by Marc Secchia
“I am so not the pernickety one around here, mister he whose wings must be arranged in exactly the same way every night before he falls asleep.”
“And you wonder why I’m so tempted to swat you into shape. May your dreams soar, Princess.”
“And yours too, my adorable Dragon.”
“Clobber, pummel, flatten, roll out, twist into a lovely pretzel with strangely fuzzy bits hanging out of it?” he growled.
“What an eloquent master of debate you must be. Zzz. Already asleep.”
* * * *
The following morning, Azania woke him with a joke. “Say, which side of a Dragon has the most scales?”
He checked his wounds. “Definitely the right.”
“The outside!” she chortled.
“Oh, by my wings, what a groaner. It’s far too early for that.”
“Wakey wakey, Dragon.”
“Somebody’s excited to go find Azerim,” he growled balefully.
“Terrorcited,” she agreed.
“Quite. Well, the early Dragon makes the kill.”
“All things considered, I’d prefer not to kill my man right away, if that’s quite alright with you?”
“If he has another woman …” He punched his fist into his palm. SMOOOSH!!
“Why, you do care. Permission granted.”
On that note, he and Azania chuckled their way up to one of the entryways, and Dragon launched out into a perfect isle dawn. Rose reds blushed over the ocean. White, cream and azure seabirds were out in force on an early fishing expedition, bombing the waters offshore in great, swirling battalions. Adjusting his spectacles, Dragon looked on as dozens of Sea Serpents cut through the waves and mayhem, hunting as a pack. Frightening.
This Dragon liked his nice, new white hide minus rents and holes, he decided.
Curving westward, they set course for the Human city of Zunityne, a long day’s flight downwind. That was the saving grace, a gentle easterly breeze that buoyed up his aching wings. The route cut over the rocky coastline with its many tiny offshore islands and back over the mainland again, becoming much lower and smoother as they reached the western tip of this major island after three hours on the wing. Phew. Dragon rested on a perfect white beach in the shade of thick clumps of coconut palms, beside a sparkling blue ocean. So idyllic. He took note of the soil issues that Azania had spoken of. Much was sandy and sparse, the interior sedge grasslands and khaki green swamps they had passed over, salty and unfit for most cultivation.
Toward noon, they lifted off once more and crossed the wide, turbulent channel between Dragon Isle and Human Isle. This one had a fringing of dark cliffs again facing the east, but they were more fractured and they caught sight of their first Human dwellings nestled in a few of the pristine bays. Simple grass-woven huts with palm-leaf roofs hid in the thick tropical foliage alongside the beach, occupied by brown-skinned people.
Dragon snuck a little closer to take a look.
“They’re naked,” Azania whispered.
“You’d fit right in.”
She kicked his neck with her heel. “Behave. Azerim did say that some of the remote tribes were cannibals.”
“I guess we haven’t seen much of the more primitive side of Human civilisation, given as we’ve been hopping from one city to the next,” he agreed. “Very different out here, however. They must be very poor.”
The Princess waved to a few of the children on the beach.
One waved; the rest screamed and stampeded back to their huts.
On this island, the vegetation was thicker and more tangled, a real tropical jungle in places. The heat and humidity built up as the day wore on, but the sea breeze kept them cool enough. Dragon powered along past the first signs of active cultivation, rude roads carved through thick brush and a few small interior towns with red tile roofs and whitewashed limestone walls, before they passed around a range of small coastal mountains with the characteristic conical tops of volcanoes. The slopes were green and lush; he wondered why the volcanic soils here were not useful for cultivation, or at the very least – aha!
“Orchards,” he said, pointing with a talon.
“Aye, and vineyards.”
He swept low over the mountainous slopes, scenting the air with delight. Floral fragrances abounded, along with the more citrusy zest of fruit and the thicker, heavier scent of tropical undergrowth. Pockets of tall hardwood trees grew in sheltered gulches, and a number of rivers wandered down from the mountain slopes toward a pair of pretty lakes. Beyond that, resplendent in the red-golden late afternoon sunshine, lay Zunityne.
“Gorgeous!” Azania gasped.
Quite right. The city nestled in the arms of a bay no self-respecting artist could have described as anything but a tropical paradise. Unspoiled curving beaches, extensive flower gardens and coconut palm plantations, a gleaming turquoise ocean with the characteristic darker, dappled patches of coral reefs just offshore, hundreds of colourful houses and larger buildings with red tile roofs tucked in amongst lush stands of purple, orange and red bougainvillaea – absolutely picturesque. Five larger oceangoing vessels stood upon the sands; they must have been rolled up there somehow, he assumed, in order to keep them out of reach of the Sea Serpents.
He frowned and pointed ahead. “Why’s a flight of Dragons leaving the city?”
“No idea, but they’re in quite the flapping hurry, aren’t they?”
“Aye – go down?”
“I don’t like it either,” she agreed, shivering slightly.
His exact feeling! Immediately, he flexed his wings, hurtling them into a steep descent that concealed their approach behind a green hill just a couple of miles shy of the city.
“Are you scenting what I scent?” he said. “Wrongness –”
“Aye, I think so. It could be linked to Wave Dragonhome being empty, or not, but – are those all Dragonesses?” He agreed eagerly. “Is it just me, or are they flying … suspiciously?”
Dragon shrugged. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”
“Aria wasn’t –”
“Seven reds, three oranges, four yellows, a pale purple and light and dark greens numbering five, but no blues and definitely no cobalt.”
“Wow, someone was watching those tails most diligently.”
He gurgled with pleasure, touching the spectacles. “Thanks to these, I have just experienced the particular affliction known as male eye strain.”
Oh, those butterfly wings, those razor edges, those flashing glances he could only imagine from this distance. Never had feminine splendour come so deliciously sharp, so perilous, so irresistible. Was he mad to think this way? Smitten? A foolish Dragon with a death wish?
Azania pretended to preen like a Dragoness and patted her own behind. “Oh, I hope to cause Azerim great suffering.”
“I’m not sure ‘suffering’ is entirely the term we are after, in this instance.”
Chapter 24: Trouble’s Odour
LANDING ON A GRASSY slope behind the bare knoll, Dragon and Princess stalked up to the top and peeked over. The flight of Dragonesses made snappy speed toward the West. Not from Wave Dragonhome, then? Or were they? Discussing the oddity in low tones, they agreed that they had too little information about the lairs and politics of the Archipelago to make much of a judgement. Ariamyrielle had revealed that her labour for the Human was not popular in all quarters, but exactly how the draconic power hierarchy worked, apart from the structure being matriarchal, they had no idea.
Was something afoot, or a-paw? Almost definitely. Should have pressed her for details while they had a chance.
The city had no gates, but several times they caught sight of squads of soldiers with red-feathered helms rushing about, and dark, oily smoke rose from three locations. Suspicious.
Azania said, “Why don’t we go down into the city to see what’s going on? They’re used to Dragons being around, from what Aria said. We find the Palace, but instead of me introducing myself as a Princess, why don’t you pret
end to have an urgent message for Azerim, or the King and Queen? Let’s see how they respond. I’ll stay in the background.”
“Good. That’s better than any of my ideas so far.”
“You had ideas?”
He mimed blowing through his empty paw. “Lots of nothing.”
“That’s unlike you – but if I know you at all, you need information to feed that brain. I think I’ll wear my grey travel cloak and my desert veil. If anyone asks, I’m in mourning.” As he began to raise his head, she placed a cautioning hand on the side of his muzzle. “Wait. Those Dragonesses aren’t out of sight as yet. You’re unusual enough to attract attention.”
“Highly attractive. That’s me.”
“If you say so, o scaly hulk of conceit.”
After forty minutes on the wing, the Dragonesses disappeared into the westering suns. Azania donned her veil and drew up the hood of her nondescript travel cloak.
“Best paw forward, Dragon. Fly casual.”
Ah, her favourite saying for times such as these, when the odour of trouble filled the air, but they chose to fly directly toward it anyways. As they neared Zunityne, it became more than clear that the city was under the control of the red-feathered soldiers, but no obvious battles raged, so it was impossible for visitors to tell who was actually in charge. Sailing over the harbour, they observed many heads turning to track their progress. Agreeing on the most impressive-looking building, a mansion painted the colour of the sky, with red roof tiles and many gorgeous colonnades, they landed outside of the gates – a deliberate choice both for social niceties, and practicalities. The grounds held many tall trees and little space for a large Dragon to land or take off.
Azania slipped down immediately, as agreed, and kept pace with him as he strolled up to the heavily-guarded gates. Tiny shadow. Hulking brute.
These were not a friendly bunch by any means.
“Greetings,” he called amiably. “I bring an urgent message for King Azerim.”
Despite the tropical climate, his announcement introduced a most wintery nip to the air.
A soldier wearing golden epaulettes upon his natty crimson blazer stepped forward and saluted smartly. “The King is not present, Dragon.”
“Oh. Where’s he gone?”
Bleak glares. Hands hovered near the pommels of swords.
He said, “I do apologise. We seem to be rather late; the rest of our group just left, I believe?”
“Aye. They’re bound for Mykita Lair, with the rest of your kind.”
The soldier’s glare suggested he ought to know exactly where that was, and why they were going there. It also managed to invite them to depart forthwith; all in all, a decidedly eloquent operation for a mere glare.
Aha. So, they knew where the Wave Dragonhome Dragons had flown? Interesting. Mykita lay on the next and last major island West, the trailing heel of the Archipelago. He opted to make an amiable bow, something Humans did – but this only deepened their frowns.
Ugh. Mistake?
King and Queen, Azania’s voice tickled his ear.
“My good fellows, I do hope you can help,” he said, with a pacifying grin. Two dozen brown-skinned soldiers contrived to become as pasty as Hamirythe white at the sight. “Could I perhaps deliver my message to the King and Queen? I have heard they were ill –”
“They are, and are taking no visitors!” the leader barked. “Give it to me. I’ll see that the message is passed on.”
“It is of a somewhat … sensitive nature,” Dragon temporised. “I’m – well, dash it all, this is so awkward. I’m late for Mykita, you see, and I’ll get into serious trouble if I don’t catch up. You know what those Dragonesses are like!”
To a man, they flinched. Hmm.
Good angle, Dragon, Azania spoke again. Back to Azerim …
Extending his every sense and trying for his best pleading tone, which did not come easily to a Dragon, one might argue, he added, “Perhaps I might catch up with the younger King, wherever he has gone? Could you please – I wouldn’t normally ask, but I’m new at the job and if I don’t get this right – you know.”
He made a cutting gesture across his neck.
The hard-eyed leader had the nerve to guffaw. “Too right. You’ll find our King has departed to attend Aria Seaspray’s – nuptials, I think you Dragons call it?”
“Oh,” he said, trying his best to look like Blitz the Fritz, confused and gormless.
Not hard. Nuptials!
Rip out his hearts and toss them to the Sea Serpents! Please, by his sire’s egg, by all that Dragons held sacred, let this news earthquake not be true …
“Over at Mykita Lair!” the soldier said impatiently. “You’ll have to give it your best to be there by sundown for the ceremony – good luck, Dragon. You’ll need it!”
His men laughed nastily.
Mount up, Azania, he said, very quietly. “Thank you very much. You’ve been most helpful.”
The soldier saluted flippantly.
Dragon parked him at the top of his menu, main dish. Filthy liar!
Sensing the Princess’ weight upon his neck, he waited a second for the click of her belt buckle, before coiling his thighs and springing into the air with tremendous power. Flexing his wings, he pulled away out of bowshot before the soldiers could get any ideas.
“Freaking imposter!” Azania steamed.
“Aye, plus he was lying through his fangs about Azerim. Do you think this is a coup, Princess? Surely –”
“Without a doubt, something smells rotten in Zunityne. Dragon, we need Aria, and we need her fast. How long until the suns set?”
“This season? Two and a half hours, maybe?”
“Mykita is a straight westward run from here. Why would all the Dragons go there at once?”
“For Aria’s nuptials?” He hated how his voice broke.
“Is she that important on the Isles?”
“Look, why don’t we just ignore that, and turn around and sack Zunityne until we find Azerim?”
The Princess had the grace not to point out that was unarguably the stupidest idea he had ever voiced, nor to suggest where it might have originated and why. Instead, she said, “The crystal says it is eighty-eight miles to Mykita.”
“Too far. Look, the suns – we’re much farther north … so my guess –”
“I’ve already adjusted for the latitude. Besides, ‘too far’ would be true if we were talking about most Dragons. However, we are not talking about your average Dragon here. I happen to be seated upon the biggest, baddest, strongest and fastest Dragon in the Tamarine Mountains, and perhaps in all of Solixambria. Do you know what else?”
“What?”
“He’s a fighter and a lover.”
Gnarr.
“That soldier was lying about Azerim, right?”
“Aye. He lied about Azerim, but not about the nuptials. As best I could smell out, that was the absolute truth.”
The Princess said, “Then, for both of our sakes and the sake of this Kingdom, Dragon, we need to shift tail for Mykita Lair. I am sorry. Azerim needs us – and I am not implying your love life is worth less than mine. You cannot stop her nuptials if you are not there.”
“Stop the – Princess! The dishonour!”
She patted his neck, which had gone stiff with outrage. “No, you silly old stick. Please listen. Am I allowed to be the female in your life who can speak a pinch of wisdom when needed?”
He growled, “Alright! Uh … alright, in a less belligerent tone of fireball. I’m listening.”
“Thank you. So, speaking as a female, you need to give her the choice. Let her know you are present. Then, you must trust her to make her choice.” He said a rude word. “Aye, your very presence might make that choice unbearable; it might make all the difference, either positively or negatively. Yet if you are not there, you will never know for certain and neither will she. And that, Dragon, you would regret for the rest of your life. I have a sense of how you feel about her. I cannot imag
ine how hard this must be for you, especially given your history, but hear this: I know for a fact you are the better Dragon. I don’t care who that other male is. I know you. I know your courage and your mettle and your fire.”
“I …”
Speechless.
Five hearts he had, but they all seemed to be fighting for space in his throat at once.
Quietly, she said, “We have flown together many a mile. My friend, Ariamyrielle Seaspray would be a fool to choose any other, and that is a fact. Trust my judgement, especially if you cannot trust your own hearts to speak true through the pain and fear, just now. This is your moment, Dragon. You must seize this day and make it your own.”
He choked out, “This … this is why you are my Rider.”
“Aye?”
“This is why this Dragon is honoured beyond measure to bear you aloft. Because you soar, Princess. You soar.”
“Then, let’s fly into the suns, my Dragon.”
INTO THE SUNS!!
“Again!” she cried, raising her fists to the sky.
ARIA, I COME!!
His thunder brought the city below to a standstill.
* * * *
Dragon churned the air with his wings. Higher meant faster. Could he maintain altitude and keep them both safe with the magic he had learned from Inzashu, yet bring them eighty-eight miles in what would have to be the longest, fastest Dragon sprint in history? He had heard of Dragons making thirty miles an hour; forty when swooping from a height during battle. No story he had read or report of Dragon capabilities had his kind sustaining such a burst for more than a couple of minutes at a time.
Then again, how many half-ocean half-air Dragons were there?
The Dragon and his Rider shot away from the shores of Zunityne as if a thousand Sea Serpents were snapping at their heels. He moved straight to the powerful swimming stroke he had discovered, while Azania made herself small against his neck, even drawing up her feet so that he could lengthen his body, shielding her from the blast with the edge of his skull ruff.
As he mounted into the sky, the Archipelago spread around them. Several smaller islands stood offshore of Zunityne, covered in mangrove swamps in which narrow waterways glistened secretively. They understood from the maps they had pored over together that Mykita Lair lay right on the north-western tip of this third island they saw in the distance. Coral reefs festooned this area, leaving only the narrowest shipping lanes, but there were numerous Human fishing vessels with tiny white sails pottering about the shallow oceans – perhaps shallow enough to stymie any Sea Serpent attacks?
