Dragonstar (Dragonfriend Book 4)

by Marc Secchia

  Imaytha’s marvelling was infectious. How quickly she had forgotten the glory of Dragon flight.

  In a moment, Hualiama unbuckled her basic waist strap and walked out onto Grandion’s right shoulder, keeping close to the spine spikes to avoid the rolling and rippling motion of his major flight muscles. “What’s she doing?” the Queen whispered behind her.

  Flicker made an irked noise. “Deserter.”

  She did not care. Fate constrained; this songbird of Fra’anior wanted to fly unhindered. She needed that freedom. Even a brief or illusory taste would do, she realised. Whom was she fooling?

  “I will sing for you what I sang that day,” Hualiama said.

  Throwing her arms wide as if riding the breeze, Lia sang that paean of long ago, the words coming to her recollection as if scribed there by memories she realised were not her own. Had she found this detail within Grandion, or herself? It did not matter. Her soprano soared like a Dragon’s wings above their near-silent aerial passage, just a slight creaking of sinews and the flexion of wing-surfaces through air pockets as they snaked deeper amidst the vaulting peaks.

  Arise my soul, the morn breathes newness,

  Wings are soaring, gilded afire,

  Islands join in gladsome chorus, singing:

  Awake! Exult! Ignite, my fires!

  Arise my soul, the wake of Isles receding,

  Coursing o’er the rainbow moons,

  All within shall shout in wonder, singing:

  Awake! Exalt! Eternal, my fires!

  After a long, reverent silence concluded her singing, Elki said quietly, “She’s like that, my sister – prophetic.”

  Lia almost fell off her Dragon’s shoulder.

  * * * *

  Taken at Dragon speed, the route into the mountains was not lengthy, but it twisted torturously, almost as if the Immadians had deliberately chosen this location for its inaccessibility. Lia knew the Dragons would remember the landmarks perfectly, but Queen Imaytha had respectfully requested oaths that none of this party would ever reveal this location – the secret treasuries of Immadia. She had expected a concealed crevasse or a difficult-to-reach cave, but when they alighted, it was upon a fifty-degree snow slope on a nameless, featureless mountainside. At Imaytha’s magical command, doors thirty feet tall and one hundred feet wide rumbled open, revealing a warm Dragonship hangar.

  “Come inside, out of the cold,” the Queen lilted sweetly. “A blizzard will strike within the hour. My people will conceal our ingress.”

  By which, she meant her Enchanters, Lia realised. Did she possess a weather sense? The hints of magic she sensed from the woman were unfamiliar, not at all like the warm spiciness of Dragon magic, but closer to a tinkling of unseen, icy chimes playing deep in the back of her mind. Curious.

  The engineer in her took note of the vertical doors, which had three successive layers designed on the outside to mimic snow and rock, while the inner layer was metal and stone, three feet thick. A pair of Enchanters disappeared outside, raising flurries of snow to conceal the entrance once more. They were so effective, not even the Dragons had detected this place upon arrival, although Brown powers would have revealed the underground fortress in a heartbeat – no. She was wrong. Grandion’s assessment revealed further layers of magical subterfuge leaching from the rocks around them. They exchanged notes in a gleeful mental flurry.

  Amethyst eyes considered her. “And, how are our protections, Dragonfriend?”

  Lia jumped guiltily. “Very good, o Q – Imaytha.”

  “Hualiama and I have already identified seven improvements you could make,” Grandion noted, with a smoky hint of asperity. “Allow my Rider to demonstrate the art of the dismount, o Queen.”

  To Lia, he said privately, Don’t you fume. Gallantry is in my nature.

  Sorry, just being a woman, she gritted out, visualising Fra’anior’s monstrous paw belting him all the way to her home Cluster. That’s a reprisal for your talon earlier.

  Grandion chuckled massively, causing Imaytha to slip on her way down to his haunches, but Lia caught the Queen with unthinking speed. She linked elbows with the Immadian. “My Dragon likes you. And that makes my Human jealous and my Dragoness’ scales turn green. So much to learn about this life …”

  “You’ve only been a Dragoness for a few weeks. Even the Dragonfriend cannot expect to know everything already,” said the Queen, executing a nimble leap down onto Grandion’s hind knee. “Come. Let’s raid the treasuries of Immadia.”

  Both Grandion and Flicker sniggered in concert. Shayitha spat as if she had swallowed poison.

  Two minutes later, it had become more than evident to the Dragons and Humans alike that the Immadians had prepared thoroughly for their visit. The Queen introduced them to the Royal Archivist and his five Senior Librarians, a Cave Guide, a husband-and-wife Armourer and Weapons Master team with a further four apprentices in tow, and the noted Immadian historian, Voriya, a specialist in ancient cultures.

  “A night’s work awaits us,” Qilong announced, rubbing his hands eagerly.

  “The tunnels between our major caverns will be too small for Dragons,” said the Cave Guide, a tall and very dour woman with an eye patch covering her left eye. “I have briefed four runners should the Dragons wish to consult our lore scrolls.”

  After conferring rapidly with Grandion, Hualiama said, “Grandion can see and participate through our magical linkage. However, dividing the work would help, so the runners are appreciated.”

  I’m always with you, the Dragon said warmly.

  Delicious shivers!

  The picture that flashed through his mind was his dalliance with Cerissae, however. He cut it off with an inward cry of shame. Hualiama …

  It’s alright, Grandion. It was not, but she did not know any better response. How’s about we keep working through my memories of Shapeshifting? Shouldn’t take long.

  He chuckled dryly. Indeed? A lifetime of yearning for and chasing the fires – aye, that should pass quickly. Let’s start by covering what Siiyumiel taught us about Balance and finding the true self’s inner harmonies. Then, you must replay your Shapeshifting experiences. I want details, Engineer Hualiama. Every nuance, no matter how insignificant it may seem. May I …

  The white form of his presence hovered without her mind, pensive. She did not have to guess his thoughts, for they seeped out of him like a chill touch of ruzal. Lia baulked at the inference.

  Even so, she hissed, You may enter.

  He said, Know that I don’t take this privilege for granted, Star Dragoness.

  She bowed mentally. Likewise. If such a promise might be essayed, Grandion – never again.

  If ever the need arises, I am yours for the plucking.

  She laughed aloud at the scaleless-Dragon image he supplied, despite his solemn mien. Looks like Razzior when I finished with him, she joked, yet she wondered if the ruzal lay dormant since that mighty battle against Numistar Winterborn, or if it only bided its time to make an assault on her person and powers? What did it mean for a Star Dragoness, the essence of light, to harbour such a taint within her person? Dramagon’s legacy would not be easily defeated.

  Simultaneously, Grandion’s appreciative chuckles made every Immadian in their company jump nervously.

  How could he not know her troubles?

  Preoccupied by a thread of realisation that faded into a grey cloud of improbabilities, Hualiama trailed the group into the tunnels. Could it be that their two-way oath connection was not as reciprocal as she imagined? Could there be an inner reserve, a secret, even unconscious blockage that hemmed in part of her heritage or abilities, which she had not yet tapped? She could have done with those powers when she faced the Empress of Dragon Haters … her own mother. Her mother, who stole magical power from the blood of Dragons and ruled a nation with an unbreakable mental grip; who possessed a Command that utterly dominated the victim, body, mind and soul. She exerted a dominance over Dragons or Shapeshifters that required nothing greater or mor
e deadly than line-of-sight to drop a Dragon in their tracks – freaking tyrant, she had literally exploded every blood vessel in Sapphurion’s brain. How was any power under the suns meant to stop her?

  Talk about family issues. Depressing.

  Lia tickled Flicker’s chin fondly. You’re my family.

  * * * *

  Ooh, straw-head. She could make him purr with just a look. No wonder that galumphing ralti sheep could not keep his fat Tourmaline paws off his best girl. After all, he had taught her everything she knew about Dragons. Well, most of it – he should concede a smidgen of the truth occasionally, just to see what it felt like.

  The truth itched his scales.

  Flicker scratched his crotch vigorously, drawing an annoyed hiss from the Dragonfriend. He just did not understand this monogamy business Hualiama seemed stuck upon. The dragonet supposed an ultra-rare, marginally handsome Tourmaline Dragon might just qualify for the best the Island-World had to offer a Star Dragoness, but that was hardly the point. She could have any Human or Dragon she wanted. Why that Blue? Why not a magnificent specimen of Dragonhood like … Flicker, say?

  He might be small, but he could make those female dragonets’ eye-fires dance.

  Indubitably.

  Humming contentedly to himself, Flicker daydreamed about the clutches he would sire, the whirl of sultry fire-eyes in his roost, and the feats of magic, derring-do and mayhem his descendants would undoubtedly perpetrate throughout all time. He was Flicker. It was only proper he took advantage of his reincarnation to thank the Ancient Dragon – sufficiently. Aye.

  Purring against Hualiama’s neck, he said, So, lackey. Our first task is to find a sword for Jin and invest that boy with the spine his honour currently seems to lack. Are you with me?

  Hualiama chortled merrily. I wouldn’t have put it quite like that, but by my wings, Flicker, that’s an excellent idea. Now, about my outstanding question regarding your talon-swift elevation to linguistic prowess –

  Very well. Allow me to enlighten you once more. You know how egg-head invested your pitiful brain with knowledge of Nuyallith?

  Um … aye. That egg-head would be Master Ja’al –

  Mister kissable. I know. Could you tear your attention away from monks and Dragons for one second at least, student Hualiama? Flicker nibbled around her ear, making her shiver and exclaim crossly. The Dragonish and Human languages have a linguistic composition represented by a vastly intricate neural network of knowledge and application – so, I simply tapped into that network in Grandion’s brain, and in a process similar to your acquisition and synthesis of the Nuyallith knowledge, I retro-activated the appropriate structures and modules in my brain. A day or two later, the synapses reformed the appropriate connections and, like an eggling breaking the shell – skisshh! He made a shell-cracking sound – I have adult speech.

  Very resourceful of you, Flicker.

  I’ll have less sarcasm and more appreciation of my all-round magnificence from you, straw-head.

  Hualiama described a mental bow complete with sparkling stars and a fizzing cometary appearance. How you shine amidst the starry firmament, your most excellent draconic majesty!

  Their shared merriment made Grandion very, very grumpy indeed.

  Chapter 4: Incursion

  In the Armoury, surrounded by the familiar smells of oiled metal and musty leather, Hualiama helped herself to a plainly tooled set of Immadian forked daggers, a sword belt and a bag in which to store body armour and extra clothing – for, say, when she wrecked an outfit during an urgent transformation. If only Grandion would agree to wear a proper saddle. They could add saddlebags to the basic design she had already sketched out with Jin and Isiki’s help, and a Dragon Rider would never have to fear falling off during flight or combat – she embellished blissfully in her mind – they could add crazy modifications such as Dragon-mounted crossbows … Dragon lances thirty feet long … a Dragon could become a whole flying fortress! This was another facet to answering the question Grandion had been working on with Jin! Dragon armour combined with additional ranged firepower … even explosive bolts or weaponry, aye …

  Really? the Tourmaline snorted in her mind. You want me to cart your Princess wardrobe around the Isles, Dragonfriend?

  Just my Dragoness’ haunches, since you can’t keep your covetous eyes off mine, she ribbed him.

  I’ll consider your ideas.

  Brain – like a Dragonship balloon punctured by a Dragon’s talon – pop!

  She left him poring over the first armloads of lore scrolls the runners brought to the Dragons, and gazed about the brightly lit armoury. These Immadians did not stint when it came to outfitting their troops, she saw, although there was a certain paucity of armour or weapons sized for a five-foot girl. Oh – not so good. Her new Immadian recruits were eyeing the treasures like children handed sweets bigger than their heads.

  Hualiama tripped over, and took them each by the arm. “So, you two. I would like to point out a few matters of importance –”

  Brazo started laughing uproariously. “Simmer down, Dragon-lady. Mother already gave us the lecture last night. Honour, integrity, service, no more thieving for a living –”

  “Then stop slavering and start acting like you mean it,” she retorted, the verbal equivalent of a blunt object applied to the ego, and marched off.

  “Tyrant!” he said feelingly.

  “Only just realised?” Flicker chortled over her shoulder.

  “Brazo, go see the Armourer and get outfitted for heavy action!” Lia snapped, without turning. She clicked her fingers to her right. “Jin. Snip snap, boy. What kind of blades do you Nikuko prefer?”

  “Sharp ones,” he said drily.

  Laughing, Hualiama reached over to ruffle his hair in a way he clearly detested. “Do you prefer a scrubbing brush – or, something resembling one of these?”

  Jin’s eyes lit up as he examined the weapons racks, stacked with a range of blades of peerless workmanship. He browsed slowly, his head bowed in absorption and evident gratitude – a mien which perhaps mollified Princess Shayitha, who was plainly not best pleased by her sister’s directive that the expedition should be outfitted from the treasuries of Immadia. Soon, however, Shayitha picked a slim blade off a rack and brought it to Jin.

  “Show me your style,” she said.

  The young warrior blinked. “Are you suggesting …”

  “This is not the blade for you,” she said. “But if we see how you move, we will know.”

  As Hualiama, Shayitha and the Weapons Master looked on with interest, Jin accepted the blade with a formal Eastern bow. He held it lightly in his fingertips, then the blade blurred in the light as he whirled it around his head and body in a style Hualiama had never witnessed before. She pursed her lips in admiration. This boy flowed with his weapon! Beautiful!

  Before she knew it, Hualiama whipped her Nuyallith blades out of their shoulder sheaths and crouched. “Warrior –”

  Jin halted mid-form. “I am not worthy to cross blades with you, Princess.”

  Who was the taboo breaker? Who was born of ruzal-corrupted starlight? She would rather die than see Dramagon’s life embodied in her flesh.

  Her Dragoness rolled her eyes, but Lia chose to smile dourly. “I beg to differ. Princess? Weapons Master?”

  They conferred in low voices. “No!” Shayitha disagreed. The Weapons Master said, “Aye, the way he attacks on the angles … and, he needs the honour.” The Princess growled something unintelligible, before adding begrudgingly, “Alright. What use blades of yore decorating these walls? For the sake of our alliance, blah blah, terhal spit! I’d love to belt that Fra’aniorian Dragoness right back to her volcano.”

  That was going well.

  At once, the Princess dispatched a runner deeper into the caves.

  I’m reading some fascinating inferences about Immadior’s last resting place being to the North of Immadia Island, or even curving around the Island itself, Grandion broke in unexpectedly. I jus
t wonder … I’ve a wing-sense that Numistar might be after something in this region. The magic. The unique colour of the Cloudlands. Could it be that the First Egg lies nearby? Why would she fly all of this way – to catch and punish you, perhaps – but even my well-developed draconic hubris would not flow that thickly. Numistar had a deeper purpose. She told us so as she departed.

  Recruiting the Ice-Raptors? Hualiama returned, troubled. What if she finds the Egg, Grandion? What if she, who is no less than one of the Ancient Dragons, knows exactly where it is? You’re right. Why fly thousands of leagues away from her arch-enemy Azziala … keep looking, my Dragonlove. Keep searching.

  The image in her mind was of two Islands crushing the Dragonfriend and her Tourmaline between their uncompromising flanks.

  What was this ‘curse of Numistar’ that she had threatened? Rubbing her upper arms with her hands, Lia watched the runner return with two blades embedded in plain purple sheaths. The pommels were blazoned with the Immadian royal purple crest. The blades were slightly curved, the longer being two and a half feet excluding the tang, and the shorter blade, one and a half feet. Jin’s breathing quickened; Imaytha approached between the weapons racks, clad now in scale armour, wearing a pair of Immadian forked daggers at her belt and a longsword at her left hip. She carried a medium-sized bow in her left hand, and had three quivers of arrows slung over her right shoulder.

  Accepting the blades from the apprentice, Princess Shayitha turned to Jin and said, “About one hundred and eighty years ago, my ancestor Prince Kayutha, later King Kayutha of Immadia, travelled to the East with four units of crack Immadian troops to fight in the Second Giant Uprising. For his excellent service, the King of Kaolili gifted him this pair of swords; forged, it is said, by a Kaolili sword master of fire and magic from a mysterious metal ore originally sourced somewhere around Immadia Island. Anyway, these blades served King Kayutha for over fifty years. They have never been sharpened. Upon his death, the King decreed that the blades should be placed here in the royal treasuries against such a day that a warrior would come and know their magic. That’s the legend.”