Song of the Storm Dragon

by Marc Secchia

  Aye, said Leandrial. Her companion’s shields coalesced at once. You sense rightly. Many presences surround us and ahead, a mighty Fire of Fires … such as even I have never encountered. A majestic being of yore.

  Aranya regarded Leandrial with wonder. Aye?

  Observe.

  The awestruck quaver in the Dragoness’ voice triggered a simultaneous lurch in the Amethyst’s three Dragoness-hearts.

  The Haven nosed out once more into a place where the Rift-Storm had become divided in a complex pattern that originated somehow in the rock-formations she saw ahead and far, far below, at the limit of her Dragon sight–in the vertical dimension! Her talons tightened painfully on the Haven’s edge. As they passed over this illimitable abyss, demarcated at its edges by fountains of pearlescent, rainbow-hued fires, she saw Ardan and Zuziana similarly taking a better grip, even if it was on metal impenetrable to their talons, but entirely penetrable by Leandrial’s special Land Dragon magic.

  Aranya caught her breath. Here, the Rift-Storm revealed at last its inner beauty–a terrible, soul-crushing beauty that cast into insignificance the reality one had taken for granted. The colours hypnotised. The scale dwarfed even Leandrial. Every fibre of her being thrilled with the knowledge that only an ancient, magnificent and even holy creature must claim such a setting for its habitation.

  Ri’arion exclaimed, “Look at all the Havens!”

  Many, many metal Havens peeked out of the storm-fires as though neatly shelved by a gigantic paw in regular rows, stacked perhaps a mile apart vertically and horizontally. Aranya counted thirty layers from below to far above, where the Rift-fires bent inward to obscure what might have been a view of the stars. Even here there was no respite. Leandrial laboured to extend her shields around them, especially Ri’arion, who was far more vulnerable to the heat than any of the Dragonkind.

  Zip added, “The pattern strikes me as a Dragon’s paw-print. Look. Three peninsulas of rock out there. There are two behind us divided by the fire we’re travelling upon right now–three forward and two rear-facing. Structurally, a classic Dragon’s paw.”

  “And a central column of fire arising from the Dragon’s palm,” added Ri’arion, patting his Dragoness approvingly.

  Zip purred, “Aye, but I wouldn’t want to meet the Dragon whose palm print was ten leagues wide and twenty long, not counting his talons. He’d make even Leandrial look like a hatchling.”

  Leandrial vented a decidedly muzzle-out-of-joint snort.

  “See, we can’t always be the biggest in this life,” sniped the Azure, with a cheeky glint of her fangs.

  Aranya growled at Zip, Don’t press your luck, Remoy.

  “Perhaps I should investigate how big a splodge you’d make on this metal if I stepped on you, little one?” suggested the behemoth, with suitably expansive dignity.

  As the disk slowed at the apex of the fires sandwiched between the two eastward-pointing ‘talons’, the great column of fire facing them grew rapidly brighter, as though infused with a presence from within. The orange fires brightened toward intense, suns-bright golds and yellows. Ri’arion shaded his eyes, while the Lesser Dragons’ secondary nictitating membranes filtered the glare automatically. Aranya checked with Sapphire, but the dragonet stood firm upon the flight-muscle of her right shoulder, her fire-eyes gleaming bravely. Upon the periphery of her vision, shiny grey Foam-Riders budded out of the metal Havens in their thousands. She saw some smaller ones among their number, perhaps family groupings or children …

  declared the Foam-Rider nearest them.

 

  Thankfully, Leandrial anticipated the mental cry of thousands and dampened the psychic wash. Still, Zuziana clutched her head and Ri’arion swayed in his seat upon her back. The fiery column swelled, filling the ‘palm’ of the Dragon’s paw, coalescing and streaming in new and beguiling patterns as an overwhelming presence began to solidify within. Aranya found herself thankful for their perch several miles from the phenomenon, for the heat escalated rapidly to thousands of degrees, visibly melting the fringes of their metal disk before the Foam-Riders began their dance once more, spreading the heat to mitigate its effect. Further, given the size of the beast forming within the flames, they could not have viewed it properly from close up.

  Eyes of vermilion-and-white flame, swirling like a Dragon’s orbs, formed amidst the lustrous fires–tall and slit like a cat’s pupils, partially flanking a muzzle that reached four leagues below their position. The eyes themselves had to be two miles tall, Aranya heard the monk mutter. Of course, Ri’arion was making calculations while the rest of them just goggled in stupefaction.

  We stand in the presence of majesty, the Princess of Immadia told her friends, spreading her wings and lowering her muzzle in a draconic obeisance.

  Ardan, Zuziana and Sapphire copied her, while Ri’arion stood between his Dragoness’ spine-spikes to execute one of those ridiculous Fra’aniorian productions she would never quite grow accustomed to–twelve distinct hand twirls, seven deep bobs of the head, the whole ralti sheep.

  Still the creature coalesced within its flame-column, assuming presence and detail by the moment. Ear-canals. Limbs. Scales–although all appeared to be the substance of pure flame, perhaps draconic flame coursing along conduits of metal or lava, Aranya could not tell. She touched Ri’arion’s mind briefly to check his body temperature, but so far, their shield was protection enough. A flaming paw rose from six leagues below. One digit advanced, itself longer than Leandrial’s entire frame. Aranya realised the creature moved with consideration for the tiny ones it addressed, but she was nonetheless discomfited to be the talon’s eventual target. It hove to perhaps seventy feet from the centre of her forehead, the heat now like a physical blow.

  An earthquake shook them. ISTARIELA, I KNEW. ART THOU HER TWIN?

  A-A-A … Aranya gritted her fangs. Aranya, noble Dragon-Spirit.

  FRA’ANIOR PROPAGATED OFFSPRING?

  The Amethyst Dragoness spread her wings a second time, holding a deep bow. I declare my ancestry. I am Aranya of Immadia, shell-daughter of Izariela the Star Dragoness and shell-granddaughter of Istariela the–

  HO-HO-HO!!

  Much more laughter and the creature would flatten the Rift-Storm on its own, Aranya thought crossly. As it was, their Haven rocked violently as the flame-beast’s laughter battered it backward half a mile; Leandrial corralled them in her paw as the Foam-Riders rapidly stabilised their home, seemingly unconcerned. The laughter thundered over them for over five minutes, drowning out everything, even the ability to think; hammer-blows of sound buttressed by a psychic storm.

  AT LAST, I UNDERSTAND THE FATES! roared the creature.

  GENTLE THE SPEECH, I BEG THEE! Leandrial boomed back, only she sounded like an echo’s echo in comparison.

  Again, the laughter belted their entire Island backward through the fiery wash. ASK WHAT THOU WILT, O LEANDRIAL, THOU WILD-HEARTED WANDERER!

  But just as Leandrial had been able to modulate her telepathic Dragonish, so this creature constrained his mighty power. Now, his speech was only as a thunderstorm breaking directly above one’s head, and each syllable, a drumroll of thunder. I am Infurion Abytharr Fireborn, little ones, a fellow-traveller with thy Fra’anior when this world was young. His mighty paw it was that welcomed mine spirit from the egg, for aye, I was born an Ancient Dragon but he was the Firstborn of Dragons, may his magnificence be honoured throughout the ages! Thy grandsire is mine elder by a mere thousand years in thy reckoning. He embodied, while I did not, preferring to make mine dwelling-place in the fires deep beneath the habitation of thy diminutive fire-kin. Aye, I am Infurion, ruler of the inner world. Who are these, thy companions?

  The most sulphurous blessings of Fra’anior himself be upon you, noble Infurion, said Aranya, with another deep, formal bow. We are honoured to make thy acquaintance. Then, she introduced each member of their group by name and title.

  These are my people, responded Infuri
on, gesturing broadly–in an Ancient Dragon’s parlance, that movement described a ten-mile sweep of his fire-dripping paw. Once, I sought to mimic Fra’anior’s creative genius. Thou might say, I was jealous of mine wing-brother. Aye, but in the best way, for the doings-in-life of these mine beautiful creatures have accorded mine heart-fires great joy. The slit eyes narrowed upon them. A strange companionship thou art, of Human, Land Dragon and Lesser Dragon–and this brave beauty, the miniscule yet unutterably joyous expression of Dragon fires.

  In response, Sapphire trilled a word in Dragonish Aranya did not understand.

  Aye, little one. For thy sake. The talon-tip shifted, again settling upon Aranya as if Infurion intended to etch his words upon her body and mind. Mine Foam-Riders inform me of thine conversation regarding Balance. Know that every kind of magic exists in Balance. This that troubles thee is called Earthen-Fires of the Dragonkind; thy magic is Sky-Fires of the same Dragonkind, yet juxtapose the two …

  Infurion’s mouth simulated an explosion. Aranya held firm as golden streamers of fire burst toward them. She leaned appreciatively upon Ardan’s sturdy presence in her mind, for rivers of multihued fire sheeted over their shields for long minutes.

  The Ancient Dragon’s voice swelled, battering them like rocks churning in a whirlpool of lava. Thus, what is inimical to thy kind is boon to mine. Magic is Balanced, Star Dragoness–for in thy paw and the result of thy contemplation, lies a mortal danger to all Rift-dwellers and indeed, to all Dragons who exist in these fires of the uttermost Deeps. Yet there is also interdependence, wherein do exist the greatest mysteries of all draconic fire-life. Do not misunderstand the Balance, little one! Do not act in haste!

  His thunder rolled over them and washed into the Rift-Storm, shaking its eternally-upwelling columns of fire. Aranya clenched her paws and endured, thinking: Her existence threatened an Ancient Dragon? Only a lifetime’s royal training kept the Immadian Princess’ jaw from sagging toward her scaly toes. Star Dragons were this powerful? Oh, Izariela, what wisdom she required to wield such power! For she knew what was to come. Infurion would act to protect his kind and his own survival. The nuances of his Dragonish expressed that as clearly as a shard of crysglass.

  A third time she made obeisance, saying, I shall be guided by those greater than I.

  Guidance is no substitute for oath-magic, little one. It is not the destiny-shaping oath-magic of a Star Dragoness. I SHALL HAVE THINE OATH!

  Ardan growled, Don’t you bully her!

  Infurion’s column flared unbearably. Mine is not the way of bargaining with lesser creatures! Be glad I do not extinguish thy miniscule lives forthwith!

  Yet you fear her power. Ardan had no qualms expressing what Aranya had wished to hide. Ruddy direct Western Islanders! Her hearts sank toward her paws as he added, Let us deal openly, mighty Infurion. For all wish to live the days given to us beneath the suns, and our quarrel is neither with you, nor is your quarrel with us, I suspect. We seek the rightful return of the First Egg and the breaking of Thoralian’s power. And if all you seek is assurances, even the oath of a Star Dragoness, then I am a beetle and no Dragon. I humbly entreat you, Infurion–upon my honour as a Dragon–to speak plainly. May we aid your cause? Be it in our power, we shall. Gladly would I give my own oath upon this word, but I shall not put words in the Star Dragoness’ mouth.

  To Aranya’s surprise, the fires of Infurion’s wrath appeared to simmer at a whiter temperature than before. Perhaps he liked outspokenness, or saw truth in Ardan’s words. The flaming eyes regarded them fiercely, great lakes of white-fires so intense, she shuttered her gaze in response, but could not thus shut out the Ancient Dragon’s power. At last, the great voice spoke not in thunder, but in a hypnotic melody like a thousand flutes playing at once.

  Infurion’s Dragonsong washed over them to the unknowable beyond, O Fra’anior! Must so great a task rest upon shoulders so frail?

  Aranya heard no reply, but the Rift-fires themselves seemed to shiver.

  Even more softly, the flutes sang, I see thine hearts, Aranya of Immadia, kin-Dragon of the Great Onyx. For mine part, I propose to place into thine heart knowledge of the resting-place of the First Egg in the realm of the S’gulzzi, deep in the cracks beneath the Island-World, and into thy understanding, the nature of the corrupting urzul, which by the First Egg’s power, holds even mine might at bay.

  Aranya froze. She heard Zuziana give a tiny bleat of shock; Leandrial’s muzzle immediately turned toward the Amethyst Dragoness, her eye-cannon brightening.

  Trembling from wingtip to tail, she ventured, And for mine part, great Infurion?

  First, an explanation. Once, the traitor Shurgal travelled the Rift-Storm by the power of the First Egg. The result of his trespass was the creation of Storm Elementals, the creatures that plague mine Foam-Riders and even me; corrupt creatures that damage our pure earthen fires and destroy mine peoples with indiscriminate glee. Twice, a Lesser Dragon traversed our territories–the one you named as Thoralian. I know him only as a master of urzul, and by the power of urzul, did he consume many Foam-Riders. Having stolen their magic, he succeeded with ease where thou hast bravely struggled.

  Aranya shared a loaded glance with Ardan and Zuziana. So it was true–and vile. Thoralian travelled the Rift by cannibalising the magic of those who dwelled within its fires!

  But Sapphire chirped, What urzul, Infurion? What my Aranyi do with urzul?

  Thirty miles tall he was, but the entire column of Infurion’s fires heaved a sigh. Of the seven primary types of Dragon fire, only two exist in our Island-World–Earthen-Fires and Sky-Fires.

  And the Nurguz creature? Aranya asked. What type of fire-life–

  Dark-Fires. Another type of Dragon-fire entirely, from whence is derived the misleading Dragonish expression of using ‘dark-fires’ to describe an emotional state. Dark-Fires are an anti-fire in their simplest manifestation, a precise inversion of the nature of Sky-Fires … I digress. Earthen-Fires are the fundamental fires of entire classes of Dragons unfamiliar to thy kind–I speak of the Theadurial, S’gulzzi and mine Foam-Riders as the prime exemplars. Even thou, Land Dragon, thou burnest brightly with the beauty of thy Sky-Fires, for dost thou not fly in the heart of thy preferred environs?

  Leandrial inclined her head. How mine fire-life is honoured. Reflected-honour be thine, o Infurion.

  Majestically, Infurion’s explanations continued to rumble forth, Each type of magic has its opposite; some, as thou hast discovered, are mutually destructive. Importantly, for our discussion, each type also has corrupt forms, usually forms originated in the works of evil Dragons, such as Dramagon the Red. Urzul is a corruption of Earthen-Fires. Ruzal was the corruption of Sky-Fires.

  Was? The Azure Dragoness queried for all of them.

  Ruzal disappeared around the era of your Dragonfriend, said the Ancient Dragon. Aranya sucked in her lips. Alright, giggly, dancing Hualiama–she had questions! Infurion continued, The dominance of the Theadurial over Land Dragons is rooted in the power of urzul. Augmented by the First Egg’s power, they grow mighty indeed. Their ambitions know no bounds. Therefore, to your part, Star Dragoness–

  Wait, Aranya frowned. What of the corruption arising from the Rift-Storm, Infurion? What of the poisons of the Cloudlands–what form of magic is that?

  Nothing magical, he replied.

  Nothing–what? gasped the Immadian.

  Not magical in nature, but clearly magical in origin, said the Ancient Dragon, his voice rising with testiness. Many times, I have tried to trace this contamination to its source, without success. I thought these poisons might originate in our Earthen-Fires, or be transported here by some current of the molten fires deep within the crust of this world, but I was mistaken. They simply … arise … by no process that I understand, and only since the last six centuries of thy reckoning of years. Aye, even the Ancient Dragonkind do not grasp all aspects of Balance, little ones–remember this lesson, and remember it well!

  Leandrial and Ardan shiel
ded the companions from the furious firestorm of Infurion’s frustration. When his liquescent fires had sloughed off of their pneumatic shield and sheeted off the Haven in rivers, she turned to the Amethyst Dragoness. What might we offer the majestic Dragon-Spirit, this Fire of Fires?

  Unforeseen consequences, Aranya thought. Shurgal had travelled the Rift-Storm via the First Egg’s powers and generated a new terror that plagued even Infurion, to this day. Ruzal disappeared from the Island-World, and a new contamination arose from the Rift almost simultaneously. Could the Dragonfriend’s actions unwittingly have spawned this new problem? Well, new as in a mere six centuries old?

  Almost inaudibly, she muttered, “Aunty Dancing-Paws, this Amethyst guppy and you need to talk.”

  Swiftly having assembled her thoughts, Aranya responded, Together with these, the best of companions, most noble Ancient Dragon, we commit to regaining possession of the First Egg and returning it to its rightful place. We shall not misuse the Egg’s power. If we must breach the Rift-Storm to create a way for Land Dragons to return to the North in order to speed our world’s restoration, we shall do our utmost not to destroy your peoples in the doing. We will not change the Rift’s Balance without first consulting you. And, we promise to strive to the uttermost frontier of flesh and spirit to defeat the scourge of urzul, for the sake of Land Dragons and Rift-dwellers alike. This, I gladly swear, with all my heart and soul. Are you with me, friends?

  Aye! roared Ardan, Zip and Leandrial, while Ri’arion and Sapphire added their assent.

  Infurion’s gaze, turbulent and inexpressibly profound, measured them for the length of thirty individual draconic heartbeats. Then, he said, Thy truth is the freedom of mighty fires, Star Dragoness. Knowledge shall be thine, and mine blessing shall I confer upon thee. May thy service be efficacious, thy hearts pure, and the right paw of thy justice, uncontainable.

  Aranya abased her fires before him. In service are we blessed, mighty Infurion.