by Marc Secchia
He should have known.
Chuckling to himself, Flicker whispered, Sleep safely in your cosy warrens, little Humans, for a Star Dragoness watches over you.
Clearly, straw-head had caught a powerful whiff of his awesomeness.
His attention turned from the city to the stars. Along with the meteorite shower, he had predicted that Blue-Star’s meddling with the magnetic field lines would produce an aurora-show more brilliant than usual. Right on cue, eerie amaranthine flickered across the sky, shimmering like sheets of Dragonship sailcloth catching a night breeze. Even as he scanned the horizon, the colour rippled to a vivid azure rising in thick hanks and pouring forth from nothingness, it seemed to light the world with … Flicker’s muzzle dropped so fast, it thumped against his upraised forepaw.
Dragon runes?
No, just one rune, repeated innumerable times across a thousand leagues as the aurorae seared the starry darkness and played off the pristine white mountainsides of Immadia. The rune was as clear as a noontide sky, picked out in effervescent auroral colours. Blue-Star. Blue-Star. That was her rune. Let the skies proclaim the advent of Blue-Star!
Flicker licked his paws fastidiously. Glory-stealer.
Star Dragonesses just could not keep clear of the limelight, could they?
* * * *
Rising to her paws, Hualiama genuflected deeply and long. Thou art since time immemorial, the mighty Onyx. Shell-father, I salute thee. How many fathers would autograph their love upon the very stars? Humansoul must receive this message …
Her nostrils tingled. Bittersweet lilies upon a bonfire. A presence sensed by Balance alone, evading all other draconic senses – for she was unsure if the smell was even physical. Might it be magical?
Slowly, Hualiama closed her eyes and shifted her paws, searching with all of her senses alert. Left flank? No, right behind her. So close, the Dragon could have slain Hualiama with the smallest flexion of her talons, but that would involve – her intuition burned as madly as her desire to leap away, to defend – the other Dragon releasing the power of Flow, and re-joining the ordinary, physical realm. That would make a Chrysolitic Dragoness vulnerable.
She abased her fires and spread her wings in the draconic way. I welcome thee, stranger.
The silence stretched. Beside her, one hand touching Hualiama’s flank for comfort, Aluki also remained still and alert.
Flow senses she? The voice lapped around the small open space like concentric ripples cast by crystals dropped into a still pool. Her magic infeasible be; does the little she imagine me?
Switching to Island Standard for Aluki’s benefit, Hualiama said, “This girl has always known of your presence here, o Dragoness. She hears chimes.”
“Chimes? A fey one, a far-seer, this Human girl be,” said the voice, pooling about them like treacherous waters. Hualiama could not even see the glassy disturbance on the atmosphere. It seemed the wind itself spoke. “Yet how hear you the impossible, hatchling so free; without thought or magic or ear shall she be heard? For your kind fails to perceive – secrets I speak, I must speak not.”
“Don’t go, please,” Aluki piped up.
Hualiama had always perceived the draconic regard for smaller creatures, and this Chrysolitic Dragoness seemed to be no exception. There was a long, pregnant pause as the wind seemed to change direction, and the ripples against her senses came first from above, then from a hundred feet off her right flank, then close by, looming over her hindquarters. For her part, Aluki showed no fear.
“Forbidden it be,” said the voice.
“I am an infamous taboo breaker,” Hualiama responded.
“Is she, little she? How? Strangeness I scent of thy magic-traces, little Blue Dragoness, the strangeness of a stranger night, when the tides of the world rise and fall to thy beckoning paw.”
Lia said, “The very aurorae speak my name.”
“A secret for a secret,” burbled the voice, suddenly edgy and capricious, right in their ears. Aluki shrank against Lia’s flank, her heart tripping along like a frightened bird.
Dragons dealt directly. Hualiama replied at once, “It was you who I sensed in the caverns of Immadia, wasn’t it? You tried to destroy a lore scroll. It is no secret that I am a Star Dragoness, and I believe I sense your presence by my power of Balance. But I am more. For my part, I shall reveal to you my true nature, if you will reveal yours to us. For I sense we will need your aid when we fly against Numistar Winterborn.”
“Double-boon for single-boon?” hissed the other Dragoness.
“Of course not,” Hualiama retorted scornfully. “Ask another boon, and it shall be yours.”
A chill wind stirred along her spine spikes, making Hualiama shiver from her muzzle to her talons. The voice tinkled, “Can it given be? We shall see. I accept your boon graciously. I am the Chrysolitic Dragoness called Shilliaceniaea – shill-i-uh-sê-nee-ay-ee-yuh – but to ‘Shill’ shall I answer. Behold.”
From nothingness, form. From the insubstantial, draconic bones and tissues, blood and eggs and hard talons emerged, as though all her innards had been diagrammatically represented upon a scroll of draconic biology, before delicate white-green scales clothed the whole, and Shill stood embodied before them, a forty-five foot Dragoness with eye-orbs that displayed distinctly insect-like facets, a sleek neck and skull devoid of any spikes save a soft-looking ruff of skin, and the lean, whipcord body of a hunter or an athlete. Her wings were stubby in length but twice as broad as Hualiama’s wings, relatively speaking, and were a translucent green that reminded her far more of a dragonfly than a Dragon. As she flared and then tucked her wings at her sides, the aurora behind her shimmered through those gossamer veils, and her small, rounded scales seemed to ripple once before settling into ordinary corporeality.
There were many differences, Hualiama continued to note rapidly. Five forward-facing talons and one opposing talon on the forefeet, two rearward-facing talons on the hind feet. Shill’s limbs, and all along her back from the upper shoulder region to the tip of her tail, sported frills of flesh-like wing-membrane broken by quills or struts every half-foot to one foot.
Had Fra’anior created these distant cousins according to a different template, more insectoid than reptilian?
Sluggish, pale-green fires flared within Shill’s orbs as she regarded the girl and the hatchling Dragoness. “So, what is your secret, o Blue-Star whom the very skies celebrate?”
Hualiama prepared her magic. “I think, and I become.”
She transformed.
Chapter 8: Shapeshifter Flows
the Chrysolitic Dragon almost flickered back out of existence, ambushed by shock. In that instant, Hualiama perceived a new truth. Her Shapeshifting was akin to the Chrysolitic power of Flow; more than akin, it was like another facet of the same jewel. Had Amaryllion Fireborn, in conceiving or at the very least foreseeing this Shapeshifter magic, drawn upon his older brother’s signature work? Or was it a consequence of the endlessly mutable nature of magic?
The same realisation dawned in Shill’s eyes.
The Dragoness inhaled sharply, a terrible cold gathering in the depths of her throat. Hualiama immediately drew Aluki into her arms, shielding her with her body. “Don’t! She’s a child.”
Shill shuddered. Who is this she … who imitates … my core magic?
The Dragoness’ body language proclaimed readiness to rend and tear. With her every draconic power on flashpoint alert, Hualiama said, “I am the firstborn of a new race, Shilliaceniaea. The prophesied third race. This is my secret.”
Shill recoiled as if Grandion had thumped her with a roundhouse punch to the jaw.
Aluki cried, “Hualily! Aren’t you cold?”
“Actually, no.” Hualiama smiled at the girl and kissed her brow – comfort, and another deliberately protective gesture that aimed to speak to the Dragoness’ maternal instinct. “I’m a Shapeshifter Dragoness, full of natural fire. I am naked, I suppose, but who’s looking?”
Another note fo
r their torched scroll of Shapeshifter lore. Isiki and Jinichi would have to redo all of their work. Well. Perhaps, by using her non-existent authority to purchase a slave in flagrant breach of her Cluster’s laws –
The girl whispered, “Only, the whole universe.”
The Princess of Fra’anior could but gape in mute amazement.
The Chrysolitic Dragoness growled, “Flowed, you did! I saw … the impossible, enfleshed. Only Chrysolitic Dragons may Flow!”
“I wish for you to teach me Flow,” Hualiama grated back, keeping Aluki in the circle of her arms.
Shill swallowed back her cold-fires, but only so that she could hiss, “Who is this she? How dare she?”
The Dragoness within stirred restively, but Human-Lia straightened her back. She had the authority of her lineage and powers. Gazing into those pearly green eye-fires behind the magnifying facets, whirling with their million questions, she declared, “I am Hualiama, shell-daughter of Istariela, and I am the Star Dragoness who demands your fealty, o Siyincior!”
It was softly spoken, yet the Dragoness’ secret name rang between them like the very chimes of which Aluki had spoken. They locked gazes, neither flinching.
A long, breathless silence later, Aluki’s hand slipped into Lia’s. “Now I am scared. You’re glowing.”
She was?
Lia squeezed the girl’s fingers. “You’re braver than you think. Starlight is good.”
If used rightly. If not tainted with ruzal’s deathly kiss … no. All was not hopeless. She must find a better, higher way … yet despair bound her soul with unbreakable chains. Dramagon. Numistar. Azziala’s legacy. Ianthine’s foul bargain with her mother. Did she have the strength to keep such powers from possessing her starlight?
With a deep groan, the Chrysolitic Dragoness bent her right foreleg, and lowered her muzzle to the ground. Reaching out with a slight quiver in her hand, Hualiama broke a taboo. She touched the Dragoness upon her muzzle, causing Shill to shudder as if caught in the throes of mortal agony.
Hualiama said, “O beauteous raiment of the northern skies, o Siyincior! Having been made aware through the lore scroll of the strict isolationist philosophy you Chrysolitic Dragonkind follow at the behest of Fra’anior, in order to maintain the Balance of our Island-World here in the North, I do not wish to burden you with service that will cost your very fire-life. You alone of your kind have shown the courage to obey the imperative of your seventh sense, and to approach us. I ask only for the boons we agreed, and for what service I – or Aluki – might render you Chrysolitic Dragons in return.”
Shill whispered, “My wings are yours to command, o Star Dragoness.”
“Tell me of these parasites.”
“Even that much, we do not fully understand,” the Dragoness replied bitterly. “It seems that dark-fires overcome some of our kind and they must be excised from among the community. No known power can lift the darkness from the minds of these, our kin-treasures. Remorseless, they do attack us, and each other, and the Humans of these Islands. All we know is that the storms rouse them – look into my mind, o Star Dragoness, and know this truth.”
Slowly, Hualiama puzzled over Shill’s memories, explaining aloud to Aluki as she tried to fathom the nuances she gleaned. A mental illness? A parasite? Perhaps, a magical illness that attacked the mind, or a side-effect of radiation, or an ill consequence of the use of their Flow … could these Dragons somehow be susceptible to a bacterium or other disease peculiar to the North? There could be no knowing, not without a far longer examination of the evidence than this short time would allow. She growled in wordless frustration.
“Solve thirty centuries of mystery in five minutes, would she?” Shill said to Aluki, daring to tickle the girl beneath the chin with a sheathed fore-talon.
Hualiama growled again. She was not so frustrated, however, to be unaware of a new magic swirling on the wind. Deep magic. Sweet, inexpressible enchantment hinted at in the wind’s wuthering about the compass points, and the play of breezes upon snow. With a twirl of her fingers, she invited the magic to coalesce about the brightness of her yearning, to reach out, to find its target.
Aluki choked out, “Dragoness, if you or I became friends …”
Her hand rose to clasp Shill’s talon. A promise.
The Chrysolitic Dragoness whispered, “You saw me when no other did. So shall it be, little she who dares to touch my hearts’ fires.”
White fires swirled around Hualiama’s vision. Here was a gift similar to the Dragon Rider oath, only this was grounded in friendship and companionship – how could she have sought to deny this magic life? Was it only a miasma of fear which had catapulted her into that temporary madness? Or, closer to the mark, anxiety exacerbated by the staggering novelty of draconic life, the Shapeshifter life … she must watch her new charges closely. Prepare them.
Turning impetuously to Aluki and Shill, she laid her hands upon talon and hand, sealing the bond, and said simply, “As it was with Akemi and Yukari, so shall it be with thee. I, too, dedicate my fires to this cause.”
Enchantment shivered the chill night.
And now, to dance, said her Dragonsoul. Dance is Flow. Flow is dance. Don’t you groan, Humansoul. I’d only trip over our paws. Ask Shill to teach us now; learn through our dance.
Weeping, a star danced upon a frozen mountaintop beneath the roof of the world.
* * * *
In the early evening of that day, Tiiyusiel appeared at last, battered and exhausted. Grandion flew out to meet her rising from the Cloudlands beyond the Human Island, called Eskirla by its people, wishing he had healing power to expend upon their brave ally. Mizuki and Makani flew with him, together with their respective Rider couples, while Brazo and Zanya remained behind, working with Tanru and the elders of the Eskirla people to plumb the depths of their knowledge of Ice-Raptors, Chrysolitic Dragons and the uniquely lethal magic of this region. Qilong flew with Makani, while the Tourmaline carried the Immadian Royals and the huge, stolid presence of Sumio.
Briefly, Tiiyusiel told them of her arduous journey through the region they called the frozen mists. Even beneath the Cloudlands, the great magic leaching from Immadior’s body created turmoil. She had been sunk to a depth of six leagues in an atmospheric maelstrom before eventually fighting free and working her way up over the mountainous ridge that was the Ancient Dragoness’ spine. There, she had been battered by the leaping scale-rocks shot by fumaroles that appeared to originate in Immadior’s body itself – the same rocks which had almost knocked Grandion out of the sky. Boasting explosive thrust enough to launch their payload thirty miles into the atmosphere, he could only imagine the impact on a Land Dragon’s body passing nearby.
Then, she shared how her Clan had previously detected a group of rogue Land Dragons who had disappeared into the Maa-Ak-Uura Trench. Tiiyusiel had again identified these Land Dragons deep in Immadior’s Sea and had sailed off to investigate.
It’s all-out war beneath the Cloudlands, she told the Lesser Dragons, as Grandion translated her Shell-Clan dialect for the Humans. There are at least four different factions of Land Dragons battling each other and Numistar Winterborn for possession of the First Egg, which lies within Immadior’s frozen egg pouch. Again, I detected the specific signature of that group of Stellates, Deep-Dwellers and Mountain-Runners which previously attacked our Hura Shell-Clan cousins and carried off eight in number, and now my Dragon-kin swim openly with them! I … I weep dark-fires of grief! You must help us. You must convince the Star Dragoness to intervene in this insane bloodshed and to heal these Land Dragons of twisted mind. Where is she? Where …
Strength to your paw, noble kin sister, Grandion bugled powerfully.
I assume Hualiama’s the one creating the phenomenon in the skies above, Mizuki said archly, with teasing-fires indicators that made the Tourmaline whirl at once. His every fire soughed in wonder.
Blue-Star, Makani read. “Look, Isiki. Hualiama’s writing her signature in aurorae.”
&nbs
p; “By the Great Onyx’s own paws!” Grandion exhaled.
The Copper Dragoness bunted his shoulder playfully. “Romance a Star Dragoness, wing brother? I think your next task must be to rearrange the constellations above.”
“I’m not planning to compete with her,” said Grandion.
“Oh?” the Dragoness purred.
“I’m planning to win her!”
The Dragonesses, including Tiiyusiel, thundered their admiration at his bold statement.
Turning to Jin, Brazo and Zanya, Mizuki said with a roguish twirl of her wingtips, “I trust you three will soon experience these nuances of true-fires draconic romance for yourselves – won’t you, my friends?”
That put the fear of Dragons into them!
Zanya breathed, “Are you saying we’d change into hatchlings, like Hualiama?”
No-one knew that answer. After a few minutes’ discussion, they returned to Tiiyusiel’s tale.
Numistar’s spirit lives, reincarnated in the Chrysolitic Dragons and Ice-Raptors, Tiiyusiel said. Her strength is not yet almighty, but she sets the Land Dragon factions against each other in an exhibition of masterful cunning. She plays them, hypnotises them, and twists their thoughts about the talons of her desires. I confirmed that Immadior’s body was indeed the last resting place, or hiding place, of this fabled First Egg. The legend is real! Further, today I managed to send and receive longwave speech with our Guardian of Wisdom, Siiyumiel.
Excellent! Grandion enthused.
The Air Breathers have walked past Lyrx, Merx and on to Syros, the Land Dragoness continued. Siiyumiel reports a disturbance at Fra’anior Cluster, by which we infer that the Empress of the Dragon Haters has already reached her goal. She will not find the First Egg there – but Siiyumiel postulates, with an eighty-seven point four percent likelihood, that Numistar Winterborn plans to carry the Egg against the Empress. In the interim, the Empress will consolidate her hold at Fra’anior Cluster.
