by Marc Secchia
“Shimmerith, wait,” called Pip. It was useless. A quiver ran the length of the Dragon’s body. She coiled in an eye-blink. Stop!
Next she knew, she was cradled in Hunagu’s arm, his thick fingers tapping her cheek. “Pip sleep? Good-good?”
Several hundred students and staff had gathered on the portico to gape at her in amazement. She wriggled free of the Ape’s grasp. “I-I … roaring rajals. I have to free Shimmerith.”
Master Kassik, who had been advancing toward her, halted. “Do that, Pip.”
His command was dry and crisp, a single sound in the ringing silence. Everyone else stood stunned as Pip walked quickly toward the frozen-in-time Dragon.
Incredible.
“Shimmerith, it’s me, Pip,” she said. The words came so uneasily. “I’m so sorry. The Ape is safe. He’s my friend. Can you behave yourself now, before … before I put your scaly backside over my knee and paddle it like the naughty little Dragon you are?” She grinned at her joke. Why, she could even add a finger-wagging telling-off for the Dragon. “I’m going to release you now. Behave, or this Pygmy girl will teach you a lesson.”
With that, Pip broke the thread a second time. Magic teased her senses. Here came two more Dragons, plummeting from the sky at a breathtaking speed–but her gaze flickered to Shimmerith, still coiled in readiness, smoke curling from her nostrils, her jewelled eyes narrowed in calculation. When she did not move, Pip exhaled.
That was when Shimmerith snapped at her.
Dragons had unbelievable reflexes, she had read–and seen, in Zardon. But he was an elderly Dragon. Shimmerith was young, razor-sharp and understandably peeved at the high-handed treatment she had just received. Pip’s response was pure instinct. She flung an elbow backward, behind her shoulder, roaring the same word she had used on the door.
Seventy feet of Dragon shuddered right down to her paws as the Pygmy girl’s elbow smashed into her muzzle.
Shimmerith’s chin punched her to the ground. Blackness folded in toward her. Through the closing tunnel, she saw another Dragon above her, roaring, spitting fire, his claws striking for her neck, and Hunagu! The Oraial hurled his tonnage into the fray, knocking the rending claw-stroke a vital foot aside. That was the last she remembered.
* * * *
Voices intruded on her dream. The Shadow Dragon had been singing to her, a soft, seductive song. Pip nearly vomited at the memory. But now she heard a familiar voice nearby.
“It’s a war council, Kassik.”
“Your Fellowship of Fra’anior? What’s blowing on the wind, old friend?”
“That’s exactly the problem. I don’t know. There are rumours about rumours–but all of them speak of trouble, evil and strife. I’ll wager you Jeradia Island to a rajal’s snarl, it has something to do with that girl.”
“Ay,” said Master Kassik. “You never knew she had powers, Balthion?”
Pip wanted to leap off the bed in joy, but something held her back–and she was too weak to move a muscle. Her head throbbed dully, and her throat ached in a way that suggested the pain had been dampened by medicine.
“No inkling. I don’t possess your powers, Kassik. Few do.”
“You trained her well enough. She broke my Weapons Master’s arm in training.”
Balthion said, in troubled tones, “How does a four-foot Pygmy girl knock the stuffing out of a seventy-foot Dragon? Her Rider Nak is going to kill her.”
“He’ll have to stand in line,” Kassik said, dryly. “The Dragon Elders have demanded that she face the Council.”
“Where’s Zardon?”
“Chasing those rumours. Couldn’t think of a better Dragon to–she’s awake.”
Pip, who had been lying very still as she eavesdropped on their conversation, sighed and opened her eyes. She tried to sit up, but a chain linking her left wrist to the bed-frame pulled her up short. She glanced about, finding herself in the infirmary. Oyda and Rajion worked on a patient nearby–Hunagu. Her heart faltered in her chest. Master Kassik smiled severely at her. Master Balthion stumped over, leaning heavily on his cane.
“Islands’ greetings, Pipsqueak,” he said, very softly. Pip saw his throat bob, swallowing a lump of emotion which thickened his voice. “I hear you’ve been giving my old friend grey hairs?”
Balthion and Kassik were friends? She had never worked that out.
The bed creaked as he sat. They embraced.
“How’s Hunagu, Master? I’m terribly sorry I ran away.” She wrinkled her nose at him in the Pygmy way, brimming with joy like a river swollen with good rains. “Actually, I didn’t, because Zardon kidnapped me. He’s rather hard to argue with, Master. And I’m so sorry I didn’t write immediately, but I didn’t think–”
“Pip.” He gazed at her fondly. “Slow down. I’m so delighted to find you here. Are you well?”
“Very, thank you, Master. And your family? Shullia? Arosia?”
“All well.” Balthion smiled, but it was clear from the set of his mouth that all was not well. “Now, time is short, Pip. Kassik and I need to hear everything from you–exactly what Zardon said, and what you saw of this creature.”
“Is it bad, Master?”
Kassik folded his tall frame onto a stool at her bedside. “Pip, we fear one of the Ancient Powers–the Dragons of old–has returned to the Island-World, and seeks to dominate or destroy it. Little is known of the Dragons who shaped our world, nor why those ancient ones died out, or left, or hid themselves from us. It is a grave matter. That is what Zardon flies to investigate; it is why we need to understand what you saw, Pip, and who you are. Will you help us?”
She wished they might have been joking, but what she read in their expressions struck stark fear into her heart. “Of course, Masters.”
“Pip, the powers you demonstrated are exceptional, even amongst Dragons.” Kassik paused as if to choose his words with care. “Especially how you stopped Shimmerith’s attack–that power is called a Word of Command, and it is said that only the greatest of Dragon magicians knew how to use it. There is no living Dragon who possesses that power, it is that rare. Some fear that the wrong word could unmake our world.”
Balthion nodded. “The words you spoke come from a language not even the Dragons understand. Much Dragon lore has been lost, Pip. We hope that the Dragon Elders will help you in this, and not seek to harm or contain you.”
Pip wished that their words were less grave, less like hammer-blows to the foundations of her existence. What she had needed to do had seemed so clear, then. Now, she stared into a troubled pool of fear and despair. “Master Kassik, why am I chained like this?”
He grimaced. “The Elders requested it. You see, we have an agreement that any Dragon who harms a student, should stand trial before a Council of Humans.”
“He’s never had a student harm a Dragon,” Balthion put in.
“Ridiculous idea,” said Kassik.
“Until today,” Master Balthion shot back. “You’ve shaken the Dragons, Pipsqueak. I’ve never seen such a gnashing of fangs and a flapping of wings.”
Balthion’s dour assessment brought brief smiles to the two Masters’ faces. Pip had a sense of how comfortable they were with each other. It seemed to her that between them, any truth could be spoken without fear.
“Quoting that agreement, the Dragons have demanded that you stand trial before the seven Dragon Elders, Pip,” said Kassik. “Some may speak for you. Some will speak against you. They will confer before making their judgement, or punishment. Pip, you not only defeated and embarrassed a Dragon, but you were foolish enough to insult her in the doing. Dragons are proud and noble creatures. They are not put over any Human’s knee or ‘taught a lesson’.”
Pip hung her head, knowing she deserved his reproof. “I’m sorry, Master.”
“Not half as sorry as those Dragons will make you.”
Great Islands, she had contrived to make an even bigger mess than ever before. The little Pygmy storm was in full spate. Pip gritted her teeth. “
Um, Master, how is Shimmerith?”
“Recovering,” said Kassik. “You broke her fang at the root, split her lip open and knocked her unconscious for a few minutes. Emblazon tried to rip you apart, but Hunagu intervened, luckily for you. Oyda is stitching up his wounds a second time.”
Balthion scowled at her. “However well it was meant, Pip, hiding your friend’s presence in the forest very nearly cost him his life.”
Was Yaethi right about Emblazon and Shimmerith roosting together, she wondered? But that thought was drowned in her heart’s torrent of sorrow for Hunagu.
“I …” Pip bit her lip, fighting back tears.
“Oyda says he’ll be fine.”
“I haven’t done very well since coming to the Academy, have I, Master Kassik?”
“Huh,” said he. “You’re a barrel of trouble. From popping up in a loincloth to insulting the Dragons more thoroughly than any student has ever contrived to achieve, you’ve been creating mischief out of all proportion to your size.” His eyes twinkled. “Is that a Pygmy trait? Or shall I blame your mentor?”
Balthion snorted in turn. “Personally, old friend, I blame Zardon.”
After that, the two Masters questioned her until she was hoarse from talking. From the corner of her eye, Pip caught sight of Shimmerith lurking in the infirmary’s shadows, no doubt eavesdropping on their conversation with the benefit of her superior Dragon hearing. Roaring rajals, she had some grovelling ahead …
Shimmerith said, “Masters, there are students coming.”
Maylin, Yaethi, Duri and Kaiatha crossed the infirmary floor toward her bed. Oyda, having finished her surgery on Hunagu, joined them. Pip followed the flicker of Balthion’s eyes as he noted his son holding hands with Kaiatha. Durithion coloured, but he did not release her fingers. Pip wondered what Balthion thought. Did he approve?
Perhaps a Pygmy should take matters into her own hands, properly, this time. “Master Balthion,” she said, suddenly formal. “May I introduce my friends at the Academy? This is Maylin of Jaoli Island in the East, skilled with the blade.” Balthion rose and greeted her formally, blowing once upon her knuckles, making the sign of the peace twice in front of his face, and kissing her palm three times. “Yaethi of Helyon, some ten days north of Sylakia. She has been helping me catch up on my studies. And this is Kaiatha, who hails from Ha’athior in the Fra’anior Island-Cluster.”
“Ya’arriol, just off Ha’athior Island,” Kaiatha clarified, flushing as Balthion bent over her hand. “It’s tiny, not many know it.”
“Ya’arriol Islanders are keen followers of the Path of the Dragon Warrior,” said Balthion, regarding her with a penetrating gaze before turning to Duri. “Son, has she told you she’s probably an expert in unarmed combat? As in, her Island produces some of the best fighters in the Island-World?”
Durithion’s eyes widened. “Um … no, Dad.”
“We start unarmed combat training next semester, Master Balthion,” said Maylin, her eyes gleaming. “Well, Kaiatha. Your Island’s roots run deep.”
Kaiatha did not know where to look.
“I hate these chains,” Pip said mutinously. “I’m not an animal.”
“No,” said Balthion. “Only Humans give orders for manacles and a gag. Pip, fear not. Master Kassik will attend the Council. But he cannot defend you. Here comes Mistress Mya’adara with your chains.”
Pip’s eyes widened. “When’s the Council, Master?”
“Right now,” rumbled Shimmerith, with a Dragon’s smile–all gleaming fangs as her lips curled back toward her gums. Pip did not trust the spark in her eye as far as she could throw a Dragon. “I’ll carry you there, little one.”
Speeding her to her doom, thought Pip, aghast as she contemplated facing the Dragon Elders to learn the penalty for her misdemeanours.
Very softly, Oyda said, “Fly strong and true, Pip.”
Chapter 17: The Dragon Elders
Chaining up students, thankfully, was not an everyday occurrence at the Academy. Pip’s manacles, linking her wrists behind her back to the manacles fastened to her ankles, were still warm from the blacksmith’s forge.
She scowled over the leather gag Mistress Mya’adara had buckled behind her head. She could tell that Maylin was dying to make a smart comment. Even Yaethi had a smirk for her.
Master Balthion clapped her on the shoulder. “Chew them up, Pip. I’ll try to stop by after the meeting. Kassik will want an update anyway.”
“Mmm,” said Pip.
Shimmerith seemed only too pleased to scoop Pip up in her paw. The Dragon walked to the end of the infirmary, the cave entrance, and launched into the darkening evening sky. The first stars were just pricking through a curtain of velvet blue, while the crescent of the Mystic moon peeked over the volcano’s rim.
Pip stared up at the Dragon’s flight muscles as they worked just above her head. She was starting to notice the differences between Dragons. Shimmerith’s hide was as smooth as a python’s skin, whereas Zardon’s scales were rough and much larger in size. Her flight muscles were large, but nothing compared to Emblazon, who was built like the brawny Sylakian warriors who used to visit the zoo on their days off, only a hundred times larger. Shimmerith sliced through the air with the ease of a honed dagger, whereas Emblazon and Zardon were all about power.
They covered the distance to the nearest volcano in seconds. Shimmerith adjusted her wings minutely, using the thousands of ancillary muscles along the main wing bones and the ancillary struts supporting the wing’s main surface–muscles providing the fine control which made Dragons such agile flyers. They soared up the volcano’s flank, crossing several fissures leaking lava, before diving between the peaks and skirting the edge of the beautiful lake she had seen before.
“The Dragons roost up there,” said Shimmerith, pointing with her chin. “It’s the only dormant peak in this caldera. Those Dragons who have a Rider, roost together with them.”
Pip wanted to say that the peak looked like Sylakian cheese, it had so many caves dotting the near-vertical cliff face on the lake side, but she was forced to keep her silence. Shimmerith swooped past this peak and directly on to the next, where she angled for the yawning mouth of a vast cavern.
“The Dragon Elders meet in here,” the Dragon noted.
She swept down a winding tunnel, taking several sharp bends and blind corners at a pace that had Pip’s heart thumping up in her throat, before breaking out into a cathedral-like cavern, dominated by sparkling rubescent crystal formations which dwarfed even the Dragons lying beneath them. Shimmerith touched down beside a lava pond in which a Red Dragon lolled, patently enjoying a molten rock bath for his vast backside. The heat sucked Pip’s breath away.
Not one of the Dragons gathered to grill the Pygmy girl could be less than a hundred feet in length, Pip realised. There were three Reds, a Yellow, a smaller but no less menacing Blue, a glowering Green of a size which dwarfed Jalador, and a sturdy Brown who clambered onto a stolid pedestal of rock sized to suit even his majestic presence, curling his tail around this perch with an ominous surfeit of purpose. Dragon eyes, fangs and claws encircled her. Pip suppressed an urge to giggle hysterically. These were the creatures who had ordered her gagged, afraid of her Word of Command? If they had any idea how terrified she was, they could just dispense with all the spine-flexing and muscular posturing and get on with the business of sharing a nibble of Pygmy meat to whet their appetites.
Zardon had asked her to write down her story, which Pip had been doing in diary format. ‘Today,’ she wrote in her head, ‘the Dragons gathered for the purpose of snacking on a Pygmy girl, according to the customs of the Dragon-kind.’
“I present the accused, the student Pip,” said Shimmerith, placing Pip carefully on her feet. She felt heat rising through the soles of the boots Mistress Mya’adara had insisted she wear.
Pip nodded respectfully. “Mmm.” Where was Master Kassik?
“Pip,” rumbled the Red in the lava pool. Pip realised he was sitting
directly beneath a small flow of molten rock which fed his bath. “I am Blazon, father of Emblazon, leader of the Council of Dragon Elders. We are gathered for the purpose of judgement. The primary accusation is of assaulting the Dragon Shimmerith during the course of her duties, with physical force and with magic.”
His voice rolled over her like thunder. She wondered if they realised how ridiculous the accusation appeared at face value, a tiny Pygmy assaulting a Blue Dragon. At least the fang would grow back. Rajion had assured her of that. But none of the faces around her registered any amusement. Flames licked out of the Green Dragon’s nostrils as he shifted several feet closer. The Yellow flexed his talons.
“However, several other matters have also been raised to this Council,” Blazon continued, “namely your insults to all Dragon-kind, your duping of Jalador the Green, your uncontrolled display of magic, and your connection with the shadow creature discovered by Emblazon.”
At his words, two of the Reds snorted fire out of their nostrils. Pip jumped, but Shimmerith’s paw steadied her at once.
Blazon said, “Will the accused promise, on pain of judgement, not to use any magic during these proceedings?”
Pip bobbed her head again. “Um-hmm.”
“Shimmerith?”
A cool claw touched her cheek, slicing the gag apart. Pip had some trouble clearing her mouth, but she finally managed to spit out the pungent leather.
“Who will speak for the accused?”
“Where’s Master Kassik?” Pip whispered to Shimmerith.
“Silence,” she hissed.
“Kassik is right here.” Pip’s head snapped about. Had one of the Dragons spoken? The Brown Dragon … the erect way he perched on that boulder, his expression … “I am Kassik the Brown, Dragon Shapeshifter and Head of the Academy,” he said, in a voice as deep as an earthquake.
Pip could not prevent the squeak that escaped her throat. The Master of the Academy was a Dragon? Who better to run a school for Dragon Riders? Her obvious amazement made several of the Dragons chuckle, but it was not a comforting sound.
