Song of the Storm Dragon

by Marc Secchia

  Time for what? Could Fra’anior have known, from the impossible remoteness of his self-imposed exile, the fate of a girl tossed off a cliff? Could it be that the beacon of his magic had guided her from death to life? If so, she owed him everything.

  But he was not Izariela.

  Her flight was windsong over amethyst scales. Her heart, draconic in might. Her soul’s paean yearned for the farthest shores of her Island-World.

  So Aranya plunged from the upper reaches to the undiscovered deeps, eyes shuttered, distantly heeding Ardan’s call to raise her shields as the Cloudlands rushed upward, enfolding a small Dragonwing of Lesser Dragons in its deathly embrace. Moisture and acidic particles washed into her nostrils. A faint rankness filtered through the particle shield, the awareness of environmental poisons present in the endless grey gloom her eyes opened upon. Ever descending. The madness of attempting the unthinkable. All history, all lore and wisdom, declared that this was death’s own realm, and to brave the abyss was an act of intentional suicide.

  Yet Leandrial dwelled in these depths.

  Softly smothering, the pressure crushed them inexorably to its bosom. Sounds became muted, carrying strangely through the dense air. Aranya coughed at an astringent whiff of sulphuric acid. Large bodies swished through the mist, investigating, but part of their shield-construct provided by the practical Tuzimi had been a magic dampening technique. Aranya had not been aware, but even Dragonflight left a discernible trail, the magical equivalent of a paw-print in the dust. Below-Cloudlands predators relied on smell, sight that employed sense-apparatuses foreign to her experience, and communication via techniques as esoteric as far-travelling waveform communications capable of traversing thousands of leagues, depending on ambient conditions. So much to keep straight in her head! How did Land Dragons produce all of the required shield-facets by instinct? According to Leandrial, the Pygmy Dragoness had possessed eidetic recall–lucky girl.

  Aranya sighed at Ardan’s mental summons. Tormentor. Time to run through their checklist of all the disparate shield-elements.

  After a further fifteen minutes of annoyance and adjustments, the Lesser Dragons broke through the four-mile thick permanent cloud layer and descended into the murky, swampy-like upper layers. Aranya peered about inquisitively, feeling as if she swam in a pot of tepid Jeradian tea, for the air was brown-tinged and torpid, so thick with contaminants, rotting plant matter and the excrement of the high-flying, lighter predators, that even Land Dragons shunned this region. Every movement felt languid, similar to their underwater training. Masses of grey Borers paddled past, long tubular creatures equipped with clumps of impractical, alary appendages on their midsections and either end of their bodies, and outward-pointing teeth that rotated at an infeasible speed to literally drill their way through bone and hide. They looked intrigued until they sensed Leandrial’s presence; then they jetted away at high speed.

  Worse were the swarms of smaller predators, the wasps, mosquitoes and bats of this realm. They hunted in packs and shoals, in a variety of body shapes and motile systems sufficient to make the head spin.

  Leandrial said drolly, Assume everything has teeth, suckers, harpoons, fang-grapnels or unfolding digestive parts, and hankers to eat you alive. Then you’ll understand the upper layers well enough, little ones.

  Ardan sideslipped away from a Borer that was comfortably three times his length. These are the small ones?

  Tiny, laughed the Land Dragoness. Watch this.

  Her single eye brightened. Suddenly a brilliant white beam shot forth, hissing through the muck as it vaporised flesh and floating vegetable matter for a mile ahead and more. Aranya blinked. Not a predator in sight. They had hidden, camouflaged, fled. She began to wonder what could possibly threaten a creature the size of a Land Dragon, but then she recalled Leandrial’s description of the Theadurial, and shuddered. Magical parasites.

  Leandrial explained, The eye-cannon is our primary offensive weapon. Properly attuned, Harmonic magic can be devastating. If you think my eye-cannon is powerful, you’ve seen nothing yet. The eye-cannons of the Shell-Clan are legendary, little ones. Provoke them at your peril.

  Tell us about these Shell-Clan, Zip offered.

  No request could have pleased Leandrial more. For the following hour, as they flew and ran down a long, boulder-strewn slope carpeted in luminous pink and violet fungal growths, she described the great class of Shell-Clan tribes, followed by the four-legged Runner Clan like her, who were divided into many subclasses–Mist-Runners, Welkin-Runners, Deep-Runners, Current-Runners and many more–and then the other major classes, called Stellates, Air-Breathers, Deep-Dwellers, Cognates, Living Springs, Drifters, Rock-Eaters and Fire-Sporters, and further rare classes and subclasses. These class and clan-names for Land Dragons were simplified designations which had developed to mask the complex dialectical differences between the Land Dragonish spoken in different parts of the Island-World. Furthermore, Leandrial explained, some types of Dragonkind were not a single organism, but organised themselves along the lines of hive-insects, many bodies sharing a single mind.

  Meantime, the Lesser Dragons strained their wings to fly deeper beneath the Cloudlands, until at last the substrate’s character changed. Rock gave way to the disintegrated upper fringes of plant fronds and leaves, only these khaki leaves spanned distances of miles, and grew thousands of feet thick. After coursing over this softly rolling, spongy layer for a further half-hour, Leandrial picked a spot that seemed no different to any other, and began to quarry and tear her way through the dense organic matter into the middle layers below. Soon, her tail disappeared amongst geysers of ripped plant material.

  The three Lesser Dragons sideslipped three hundred feet to evade the worst of the backwash and shared glances–follow immediately? Or wait?

  After you, noble Gloom Dragon, said the Azure Dragoness, with an aerial bow in Ardan’s direction.

  He chuckled indulgently. Says the little patch of summer skies?

  Aranya’s fangs clacked near his tail. Oh! She burned as a clear tinge of green, the draconic colour of jealousy, washed over her gaze. To her surprise, however, the Shadow Dragon responded with a brightening of his eye-fires toward a brilliant yellow. He liked her jealousy! Now her belly-fires fulminated in confusion and further embarrassment, for she had betrayed desire for him whom she must deny. Groan. Flee! Yet a touch upon her wingtip stayed her.

  Zip said firmly, I’d far rather this Aranya than the Queen of an ice-citadel. Hear me? Understood?

  Thanks, Zip-Zip.

  But all twenty of Ardan’s talons clenched at once. He trumpeted, I will not trifle with the Azure to gain your regard, Aranya! That is not the flight of my wings.

  Aranya replied, No. You have never been a person of trifles, Ardan. Yet life pulses in your veins, and magic throughout your being. You are a man, a warrior and a mighty male Dragon. I refuse to constrain a Dragon who holds his integrity in such clear sight.

  I am not without fault, he said.

  Zip sniped, Fifty scrolls wouldn’t suffice to list your faults.

  Are any faultless? Aranya knew the accelerated pulse of her hearts-beat must carry to the Shadow Dragon’s hearing. The very orientation of his body toward her bespoke fiery devotion.

  Zuziana snorted, Private room for the Princess and his Lordship?

  Then, a group of marauding Borers ambushed them out of the wash of Leandrial’s digging.

  All the warning they had was a sudden change in pressure, because the visibility on that flank was so poor. Dozens of dull blue tentacles speared out of the murk, orienting on the companions. Tooth-edged suckers scraped and scrabbled against the pneumatic shields, finding no grip save upon the natural curvature of the ovoid, all-encompassing shield-constructs, but that was only a prelude to the real attack. With stunning speed, the piercing mouthparts followed, jabbing with shrieks of disruptive magic. Whee-drrr! Blam! Whee-drrr! The long, muscular tentacles laced around Ardan’s bubble in particular, before five or six purple
mouth-orifices opened to expose the piercing–blades? Tongues? Aranya skittered away, while Zip spun into the path of a further trio of Borers.

  Drrrr! Aranya shuddered as a rough drill-bit missed her right hind leg by the width of a Dragon’s scale. Roaring rajals, it had breached her shield so easily? Of course, she had forgotten–switching her shield to a repellent configuration, Aranya yelled, Change phase!

  Ardan’s form flickered, swirling about in a maelstrom of half-seen flying talons, teeth and wings as he employed his Shadow powers to tear into the predators. Lightning crackled from Zuziana, but the Azure Dragoness yelped in pain as the shield turned her own lightning back on her. Aranya swooped at once, unleashing a volley of highly-charged blue fireballs. Pfft! Pfft–KAABOOM! The Dragons shook as the thick air conducted the concussion of her explosive attack to ears and bodies alike.

  Thanks for cleaning up, Zip yelped, phasing her shield belatedly.

  The Shadow Dragon corkscrewed past, dicing up tentacles with enraged swipes of his dark talons.

  Aranya quipped, They’re very, very dead, Ardan.

  GRR! His growl throbbed with aggravation. Who was hurt–freaking worms!

  Suddenly, all was Dragon reactions and fighting as a further dozen of the beasts surrounded the companions, their drills screaming–Drrrr! Drrrr-rrr! Mouths agape, they hammered at the shields–bam! Bam! Bam-bam-bam! The Borers even fought each other, squealing and jostling to be the first to drill into Aranya’s tail or take a snap at Ardan’s flanks. She saw schools of sleek, shadowy shapes jetting toward them, clearly attracted by the green and gold blood drifting away from the conflict.

  She had no intention of becoming a free snack.

  Follow me! The Amethyst Dragoness cried, clearing the path with a barrage of fireballs. Oddly, the production of her power felt rough around the edges, as though the Shifter pox had affected even the operation of the magical pathways within her being. Lightning stuttered from her talons and throat. Not good. She darted down Leandrial’s burrow, aware of the Shadow Dragon in the background grimly sweeping Zuziana’s shield clear of tentacles which had wrapped entirely around her.

  Drat those … they must fight smarter. Impervious shields were fine for beating back drills and boring mouthparts, but a liability if they could be snagged by tentacles. They needed something slippery, or malleable, more like soap …

  Ardan charged up alongside Aranya on her starboard flank, nursing two holes the size of Aranya’s Dragon-fist in his upper left shoulder.

  The Azure Dragoness fell into formation on her port side, grumbling, I lost a few scales and a good slice of pride. Do those hurt, Ardan?

  Do you want the standard male answer, or the truth? He flexed the shoulder awkwardly. I’m a little sore.

  Leandrial’s digging did not appear to have distinguished between flora and fauna. The vast, spatulate leaf-masses played host to a world of insects similar to those one might expect to find beneath a rotting log, only they were a hundred times larger–the bits left over, anyhow. Segments of worms and dismembered insect legs drifted past as they winged downward, taking care to avoid the predators which already teemed within this additional feast.

  This would be the glorious ‘renewing of the layers’ Leandrial referred to? Zip chuckled, indicating the carnage with a wave of her right forepaw.

  Land Dragons renew the layers by digging vital pathways, Aranya quoted.

  I’ll bet you were the royal tutors’ favourite, Zip teased.

  Ardan said, In all seriousness, you can see how this works. Without the ‘churn’, these plants grow wild and eventually consume all the resources in an area. The entire ecosystem is impacted. What we just flew through, that upper layer around Yorbik, is effectively a below-Cloudlands desert. Do you think this is a reason for the toxicity of the Cloudlands?

  Based on the ancient Land Dragon migration, which left the North barren? Aranya puzzled aloud. Aye, this is all part of the grand, numinous Balance a Star Dragoness is supposed to breathe through her pores.

  Zuziana shook her slim blue muzzle. I don’t know, Aranya. Leandrial theorises that the toxins originate in the Rift.

  Leandrial’s tunnelling not only opened flows of air between the layers, but also exposed the innards of the tough leaves to the plant-eating hordes, which swarmed in vast numbers to gnaw at the frayed, trailing edges, or furiously dug new homes for their eggs. Within hours, the exposed surfaces would harden due to contact with the air, re-forming their natural protection. Already, Aranya felt a fresh current rushing upward as the higher-pressure air naturally flowed toward the areas of lower pressure. This current bore fresh scents and savours, a more mineral-rich tang and even pollens, she thought, which reminded her of the abundant scents of Ha’athior Island, her mother’s birthplace.

  The ever-increasing pressure aided her impaired lungs, for admittedly, her semi-permeable shield was designed to supplement the ambient oxygen–Ardan’s excellent thinking.

  Aranya looked ahead eagerly. Contrary to the dense, overarching layer of vegetation that separated the upper layer from the middle, the patch of glutinous air visible through Leandrial’s hole was a refreshingly bright blue, the by-product of bioluminescent bacteria present in the air. Poisonous bacteria, of course. But helpful.

  Leandrial’s snout appeared upside-down before them, framed in blue. If you’ve finished fooling with the minnows up there, little ones, come visit the realm where the big Dragons play.

  And with that, they emerged through the roof of a new world.

  * * * *

  Leandrial rumbled, “Welcome to the favoured realm of Land Dragons. We call this middle layer the air-ocean, although this place is shallows, a mere two miles depth constrained by the ridge upon which Yorbik, Jendor and Horness all stand.”

  Zuziana looked around her with delight. Dragonets flipping somersaults! Ooh, and a little trepidation. The rich blue faded into the distance, as though they flew within the upper reaches of a great terrace lake. Now she appreciated Leandrial’s insistence on underwater training at Yorbik, because it was becoming increasingly difficult to distinguish between flying and swimming. Even Leandrial appeared remarkably buoyant at this level, even agile, which was rather akin to saying an Island danced like a butterfly.

  Plant matter drifted through the thick, viscous air, mostly not rooted in place, similarly to her native Remoy’s air-plants, but these giants employed flotation bubbles scattered along their stems. Fine-leafed green, yellow and purple fronds hung in curtains thousands of feet long, sporting a wide variety of what must be fruit or berries, in a Leandrial-sized assortment. Her dizzy mind catalogued crimson fruit shaped like chilli-peppers, waxy, oval purple colossi, and clusters of berries as big as Dragonships. In the middle distance, she saw gigantic herbivores contentedly munching their way through life, sporting jaws or mandibles capable of shovelling entire villages into their ever-hungry maws.

  She giggled charily. Floating mountains!

  “Here on the ridge there are few animals and insects,” Leandrial lectured, drawing a huff of amazement from Aranya. “Most of your North is like this now, following the great migration, with the upper and middle layers separated by jergoleaf, the highly invasive plants we burrowed through. We’ll see a greater diversity as we proceed South. The sea down to Fra’anior is shallow and uninteresting, I regret to report, but just beyond your mother-familial Island Cluster, Aranya, we shall encounter first a proper middle-lower and lower layer; then, Jeradia Cluster lies upon the brink of an impossible deep, so close, indeed, that there’s an ancient joke amongst Land Dragons about Fra’anior’s sneeze being enough to tip Jeradia over the edge. That should be a fascinating, and of course, very dangerous crossing.”

  Zip rolled her fire-eyes, trying to recall the vertical ordering of the below-Cloudlands layers, so essential to correctly distinguishing between the different types of life, currents and classes of carnivores.

  “Leandrial,” she asked, “where do the deeps come in? And what’s the
difference between an impossible deep and a bottomless rift?”

  Ardan made a grinding noise with his fangs, which Leandrial majestically ignored, explaining, “The middle layers lie one to two leagues beneath the opaque, permanent cloud-layer, so inimical to your kind and to your sight. Of course, this does not bother a mighty Land Dragon in the slightest. As I taught your little Pygmy friend, the middle layers are the realm of behemoths. Here dwell the great plant eaters and the mighty carnivores that prey upon them. As Lesser Dragonkind you will be beneath their notice unless you’re accidently snapped up for the smallest of morsels.”

  Ardan wing-slapped Aranya’s rump. “Snack time.”

  She yelped and tried to swat him back. “Shut the fangs, you floating morsel.”

  Leandrial said, “For example, behold the breathing spiracle of a fine specimen of uha-êk-hulak, the Lesser Twelve-Segmented Flayer, I believe you’d call it in your tongue.”

  “Where is this beast?” asked the Amethyst Dragoness.

  “Over there,” Zip pointed with her foreclaw, feeling dispirited. Her friend could not see it, could she?

  Leandrial swept forward with imperious ease, making the sinuous wriggling motion she had taught them at Yorbik. “Let’s wake it up.”

  “Erm …” Ardan coughed.

  “You should try to breathe and drink less unfiltered air down here,” the Land Dragoness admonished. “Already, toxins infiltrate your system. No mind, we shall run through a cleansing cycle at Horness. Aranya, touch his wounds. Furthermore, there are many vectors of infection which I shall cover in detail later. And, the bites of certain predators can be necrotic or neurotoxic, especially in Herimor.”

  “Herimor sounds perfectly charming,” Zuziana put in.

  “As charming as the song of my eye-cannon,” Leandrial joked unexpectedly, opening fire.

  She deliberately blasted an area not far from that innocuous-looking spiracle, but close enough, evidently, to tickle the Flayer into motion. Zip rather wished Leandrial had not, because the creature that exploded out of the innocuous-looking ball of plant matter was very large and decidedly peeved, and clearly possessed an armoury fit to make any sane creature think twice about eyeballing it save from a few Islands’ distance. No fewer than six slavering mouths screamed at them, each capable of swallowing a Sylakian Dragonship sideways and equipped with a thicket of mandibles, saws, grapnels and inward-sloping fangs. The Flayer charged. Grapnels shot forth, aimed at the Land Dragoness’ leg and Ardan’s head. A stream of what appeared to be gas-powered fire streamed out behind, shooting the Flayer’s not inconsiderable tonnage at its intended victims faster than the Azure had ever imagined such a behemoth could move.