The Pygmy Dragon

by Marc Secchia

  Pip smiled as Maylin threw her a jaunty salute. They climbed swiftly into the still morning. Emblazon rose behind her, cleaving the air with formidable wing-strokes. The wash of his passage buffeted her as he took the lead.

  Keep up, little one, he said in passing. And show mighty Kassik your respect. That is the Dragon way.

  Pip bowed in the air, a little stung by his tone. Did Dragons get the morning grumps? Journeywoman Jellis, the first year mathematics tutor, was notorious for having the temper of a wounded rajal in the first lesson. Nak was a different man after noon–although, right now, he seemed only too pleased to occupy the position right behind Oyda, between Emblazon’s three-foot spine-spikes. He chattered away with the ease of a sprightly parakeet. Pip focussed her Dragon hearing as Imogiel had suggested she practice doing. What she heard was Duri dropping a feather-kiss on Kaiatha’s cheek. She could hear the gentle smack of lips from a hundred and fifty feet away?

  They were so lucky. And so mushy around each other.

  She scanned the Island-World as they rose above the volcano’s rim. Unreal. Wondrous. She had once looked to the sky above her cage wall and dreamed of freedom. Here it was–hers for the taking, only, someone out there wanted all Dragons dead.

  To the east, the twin suns hung like a pair of shining flara-fruit a handspan above the horizon. South, the mountain-scape of central Jeradia jutted into the roseate dawn, a blush upon each sharply delineated peak. To the north and east and west, Jeradia Island dropped in a series of steep stone steps into the Cloudlands, a rough white and gold carpet which stretched to the horizon. Northwest, out of sight, was Yaya Loop Cluster, the first set of Islands for which they were bound, a day’s flight distant. Yaethi said that the Yaya Islanders were a strange, clannish group who worshipped a great golden serpent they called H’ssathass. They had a fondness for murdering outsiders. Dragonships avoided Yaya Loop, preferring the longer route she had taken with Zardon, northeast toward Sylakia Island along the Spine Islands before cutting over to Erigar Island. Yaya was directly en route to Fra’anior, but the second leg would be a two-day flight northward over the Cloudlands, skirting the Western Isles.

  At that moment, Pip’s head lifted. A disturbing Dragon-sense prickled down her spine. Something far away, she thought–the Shadow Dragon? No. Zardon? It didn’t feel quite the same …

  The Amber Dragon said, Pay attention, Pip, I’m talking to you.

  She flexed her flight muscles, catching up with Emblazon. She might not have his power, but she also had a great deal less weight to shift about, she thought uncharitably.

  The vastness of the sky cowed her. It pressed in with a palpable weight and presence, making her wish for sheltering jungle boughs or even the comfort of her cage. Her Dragon hearts pounded in her chest and belly. Pip felt her chest close. Relax. She had to concentrate on flying. There was Kassik, climbing behind her with his improbably slow wingbeat. Yaethi gave her a timid wave. Her eyes jumped to magnify Yaethi, confusing her. Her friend’s throat bobbed as though she were about to throw up.

  PIP! Emblazon thundered. Will you listen?

  Sorry, mighty Emblazon.

  To the others, he said, “Listen as I instruct Pip in the art of flying. It is essential for every Rider to understand the mechanics and the art of flying–if your Dragon is wounded, or if you wish to make a long crossing between the Islands, this is required knowledge.”

  Pip hid her scowl. Islands’ sakes, something must have bitten Emblazon today to make him bristle like a jungle porcupine. Was this the pride Oyda had spoken of? She took the position Emblazon indicated, just off his left wingtip, where she would not be disturbed by the wash of his passage.

  “When I speak to you, Pip, you will fly here,” he said, still unnecessarily stern. “When Dragons are flying in a Dragonwing, they make a V-shaped formation–like any migrating bird–where one Dragon will slipstream the next. It is efficient, reducing the energy a Dragon expends in flight by twenty to thirty percent. Where is the formation position, Pip?”

  “I don’t know, mighty–”

  “Back of my tail, thirty feet left or right,” he instructed. “For you, closer than a full-sized Dragon. Go there, Pip. Tell me when you find the place.”

  Pip bled a little speed, trying to control her flight in relation to Emblazon, but the buffeting of his wake knocked her all over the sky–at least, that was how she felt. Pip flexed her wings powerfully to catch up with him again. Her Human mind laughed in delight at this idea. Somewhere, a Pygmy girl was running around flapping her arms, she imagined, while her Dragon-form achieved the humanly impossible with relative ease.

  Kaiatha asked, “Mighty Emblazon, how big is your wingspan?”

  “A hundred and twelve feet,” he replied.

  “And still growing,” Oyda put in, earning herself a growl of appreciation from her mount.

  Kassik rose to join the echelon, demonstrating without words where she was supposed to be, but on the opposite side of Emblazon’s tail. She had not expected to feel any effect, but her gloriously sensitive Dragon hide immediately noted the differences in the wind’s action, a slight sucking forward and a sense that the huge Amber Dragon’s wash helped rather than hindered her flight. But she barely had time to notice before Emblazon had her moving forward again to listen to a long lecture on how poor her flying form was, and how exactly she should correct her mistakes. He seemed eager to perfect her flying all at once, and she spent the entire morning practising the right wing-stroke, faster and slower beats, loops and spirals and dodging imaginary attacks.

  By the time they reached a tiny, uninhabited outlying Island of the Yaya Loop Cluster late that afternoon, Pip was so bone-weary that her legs buckled on landing and she chewed up a goodly stretch of sand alongside the lake Kassik had chosen for their night’s rest. She lay and wheezed. Her flight muscles burned. Pip closed her eyes and fervently wished she could have flown with Shimmerith rather than the relentless Emblazon. He was so mean. Her request for rest in the early afternoon had been met with a ‘practice’ fireball fired at her tail.

  “Ooh,” someone groaned.

  “Numb bum?” came Maylin’s voice. “Me too. How do you fly all day, Oyda?”

  “You become accustomed,” said the Rider.

  Pip wanted to protest that they had been sitting on their collective backsides while she was actually flying, but she was too tired to complain.

  “Duri, Kaiatha, loosen the saddles and see to our Dragons’ needs. Maylin and Casitha, you can set up camp,” said Nak. He was clearly grinning as he added, “Yaethi, I invite you to unlace my boots and massage my feet.”

  “Belay that,” sniffed Oyda. “Help me collect wood for a fire, Yaethi.”

  A huge paw lifted Pip’s chin. “Still with us, little one?” asked Kassik, his cool yellow eyes appearing concerned. “That was a long first flight for a fledgling.”

  “I think I’ll regret being alive tomorrow, Master–Kassik,” she said. “Emblazon’s a good teacher. I’ve learned heaps already.”

  “Hmm.”

  Pip wondered what exactly his snort was meant to convey. Kassik indicated the small, clear lake. “Why don’t you clean up, Pip? Wet your throat, but don’t drink too much too fast. Your Dragon self will recover faster than you think.”

  Duri came over to bow to Kassik. “Master, may I hunt for you?”

  “No thank you, Duri. I ate well before I left.”

  “An entire ralti sheep,” Casitha said, from where she was laying out Nak’s bedroll. “Rider Nak, I have placed you on the opposite side of the fire from all the women. Does that suit you?”

  “No, it most certainly does–” But then Nak caught sight of Oyda’s twitching eyebrow. “That is fine, Casitha. I shall gallantly freeze on the far side of the fire away from all these gorgeous ladies.” He winked at Oyda. “How I suffer, being the only man–on two legs, of course, Kassik. And you, Duri.”

  Next to Pip, Kassik’s rumble of amusement rose and faded like a low growl
of thunder.

  “Poor man,” Oyda agreed. But her green eyes flashed at him from beneath her eyelashes. “You can cuddle up to Durithion.”

  Duri made a disgusted sound.

  Pip’s hearing informed her that Nak was breathing rather faster than the situation warranted. She shook her head as though she had a flea in her ear. Too much information.

  The last rays of the suns beat warmly on her back. Being black, she supposed she had no trouble absorbing heat. Pip drowsed beside the forest-fringed lake, and to her surprise, woke when the moons were high in the night sky.

  Had she heard a stealthy footstep?

  Her Dragon sight easily penetrated the darkness. Oyda, apparently returning from the bushes near the lake. Nak, adjusting the light blanket he slept beneath. The others, all sleeping–save for Emblazon, whose slit eye followed his Rider as she walked cat-footed down to her chosen place, right up against the crook of his neck. She snuggled up to her Dragon.

  “Finished mating with Nak?” whispered Emblazon. Even that breath of a sound carried perfectly in the still night air to where Pip lay, right up against the mountain of Kassik’s flank. His tone was unpleasant.

  Oyda said, “We only spoke.”

  “Perhaps there might have been a kiss?”

  “You promised not to listen. It was all very decent, Emblazon, which is more than I can say for you.”

  “Huh, me?”

  “You didn’t tell me you’re about to be a father.”

  “Pip told you, didn’t she?”

  Oyda laid her hand on his neck. “Bank up your fires, Dragon-heart. What has Pip done to rile you so? You were very hard on her today.”

  “She’s forever sticking her muzzle where it’s not wanted. First in Nak’s roost, then she displayed herself for him–twice–and now you’re defending her?” He lowered his voice with an evident effort. “You’re too generous of spirit, Rider-heart. It makes you vulnerable.”

  “She grew up in a cage, Emblazon. It’s not her fault.”

  The Amber Dragon’s fires made a low, muffled crackling sound in his belly. He hissed, “She has too much power.”

  “Islands’ sakes, Emblazon. I’m surprised sometimes you’re not a Green Dragon.” To his wordless snarl, she added, “Just remember, when you hurt her, you hurt me. All I wanted to do was to congratulate you on your eggs, and you’re picking a fight. I’m going to sleep.”

  Pip fell asleep with the low sizzling of Emblazon’s belly-fires drilling through her eardrums and into her mind. Her dreams were chaotic, the Shadow Dragon so close that she could almost taste it.

  In the morning, she found Kassik’s paw curled protectively around her body.

  * * * *

  Over a breakfast of bread and cold meats, Kassik told the students what to expect at the graduation ceremony. There were some twenty-three fledglings graduating to full adult Dragon status. There would be other students there–Fra’anior Islanders and prospective Riders from further afield. “There’s no guarantee you’ll be chosen by a Dragon,” he said, his gaze flicking to Casitha as he spoke. Fourth year Casitha had attended five graduations and had never been chosen, despite everyone agreeing that she would make a fantastic Dragon Rider.

  Pip wondered how a Dragon knew who their Rider should be. Would a Dragon choose her? Or would she choose a Rider?

  But she was not so far drawn into her thoughts to miss the softness in Kassik’s gaze as he regarded Casitha. He truly felt her plight, she thought. There was far more to his Island than met the eye.

  “If you are chosen, a Dragon will approach you and say, ‘I would be honoured if we could burn the heavens together, as Dragon and Rider.’ I don’t need to tell you what an enormous privilege it is to be chosen. You bow, of course.”

  “And express your appreciation from the bottom of your heart,” Oyda added, patting Emblazon’s flank. If she had argued with him the previous night, she did not show it.

  “The honour is mine,” Emblazon rumbled.

  Nak wiped his eye. “I miss Shimmerith.”

  “You have me,” said Maylin.

  “Ah, you are a princess,” sighed Nak, affecting a dramatic swoon, “but Shimmerith is a goddess.”

  Pip, sneaking up behind the Rider with the intent of teasing him, tripped over her own paws and bowled him over.

  “Oh, Pip!” cried Kaiatha. She wore Nak’s breakfast on her shoulder.

  All the teasing that followed ignited Pip’s fires; Nak’s comments about being attacked by a ‘toothsome jungle maiden’ making her burn with embarrassment. Only Emblazon did not seem amused. He glowered at her. Pip decided to make it her business to stay out of his way that day.

  As the three Dragons powered upward into the overcast early morning, it became clear to Pip how Yaya Loop had earned its name. From above, the Island Cluster resembled a thirty-mile loop of string with two trailing ends dangling northeast and southeast. The endmost Islands were almost covered by the Cloudlands, and barren of vegetation, but most of the plethora of Islands in the loop itself–three hundred and forty-one in all, according to the entry in the first year Geography textbook–were taller, around a quarter-league above the poisonous atmosphere and capable of supporting life. Kassik pointed out several Human settlements to her before they entered the cloud layer above.

  Emerging into a realm of brilliant sunshine above an ocean of brilliant white cloud-hills, Emblazon launched into his programme of instruction once more. This time, it was fireballs and fire-breathing. Pip sprayed and hiccoughed and controlled her fire using the flexible muscles lining her long gullet and learned to listen to what Emblazon called her ‘fire stomach’. She fired fireballs at the tip of Emblazon’s tail, which he would twitch out of the way at the last instant. Pip expectorated fire until her throat felt overcooked.

  However, at noon Emblazon declared a rest for Pip, whose wings were drooping rather woefully. She could not match the stamina of the bigger Dragons. She landed carefully on Kassik’s back, mindful of his spine-spikes, and transformed.

  “Shapeshifting is coming easier to you,” Kassik observed as she walked up to her saddle, the last of the four situated between the spine-spikes above his shoulders. “Yaethi, up with you and help Pip change.”

  “M-Master,” Yaethi wailed.

  “You need to learn to walk your Dragon,” he said. “Imagine a Dragon landed behind you, just as Pip did, and was clawing their way along my back. What would you do? You too, Maylin and Casitha. Up and about, Riders. Let’s see who can walk up to my nose.”

  “I just don’t like heights,” said Yaethi, unbuckling her waist and thigh belts.

  “I’ll catch anyone who might fall,” said Kassik.

  Maylin quipped, “At least there’s a few miles of air beneath us, isn’t there, Master? Nothing like a nice relaxing drop into the abyss. How was your last fall, Pip? Comfortable?”

  Emblazon called over, “Good idea, Kassik. Duri and Kaiatha. On your feet, little ones.”

  “Is this part of normal Dragon Rider training, Master?” Pip asked, slipping into her tunic trousers and top. She held a spine-spike to steady herself. The Brown Dragon’s back was so broad that balance was easy, but the motion of flying did make her brain imagine the falling scenario all too easily, given her recent experience.

  Yaethi said, “Don’t you need your armour, Pipsqueak?”

  “Always the armour,” said Kassik. “Without it, you’re undressed. Pip, normally, we do this to allow fledglings and new Riders to get to know each other.”

  “With an experienced Dragon patrolling below to prevent any unfortunate misses,” Nak called out, with a cackle that was pure evil. He pretended to make a grab for Duri, but Oyda slapped his hand down. “What? No baiting the students?” He sounded amazed.

  “No.”

  “Aren’t we going to toss one overboard to demonstrate how amazingly quick a Dragon’s reflexes are?”

  Oyda grinned. “Emblazon, Nak’s volunteering to jump off your back.”


  “I’m not sure he’s worth catching,” rumbled the Dragon.

  Pip watched Casitha and Maylin creeping along Kassik’s neck. The old Dragon’s paw was not far beneath them, she saw. He said, “Now, Pip. Being a Shapeshifter has rules and limitations, as with many other things in life. Neither form can be neglected. Always remember to feed and care for both of your selves. As a young, growing Dragon, you will need to feed more often than Emblazon or I–on a journey like this, as much as several times a day.”

  “I thought Dragons fed once a week or so?” said Pip.

  “A Dragon’s energy output scales up massively in flight, and more especially, in combat,” said Kassik. As he spoke, he adjusted for the bounce of an air-pocket.

  Maylin, who was already within reach of Kassik’s armoured head-spikes, shrieked as she caught herself by her fingertips on his scales. “No, don’t help me,” she gasped, dangling in space. “I need to learn.”

  “That’s the spirit, little one.”

  Pip was not sure about this training. Kassik and Emblazon seemed determined to toss their students off a cliff and see if they could fly. But she remembered Zardon’s parting words to her. ‘The Island-World as we know it is about to change, Pip. There will be upheaval. Mayhem. War, and much death. We need Pygmy warriors of no small courage to rise to the challenge.’

  ‘Small is no problem, Master,’ she had joked back.

  Unexpectedly, he had laughed. ‘What does that mean, little one? Small but extremely dense? On my Island, Pip, we have a saying that even an ant can build mountains.’

  Even an ant. Pip was not sure whether to be flattered or dismayed. She needed to stop comparing herself to other Dragons, who could shake the ground with their paws and breathe fireballs ten times the size of hers.

  As Maylin pulled herself over Kassik’s ruff of head-spikes to relative safety, the Brown Dragon turned his attention to Pip again. He said, “A Dragon’s physique is not only far more efficient than the Human one, but it stores resources on a vast scale. You must learn to monitor your strength and stamina. I’ll teach you the techniques. But I do want to stress the most important rule. You must not transform too often. Most Shapeshifters will say that twice a day is too much. Three’s the absolute maximum. Shifting requires an enormous amount of magic. You don’t notice because it’s an internal process.”