I am Dragon (Dragon Fires Rising Book 2)

by Marc Secchia

  Who was that? What was that gorgeous music?

  Suddenly, Dragon thrilled to a majestic, sonorous challenge that seemed to arrive from every direction at once. Dimly, from the murky blue, he spied the white form of a Dragoness sweeping toward them. Fire hosed from her mouth, latching unerringly onto the Sea Serpent’s head. The creature screamed and thrashed beneath the unrelenting assault, its massive coils finally releasing the pressure. A coil slammed into his bared throat, forcing a reflexive swallow. Whirling away in a gush of water, he backed-kicked as the azure fangs drove toward him once more; by some combination of a complete fluke and incredible skill, his heel smacked the quarrel stuck in its eye, driving it six feet deeper – perhaps, right into the brain. A terrible scream faded into nothingness.

  The body sank.

  Dragon? Dragon, where – I’m stuck – heeeeeelp!

  Hold on, Azania!

  Boots, hands, knees and elbows scraped the inside of his gullet, far too low down!

  Azania! Stay there!

  Nooo …

  Terror drove him upward to the surface more quickly than he had ever swum. No! What a fool, this Blitz the Fritz, this accident-prone moron. He had just contrived to swallow his best friend in the world!

  Bursting into the air in a wild spray of water, he opened his mouth and deliberately punched himself in the gut. Air burst out of him, shifting the Princess upward. Come on, come on Azania – climb!

  Can’t … stuck …

  The tickling deep in his throat was too much. Dragon vomited up the contents of his food stomach. A painful pressure built in his throat before Azania shot out in a spray of steaming digestive juices, yelling all the way to an awkward landing in the water, which instantly stopped her skin burning, he assumed. And shut her up.

  He fished a very, very bedraggled Princess out of the waves by the scruff of her neck and popped her up onto the scrap of reef.

  “I am so, so sorry.”

  Azania coughed and hacked a bit more, saying between fits, “No … thank you … saving me. I only remember … sinking, then coming to in your … aaah! Grief, I feel awful.”

  He rubbed her back gently. “Alright?”

  “Aye. Remind me next time not to take on a Sea Serpent, alright?”

  “You killed it.”

  “I – uh, what? Dragon, that’s ridiculous. No-one will ever believe that you almost swallowed me down there to save my life, but … how?”

  “You stuck a quarrel in its eye. I kicked it in deeper, and that’s what killed the beast.” Dragon pressed his tail downward, finding the reef so that he could rest without having to tread water. “It’s definitely dead, trust me – but who was that Dragoness who helped us?”

  “The who and how much? Oh, do you mean the music we heard?”

  He glanced about underwater, but whoever their benefactor had been, she was gone.

  How peculiar.

  Chapter 22: Fate’s Talon

  DRAGON SLUMPED OVER THE scrap of reef, loathe to move a muscle. For the first time in his life, he understood the fear of constrictors. Several of his ribs might have cracked. He was certainly in enough pain.

  He had also turned into the local clothes drying rack.

  The indignity!

  Having stripped down to her bare hide, Azania rinsed out all of her clothing and hung it across his upper back to dry. Aye. The nerve of that girl! Beggared belief. He told himself that had they not just been through a life-or-death battle with a monster Sea Serpent, he would not put up with such behaviour. Then again, what would he not do for a Princess who dared to poke a hundred-and-twenty-foot Sea Serpent in the eye for his sake?

  Clothing rack? Pah. Hatchlings’ play.

  Azerim had better appreciate her not turning up in clothing slathered in Dragon vomit.

  The tide was beginning to turn.

  Princess Azania paddled just off the tip of his outstretched right wing, which lay flat in the water, taking childlike delight in watching the antics of the tropical fish. He could watch them all day, too. So many peaceful schools drifting about, each one differing in details. Stripes and flashes, rainbows and brilliant, frilly bodies that flaunted their raiment – he could watch this for years and never run out of subject matter for his paintings. Incredible.

  Dipping his head lazily, he called, ≈Thank you.≈

  ≈Dragon,≈ burble, burble, tweet and sing, which evidently had meaning beyond his current abilities ≈– you? What –≈

  He wished he understood. Honoured Dragoness, thank you for your timely aid. Where are you?

  You are of the air? Or, ocean? Even speaking Draconian, her voice was melodic, yet very, very old. White rose from the depths. Her colour was not pure white, but a delicate rose-white. I chased our foe to finish it all, even the eggs.

  Oh. Dragoness, you saved our lives. We cannot thank you –

  Our? Who is our, o strange Dragon, whose song I recognise from before? Why did you call unto me?

  As the huge old Dragoness approached – she had to be every inch of one hundred and twenty feet in length, Dragon estimated – he had another shock. She was blind! Both eyes were rheumy with age and completely white, with not a hint of fire in them. How she cocked her head confirmed the impression.

  Intuition leaped.

  ≈Wavewhisperer?≈

  Aye, I am Wavewhisperer. Who are you, strange one? What is this tiny fish who paddles beside you?

  Fate’s talon! Shock and gratitude imploded inside his belly. Of all the coincidences in the world, this one took his breath away.

  He said, I am called Dragon, and my companion is the Princess Azania of T’nagru, a Human. We are friends of Yarimda.

  ≈YARIMDA! O, I COME!≈

  Her powerful bugle practically lifted Azania out of the water. The Princess giggled, “You are Wavewhisperer? Oh, how truly wonderful it is to meet you! We have heard so many things about you. Many, many a story – all good, I promise you. Will you tarry a moment, please?”

  “If you tell me, o Princess, who is this Dragon of both sea and air?”

  Swimming closer with easy strokes, Wavewhisperer reached out her paw. May I see both of you?

  Of course, said Dragon. I am – I was, a Dragon called Blitz the Devastator –

  Devastator? Traitors!

  Please, let me explain, honoured Wavewhisperer. I believe that my sire is Blaze the Devastator –

  A curse upon his egg, that thief and murderer most foul! The aged Dragoness thrashed the water in her rage, forcing Azania to hang onto the trailing edge of his wing or be swamped.

  – and my dam, Sirensong.

  ≈You – the lost egg?≈ Melodic wonder! Her fury stilled as if a towering wave had unaccountably frozen mid-break.

  I may be, honoured Dragoness. I wish to find out. Is Sirensong …

  She’s alive, youngling. I saw her during the last migration. The Dragoness’ paws touched him, feeling his musculature, the lay of his shoulder muscles, his muzzle and then his webbed paws. Ocean you are, yet small for a young adult male. How many cycles – I mean, years – have you?

  Twenty.

  Can it be? All Sea Dragons thought you lost, murdered by those traitorous, egg-stealing Devastators! Cupping Azania as if she were a jewel, the Dragoness touched her lightly. Now, you are a tiny one. Are you a child, as was my Yarimda when first I met her?

  No, I’m seventeen. I am merely small amongst the Humankind, honoured Dragoness, Azania replied. Buzzing with excitement, Dragon wondered at the improvement in her spoken Draconian. Impressive. Are you meeting to travel with … uh, her?

  Aye. This Dragon – he called me, so aye, I came. Ocean always rises.

  Wavewhisperer had been living for the last eight years on the far side of the Vaylarn Archipelago, she told them, since she was no longer capable of swimming the annual migration. It had been a lonely time, but several of her friends had spent the last year with her and had now flown North, awaiting the arrival of the pod of Sea Dragons, as she called it.
The migration route had changed. Exactly as suspected, since the incident in which his egg had treacherously been stolen by Blaze, Indigofire and several other Devastator Clan Dragons, the Sea Dragons had opted to circumvent the Archipelago rather than travel past Hamirythe as before.

  Out of the blue, Wavewhisperer said, The language will come to you. It is born into us. When you call for Sirensong, you say her name like this: ≈Sirensong.≈

  Oh, that’s beautiful! Azania said. ≈Sss … ribble?≈

  Humans do not speak Dragoceanic.

  Could I learn?

  Wavewhisperer touched her knee, where she was seated upon Dragon’s forepaw. You remind me so keenly of my friend Yarimda. Do you ride this Dragon’s back, too?

  Aye. We were conspired by you, honoured Dragoness.

  Inspired, he corrected delicately. The Princess smacked him nonetheless.

  On her tenth try, Azania managed to say, ≈Sirensong?≈

  ≈Very good!≈ Wavewhisperer sang.

  She taught him how to communicate via long-range greeting. There was a particular pitch to the voice that carried afar, even hundreds of leagues, the measure familiar to Sea Dragons. At Dragon’s request, she clarified that a league was 3.45 miles.

  ≈May the ripples ever buoy your wings,≈ Dragon repeated carefully, struggling to get the intonations just right. ≈May your song resound to the deepest deeps. May your toes curl …≈ Uh, what was that?

  Bursting into melodious laughter, the Dragoness said, That is what happens when you begin to learn Dragoceanic, my young friends. It … rises. I cannot say it better.

  The Dragoness told them that she knew in her waters that it was Yarimda’s time, as it was hers. They would swim one final migration together, the eternal migration. That was where she had been bound when she responded to their cry for help.

  After an hour of pleasantly getting to know one another, with the tide rising fast, Wavewhisperer said she had to swim on – both with reluctance at having to leave new friends behind, and great joy at her homecoming. She thanked them for helping Yarimda return to Hamirythe, and wished them the very best fortune in all the oceans. Sirensong would be tumbling in the waves to meet her son.

  When Dragon bade her swim fast and carefully, she laughed and said, Usually, we only take on Sea Serpents of this size in pods of no less than ten. I plan to swim fast, younglings. Fast and far. How do you say it – may your wings soar?

  Aye, he rumbled. May you swim true into eternity, Wavewhisperer. Please give Yarimda one last greeting from us.

  I shall.

  With that, she departed swimming in a south-westerly direction, while Dragon and his Princess made ready to make the next hop, a five-hour flight almost due west. This little knob of reef was already underwater.

  The tides of fate waited for no Dragon.

  * * * *

  They flew with their faces set to the suns’ fires. However, that was not the full story. Another weather front arced down from the North with ominous bustle and purpose, its brooding battlements picked out in dusky oranges and sooty reds by the departing suns. Not good news. This next island was meant to be another low mound; those coming after were much taller and likely to be safe for landing upon, besides being far closer to the Archipelago mainland. Even from a height, they could observe the swell picking up almost by the minute.

  “Another decision coming up,” Azania said.

  “Aye, what’re you thinking? Neither back nor forward works well in heavy seas. However, if we choose to press on, keeping on track in that blow during the night … hmm?”

  She said, “The Hariskon Celestial Navigator is behaving itself again, as best I can tell. Would you like to review the data with me? I’ve set in the next two stops, which is the most it can do.” At his nod, she unhitched and climbed his skull again. “Here we go. We should reach the next stop an hour after nightfall. If we are able to rest, it is then three hours plus two, unless … if, and only if you’re feeling strong enough, we could choose to go for the toe.”

  “The talon?”

  “Whichever works best for you.”

  “In my most nit-picking voice, dry land is what works best for me. Why don’t we see what our stop looks like and how much rest is possible? That three-hour hop might be almost directly into heavy headwinds, whereas the point of that talon would have the partial benefit of a crosswind.”

  “I agree.”

  By the time they reached the mound, the low top of what appeared to be a substantial underwater landmass, the wind was already scudding through and the waves breaking with a booming sound audible from afar. White spray kicked up from the crashing waves led them directly to the rest stop – already, water sheeted right over the top. Not a pretty sight – spectacular but deeply unwelcome, Dragon grumbled in what might have been a bit of a dire monologue about how much he appreciated all the perils of a changeable ocean.

  Azania chirped, “Doesn’t look overly restful, I must say.”

  “Swimming on land,” he agreed.

  Reaching forward, she patted his cheek near his left eye. “You’re the one doing all the hard work here. I’ll put up with anything – so, if you need rest, I’ll gladly get soaked.”

  Since someone’s wings were about ready to fall off, a rest it was, such as one could attempt whilst being swatted by large waves every ten to fifteen seconds. Perching on a wet rock, pummelled by waves in rain that was becoming more torrential by the second – oh aye! Perfect. A primal quality to the howling winds and brutal oceanic waves thrilled his Dragon hearts, directly counter to his concerns about Azania. Yet she sat still upon his neck and even dozed a few times, before waking with a snort and a splutter when a particularly large wave inundated them both despite his folded wings covering her seat as best he could.

  Dragon scented the winds and the mettle of his hearts. Meantime, another huge wave thundered over them. Worsening by the minute, this storm threatened to wash them right off the rock despite his four-pawed grip.

  He said, “Let’s set course for the talon.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “Between two horrible options, it’s the one I have more confidence in – thoughts?”

  “I’m with you. One thousand percent.”

  Annoyed at himself that he found it so countercultural to be asking a female, and a Human at that, for her opinion – was he truly such an old bag of draconic stodge – Dragon waited for the Princess to make the necessary adjustments to their navigator.

  Gruffly, he said, “Don’t lose that thing, alright? Tie it on to yourself, or something. I mean only to say that it’s bound to be a rough run.”

  “Good idea.”

  Why was she being so agreeable? He was not accustomed to this misbehaviour.

  Blinking saltwater out of his eyes, Dragon prepared himself mentally for the launch. It needed to be hard and high before the gale force winds knocked him down again, or deformed his wing strokes enough that he crashed immediately into the water. Despite that his kind were masters of the air, few sensible Dragons would care to fly through a tempest as wild as this. Nor would most try to fly across the open ocean, for that matter.

  Rough was one word. Insane, another.

  “Ready to fly,” Azania said.

  Spreading his wings, he launched upward into the teeth of the blast, spreading his wings to control his ascent and use the wind to gain altitude. Balance was key. Up, up again. When he began to approach the low, scudding grey clouds, he wheeled with control and rode the blast away to the West.

  Immediately, he knew this would be the most challenging flight of his life. The wind was a live animal, like wrestling that Sea Serpent all over again. The gale winds howled their intended direction of travel from a few compass points east of pure northerly, always pushing them away from true west. Go for the slow curve while he still had strength enough?

  On and on he struggled, through a dark, lightning-shot world of rain, heaving waves and shrieking winds. His strength began to fade. Ever
y time his wings wanted to collapse, he took a deep breath and told himself, just one more beat. And one more after that. Azania clung to his neck, calling encouragement every few minutes, and trying to help him maintain the right heading. Despite their best efforts, his fear was beginning to be realised, that they might be swept in to the south of that first talon, and therefore be faced with a longer flight to the first of the three major Archipelago islands.

  He had never flown in winds like this. Winds that shrieked and bullied, threatening to crumple his wings. Could it be a hurricane? The waves were being pounded flat now, the sleet flying in sideways.

  Dragon turned to face the wind. He had to.

  Despite his flapping, they were being blown backward.

  He called, “Princess, I can’t carry on. Are you willing to try swimming beneath everything?”

  “How? In your mouth – oh no! Please –”

  “It’s the only way.”

  She peered around at his eye, shaking her head. Azania was more than soaked. She might as well be already swimming. His Rider was also wan, quite possibly as exhausted as he felt, Dragon realised. Swiping water out of her eyes, she clearly came to a decision.

  “How would it work?”

  “I can stay submerged for up to fifteen minutes at a time, maybe only ten if I’m working hard. So I’d come up every so often for breath, but otherwise, stay beneath the surface. You call directions from inside.”

  “You – you heard me, last time?”

  “Clearly.” His voice cracked. “Every word.”

  “It’s alright, Dragon. I trust you. I’ll … maybe I’ll try to tie myself to your fangs, or something. And I promise you, if I go down that gullet again – ugh – I will cut my way out from the inside, do you hear me?”

  “Loud and clear.”

  She growled, “No swallowing!”

  “Princess, you taste terrible, I’ll have you know.”

  “Great, thanks.”

  “I prefer red meat to black.”

  “That is a tasteless joke and you know it.”

  Since they no longer had a Dragon bow or quarrels to concern themselves about, Azania took her small travel pack in hand, and then unstrapped herself gingerly from her saddle mount. It took some fiddling with buckles stiffened by prolonged exposure to the seawater to loosen herself, then she climbed down into his paw, and from there investigated the lay of his jaw.