by Marc Secchia
We’ll all help, Mizuki offered.
That was how they crossed the lush tropical tangle of Ha’athior Island, discussing Hualiama’s engineering problem and tossing a few more chunks of meriatite for the Dragons, with full shielding this time. It was explosive, great. Dragons generally enjoyed playing with fireballs and explosions. Thus, thanks to the hydrogen-bearing rock, they had the problem of thrust resolved – except that they’d blow up a Dragonship every time. Perfect.
Lia gave up with a heavy sigh, and directed the Dragonesses to land at the cave where she had first found the White Dragoness’ scale. Here, Razzior the Orange had tried to attack and burn her. The view was as spectacular as ever. Makani and Mizuki stood right upon the edge, and Zanya transformed too, so that the Dragonesses could luxuriate in the full, late afternoon suns-shine streaming through the particle-rich volcanic air in great, golden beams of light, and gaze over the almost unbroken view of Cloudlands lapping to the horizon. Hualiama showed them inside the cave and told them a few amusing anecdotes from her time there with Flicker, including creating the outfit that had so scandalised the monks of Ja’al’s monastery. To her intense annoyance, Ka’allion had refused to budge on the matter of the monks. He did not want to know where their secret monasteries were. Instead, he concentrated on helping the Dragons rebuild at Gi’ishior, which had taken severe damage during Azziala’s initial assault.
There was no sign of any hoard, or eggs … Lia sighed. No visions from Istariela. She had vanished since taking on the burden of the ruzal.
After bathing in the pool to wash off the worst of the grime, Inniora threw her arm companionably over Lia’s shoulders and said, “Ra’aba sure scarred you, eh? Anyways, when are you planning to take Grandion to your kissing boulder?”
“Particles,” said Lia, absently.
“Hey, my bag just jumped,” Isiki squeaked in surprise.
“Isn’t that holy ground?” said Zanya.
Imaytha put in, “These Fra’aniorians are trying so hard to show off, but Immadia is still the most beautiful Island of all.”
“Aye, and your bias runs thicker than your winter snows,” Inniora snorted balefully.
“Control of gas under pressure!” Lia enthused, leaping to her feet. She paced about muttering urgently to herself, partially aware that she was literally spitting sparks as the ideas fizzed in her brain.
Saori grinned quirkily at her. “I believe the Star Dragoness has found a different Island to the rest of us.”
Nyzura, the Immadian specialist-come-assassin, prodded Isiki’s bag thoughtfully. “I think we’ll find us a rabid dragonet stowaway in here. Flicker, you can come out now.”
Cheep.
Hualiama sieved the air thoughtfully with her outspread fingers. “Look at how the golden motes are suspended in the air … look, Saori! Isn’t that the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen?”
Saori snorted, “Back in the real world …”
Fumiko and Nyzura stalked the saddlebag curiously. Fumiko, a slender, tall Eastern warrior built in Saori’s mould, said, “Someone buckled this bag shut. But that’s no dragonet in there. Maybe a feral cat?” She unbuckled the bag carefully, and flipped the top open.
Feathers burst out. Vermilion, flame-coloured wings flapped against the startled Dragon Rider’s face, whipped past Nyzura’s drawn dagger – she withheld her blow – and dashed frantically around Mizuki’s legs. The Dragoness slapped her paw down.
“Mizuki!” Hualiama yelled.
“What?” growled the Copper Dragoness.
“That was the … firebird? What?”
The Copper grinned, pointing to her cupped palm. “No problem, Empress. I have captured this ferocious beast for the glory of the Lost Islands. How shall I serve it – lightly roasted?”
“Mizuki!” everyone shouted at the Dragoness, who preened brazenly and snorted a very self-satisfied little fireball out into the void.
Fumiko said, “I’ve experience with animals. Mizuki, behave yourself – no, I am not implying you’re an animal!” She pushed the Dragoness’ smoking muzzle away from her shoulders. “You and a bird? There’s a slight difference in intellect, not dissimilar to how there’s a slight difference between Lia’s pebbles and this entire Island. Alright? Faugh, your breath stinks. Are you hungry? Why don’t you go hunt?”
The Copper Dragoness blinked, nonplussed. “How did you know?”
Saori said, “I think when your food stomach’s empty, the gases react and contribute to Dragon halitosis. And, your stomach always rumbles in a particular way. Now, Mizuki, Affurion told me to look after you –”
“He what?” fumed the Dragoness.
While Mizuki worked out to the tune of further fulminations that Saori was tugging her wingtips, Fumiko crawled beneath the Dragoness’ paw and soon emerged cradling a contented firebird cradled in her arms. Hualiama stared! Sightings were rare enough. She had never heard of anyone actually touching a firebird, and since they were regarded as a sacred manifestation of Fra’anior’s fiery spirit by many Islanders, hunting them for their extraordinary feathers was strictly forbidden.
The plumage was glorious. For a smallish bird that grew to two feet in height, the tail was a spectacular spray of vibrant reds and oranges of up to four feet long, and it sported a pretty crest of slender, candle-yellow feathers atop its scarlet head, topped with round sapphire-blue dots that Lia had first taken for feathers, but now she realised, were something else. A sensory or magical organ, perhaps? There was a clear aura of magic about the bird. White-fires crackled lightly at the edges of her vision, and she realised that those blue blobs were some kind of additional sensory organs.
The firebird peered sagely at her, then gazed out to Ya’arriol Island in the distance, and sang its spine-tingling song.
Fumiko said, “It’s telling us to go to Ya’arriol. Why?”
Hualiama’s scalp crawled. “I – I can’t – oh, can it be?”
Saori and Imaytha put their arms about her, and Mizuki cupped all three women in her paws. The Copper whispered, “Your lost egg-siblings?”
“I know!” she wailed, ambushed by a welter of tears. “And, I’ve solved the meriatite problem. Oh, I’m just so happy!”
“You look over the moons,” Zanya noted.
Their laughter, happy and sad and hopeful, spilled out over the pristine Cloudlands.
* * * *
At suns-down, a most unusual group of visitors knocked at the door of Inniora’s parents’ home. Hualiama was convinced they had been forewarned of the approach of Dragons, but the Isles custom was to pretend joyful surprise at the unexpected visit while frantic preparations doubtless proceeded in the kitchen. The ruddy light reflected off the great, burgundy-coloured sondori trees behind the house, and warmed the great, exposed log beams of the frame and the whitewashed walls. Cosy. She had always loved this place.
The door banged open. “Inniora! Hualiama!” boomed Master Ga’athar, gathering them one into each arm and doing his best to squeeze them breathless.
“Mistress Yualiana!” cried Lia, clasping the tall Fra’aniorian matron into a spontaneous hug.
The woman stiffened, but suddenly unbent and ruffled Lia’s hair fondly. “So, petal, what’s all this cheek and nonsense? Rumour is that you’ve been promoted to a leader of nations. Couldn’t just send a teensy message scroll around the Isles, could you? Do I need to belt that Dragon of yours with my rolling pin?”
Hualiama laughed happily. “Maybe the day after tomorrow. Mistress –”
“Yualiana, please.”
“Dad, Mom, we need a huge favour,” said Inniora.
“Who are all these beauties?” Ga’athar inquired, earning himself a fond clip about the earhole from his wife. With a cheerful babble and kafuffle, the women filed into the kitchen and took seats around the table, generously laden with snacks, fruit and breads, while the Dragonesses settled just outside, one flaming eye peering between the open shutters of each kitchen window.
“T
uck in,” Yualiana urged. “We were just sitting down for a meal.”
Liar. Lia could not keep from grinning as the inevitable rush of compliments made Yualiana blush.
Dozens of barefoot children always seemed to be bursting out of the rafters of this house. Ja’al had five sisters and six brothers, several of whom were married and lived nearby with their families, and with Inniora’s two sets of twins thrown into the bargain, Ga’athar and Yualiana’s home quickly became overrun. Explanations flew here and there while his younger sisters cooed and exclaimed over the assorted Queens and Empresses, and four teenage boys just sat on the edge of their loft bedroom and gaped unashamedly at Imaytha. ‘Is she real?’ one of them muttered. Hualiama bounced Bithinia, Inniora’s one year-old girl, on her knee. The girl gurgled as she cocooned herself in long, crinkly hanks of blonde-and-blue hair.
Eventually, Master Ga’athar clapped his hands. “Silence! Silence in the court! So, everyone’s excited. Children, go outside and play with the nice Dragons. Don’t get eaten. Lia, petal, we need to talk. Did I hear you proposing to half-destroy my house so that your brother, Prince Elki, can bridenap Saori?”
“Ooh,” sighed every teenage girl in the room. The boys shuffled excitedly.
Hualiama smiled at him. “Aye, Master Ga’athar. The Lost Islands treasuries promise to cover any damage.”
“You could probably buy this Island, petal,” Yualiana put in primly.
“And, you’re asking for permission to house fifty-odd Dragons and Riders around Ya’arriol in the old Dragon roosts?” the Master pressed.
“Aye, Master.”
Now, his heavy brows beetled as if a pair of furry dragonets were preparing to wage war across his brow. “And did I catch a hint about you marrying that Grandion? Twice? The old ears must be deceiving me. Petal, you’ve always been a bit of a different breeze around the Islands –” he quelled the yells of laughter around the room with a stern glare “– I say! Does the word ‘forbidden’ mean nothing to you? Taboo? What spawns such a brand of ralti-stupid, Island-shaking nonsense in that pretty head of yours?” His growling gathered force. “Lia, why do you insist upon shaking out the fabric of our Island-World and turning its most essential, sacred traditions upon their heads?”
“I did hear a rumour about Human-Dragons,” Yualiana put in. “Dragons assuming Human form and spying upon Human affairs? King Chalcion was livid – understandably.”
“This is a little different,” Imaytha noted. Her musical voice stilled the kitchen as if an enchanted songbird had unexpectedly come home to roost. “Master Ga’athar, upon the honour of Immadia, I declare that there are two Dragonesses sitting at this table as we speak. Zanya is an Ice-Blue Dragoness and Hualiama is a Star Dragoness. This is no trick of magic. Hualiama tells me you know of the prophecy.”
“I do.”
So forbidding was his voice and so deeply furrowed his brow, Hualiama wanted to sink away beneath her seat. As Imaytha explained about the third race, all she could think was that these people had been family to her, and she was about to rip that apart and cast their love into the Cloudlands. Ga’athar and Yualiana would never understand. They were too hidebound, too wrapped up for too long in Fra’anior’s complex interplay between Humans and Dragons. They disliked the idea of Dragon Riders. Shapeshifters? An Isle too far.
Worse, she sensed the rising of Amaryllion’s fires within her as she glanced briefly about the room. There was potential here.
In a second, though, Yualiana moved behind her, glaring at Master Ga’athar as she slipped her arms about Hualiama’s neck. “There now, you great, gabbling ralti sheep, the poor petal’s trembling like a reed caught in a thunderstorm.” The Master made to speak, but his wife snapped, “Ga’athar! Just you wipe that – that beastly look – aye, that one! Off your face. Now! Don’t you understand what a risk our Hualiama is taking? Saving our Cluster from a madwoman is like plucking a few fireflowers compared to the prospect of losing our love, and she has lost so much already. Promise me!”
He growled, “Yualiana –”
“You promised!”
“Aye.” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and pinned Lia with a look that swung from glare to amusement in the space between heartbeats. “Yualiana’s right. Just takes an old man a bit of time to get used to having his brain turned into prekki-fruit mush by the likes of you, girl. Again.” He waved his hand resignedly. “Go ahead. Mush and mash away. I’m ready.”
Two minutes and a few arrangements later, the Master’s eyes snapped up to the loft room. “Boys! Get down here and no peeping down her shield!”
“Aw, Dad …”
“I raised you better than that!”
Four openly sulky teenage boys descended the ladder to join the chaos in the kitchen below. Hualiama completed undressing behind her optical shield, which left only her head and feet visible. Useful skill for changing in a pinch.
She said, Zanya, don’t you dare. You’d rip the roof off.
Zanya swallowed hard. I … how do you control these fires, Princess?
Not easily. Slow breaths, in and out.
Her Dragoness chuckled, Were those boys peeking down your top, Humansoul?
Aye, Dragonsoul. Do me a favour. Once we’ve transformed, catch them and give them each a kiss, with my warmest compliments. She focussed inwardly. I think, and become …
Two seconds later, Ga’athar yelped, “Fra’anior’s holy beard! I wasn’t ready for that!”
Chapter 27: Beds Dangling over Islands
Before dawn The following morning, Dragoness-Lia stirred to the sound of a scratching at her shutters. Saori slept abed, sharing head-to-toe with Naoko and Fumiko, while the Dragoness had curled up on a circular rug on the floor. Indeed, the whole house slept.
The firebird.
Silently, the Dragoness reached up to slip the catch. A beak poked in. Trri-wirrll?
Coming.
With all the draconic stealth she was learning, Hualiama stole out of the bedroom and pressed the shutter shut behind her. The bird darted away at once. Grief, it was fast.
The Dragoness propelled her body along a cool forest path, brushing past many flowering bushes and crossing a small dell before diving into the deeper undergrowth beyond. Flashes of orange and her long, sensitive nostrils kept her on the hunt – although her Dragon brain was gladly evaluating the edible properties of the bird, which was not the point, she warned herself sternly. Here and there, amidst the dense, dewy tropical plants, she caught hints that this was an old, now unused trail.
Ya’arriol’s Human village stood on the eastern flank of the Island, overlooking Ha’athior in the distance. Behind was a low ridge; ahead of her, a four-mile drop into the Cloudlands. But the indefatigable bird led her on a merry chase two or three miles beyond the village, whereupon it dropped down onto a cliff path and began to leap from ledge to ledge, flying poorly. A tan cliff goat burst away before Hualiama’s nose, squealing in terror – yum! Ignore her stomach’s wild yammering. She smelled all the familiar vines and plants of her first trip up, and down, an Island cliff. Memories crashed over her. Ra’aba’s sneer. Falling into the ruddy suns-set. Flailing. Knowing she would die, until a tiny set of paws reached out and snaffled her to safety.
She did not know how long she had clambered along the cliff, unseeing, when the bird turned into a narrow crevice, and vanished.
Lia plunged after without pause.
Magic tingled over her scales. Another barrier. A third! She yelped as a sharp series of prickles accosted her, but before any danger threatened, the barrier shimmered and she heard a clicking noise ahead. A door? A draconic portal, alive with magic!
Should have taken due care … but here, the firebird stopped, and sang her another pretty tune as Hualiama gazed about curiously. A roost? She had never seen one quite as well-guarded with enchantments as this, and she was certain she did not understand one hundredth of the portal magic she detected. Did she hear running water?
As the bird finish
ed singing, the clicking sound repeated. The firebird looked significantly at her, chirruped once as if to suggest its job was done, and departed. Lia said, Uh … thanks.
Walking up to shimmering, perfectly circular barrier at the end of this short tunnel, the Dragoness paused before touching it with her talon. Repulsed. Istariela, she said aloud. Nothing. Hualiama. Blue-Star. Less than nothing.
Grrr!
Island Standard? “I am Hualiama, shell-daughter of Fra’anior and Istariela.”
Not that either.
Then, Humansoul laughed quietly. Shine, o Star Dragoness.
Enrobed in light, she walked unmolested through the portal and entered Istariela’s lair – tiptoed, or tip-taloned, rather. The sandy cavern was simple and homely. Her eyes leaped to an arched doorway in the rear wall. Light flickered kaleidoscopically upon her eager Dragoness-eyes. Passing through, she paused in wonder. A gemstone cavern sang to her. Perhaps a diamond geode, certainly the largest she had ever seen. A kingdom’s wealth studded the walls. To her left paw, a small waterfall dropped over seven steps into a gemstone-fringed pool, but none of that was what catapulted her across the room with a low, anguished cry.
Two eggs. Two perfect, lustrous Dragon’s eggs nestled in a sandy hollow beside the clear waters, gleaming with the ever-changing light rippling through the waterfall by no mechanism she could discern. Her scalp crawled; fire rocketed down her spine to ignite mayhem in her stomach. She could not touch them. No. Oh, Istariela … oh, Fra’anior! Her eyes could never have their fill of looking. Each egg was small for a Dragon’s egg, as she understood it – why did she still hesitate?
Because the Island-World held its breath in wonder.
Hualiama curled her body about the eggs, gasping, Oh, oh my darlings, my poor, lost darlings!
Mamafire?
One of the egglings sounded … sleepy. Dreaming, perhaps?
I’m here. I’ll never leave you again. Oh, how I’ve longed to hold you. From within the egg, a pearlescent white ovoid of approximately two and a half feet in length, came a purring sound of contentment. Hualiama’s crooning vibrated the eggs as she clutched them desperately against her belly. Sweet fires, dear fires, let me sing to thee.
