Song of the Storm Dragon

by Marc Secchia

  True enough, the Sentuki flashed a few luminescent warning-indicators on her hide at them, and then bent to her meal, leaving her herd to consume the luckless Borers while she concentrated on using her metallic grey beak to snap the larger Butterfly into Dragon-sized pieces, before stuffing them down her gullet with her tentacles. The rolling maul of feasting creatures drifted quickly down-current.

  Time to move, commanded the Land Dragoness.

  They swam-flew down a slope in the forest created by the pressure of moving air, immediately feeling the increased tugging upon their shields. Ahead, there was no apparent end or bottom to the blue, just an endless, increasingly steep slope that would take them to the lower layer and the heart of the tremendous current. Leafy fronds lashed violently beneath their compact wings. Ardan yelped as a predator ambushed him, but he beat it away by means of the firm application of a clawed paw to its sensitive snout.

  Ha, he growled. I am not your dinner.

  Zip’s laughter turned into a howl as a trio of pink tentacles snagged her left wing-shield and dragged her down into the forest!

  Get off! yelled the Azure Dragoness, throwing lightning about liberally. Aranya swirled in, trying the same. A brace of fireball-blasts warmed up the hidden creature, while her lightning severed a couple of tentacles, which continued to writhe and spray dark green blood for several moments.

  Panting, the Dragonesses winged away from the foliage.

  Leandrial regarded them severely. Lack of attention will get you killed in this realm, little ones. Now, follow me!

  When Leandrial’s back was turned, Zip gave Aranya a sympathetic look. Thanks for the helping paw, friend. Her eyes narrowed slightly.

  What? Aranya asked defensively.

  Nothing.

  * * * *

  Ardan eyed his companions. Odd. He could not put a talon on it, but he was convinced they were up to mischief. Both Dragonesses would bear watching.

  His first concern was the Urtuo-Jahû, which swept along at speeds exceeding twenty leagues per hour, a tremendous rumbling, bubbling, buffeting mass of air. Leandrial coached them in how to take best advantage of the flow–taking long, languid strokes, and making an undulating motion of the body to provide additional propulsion courtesy of their Dragon bodies and powerful tails. She fought off enemies and allowed her small companions to rest, especially Aranya. He was proud of her. Never a word of complaint crossed her lips. Daily, she grew stronger. She worked relentlessly at understanding Harmonic and Balance magic with Leandrial; when even Leandrial tired of her incessant questioning, she bounced ideas off Ardan and Zuziana.

  The great current pummelled them along the long, curving archipelago of the Crescent Islands, home to Pip’s Pygmy people. Ardan thought appreciatively back to Aranya’s further ‘requests’ of Ja’arrion and Va’assia, one of which was explicit Dragon protection for the Pygmies and a repeal of any laws and practices that treated them as animals. They were to stamp out, with claw and fireball if necessary, any form of slavery and systematic oppression of people-groups across the Island-World. Oh, Aranya. Lofty ideals!

  Ideals, fearlessness, power and a ridiculous work ethic. That made for one dangerous woman.

  The closer they drew to Remoy, the quieter Zuziana became. Germodia, not a chirp. Tyrodia, like a mouse. What was so difficult about the notion of visiting her family? The Shadow Dragon turned this over in his mind.

  Zuziana. Aranya. What misbehaviour were they brewing? It took Ardan all of four days to work out what the Amethyst was hiding, but he had been stubborn as a man and his Dragon-form excelled at this character-strength.

  Night only came to the middle-lower layer if there were no light-producing creatures about. This meant resting in apparent daytime, at regular intervals. When the three Lesser Dragons were meant to be sleeping up against Leandrial’s hide, just behind the curve of her skull, he Shadowed and slipped around to the Amethyst Dragoness. She was quick and slick, but not quick enough.

  Sapphire! he growled. How long have you been hiding that dragonet, Aranya?

  Ugh, keep it down to a dull roar, would you? Zuziana complained.

  Ardan did not withhold his ire. Aranya, we cannot take Sapphire through the Rift! This is madness. Leandrial, you tell her.

  How did you hide the dragonet, little one? Leandrial wanted to know.

  Behind a highly specified auditory and olfactory shield! growled the Shadow Dragon. Completely irresponsible. I’m ashamed of you, Aranya!

  Aranya said, Sapphire made me promise not to leave her behind.

  The Shadow snapped, Oh, I suppose a dragonet forced the future Queen of Immadia and a Star Dragoness to boot, to pack her in a saddlebag and tell lies for a week …

  Of course, the Amethyst only raised her chin and curved a protective paw around Sapphire. She’s Dragonkind. Look, I made a promise. I will not change my mind. Sapphire may well prove very useful to us.

  He was about to tear strips off Aranya’s hide, when Ardan caught himself staring at Zuziana. Firstly, she had not protested. Now, he saw the Azure Dragoness’ thoughts incline to one of her saddlebags–no, not her thoughts, but his Shadow-vision somehow saw through her body to the yearning of her fires. No, no, NO! he almost howled, taking several jerky steps toward her. You didn’t!

  Didn’t what? asked Leandrial. Little one, I see nothing wrong with taking a dragonet, if she’s willing to risk her life–

  Not her. Her! Ardan aimed a talon at Zip.

  The Remoyan protested, Me? I’m not hiding any dragonets.

  No. Just something a little … larger, sneered Ardan. Come on, Remoy. Tell the truth. I’ve never seen you so quiet. You missed five predators in the last day alone, predators any self-respecting Azure Dragoness should eat for breakfast. Zip did not move a muscle. Don’t make me order a search of your saddlebags. Your guilt stinks.

  * * * *

  Aranya sidled over to Zuziana as Ardan’s ire swelled. “Ardan, please. I’m the one who took Sapphire against orders. Don’t be mad at Zip, too.”

  “Angry?” he bristled. “I’m not angry, I’m fire-spitting furious, that’s what I am! How can I embark on a journey, on a quest of this magnitude, with any hope of success, if I’m lumbered with two freaking, colluding little liars?”

  “Zip knew nothing about Sapphire, Ardan.”

  “It’s not the dragonet, she has her monk in one of those saddlebags!” The Shadow Dragon swallowed, fighting to master his emotions. “Look. Here’s my last word on the subject, Zuziana. If you’re so desperate, fly the man to Remoy, marry him and send him back to ruddy Fra’anior, hear me? Or stay behind if you can’t–”

  “No!” cried Aranya. “Zip, I need you!”

  “AND NOT ME?”

  “Ardan, calm down!” Aranya’s temper frayed at the speed of Storm-invigorated magic. “Of course I need you–I need all of you, with your hearts in the right places. Zip, tell me … it isn’t true?”

  “Afraid it is, Immadia. He made me. Ri’arion absolutely forbade me to travel without him.”

  RI’ARION!! bellowed the Shadow Dragon.

  Aranya had rarely heard Ardan so riled. He did like things just so, but why was he so enraged about this?

  Zip said smugly, “He can’t hear you, Ardan. For everyone’s information before they start fire-breathing all over this lovely current, or creating personal storms, Ri’arion’s hypnotised himself into a state of deep hibernation. If you listen carefully, you might detect his heart beat once every fifty seconds or so, and hear a single shallow breath every two to three minutes.”

  “Hibernating a Human through the Cloudlands and across the Rift?” said Leandrial, shaking her head in wonder. The three Dragons gripped her scales more tightly. “Fascinating idea, little ones. You really make a Land Dragoness think. Most fascinating!”

  “Fascinating?” Ardan winged off a short ways, his body rigid with anger. He threw back over his shoulder, “Since we’re all awake now, why don’t we hurry to Remoy and get this childishness
over with?”

  Aranya stared after him, before turning to her best friend with a half-hearted scowl. “Zuziana of Remoy, you didn’t.”

  “Aranya of Immadia, you didn’t.”

  Indulging in a fit of the giggles right now would probably be a bad idea, given Ardan’s reaction. Aranya could tell that Zuziana was about to erupt. She said ruefully, “So, when exactly did you plan your little charade? I promised Sapphire … well, that night before I met Hualiama, which was her idea, Zip. Sapphire’s, not mine–and just look at what it gained us.”

  “Sapphire’s? Wow. So you thought, she won’t take up much room. She can get into places I can’t. She sees things I don’t–so she’d be an asset. Who’d suspect a dragonet? Right?”

  Aranya elbowed her friend, knowing exactly where this was leading. “Who’d suspect an upright, virtuous monk of marrying a morally dissolute Remoyan, right?”

  “Hey! You take that back, you man-eater.”

  “Hey!” Aranya imitated her friend. “I’m not the one prancing about stuffing men in my handbag.”

  That was too much for Zip. With a high-pitched squeal of laughter, the Azure Dragoness lost any semblance of control, causing the not-very-distant Shadow Dragon to expectorate a ten-foot wide fireball of overheated indignation. Aranya just shook her head at her friend’s antics. A dragonet stowaway–sneaky, aye, but compared to bagging a whole monk?

  That Princess of Remoy had style!

  * * * *

  To say that Zuziana’s family were pleased by her unexpected arrival was perhaps the understatement of the century. All of Remoy turned out in paroxysms of celebration, for the rod of the Sylakian Empire had chastised their kingdom most sorely. Message hawks announcing victory were one matter. The arrival of a Dragon-Princess of Remoy, quite another. When the joyous tidings escaped the Palace, which they did at the speed of a hunting Dragon after Zip, Aranya and Ardan’s first chaotic briefing of the King and his Queens–that was the trigger. They could hear a roar rising from the Palace gates and spreading throughout the city.

  Crazy Remoyans.

  Zip’s sisters and mothers dragged her away. “We must unbag your luggage, daughter dearest!” gushed one of her mothers, as excited as a fledgling dragonet turning somersaults.

  “Oi, Immadia. Over here.” Three sisters grabbed her, while one smiled, “Remember me?”

  “Graziala? Of course,” said Aranya.

  King Lorman waded through his swirling family, which numbered four of Zuziana’s brothers, including Yuka and Tarka whom she knew, and nine sisters, with a further four siblings missing here and there, barking, “Hold! O Princess of Immadia, I’ll have your hand, Milady!”

  In a moment, the tiny, moustachioed King of Remoy snaffled her from the sisters, who had no qualms. They danced off to ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ over Ardan. Poor man. Aranya might have felt sympathetic if she hadn’t been so ragingly jealous of all the pretty, flagrantly underdressed Remoyans cooing over him. Zip had briefly warned her about hot season dress customs. That would be ‘undress’, Aranya thought uncharitably. And communal bathing. Ardan and Ri’arion were about to have their eyes opened–not that hers weren’t! Tuning in her draconic senses, she heard:

  “Ooh, I didn’t know the Western Isles bred rajals for men.”

  “Ooooh, these biceps! Do you eat boulders for breakfast, big man?”

  “So dark; sooooo very beautiful,” gushed another sister, who could not have been more than twelve, nor an inch over four and a half feet in height. “He’s blushing, girls. So cute!”

  “Grazi–oh mercy, I’m going to faint.”

  “He’s leopard!”

  Lashes fluttered, waves of perfume swirled and bright giggles rose around the dark warrior as his body burst into feverish embarrassment. Dragoness-Aranya could practically smell smoke from where she stood. Human-Aranya quelled her with difficulty, only to gasp as one of Zip’s mothers, Remoy’s third Queen of four, shooed the girls away–then blatantly ran her sparkling green eyes up and down Ardan’s physique herself! This provoked a rabid howl from Aranya’s inner Dragoness. Enamoured of Hualiama’s open, sweet relationship between her two Shapeshifter forms, Aranya had hoped to start listening to her inner life. No time like the present.

  She managed an ugly, fire-filled snarl, “Leave my man alone!”

  Ardan’s dark gaze snapped to her, jammed with passions she could only guess at.

  So much for pushing him away, Immadia! Stupid emotions–Aranya shoved them inside, only to wince as an almighty thunderclap rattled every window across Remoy. Down, Star Dragoness! They were among friends … burning with humiliation, Aranya dropped her gaze to King Lorman, who held her hands gently in his own. His thumbs rubbed her knuckles, feeling the lumps and contusions there. At once, Aranya knew he knew.

  “My father … wrote?” she stammered.

  “And Zuziana. They wanted us to know that my daughter was a Dragoness and you … and you …” his voice broke. King Lorman dashed away tears, but his moustache began to sag from the volume of salty wetness running down his cheeks. He whispered, “When we released you to fight the Sylakians, my daughter, we had no idea. This is–we Remoyans say, there is no animal as cruel as the Human beast. I would take it all back for thy sake, Immadia, I swear … our freedom is not worth this travesty.”

  Impulsively, Aranya hugged him. “The one life in exchange for the many, King Lorman. That’s the Immadian way.”

  “Truly so brave, o Princess?”

  His gentleness wrenched honesty from her breast. Aranya said, “No. But if I repeat the words often enough …”

  “You’ve been more than a friend to our family, Aranya,” he said. “I will pray every day that you bring that monster to heel, but moreover, that you are restored to your true beauty and your precious mother to her life. I will assault the heavens in prayer with such passion that the very moons and stars shall take heed and make obeisance. I want you to know, my precious, precious daughter, and I declare this with all of my heart: your affliction is grievous, but it will be transitory–and I am not speaking of the afterlife.”

  Aranya stared at the King, at a homely visage that suddenly possessed eyes like prophetic daggers. Her mind reeled. Magic? In Zip’s lineage? No wonder!

  King Lorman whispered, “My tears for yours, Aranya of Immadia. My heart for your broken heart. May you fly to the far shores of our Island-World, where you shall soar on wings afire with the glory of stars! And all shall be restored. All–that is my prayer. Let it be.”

  And it seemed to her that the voice of Fra’anior growled beneath the world, Aye, let it be.

  She could not help but wonder how many promises must be spoken over a Star Dragoness. Was she so needy? Or the task ahead, so overwhelming?

  Chapter 12: A Royal Handfasting

  THE DAY of Zip’s wedding dawned bright and fair. The melodious strains of flutes, harps, zithers and cymbals roused the citizens of Remoy as columns of musicians and dancers paraded through the cobblestone streets, counterpoint to a stormy argument inside the Royal Palace of the fabled Jade Isle, the Island of eighteen terrace-lake levels and a people as passionate as the best of an Amethyst Dragon’s storm-summoning.

  Her parents! Zip battled her Dragoness as much as the five of them in an argument that was rapidly getting out of hand.

  Losing both the desire and the ability to keep quiet so that Aranya could continue to sleep, Zuziana yelled at her father, “Of course he’s a monk! Aranya, tell him. Tell my father and my mothers–accursed windrocs, I’m getting married today!”

  Stirring on the pillow-roll, Aranya murmured, “Uh, monk? Sort of a … lapsed monk. Aye.”

  “Heavens, no!” Zip gasped.

  First-mother Yuhina snapped, “Lapsed? No daughter of ours is marrying some vow-breaking religious freak! What kind of monkey-nut is he, lacking a single moral bone in his body? Get that fraud in here. Now!”

  King Lorman implored the heavens, “Whatever were you thinking, Zuzi? A monk?”r />
  “She’s in love,” said Aranya, waking up properly. Open mouth, insert Dragon’s paw, Zuziana thought crossly. Even more helpfully, the Immadian Princess growled, “Leave my friend alone.”

  “That’s exactly what Remoyans don’t do!” fourth-mother Siyantha said icily. “We know how to treat our daughters, so don’t you interfere–”

  “Interfere?”

  Keep your Dragoness inside, Aranya, Zip said privately. There are ways of fighting this battle.

  Uh … spluttered her friend, discovering to her evident chagrin that she had been sleeping with her arm curled around Zip’s shoulders. Mercy … Aranya sat up, holding the blankets close to her chest as she reached for her face-veil.

  Shortly, Ardan entered the royal bedchamber followed by a bemused, mussed-looking Ri’arion. Zip had five parents, but between them they had accusations for a hundred, burning the air until Aranya finally exploded, “SILENCE!”

  Ardan dived for the blue Helyon silk sheets and snuffed out the flames, but there were scorch-marks all around her friend. Shocked, Zip checked her limbs. She was not burned, not even a little.

  “Right,” said Ri’arion, coolly. “So, is the problem the chastity issue, or a religious objection?”

  “Your vows,” said King Lorman.

  “I see,” he said. With his most inscrutable monk-face set firmly in place, Zip’s heart sank. Oh no. Ri’arion was about to ruin everything!

  “May I explain, now that all the shouting’s done?” she asked, acidly.

  The tall monk said, “No, you may not.” Zip clicked her dangling jaw shut. What? He said, “King Lorman, I’m afraid I’ve not had very many chaste thoughts since the day I met your daughter. I may be a powerful Enchanter, but she played my heart-strings from the very first–the notes of her bravery, fiery spirit and loyalty to her friend and to our cause, shall resound through the ages. What I see in her is wholly admirable, and perfect in my eyes, though none of us Humans are perfect.”

  For once, Zuziana’s family were silenced. So was she–but how her heart sang! Ri’arion! Oh mercy, to hear him speak thus! Then, his natural diffidence seized him like a Dragon’s paw.