I am Dragon (Dragon Fires Rising Book 2)

by Marc Secchia

  Am I truly that terrifying?

  Me moth, you candle.

  Her flanks shook with laughter. Dragon, you are so different – obviously – to any other Dragon I have ever met. I am sorry if I misunderstood. Do you – how do I even ask this? Whatever’s happening in my hearts is beyond my experience.

  Mine too.

  I’m not even sure what happened back there, but I do know that this is right. I’ve never been so certain about anything in my life.

  Aye … at some point, he would remember how to breathe, wouldn’t he?

  Curving their necks, they stared into one another’s eyes for the longest time. He was so much larger than her. Several times the tonnage, far bulkier in the shoulders, his back five feet taller when they lay alongside each other, his muzzle wider, blunter and taller than hers by a large margin. His fires sighed all at once, causing her lips to curve slightly away from her fangs. So perfect. Her tropical aroma teased his nostrils, reminding him that one of the caverns they had peeked into at Wave Dragonhome was a perfumery.

  A Dragon feared to speak to break the stillness, for this starlit evening breathed life’s greatest magic. Finally, he managed to distil the million things that he wanted to say to her into just four words. Epic feat, but in the end, doable.

  Aria, I choose you.

  Reaching out a paw, she caressed the soft scales beneath his left eye. You’re so beautiful.

  He blinked.

  Uh, I mean, is it alright to say that to a male? You are. No insult intended. These scales – I say, the scales suit the Dragon. Majestic. And your white fires … stars above, this female’s wings tingle. Very softly, she said, I feel a little shy around you. I’ve never imagined feeling this way about anyone.

  He tucked her closer with his wing.

  After a little while, the Princess tapped his palm. Oh. Forgot his captive might need also to breathe occasionally. He let her out. To his surprise, she did not have a snarky or teasing word for him. She merely winked and seated herself cross-legged on the sand before their muzzles.

  Azania said, “Aria, what do you think will happen now?”

  She said, “I know some of those Dragonesses who arrived late to the caldera. They are part of a faction opposed to my dam’s rule; known troublemakers. I suspect that when my surprise nuptials were arranged, they took the chance to install a new power in Zunityne following some secret arrangement aimed at bringing power or prestige to their position. Gazaram, Hozim, Larazu and Jenarzam are four northern Lords who oppose the crown. Azerim and his younger brothers, possibly, will be held hostage against the King and Queen’s abdication.”

  The Princess said, “How does it work with two Kings?”

  “It’s a strange arrangement, but under Archipelago law, a King can be appointed to support the work of the Crown, so aye, two Kings are completely possible. Azerim being the active one during his father’s long illness, and his father, Varazim, effectively being a figurehead, yet under law, holding the ultimate authority. He could strike down a decree of Azerim’s, for example, or refuse to sign something into law. That’s my best understanding.”

  “Peculiar.” Azania shook her curls. “Never in the desert, that’s for sure.”

  The Cobalt Dragoness touched her knee. “Princess, we will find your Azerim, never you fear.”

  “Your dam –”

  “Trust me, she’s a wily one. She’ll come out of this smelling like the best perfume. In Isles Dragon culture, such a plot regarding my future is highly regarded. Desirable, clever, warlike, draconic and a true talon of leadership.” Aria grinned at their startled expressions. “As is my right to wriggle free of the arrangement. Aye, Dragon, to break my word is dishonourable, but –”

  “Sorry,” he muttered.

  “Sorry? I will rip that word out of your entrails!”

  “Eh?”

  “Just tugging your wings, handsome,” she purred coyly, making all his fires go whomp-a-whooosh! “Clean blades slice best. Prediction?”

  “I will never say sorry again,” he promised, which in itself, was predictable.

  “Don’t,” Aria agreed. “Let me tell you why. You are … well, at least half Sea Dragon, right? The white fires, the scales, so sleek and gleaming and mrrrr-yum!”

  “Right!” he yelped, shivering at her teasing touch. “My sire is Blaze the Devastator, my dam, to my best knowledge is Sirensong, a Sea Dragoness. We hope to find her in a few weeks, when the migration passes by. I’ve never met her.”

  “That would be amazing,” Azania put in.

  “Indeed,” Aria nodded gravely. “So, I predict that the Dragonesses will assess your value in certain set dimensions – economic, political, military, potential to sire powerful hatchlings –”

  “What?” he gasped.

  The Princess chuckled merrily.

  “They will conclude that to have you on the side of the Isles will be a tremendous boon,” Aria smiled. “You have courage, an aura of dominance and an incredible breath weapon. You crossed the ocean to reach the Archipelago, a notable feat that demonstrates your strength and intrepid spirit. Having faced down Charielle herself, you proved you are skilled both in battle and diplomacy, and you represent a link with the Sea Dragons. Times are not easy here on the Isles. We Dragons feel isolated. Maybe you could change all that. And aye, your potential to sire eggs will merit lively discussion. Many Dragonesses will slaver over your brawny muscles and hefty size, and wonder openly at the dimensions and potency of your –”

  She pointed a wicked talon at his nether regions.

  Eeep! he managed to splutter.

  Azania hooted with laughter. He blushed so furiously, his white scales began to glow from within. Robbed of speech!

  “I might have to fight to keep you. And as for these parts –” she waved her paw illustratively “– I plan to keep those very much for myself. Deal?”

  Fanning her face, the Princess said, “And I thought you were the inappropriate one, Dragon?”

  “I fear I may have been eclipsed,” he groaned, trying and failing to gain control of his fiery blushes. No chance. His glowing scales now lit a patch of beach around them. Interesting effect. Aria seemed suitably impressed! “Still, with regular, vigorous exercise and experimentation to learn the best techniques –”

  Azania squealed, “Dragon! Honestly? Here they come … no, they’re only fighting, it seems.”

  Soberly, the threesome regarded the fangs-and-talons mêlée which briefly appeared over the rim of the caldera, before sinking out of sight again. No quarter? That must be a battle to the death, or otherwise, these Dragonesses enjoyed tearing each other to pieces for the entertainment provided by all that blood and gore.

  The cobalt warrior growled, As I said, a lively discussion. Since it might take a while, do please tell me what you two have been up to since last we met? Every last detail. When last we parted, you wished me all happiness and that I would know who it is that I am and what I want. I cannot say I know who I am, for that is only starting to become clear, but I believe that you both have a part to play. But I do know what I want.

  What’s that? he asked.

  Rescue Azerim, save the Human kingdom, normalise relations between Humans and Dragons around these Isles, help you find your dam – her fangs gleamed again as she ran out of talons on that paw, and started on the other – romance your every scale, thrash a few Sea Serpents, raise an army and go pound the Skartun into the desert sands –

  All at once? Azania quipped, drawing a chuckle from the Dragoness.

  He said, Knowing Aria, that’s only the beginning.

  Chapter 27: New Dragon

  LATE THAT EVENING, A battered, bloody and jubilant crew of Isles Dragons flew over to invite them back to the caldera, where the male Dragons promptly whisked him aside to take part in a traditional dance. Aria joined her dam. Far from being cowed or apologetic, Charielle Seaspray acted elated, proud of her daughter and every inch in charge.

  As it turned out, the d
etriment of Aria’s dishonour was easily outweighed by snagging herself such a well-proportioned, desirable monster of a white Dragon … blah blah, he let the compliments wash over him in a daze of happiness. Quite the catch. Surpassingly handsome. Strong as the very ocean. Mmm, he thought, I’ll savour that one!

  So you should, Azania agreed, ever so droll.

  Nuisance.

  Her dark eyes twinkled. You love the attention, really.

  Bidden to roar, he gave them his best, I AM DRAGON!!

  Nice one! Making over two hundred Dragonesses shiver deliciously in their scales did happen to do wonders for one’s self-image. Truly miraculous.

  Ahem. As a male, that would be part of the territory.

  On a rather less egotistical note, he then went through the wringer repeatedly as Aria fought five eager challengers for his paw. Having nearly died of nervous anticipation five times over and bellowed himself hoarse in her support, she snuck up to him afterward and whispered in his ear that the bouts were really just for show, and wasn’t he a nice male to be so anxious and vocal for her sake? Gnarr. Tradition demanded it. Oh, and the broken hind paw she had inflicted upon one of her assailants? Their fault, they should have given over rather than trying to wrench free from her submission hold. Hmm. From the way they fought, he had concluded the other Dragoness would rather have chewed off her own paw than give up.

  After the formal bouts, four Dragonesses returned from hunting in the deep waters ten miles offshore, bringing a fifteen-foot, seventeen-hundred-pound whopper of a black marlin which they dropped at Dragon’s paws.

  A promise gift, they said.

  What do I do with this? he inquired.

  Charielle said, You prepare the fish for your promised one, Dragon. This is Isles tradition.

  Hmm, he purred, chest swelling at the prospect of proving what a domesticated beast he was. Any herbs and spices about?

  His request almost triggered a minor war. Thirty Dragonesses immediately offered to fly to Mykita Lair to fetch whatever he needed. With that underway, he contemplated how best to approach this demonstration of the appropriate male household skills. Aye, chief cook, cleaner, Princess-napper and worshipper of all things cobalt. Very well. He could do domestic with the best of them.

  Bring me ten palm fronds and ten coconuts! he demanded.

  Another mad scramble.

  Excellent. Cracking open his jaw, he snipped the fish’s head right off and set that aside. Then he sliced it open lengthwise and deboned it with the efficient application of work he had learned on river fish, only on a far smaller scale. Everything in the ocean was bigger. He cleaned out the guts and threw the mess onto the sand. Picking through the offerings of herbs and spices, he prepared a tangy blend together with the coconut milk and liberally basted the inside of the fish, before husking several of the coconuts and adding neat talon-cut slices to his preparation. Picking up the great fish between his paws and pinching it shut, he flame-grilled the monstrous portion with plenty of attitude intended to disguise his decidedly unreliable control of his fires – flexing the muscles, adding snarky commentary, paying attention to every detail.

  Only the best for Aria!

  Meantime, the excited Dragonesses added a chorus of encouragement of his efforts, much of which was decidedly blush-worthy.

  When the steam and piquant scents combined with char reached what he judged to be their peak, Dragon tried to strip off the skin. Fail. It did nothing of the sort.

  Aria popped over for an inspection. I like it crunchy.

  I haven’t much experience of preparing ocean fish, he admitted.

  Smells fabulous.

  Very good! Laying out the monster on a bed of palm leaves, Dragon flipped it open to release a rush of fragrant steam. Oh, by his wings! His stomach vented a great rumble.

  I’ll take that as the cook’s own compliment, Aria gurgled. Right. We take turns to feed one another.

  He cut her a respectable portion and popped it into her jaw. Aria eyed up the fish, mimed looking at a three-foot section, and to rowdy cheers, played to her crowd by suggesting bigger and bigger portions. Each time she pretended to have decided, she took another look at him – shoulders, chest, haunches and aye, between his hind legs – and increased the size of what she intended to cut for him.

  Dragon then picked Azania up and used her to measure his suggested portion, provoking howls of laughter amongst even the males.

  She folded her arms across her chest, and teased, “You’ll pay for that!”

  “On the contrary, expensive Princess, I expect your ransom to cover any outlay on my part. She’s very valuable,” he explained to Charielle.

  “You sell royals?”

  “Barbaric custom with a long and sordid history, I know,” he agreed.

  His prospective dam-to-be eyed him balefully, and purred, “You had better be pulling my leg, Dragon, or I’ll pull yours right off. Do we understand one another?”

  Like dam, like daughter, eh?

  “Perfectly,” he said, with his most diplomatic face pasted in place.

  Toward midnight, as Charielle Seaspray drew her daughter aside for a private consultation, he sought out Charnal to speak with him. What a shy, gentle Dragon! A little prodding revealed that he was a master perfumer; Aria was wearing a personalised scent he had created for her. The real customers for his magic-infused brews, however, were the males. They were the most fragrant group of Dragons he had ever met, bar none, and it was nothing like the normal musky male odour he was used to, especially in bachelor quarters.

  Charnal held nothing against him, he said.

  As he chatted with the much smaller Dragons, he had a sense of being a bigger brother among friends. These males would have been the ones excluded by his kin; laughed at and jeered roundly for their soft-spoken ways, yet perhaps for the first time in his life, he felt he stood among peers. They could not believe he was an artist like them. Different aptitudes, but the similarity in spirit was more than clear to him. The males chortled politely at the notion of such a big bruiser having a softer side. Their disbelief, funny on the surface, struck a niggling nerve within. Hide it. No need to antagonise any more creatures here; had he not done enough already?

  What a result, though!

  Re-joining Princess Azania, he noticed in her eyes how tired she was. Oddly, her weariness seemed to rush over him as he realised he could not even stop dragging his tail about. His final steps were tiredness-drunk.

  She said, “So, one love life underway, Dragon?”

  “Certainly appears positive,” he grinned.

  “She can’t keep her eyes off you, in case some unobservant males have failed to notice the lay of the sands, or however you say that in Draconian.”

  “I have to admit, I’m so tired I’m not really seeing straight anymore.”

  “Need your Princess to tuck you in?”

  “Sounds brilliant. As long as I get a bedtime story as well?”

  “So demanding.”

  Lying down upon the warm black sand, he offered his paw. She came gratefully to him. He tucked her close beside his lower left chest, curved his muzzle protectively about the nook he had created and slipped his wing down to complete the picture. How many times had they slept like this? How many more times would there be, if she found Azerim and he had Aria? Would that change everything?

  What would he not give to guarantee for her the same fortune which had smiled upon him?

  So many questions. Would Aria tolerate King and Princess as friends, as his Dragon Rider; might it be possible for the young King to become a Rider, too? Would anyone else want this special relationship he shared with Azania?

  Softly, he whispered, “Tomorrow, we go rescue your King from his high tower, where he pines for sight of his Black Rose of the Desert, weeping copious bitter tears –”

  “Dragon, you’re so silly. In the tales, Kings are never stuck in towers.”

  “That’s what makes this real life, Princess.”

 
“Aye. Is it ridiculous to admit that I still want to pinch myself, sometimes, when I think about who I am with and where we are?”

  “No, it isn’t.”

  He snuck a peek at Ariamyrielle. Her fangs flashed in an immediate smile. So happy!

  That was the thought that followed him into the hinterlands of his Dragon dreams. He had made someone happy. Just now, at this moment in his life, his paw held this power.

  As incredible as the whitest of fires.

  * * * *

  Dragon woke slowly, with the sense that he needed a crowbar to peel his eyelids off his eyeballs to stand even half a chance of waking up. Empty paw!

  He was up and snarling before his brain caught up. Oh. Princess Azania chatted amiably with Aria just a few feet away. Fifty or so Dragonesses looked on, their forms wreathed in a chilly sea fog. As one, they startled at his sudden movement and then sighed over his rightful concern for his promised one.

  Or … something like that.

  Was he dreaming?

  Brain-befogged in his own right, he gaped at the audience. Did fifty-odd warrior Dragonesses often stand around waiting for a Dragon to wake? Pretty crew. All armed to the fangs. Colourful butterflies with decidedly nasty intentions that he fervently hoped were directed exclusively at his enemies. Oh. These were the younger Dragonesses? Must be. One or two were older, distinguished by their scars and larger size, but the rest were the younger set who had stood apart in apparent support of Aria.

  Dragon, you’re awake at last, the Cobalt Dragoness fluted. Bad dream?

  No. I missed Azania from my paw. Uh …

  That smile! He pinched his paw surreptitiously. Awake. Not dreaming. The most stunning Dragoness in Solixambria was making fiery eyes at him. Five hearts frolicked within his chest.

  She said, Dragon, meet our army. Dragoness army, meet my Dragon.

  HAAI-ARR!! The group roared as one, drawing their swords so fast he only realised they were saluting him once the gesture was completed.

  By my wings! he grunted, taken aback. At … ease, warriors?

  HAAI-ARR!! The small forest of kaniaxi swords miraculously returned to their sheaths without amputating random body parts.