by Marc Secchia
She sensed Leandrial’s soothing, but the dreams gripped her like a Dragon’s merciless talons. On the cusp of imagining she should shed her very scales in terror, Aranya slipped instead, into peace.
Unexpected, wholesome peace; soul-deep.
The laughter of starlight.
Who had spoken? She glanced about, as confused as a rajal chasing butterflies. She was cupped in a small pocket of soft, violet Dragon hide, its innate density shielding her from the buffeting that impacted a much larger body without. Oh. She lay inside her friend’s cheek, of course. And she felt as if she had spent a few days being repeatedly punched by a Land Dragon. Ugh.
Aranya coughed, Uh … Leandrial, was that you?
Was what who? chuckled the Land Dragoness, but Aranya heard strain-indicators behind her light-hearted comment. Guiltily, she realised her physical Storm had assaulted her friend.
Sorry. Someone said, ‘The laughter of starlight.’
Not me, said Leandrial. Hearken with your inmost fires. I’m about to call in our companions. We’re ten leagues from entering the Rift-Storm.
I–what?
You slept a whole day, little one. Twenty-seven hours. Her Dragonish softened, developing additional motherly-concern nuances. You must have needed respite, yet your dreams … her inward fire-shudder communicated much.
What could she say? Warm, orange tones of gratitude shaded her telepathic Dragonish as Aranya breathed, Thanks, Leandrial. I mean it.
I know, little one. Gratitude-reflection upon thee, who hath lifted a Land Dragoness from the mire with true-fires friendship. Never shall it be forgotten. With a curl of mischief-indicators shading her Dragonish like dancing dragonets, the old Dragoness added, Perhaps, for reason of thy heart, I should start to call thee, ‘great one’. It suits.
Aranya laughed uncomfortably. Would that I might step into such largeness of paw one day, Leandrial.
I join my fires to this endeavour, Leandrial replied, with a further atypical genuflection of her inner being. An oath-wish? Aranya did not understand the nuances communicated by her action, a spreading and fluttering of her fires, as if the Dragoness herself had grown spirit-wings.
With that, the pocket drew open upon the strange realm of Leandrial’s broad, flat tongue, which formed the floor of her mouth-cavern. The roof–her palette–was a luminous, very light purple similar to the plumage of the young terhals of Immadia, producing a soft radiance by which Aranya could make out many details, from the blocky molars with what appeared to be half a tree stuck between them, midway down the starboard side, to the exact patterning of the taste buds, smell bulbs and electrical-sensor-inlets upon her purple tongue’s surface. Interestingly, her highly elastic, prehensile tongue hinged from the front, allowing the Land Dragoness to snare potential food with a muscular movement that she described as snap-snaffle-swallow.
After checking that her talons were sheathed, Aranya stepped out onto Leandrial’s tongue. There had to be a balladeer’s dream in this moment, she decided, parading with queenly grace–and making herself chuckle in the doing–over to the stuck morsel.
Calling the dental surgeon, she said.
What silliness are you perpetrating this time, Aranya? Leandrial inquired.
Human-Aranya would have stood no chance of removing the stem of whatever plant it had been; Dragoness-Aranya arched her back beneath it, and pried the three-foot thick length free with a single, powerful flexion of her muscles.
Ah! Leandrial exclaimed. So that’s what kept me from conquering the Rift last time!
To the tune of their mingled laughter, Ardan, Sapphire, Zip and Ri’arion entered Leandrial’s mouth.
“Fra’anior spoke?” the monk asked at once, as direct as a flying arrow.
Aranya began to shake her head, then arrested the movement. Nothing carved in granite, Ri’arion, but there was something–if I could just remember it–and the briefest of inputs I think, and a message which I believe came from Hualiama.
Which was? Zip prompted.
Ah … ‘the laughter of starlight.’
She could have split Islands with the growls that emanated from the Shadow and the Azure, but Sapphire trilled brightly, Hoo-lee spoke! Is enough, yes, yes, yes?
Ri’arion fished for flies as he followed this. At length he grumbled, “Your Aunt prescribes a diet of laughter for the greatest magical storm in the Island-World and a dragonet understands more than any of us? You should meditate upon the Dragonfriend’s teachings, Aranya, rather than sleeping the days away.”
Aranya flashed a few dozen fangs at him. “Great leaping Islands, I’ll try to remember your advice next time Fra’anior won’t leave well enough alone!”
The beat of Leandrial’s tail picked up as the Land Dragoness accelerated. Meantime, she tucked Ardan into one of the twenty-five cheek-pockets that lined either side of her mouth, and drew him into the mind-meld. Ri’arion lost interest in baiting Aranya, concentrating instead on instructing Ardan so that he and Leandrial could achieve a deeper level of trust and sharing.
With Leandrial’s resources underpinning his effort, Ardan’s uncanny Shadow power enveloped the group. Aranya had a sense of fading into nothingness. In reality, she knew she still stood paws-akimbo upon Leandrial’s tongue, but her brain insisted there was no substance; at once, she saw through the Land Dragoness’ lips, teeth and hide to the landscape beyond. How? An image of teeth and jawbones seemed superimposed upon the terrifying storm ahead. Leandrial had dived deep, the best way to start, she claimed.
Ahead, fire jetted from a jagged crack in the black basal rock with huge force. The stench of taint was heavy in her nostrils, but more so, the awareness of disturbance in the aether. Aranya’s scales crawled as if stroked by enormous, ice-cold talons.
Quick, to my cheek-pockets, Leandrial commanded. The entry will be rough …
Amethyst and Azure managed to scramble into the same pocket, along with Sapphire. Aranya saw the monk’s faint outline above Zuziana’s shoulders and brought him down lest the enfolding Dragon hide squash him–or could it, in a realm of Shadow? Zip drew him gratefully in her paws; the monk gave no sign of being aware that he had been moved.
Their shields drew together. Heat. Pressure. A resilient force-distribution mechanism to spread the impact of conflicting forces along Leandrial’s great length, or she would be torn limb from limb. Leandrial had adapted the shaped aerodynamic shielding to best suit her. Aranya sensed the Land Dragoness’ mind checking over the shield-constructs one last time as she neared the wall, thrusting with her utmost power, a synchronised action of all four legs and her lashing tail.
Like the largest spear in existence, one and a half miles of Land Dragon plunged into the Rift-Storm.
An upward-rushing waterfall of fire snatched them away.
* * * *
The Azure Dragoness had imagined nothing could move the mighty mountain of Dragonflesh that was Leandrial. She had braced for an explosion. Instead, a prolonged, rising hissing sound developed as an orange and vermilion waterfall streamed over and around Leandrial’s body. An ultra-low rumbling shook her entire length. Heat enveloped them. Then, the Rift’s fires began to crumble their shields. Ardan and Ri’arion set about shoring up the defences at once.
Long minutes crawled by as the ambient temperature rapidly escalated. Leandrial swam powerfully, aiming not to be dragged too high, for if they struck one of the maelstroms, too much of a drop could kill her. The Land Dragoness’ great body juddered under the increasingly powerful assault, as if she were being pummelled from without by Shurgal himself. Meantime, she and the Amethyst tried to make sense of the disruptive magic. Was it sound? Impact? A wholly magical contagion? Certainly, it was far more complex than mere fire.
It’s unravelling constructs faster than they can rebuild them, said Aranya. This is what I see, Zip.
Zip inspected a highly-focussed close-up of the shield magic. To Aranya’s sight, magic was comprised of a very fine meshwork of threads … no, runes? Arany
a took her closer. Look at how each thread is a poetic expression of magical language, as if this language comprises the very atomic structures and forces Leandrial spoke of … I do not understand how, but our presence and powers shape and mould this language, this expression of white-fires. Zuziana chewed her forked tongue thoughtfully. This was how a Star Dragoness saw her world? Very different to Leandrial. Together, they pointed to linkages and interdependencies and nuances in the great tapestry of magical language.
While they cogitated, their companions fought an unequal battle. It’s far worse than the last time I entered, Leandrial gasped, mining her magic deeply. I can’t cope much longer. We have to reach the maelstrom, the one-third point … hold, Aranya! Save your strength!
The Amethyst Dragoness paused. A small experiment?
WAIT!
The shaking worsened steadily, pounding Leandrial side-to-side and upward, always upward. Even the Shadow-effect of Ardan’s magic could not protect her from the Rift-Storm, for its innate magic seemed inimical to all forms of draconic magic. Disharmony. Disintegration. Destruction. Ardan growled expletives beneath his breath, trying to hold together, but he battled an endless flood. His Shadow flickered.
Ardan growled, Help me, Ri’arion … no … an explosion without rattled them all.
The Azure Dragoness could not believe how quickly his strength waned–Aranya muttered that they had been inside for over two hours, and swum twenty-five leagues. Their great companion still moved strongly … BOOM! BOOM! Leandrial groaned. The explosions came with more frequency now. All she saw without was fire. Rivers of fire. An upside-down torrent of fierce orange fire, as if they swam into the roasting heart of a volcano. Heat built upon heat despite their best protections.
The Shadow Dragon groaned again, in real pain now, but he still had strength enough to push aside Aranya’s tentative mental touch. No! He concentrated fiercely.
Suddenly, they entered a region of violent wind-shear. Zuziana’s stomachs leaped into her throat as Leandrial first dropped precipitously, before splashing down upon a huge, swelling bubble of bright yellow magma. BOOM! She tumbled into space. House-sized boulders peppered their shield, followed by a curling wave of white-hot, molten metal that dragged the Land Dragoness down again. Ri’arion helped to steady and phase the shields; Leandrial’s challenge roared forth as she shook free and resumed the beating action of her feet and tail.
Again and again, explosions pummelled them, twice sending the entire Land Dragon muzzle-over-paws into raging canyons of fire. She recovered each time, but the effort cost her dearly.
After three and a half hours of struggling into the teeth of the Rift-Storm, Leandrial was spent. Haven’t even come as far as last time, she gasped. Maelstrom … ahead. Too high.
Zuziana was wishing she knew what Leandrial meant by the ‘maelstrom’, when without warning, the Land Dragoness’ head and shoulders suddenly punched into space. Half of their shield evaporated instantly.
Disruption! The shrieking backlash of lethal magic concussed both Ri’arion and Ardan as if their candlewicks had been snuffed by the pinch of monstrous talons. The Rift-Storm’s voice was an unimaginable, shrieking turmoil; its heart a vortex of yellow-orange lava-froth forty leagues wide and ten deep. The brief glimpse she caught before Ardan’s Shadow-power vanished and the scene with it, showed them an estimated six leagues up the side wall of a churning, apparently bottomless whirlpool of hellish fire.
Hold on, Leandrial! cried the Amethyst.
* * * *
This was the place. If they could reach one of the pumice-like Islands she had spotted floating on the maelstrom’s surface, Aranya reasoned, Leandrial could rest. The Rift-Storm would shred their magic like a Dragon sieving soft flesh with his talons, but physical rest was possible.
As Beran liked to say, first problems first.
Before actual wisdom interfered, the Amethyst Dragoness seized the remnant of their shield in her mind and contorted it enthusiastically in an unexpected direction. Backward.
BRRROAARRR … Leandrial roared, mouth momentarily agape, as an area of low pressure developed at her tail and ultra-high pressure at her head. She squeezed backward like sugar bamboo being pressed through rollers to extract sap.
Steady as she goes, Helmsman! Aranya sang out.
She had the impression the Azure was gaping at her somewhere in the semidarkness inside Leandrial’s cheek-pocket, but the Land Dragoness voiced a mighty guffaw of rough and pained conception, before awkwardly paddling backward and downward in a corkscrewing motion, keeping her tail as stiff as a spear–a southerly spear. Downward. The starlight-infused penetrative shield teased aside just enough of the Rift’s hostile magic to succeed. Aranya could not understand the opposing forces, a mixture of stormy earthen-fire, physical winds that struck a shrill note of never-ending pain, as though the Island-World itself suffered a ghastly eruption of its bowels, and arcane magic–always the boisterous, caustic magic. The Rift-Storm’s perturbation was so deep-seated, it attacked her magic at the most elemental level, as if its very nature were–she grappled with the problem, meantime goggling at the rapid drain on her resources–antithetical. Forces so opposed, the mere juxtaposition of their existence resulted in mutual annihilation.
Inspiration! Could she imitate this magic, thereby cloaking them in deceit? No, they’d all be torn apart in the doing. Ugh. Thrusting that prekki-fruit mush aside, the Dragoness returned to her work.
Almost an hour later, when Leandrial adjudged the time to be right, they reverted to their previous configuration. With a dozen or so swishes of her mighty tail, Leandrial drove through the fierce wash and out upon the maelstrom.
Great grafting, Aranya, Ardan hissed tiredly.
Aye, top work, said Zuziana, plainly disgruntled. Remoy sits on her duff while the boys are fainting left and right and the Star Dragoness’ backwards logic sucks us down the proverbial plughole. At least we can conclude that Thoralian is disgusting enough to perfectly suit this Rift-magic.
Aranya heard Ri’arion slapping his Dragoness’ hide. Easy, Azure. We’ll need your strength yet, since us boys did such stellar work on the first leg. Almost had us killed.
They gazed about as Ardan turned Leandrial’s flesh semi-transparent once more, giving them a view through her clenched teeth to the whirling outskirts of the maelstrom. The dark centre moved at a dangerous speed, swirling downward with a lusty howl audible even over the Rift-Storm’s natural voice. The maelstrom’s surface bubbled and bulged ominously, like a terrace lake troubled from beneath, creating huge patches of orange-white foam that smoked and frothed and churned constantly. At its circumference, the storm’s edges rose upward abruptly as though sheared by a knife. Streamers and gobbets of strangely glutinous, red-laced fire peeled off these fiery cliffs to shower slowly into the great cauldron. Higher still, the cloud-ceiling was a filthy, sooty grey-black, like the residue of burning oil.
Leandrial swam a quarter-mile inward before allowing the tide to take control. Then, she rested her limbs.
No need to rush this part, the Land Dragoness said. No Islands, though. Last time there were–
Swim, Leandrial! yelled Aranya. Go!
The titan bellowed, What? Where’s the danger?
Straight up!
Aranya’s world tilted as Leandrial cast her eye-beam upward. A flat, metallic disk punched through the streaming fires three miles overhead. Already it shaded them as its nose tilted downward with ponderous majesty.
What the hells is that? Ardan bellowed.
An Island … thing! Metal! Leandrial panted, stirring the mixture beneath her belly with great strokes of her cupped paws.
Aranya linked in with the Land Dragoness, welcoming her great, shining presence at the edge of her mind. Instinctively, they shaped the shield once more. Pneumatic elements could ease the movement of her legs through the dense, liquescent substrate, and further, Aranya increased the size of her paddles on each downstroke. Leandrial’s molars ground together as the D
ragoness applied her titanic muscles to swimming; Aranya tasted Ardan’s dark strength, Sapphire’s tickling laughter-magic, and Zuziana’s signature touch of blue lightning against her mind as she forced her own Storm inward. Use it all! Rage, winds!
The Land Dragon’s heaving chest began to throw out a bow-wave as she accelerated.
She glanced up. The Island shifted steadily to mirror their evasive movement … Stinking windrocs, it’s chasing us! Aranya’s mental voice hit a shrill note of shock. Faster, Leandrial!
Ardan growled, Ruddy wings would help …
Fins! Zuziana put in. Aranya, try this!
Aranya gasped. Turn Leandrial into a Dragonship? Excellent! In Zip’s vision, ailerons similar to a Dragonship’s adjustable steerage equipment lifted the Land Dragoness out of the gloopy fire dragging at her torso … at the speed of thought, she adjusted Leandrial’s shield-profile to conform to the clear objective in her mind, instantly refined by Zip, Ri’arion and Leandrial working in concert. The Dragoness’ massive tonnage surged upward as the ailerons solidified, borne upon paws that stabbed six hundred feet deep with every stroke. Her chin lifted. Leandrial’s body seemed to lengthen as the fires reluctantly sucked away.
The Amethyst Dragoness began to laugh. Fly, Leandrial! Faster! Spread your wings! She drew wings in her mind, great spreading white wings that flowered out of the Dragoness’ flanks, entirely formed of starlight magic. Beautiful, functional ailerons. Fly, o magnificent Dragoness!
The grey Island poured down toward them upon a bed of fire, as though it created a crimson comber for its own use; Leandrial glided ahead of it, running upon her talon-tips.
How Aranya chuckled! Hualiama? Is this you?
Very nearly, the great Dragoness flew–she skim-glided across the maelstrom, heading in a wide curve around to the southerly side to avoid the centre’s irresistible flow. The metal Island showed no such compunction. Dipping down until it skimmed across the surface, it accelerated on the inner track, catching the fleeing Dragoness with ease. Aranya half-expected the Island to grow a vast maw or tentacles, but when its denizens appeared, she experienced a greater shock than any so far. People! Grey, Human-like creatures bounded off the Island’s flanks with palpable joy and abandon, skidding and skating over the flames upon wide, spatulate feet. They had no eyes, but their humanoid nature was clear. Heads, pumping arms and skating legs were all present. Their skins were a smooth, seamless grey, as if they were encased in metal, or …
