by Marc Secchia
“Hey, Kaia–” she elbowed her friend “–if your father was a Shifter, what about you?”
Kaiatha held out one tanned arm. “See any sign of scales, Pygmy Dragon?”
“I’ll be the first to warn you.”
Tazz put in, “If she ever shows any interest in raw meat–well, any meat at all–I’ll be sure to forewarn you, Pip.”
“Ugh. Carnivores.”
Kaiatha laughed, but Pip could not help but wonder. How on the Islands did one identify a potential Shapeshifter? Was it even possible? A question for Master Kassik or Silver, when they had a moment’s privacy. Zardon had sensed, traced and eventually tracked her to the zoo. What Dragon power was that? A sensitivity to Leandrial’s Harmonic Inference? Or the instinctual use of Balance to detect a disturbance in the veil of reality–a certain Pip-sized troublemaker–from hundreds of leagues distant? Impossible.
Mercy. Perhaps she should ditch the word ‘impossible’ for ‘improbable’. Too much that seemed impossible was merely a parakeet of a different feather, as the Pygmy proverb put it.
Tazzaral said, “Look at all those windrocs around Archion Island.”
Almost simultaneously, Kassik bellowed, “Battle formation! Dragonwing to me!”
Chapter 8: Antics at Archion
IN AN INSTANT, the younger Dragons broke off their exercises. Chymasion almost flew nose-first into Tazzaral’s flank, but managed to execute a breathtaking sideslip to avoid contact. Unfortunately, he was so pleased with his effort that he tangled his own wings together at the end of his down-stroke and had to suffer the indignity of being by far the last Dragon to join the double-layer V-formation of Dragons, spearheaded by Emblazon and Kassik, who flew just one hundred vertical feet apart. The other Dragons fanned out, taking close slipstreaming positions which allowed an unrestricted yet concentrated field of fire.
Kassik checked them over. Good. Closer, Jyoss. Silver, try to extend your shield around all of us.
I could do better with Pip’s help, Master.
You could try by yourself, the Brown Dragon spat, rather more acid-Green at that point than his true colour.
Pip burned with embarrassment for her Dragon, but he did not hesitate. Draconic pride would allow no less. A slight shimmering of the air betrayed the expansion of Silver’s shield. She sensed him straining to hold the shape as it swelled; the Dragon dug deep, until Pip knew she could not have managed as much. There. A touch of Shimmerith’s mind to aid and correct an awkward application of the shield-magic …
Kassik began to growl deep in his throat, but the Sapphire Dragoness said lightly, Come, Silver, shake a wing. We’ll make a Blue of you yet.
Appreciative chuckles rippled around the Dragonwing.
Now the rest of you, ordered the Brown. Today, we’re going to fly through Archion’s finest swarm of aerial mosquitos without breathing so much as a puff of smoke. And they will not touch us.
Emblazon snorted, Talons and tails, Kassik, you’re spoiling all the fun for these youngsters.
Kassik returned a hundred-fang grin. If we succeed and reach Archion unscathed, I’ll take volunteers for a little windroc-hunting competition.
TAZZARAL! The Copper Dragon unleashed his battle-challenge.
Jyoss wagged a wingtip at him. And that was for what, exactly, my beauty?
Saluting thy beauty, worthy Dragoness.
Archion Island resembled the lower half of a man standing knee-deep in a dark swamp, his legs surrounded by clouds of gnats–in reality, thousands of windrocs that nested in the cliffs of the lower parts of the Island. That was only the tiniest peak of the Island massif of bird life for which Archion was famed. Multiple layers of terrace lakes each housed a spectacular menagerie of water-bird species, but the true wonder was the arch, the joining of the two ‘legs’ that stood akimbo in the Cloudlands. A crazy feature designed by some Ancient Dragon whimsy, the whole concept tickled Pip’s fancy–wasn’t it frivolous? Outrageous? A pet project breathed into life? Several of Nak’s less reverent ballads called it the greatest birdbath in the Island-World, and no wonder.
Shimmerith cheerfully expounded on the subject of joint, overlapping and concentric shields as the Dragonwing angled onto a more northerly heading, aiming to catch the suns-rise beneath the arch. Kassik and Emblazon argued about the best altitude above the Cloudlands and the optimal viewing angle for the suns-rise, while the Sapphire Dragoness made the younger Dragons and Riders sweat to produce the exact shields she ordered.
“Shielding a wing-brother or wing-sister in combat situations is a basic skill,” Shimmerith lectured. “Augmented shields, however, take on particular properties we have discussed before–additional resilience, decreased effort to maintain and even offensive characteristics such as Arosia and Chymasion discovered a few minutes ago. Reflex lightning? That’s a rare skill. Pip, are you listening?”
“Reflex and reflective shields,” she returned promptly, filing those ideas for future use. Could one reflect such a devastating attack as the Marshal’s? Anyone trying such a trick would simply be pulverised. “Noted. Also, not forgetting Silver’s slingshot effort the other day. I’m sure if you cut him, you’d find Blue Dragon blood.”
“Chymasion’s more Blue than I’ll ever be,” Silver grumbled, earning another round of chuckles.
The Jade hatchling said, “You’re all obsessed with colours. I tell you, the world is far more magical than that.”
“Your blueness only polished my scales to a more beautiful sheen,” the Herimor Shapeshifter retorted.
“Saved by your shielding, Silver,” Shimmerith cut in smoothly. “Right. Back to psychic shields. Silver, prepare your attacks. We’ve a few minutes before those windrocs decide to test our skills. You’ll be dealing with two simultaneous types of attacks, physical and mental, my friends–so prepare yourselves. Attack!”
Windrocs were no fun, contrary to Emblazon’s scornful opinion. Eighteen feet in wingspan, armed with cruel, hooked beaks and talons and the attitude of blood-maddened rajals, windrocs were justly regarded as the foremost avian predators of the Island-World. Or just a menace. Flying rats. Fireball fodder. It rather depended on one’s perspective.
As dawn stretched its roseate wings across the eastern horizon, the windrocs began in ones and twos to indulge in their favourite pastime of suicidally-attack-the-Dragon. They had neither fear nor love to spare the Dragonkind. Pip winced as needle-sharp talons scraped thin air not more than two feet above her head. The foremost windroc, deep brown save for the tan underparts and wingtips, screeched furiously as Tazz’s shield held firm. Soon, they were being mobbed by a screaming mass, the frustration seeming to attract their fellow avians like bees to nectar. Jyoss finally managed to copy Chymasion’s shield so that hers began to throw off spear-like bolts of lightning, frazzling any windroc that dared to attack her. Knots of windrocs fell away from the Dragonwing as the healthy ones chased their injured comrades down toward the Cloudlands.
Honestly, they’re spoiling the view, Emblazon griped.
Unusually aggressive this season, Kassik said. He blinked as unexpectedly, every windroc within a quarter-mile turned upon its neighbour to rend it beak and claw. Silver? I ordered shields only!
It’s a de-motivational psychic shield, he replied, smugly enough that Pip knew he had only just worked out how to achieve that effect. Noble Emblazon requested a clear view of the suns-rise. I wish only to serve my elders to the best of my–
Cheeky hatchling! The Brown Dragon snapped at him.
Silver bore the brunt of Kassik’s clashing fangs against his shoulder without flinching. Ay, mighty Kassik.
Pip saw Casitha bend forward to speak softly to her Dragon. “Battle alert!” roared the Brown. “Riders, to arms! We’ve a flotilla of trader Dragonships in trouble, through the archway. Enough of this nonsense with birds, my Dragon-kin. We’re about to enjoy a little practical schooling.”
All their training translated into instant action and reaction. Peering beneath Archion�
��s dark underbelly, every person and Dragon could see clear to the far side, where at a distance of several leagues a quintet of trader Dragonships appeared to be under attack by a half-dozen or more pirate Dragonships supported by a trio of matched shell-brother Green Dragons. She and her fellow Riders quickly armed themselves with bows or slid Dragon lances into their bracers, while the Jeradian warriors armed and tensioned the crossbows mounted on Emblazon’s massive war harness.
So much for the spectacular suns-rise, Pip thought wryly, which had cast quadruple overlapping rainbows into the mists above Archion’s terrace lakes. They would do battle against the backdrop of an artist’s masterwork.
“Emblazon, I’ll lead half of our group around the southern leg, highest speed. Pincer attack,” Kassik ordered. “You take the direct attack. Shimmerith, optical shields. Chymasion and Emmaraz, concentrate on the smallest Green. He’s your prey today. Silver, Jyoss, Tazz–with me.”
The huge Amber Dragon nodded. “We’ll synchronise on your mark, mighty Kassik.”
Veering off at once, the Brown pumped his wings to accelerate toward Archion’s league-tall cliffs. Above, layer upon layer of granite terrace lake walls stretched up seemingly to the skies, giving the upper Island the appearance of being encased in layers of banded Eastern Isles armour. They hared around the southern cliff face, blasting the odd unlucky windroc which happened to intersect their path. At this speed, the windrocs barely had time to react before the Dragons zipped past. Vegetation blurred in the edges of Pip’s vision until she learned that with Human sight, one simply had to look far ahead or grow dizzy. Dragon sight, especially with the translucent secondary optic membrane to protect the eye, handled the wind’s buffeting and even the speed of approaching or passing objects much better. No mind. She readied her Pygmy bow and checked the quiver of arrows Kaiatha had quickly foraged for out of Tazzaral’s saddlebags. She fingered the cunning drawstring design that kept the arrows in place even if the Dragon flew upside-down. Quick, belt the quiver at her right hip. Check her saddle harness one more time.
Oh, to be flying like these Dragons …
Not for two more weeks at least, Silver’s mental voice intruded on her thoughts. Please, Pip. Don’t even think about transforming.
The note of his pleading touched her. Ay, Silver. I’m not always as stubborn as I look.
Thankfully. His fangs flashed a quick grin at her. When you’re flying again, I’ll gladly be your Rider for a while–because I happen to think you’re awesome as a Dragoness. An awesome enemy, but a far more awesome girlfriend.
Ah … thanks. What had she done to deserve this accolade? You’re kind of cool yourself–ah, sorry. That’s a stupid thing to say to a Dragon.
Not to a Blue. Ice attacks are very cool.
Joking, Silver. If she could have managed it, her smile would have crinkled not just the corners of her eyes, but her entire being.
Silver reacted with a lopsided, slightly foolish grin. Eh? I didn’t know Humans made fire-eyes.
Kaiatha tapped Pip’s arm. “If you’re done flirting, Kassik would like you to be careful with your shoulder if you’re using a bow. Otherwise, he says, ‘Burn and blast, Pygmy girl.’ ”
Oh. Why did it feel as if she and Silver were alone in the world when he regarded her with that especial gleam in his eye? And that she was the last creature in the Island-World who deserved that regard? Self-consciously, Pip fiddled with her weapons. She had to break away from thinking that differentiated her from big people, at least, in ways that actually mattered. Silver was not tall, mind. Was it not Zardon who had uttered those words seared on her memory, ‘Since when did mere size gauge the worth of Human or Dragon?’ When would she grow within, or did scars or Kaia’s memory-boulders always impact the present?
Silver said, You need to learn to hide your thoughts better, my Pip.
Double the embarrassment. Pip touched her tingling cheek. My Pip? Always, in the cage, her thoughts and feelings had been the one thing no person could own …
He added, You’re right. It’s not about growing bigger, Pip, or becoming someone or something else. It’s about becoming fully yourself. Knowing yourself. Growing into your … true nature. Sorry, I can’t put it better. His mind projected a thought-nugget of his own emancipation from the Marshal’s power and influence, majoring on the freedom and sense of purpose he now enjoyed.
Curious how her body could be rushing around the broad base of an Island at a speed exceeding a mile a minute, while her mind leaped about like an overexcited spider-monkey clambering completely different mental constructs. That was the secret to Leandrial’s harmonic magic, surely? Harmony. Exactly as the name suggested–she quirked her lips drolly at Silver’s slight snicker from over on Tazzaral’s port wingtip–the clue had been right in front of her cute little button-nose all along. What? She scowled mentally at Silver. He dared to supplant her thoughts with his?
Got you.
Pip prodded him mentally. You’re just a muddy-kneed Herimor urchin I picked up in a cave somewhere.
Silver lost his wing-stroke entirely as he stiffened in outrage. Ugh. Dragon emotions. He picked up again, especially as the Brown Shapeshifter directed a withering glare at his apparent misbehaviour.
That was when the giggles attacked Pip with a vengeance. Silver winged on, haughtily ignoring his girlfriend’s chuckles.
Scooting beneath the massive cliff overhang of mid-Archion Island, home to millions of bats roosting amongst the deep cracks and thickets of trailing vines, Kassik and his force burst through a thick scrum of windrocs. No more niceties. Four huge fireballs mingled as the Dragons blasted the windrocs out of the sky. They deliberately winged through the smoke and debris, getting a taste of charcoaled windroc meat in their nostrils–Pip noted the immediate effect on their Dragon physiologies, the surging battle-lust, the howl of belly-fires primed to bursting-point and the trembling readiness of paws to rend, rend, rend …
Pip’s knuckles whitened on her bow. She must not transform. Deny the inner burning …
The Brown snarled, Faster, fledglings. Attack speed.
Hurtling on and on, she began to question if Kassik had misjudged the distance. He jinked upward, taking them above the arch’s mile-wide horizontal join. Sleepy, troubled bird-chatter rose from the birds roosting alongside the six upper levels of terrace lakes as the Dragons’ wash disturbed the waters. Then, the battle appeared to rise over the Island’s bulging flank. That much was illusion. The skirmish was not. The five trader Dragonships scrapped with–Pip counted rapidly–eight heavily-armed pirate Dragonships, a further massive airship which boasted ten war-catapult and crossbow emplacements she could make out, and two Green Dragons who crawled over one of the trader Dragonships, efficiently stripping it of weapons and defenders. Where was the other Green?
Alright Tazz, snarled Kassik. Time to roast those flying slugs!
Four full-throated Dragon challenges rumbled over the battle, shaking the Greens as if they were pebbles in a gourd-rattle. A moment before, those red-rajal pirate pennants had looked so brave, waving in the breeze. Now they resembled scraps of bloody meat waved in front of irate Dragons’ noses.
Where were Shimmerith and her battle group? Pip glanced below, realising how Kassik’s angle of assault from several hundred yards above the pirates had drawn every eye upward. The Greens were already disentangling themselves from the Dragonships, throats swelling to voice their enmity. A pleasant morning’s pillaging and looting, interrupted. There–oh yes! Anticipation punched her breathless. She saw a slight shimmer of air like the play of heat above an open volcanic vent, perfectly in keeping with Shimmerith’s name. Chymasion and Emmaraz broke free of the shield a scant fifty yards beneath the trailing Green’s belly. The Red Emmaraz aimed for the belly region, Chymasion took the throat. Maylin somehow picked off a pirate Steersman with an intrepid arrow-shot an instant before her Dragon slammed into the Green, ramming his talons so deep into its hide that his knuckles completely disappeared. Chymasion
seized the Green by the skull-spikes at high speed and threw his full weight into a slingshot manoeuvre, twisting the Green’s head right off his neck!
What? Kassik gasped an involuntary fireball.
Roaring, Death to all pirates! Tazzaral pummelled the largest Dragonship, blasting war crossbows off the bow with a series of explosive fireballs while Jyoss spiralled a bare foot above her companion’s arched spine-spikes to attack two catapult emplacements on a gantry above the main air sack. So fast! Pip struggled to follow the action as two delicate blades of white fire appeared to spear from … her eyes? Jyoss wielded her magical weapons with surgical precision. The emplacements and their attendant engineers peeled off the gantry and tumbled into the Cloudlands.
Suddenly, catapult-shot and arrows filled the sky. Pip yelled something nonsensical and ferocious as she drew to shoot. Pain lanced into her wounded shoulder; the shot went awry. Quick. Another! A pirate lining up Durithion with a six-foot metal crossbow bolt folded over an arrow buried in his right flank. Kaiatha deafened her right ear with a wild yell. She saw Kassik twisting metal into useless sculptures with his Brown power, while Emblazon had the biggest Green locked in a death-grip, all talons bared as he quarried great chunks of Dragonflesh off his adversary. A six-foot quarrel sprouted in her Silver’s side! Pip flinched as a matching spear-point of pain seemed to shoot into her ribs, too. Nothing. No blood.
Ignore the pain. Pip flung up an arm to deflect a normal-sized arrow whizzing toward Kaia; her answering shot made the archer duck. Shimmerith ambushed him from behind, merely a blur of sapphire scales as she cleared the lower gantry of a pirate Dragonship with an extended swipe of her left forepaw. Each airship was a large oblong balloon with a cabin suspended beneath it by hawsers, with light metal gantries around and above the cabins to double as fighting platforms and repair access for engineers. Dragonship design often included crysglass-enclosed Navigator cabins at the bow, but these pirate ships were built for combat–their Steersmen stood in the open. Unlucky.
