course I do, darling. We used to watch the migration together.” She squeezed his arm fondly. “I was just thinking that when I first saw you, Dragon. You have the ocean in you, do you not? Your unique colouration and this tell-tale white fire say it all.”
He said, “One of our wishes, Lady Ishana, is to reopen the shipping lanes up to the Vaylarn Archipelago. It’s a great mystery why the migration stopped. We hope to change that.”
Ivarn began to crow, “That would completely revitalise the coastal –”
Heads turned as a loud, belligerent voice broke out amongst the drunken guests. “A toad, I tell you! A slimy black toad!” “Great-Uncle, hush.” “He’s had too much.” “What’s new about that? He was off his feet by lunchtime, as usual.”
The drunkard raised his glass. “I’m empty! Fill me up, you fools. Do you train your servants as badly as you govern our little land, Ivarn?”
Yardi marched through the guests toward them. “Azania, I’m sorry …”
What was this? Had that man insulted the Princess?
“My precious brother,” Ishana moaned meantime. “Why is it that every family has one of these?”
Staggering to his feet as he threw off the hands that tried to restrain him, the man pointed dramatically at Azania. He slurred, “Her. That’s the one! What’s a black toad doing here? Hop back home, toad!”
The Princess froze.
Chapter 19: Ocean’s Calling
DRAGON’S PAWS CLENCHED SO painfully, he ripped up several flagstones. Never had he so badly wanted to smash a man out of existence, but somehow in the pounding, migraine-like fury that raged inside of his skull, he realised that there were others present. Innocents, in a manner of speaking.
That drunkard; that racist fool!
Lord Ivarn began to roar in fury, but Ishana snapped, “No, Ivarn. Allow me!”
Clenching her fists, the large woman marched through the guests like a Dragoness pressing through ocean waves. As she approached her brother, she snarled, “I’ve had enough. Quite enough! You’ve been an embarrassment to the family for years, you blowsy old sot!”
“Ishana …” The man’s eyes tried to focus. “Why, if it isn’t my flabby, overblown little –”
Crack!
The Lady was a big woman, solidly built through the beam and in the shoulders. She hit him open-handed, with the full force of her body behind the buffet – much as Azania had learned to punch from Juggernaut, Dragon realised with belated, fire-cooling delight. She hit him so hard, his neck snapped about and he twirled twice in the air before falling insensible to the ground.
His head even bounced, as if the very ground had shuddered to feel the touch of such a man.
Dragon wanted to wash out his ears. Black toad? Blergh! The full import of the insult had only just begun to burn through his mind.
Ishana dusted her hands balefully. “That’s quite enough of that.” Her gaze openly threatened the others of that group – her relatives, most probably. “While we’re having a day of dusting off skeletons, any other racists in my family want to raise their voices? Because I’m in a mood, I warn you!”
Silence.
“I will have you behave with the uttermost decorum in my house, toward my honoured guests – do we understand one another?”
Her relatives nodded like a flock of parakeets caught featherless and embarrassed.
Or, legless?
She said, “Servants, could you kindly lock my brother in an empty storage cellar? I believe we will keep him there for as long as it takes him to dry out. Princess Azania … words fail me.”
His Princess bobbed her head, still speechless.
With a polite nod, Dragon said, “My Lady Ishana, you were magnificent. Thank you for giving an apology of surpassing eloquence.”
“The least I could do,” she replied.
The girl turned into his paw, shaking as she pressed her forehead against his leg. What a heart’s cramp! Dragon drew his wing about her, more to shelter her from the stares than by way of comfort. A tiny body shook against him. He could only imagine the nausea and humiliation, consuming every iota of self-worth that ever had built up inside of her. That fool had torn her apart with a few repulsive words.
However, a minute or two after the servants had carried off the unfortunate man, the Princess in his right paw wriggled. She wiped her eyes, shook out her curls and dried her palms upon her trousers.
Up came that chin. “Shall we, Dragon?”
“Always.”
He shook his muzzle, buzzing with disbelief. Broken and back in the course of a couple of minutes.
What kind of power was that?
Still, the Princess confounded him when she crept out of the chambers she had been given in the middle of the night and came to join him and Chalice beneath the giant walnut tree, saying only that she felt unsafe in the house. She curled up in the crook of his neck.
Waking at first light, Dragon found his Princess already wakeful, and pensive.
He touched her shoulder. “Fly with me?”
“Flyaway Princess? You know me so well. I should appreciate that very much.”
“Up on my neck. Hold on.”
She whooped as they swooped from the cliffs, picking up speed at a ridiculous rate. The Princess chortled as he straightened over the glittering waves and beat his wings to take them shooting away from the white cliffs, until they were but a thin line above the blue. Taramis peeked over the rim, unbearably white with a vast halo of crimson spreading in a semicircle above, like a vast eye gazing warmly upon his world.
“Dragon, am I wrong to let something like that … get to me?”
“We can’t predict what will spear deepest,” he replied, gaining height. “My brothers used to call me the brown slug. Plus all the jokes about being fireless. I remember every last one.”
“Black toad. Where do people come up with these things?”
Headshake.
Leaning close to his neck, out where blue described the entire world, she whispered, “Am I wrong or ugly inside to have enjoyed that slap so much? I can still feel the echoes this morning.”
“No. That was the sound of justice.”
“I feel guilty.”
“No need, but I understand what it is to have all these ugly, mixed-up feelings toward my brothers and sire and dam because of how they treated me. I thought I was the one in the wrong – I still do, in some ways. It hurts to swallow all that, all the time. Maybe if I was stronger I could ke
ep swallowing it all my life, but the truth is, I’m not that Dragon. It had to stop. Enough was enough. Same with that drunken fool, you can’t just let someone go on hurting a family all their lives.”
Azania nodded. “What’s that strange patch out there? The lighter patch – wing that way a minute please, Dragon?”
Ten minutes later, they hovered over a patch of Sea Serpents. Not big ones, but these azure serpents were twenty to thirty feet long, powerful and muscular, with a long, flexible dorsal fin and other pairs of fins along the body. They tore into the corpse of a Sanbris Whale. Their grotesquely elongated front fangs flashed in the water as they wrestled each other to rip choice portions of the meal. Feeding frenzy! No love lost here. Even from a height, Dragon could sense the bestial hungers that drove these creatures to feed so voraciously.
“I hate to remind you, Dragon, but we’ve a breakfast invite with the leaders of Hamirythe.”
“Aye. We should return. Sea Serpents look charming. The tales have them up to five times bigger. Can’t wait to meet their grand-sires.”
As the cliffs rose again above the waves in the distance, she said, “How do you shake it off, Dragon?”
“Shake it off?”
“The guilt.”
“Oh, like a wingtip shake? I see … I don’t know. Maybe … maybe you brush up on your evil Princess laugh?”
She must think him awfully strange.
After a moment, she teased, “Don’t you mean your evil Dragon laugh?”
“No, let me hear your best evil Princess impression. Mwaa-haa-harr!”
“Dragon, I do not do evil Princess! I am always polite.”
“I’ve seen how polite you are with a Dragon bow in hand, or hurling flaming oil bombs into enemy ranks. Every self-respecting Dragon Rider Princess needs a wicked laugh. Come on. I can’t hear you. No more protests, Highness. Action.”
She said, “Alright, then. Mwaa-haa … I feel stupid.”
“You do sound like a mosquito. From the belly, with full expression.”
“Mwaa-haa-harr?”
“More gusto – BRAAA-HAA-HARRR! See? Let it ring!”
“Braa-haa … ha ha ha … this isn’t working.”
