by Marc Secchia
Emmaraz slammed into a Dragonship above and ahead of them, ripping the entire bow-gantry off its moorings in a fit of pique. Maylin’s laughter egged him on. Opposite, Pip spied Silver lashing out with his hind foot, leaving an imprint of a Steersman on a cabin wall. He shook his paw to clean–well, Pip did not want to think what exactly–off the underside.
Oyda’s in trouble!
Pip could not tell which Dragon had cried out. Somehow, the third and last Green Dragon had wriggled free of a melee, only to impale himself on Emblazon’s spine-spikes in the region of the huge Amber Dragon’s hindquarters. She knew that feeling all too well. But the injured Green pressed his paws down to lift himself clear. Now he clawed his way toward Oyda, disregarding the war crossbow emplacements positioned to either side. The Green was just six feet behind her position. Had Oyda realised? Meantime, Emblazon wrestled with his quarry, trying to execute a killing bite.
Roaring! Rushing! Tazzaral sprang off the pirate mothership at Kaiatha’s sharp command. Duri and Jyoss speared across the fray, but came under heavy fire from catapults belonging to both friend and foe. Somehow Kassik was in the thick of it all, above Emblazon, holding Hunagu against his belly with one paw while he reached out with the other, only to be rebuffed by an unfortunate swoop from Chymasion, intent on dodging a catapult-load of razor-sharp shrapnel.
Go, Silver! On my mark! Pip heard herself yell. She slapped her saddle-harness buckles, freeing the spring-loaded mechanism.
She saw Oyda speared through the back by a talon. No, Oyda was fine, riding high. The Green, golden Dragon blood dripping between his fangs, coiled his thigh-muscles in anticipation of the fatal blow. Oyda tumbled lifeless into the Cloudlands, Emblazon bugled in wild, unrestrained grief … she could not tell what was real anymore. Silver swerved at her call … seeing what she saw … now Pip looked through his eyes, making a desperate correction of course as she crouched. She tried to shake her head to clear the intruding images. Ready. Judge the distance. She sprang upward, clasping a sword in her weaker left hand. Snagging the outermost edge of Silver’s wingtip, she flew in an arc over a trader Dragonship as it slowly ascended into the gap between her and Emblazon. Her shoulder burned. Pip disregarded the pain. The Silver Dragon crashed into the soft air sack and rolled over it, keeping his wing perfectly extended, one with her in crazy-slow motion.
Bolts, fired by double crossbow emplacements on a nearby pirate airship! But before Pip could blink, Jyoss’ eye-beam attack cut the pair of six-foot ‘Dragon killer’ crossbow bolts in half. She arced rapidly toward Oyda, muscles screaming at the strain.
The Green heaved himself forward.
Pip released Silver’s wingtip, bringing her sword up from behind her left shoulder in a fluid blur. She hurled it overhand with all of her strength into the space between that fatal grey talon and the small of Oyda’s back … and it kept right on cartwheeling, flying so fast that it struck the side of the Island hundreds of feet distant. The claw struck home. Pip screamed! But the steely talon never penetrated her armour, for it had no foundation. Sheared clean off. Oyda had a second’s grace to slice her final saddle-strap free and leap for safety before the stunned Green jerked ahead to complete his attempted backstab. That was his last living accomplishment, for Silver embellished his manoeuvre with a shaped fireball he had been trying to teach the other Dragons. Flame crackled above Pip’s head, spearing into the Green Dragon’s wounded neck. Silver sparks exploded throughout the Green’s flesh. That was Silver’s special power, what he called a kinship-power between a Silver Dragon and a Star Dragon’s signature star-fire attack.
The enemy Green’s eye-fires ebbed and flickered out.
She tumbled out of the fray. Down, down forever, heart crammed into her throat. Amidst the smoke and chaos above, Pip caught flashes of fangs and wings. Flame blossomed lazily from one of the Dragonships … Silver!
I come, my Rider. He upended and clipped his wings sharply, diving in pursuit of the falling Humans. Below Pip, Oyda fell with peculiar calm, as if she were lying on a bed of air. Silver’s rapid acceleration brought him down to the Dragon Riders within seconds, whereupon he produced a stunning piece of aerial acrobatics, snagging both women simultaneously at high speed, yet his catches were so perfectly timed, Pip experienced only the gentlest of bumps against her ribs.
Oyda chuckled, Silver, Pip–you’re awesome together. Wow!
Silver’s doing, really, Pip protested.
Let’s argue properly later, suggested the Dragon, lacing his words with nuances that made Oyda shout with laughter and Pip blush up a firestorm.
She huffed, Mind on the battle, young Shapeshifter!
Silver only produced a fiery chuckle while diving out of the way of a Green Dragon corpse tumbling away into the Cloudlands. Emblazon had defeated his foe. With that, the pirates were effectively doomed. Eight battle-maddened Dragons crawled all over the enemy Dragonships. Those pirates who did not surrender were summarily invited to a quick flight from a great height. Smoke drifted away on the breeze, and with it, the blood-scents and debris of battle.
Nak grandly ‘negotiated’ with the trader Dragonship Captain for disposal of the proceeds. Thereafter, the Dragonwing flew up to one of the terrace lakes, scattering ten thousand birds to the winds, while the trader manned the empty pirate vessels and flew them off with a smile plastered upon his bearded face that could likely be seen from ten leagues away. He was rich, and alive.
* * * *
The terrace lake rippled golden-orange in the early suns-shine as Tazzaral and Jyoss sported in the narrow but deep band of water, chasing terrace-lake trout more for fun than food. Everyone else gathered on a beach shaded by jiista-berry bushes growing horizontally out of the granite cliff face just behind this level of lake, licking their wounds, sorting and fixing equipment and discussing the brief but intense battle. At a safe distance, hundreds of herons and blackwing storks perched on the lake’s curved retaining wall and proclaimed their annoyance at the Dragons’ intrusion with a constant chatter of grating caws.
“What need for Dragonships when we have Dragons?” Nak pontificated, striking a trademark Nak pose, arms folded and legs akimbo. His forehead and left eye were heavily bruised, the eye already almost swollen shut.
“The Captain thanked us a hundred times,” Kaiatha said mildly.
“Jolly right he should,” said Maylin. “Ouch, Oyda. Easy on the bandages there. It feels as if you’re roping my ribs together.”
“Broken ribs need firm treatment,” Oyda said. “Nak. Having trouble with that eye?”
“Still lets me ogle your utterly charming behind, o lily of Yelegoy,” he opined, trying to wink and failing.
“Hmm.” Oyda stalked past him, whirled on a sudden whim, delivered a prolonged kiss that literally brought Nak to his knees, and marched right on to Emmaraz. Nak looked as if a Dragon had cuffed his head.
Oyda barked, “Arosia, stitches on a wing-membrane need to be closer together. No more than an eighth of an inch. You can redo the entire section between the fifth and sixth struts beyond the elbow joint.”
“Ay, Dragon Rider,” said Arosia, mopping her forehead. “Right away.”
“I’ll inspect your work afterward.” The Yelegoy Islander grinned. “Pip says I should set your father on you if your work is inadequate in any way.”
“Huh,” snorted Master Balthion.
“Silver, let’s see to that crossbow quarrel.”
“I’m fine.”
“Ooh, you’re such a male,” snorted Oyda. “You’ve six feet of metal buried up to the fletching behind your third rib. Lucky it missed your lungs. Pip, Shimmerith–over here. This looks like the worst of our wounds. Arosia, make sure to check Chymasion over thoroughly once you’re done with Emmaraz. Dragons have a dreadful habit of lying about their wounds.”
“Ay,” said Casitha, giving Kassik the proverbial flaming eyeball.
“Blasted lucky shot,” grumbled the Brown Dragon, covering the split webbing of his left fo
repaw with his right. “Deflected off a stanchion.”
Emblazon had many acid burns courtesy of the Green Dragon’s death-throes, but had already treated those by swimming in the lake. Barrion’s upper left thigh sported a fresh bandage–an arrow had plugged in the muscle. Shimmerith had plucked it out for him while the warrior bit a piece of leather.
“Your shoulder’s bleeding again, Pip,” Silver pointed out.
“That was some crazy manoeuvre,” Duri enthused, apparently not as preoccupied with picking bits of catapult shrapnel out of his right arm as everyone thought. “You two acted as if you had one mind. Wasn’t that what Master Ga’am tried to teach us? And Pip, how did you get a sword to shear off a Dragon’s talon when a talon is harder even than tempered steel?”
“Desperation?” Pip quipped. Or, strength-magic?
Oyda, her arm buried up to the armpit inside Silver’s flank as she felt about for the crossbow bolt’s flanges, said, “Pip, that’s the second time you’ve rescued me. Actually, twice in one battle–how can I ever thank you? Perhaps our native Yelegoy beliefs in guardian spirits are true. How you ever coordinated that stunt with Silver is beyond me.”
“I saw it,” said Pip.
Silver, Shimmerith and Kassik shared significant glances, but Nak brought the conversation’s tone down to his level with perfect comedic timing. “Ah, my incomparable Pygmy princess,” he declared, smacking his lips like a drunken lout, “were I to kiss you as you deserve, the very stars should swoon from the skies and be found ensconced in thy pyretic physique.”
Pip wrinkled her nose at him. “Thou art gracious but woefully misguided, o nefarious Nak.”
How glad she was to have discussed this problem with Kaiatha before bringing Emblazon and Oyda into her scheme. By shielded telepathy, she called to Emblazon, To my aid, mighty Amber? The Amber Dragon sneaked up behind Nak, astoundingly cat-footed for a beast of his tonnage. Predator. No other word served as well.
“Misguided?” Nak played to his audience. “Pray elucidate, thou dusky flame?”
“I’m just wondering which Dragon you’d choose to rebuke you first–Silver, Shimmerith or Emblazon?”
“Um,” said the Rider, making a show of scratching his beard.
Emblazon roared in his ear, “Jump!”
“Help!” Screeching in dismay, Nak bounded off like a frightened rock deer before realising that everyone was laughing at him. He dusted off his trousers and threw Pip a reproachful glare. “Where’s the dignity in this relationship, I ask you?”
Pip indicated herself. “Right here. Besides, my kisses are reserved for …” Blast it, now she stuttered to a halt and cast a sidelong glance at the Silver Dragon.
He wafted a flame-ring toward her, shaped as a wavering but recognisable heart. He bugled softly, “For thee, my flame-heart.”
Nearby, Casitha and Kaiatha raised whoops and cheers while Durithion clicked his fingers approvingly in the Sylakian fashion. Pip had to grin, albeit sheepishly. She had walked into a trap of her own making. Now she must pay the price in embarrassment.
Oyda beckoned Nak with her free hand. Garnishing her playful tone with fluttering eyelashes and a sassy pose, she cooed, “Oh Nak, I desire a strong man’s help with this crossbow bolt. Would you please assist me, o mighty, mighty Dragon Rider?”
Nak produced a fake swoon, staggering against Emblazon’s outstretched paw. “Ah, slain by thy beauty, winsome Yelegoy!”
Oyda’s cheeks developed matching spots of colour. “Nak. Get over here. Now!”
Pip approached Shimmerith to seek the Blue Dragon’s help. She had to find a way of healing her strange, Shapeshifter-connected wounds. Perhaps the image of becoming truly herself could be translated by a Dragon’s innate healing magic, for in the battle’s heat she had begun to sense an inner stirring she had thought forever lost beneath the Cloudlands.
Fire. Dragon fire.
Chapter 9: Sylakia
FOR tHE MIDAFTERNOON briefing that same day following the pirates’ defeat, Master Balthion took over. “Using a Dragons’ Highway, we’ll depart this evening and aim to arrive in Sylakia before dawn tomorrow. We’ll be met outside Sylakia Town by agents sympathetic to our cause. I’ve already alerted them by message hawk.”
Clasping his hands behind the small of his back, the grizzled Master swivelled slowly, scrutinising each member of their group as if seeking to plumb their strengths and weaknesses. Pip knew that gaze well. A commander’s gaze. An academic’s keen intelligence. A swordsman’s understanding of combat. A fatherly softness as his eyes briefly touched upon Arosia and Chymasion.
He said, “With due respect, Chymasion, this crossing may prove to be beyond your capabilities at present due to the strength of the winds. We’ll plan accordingly. We will also hide Silver in his Shifted form for this leg. The Marshal’s agents may well be searching for a Dragon matching his unique description. At Sylakia we’ll split up as planned. Kassik, Casitha and I will slip into town to begin our investigations. Faranion and Barrion, you will accompany us. Jerrion, Pip is your responsibility. The rest will proceed under Nak and Emblazon’s command to the Crescent Isles.”
“Ay,” growled the Dragons, as if their response were orchestrated by a single, invisible paw.
“One small aside,” Balthion added. “For the zoo trip, Pip and Silver will require disguises. You’re about to become a happy little family. Nak and Oyda, congratulations on your incipient parenthood.”
“Phew.” Nak began to scratch himself vigorously with both hands, and not in socially acceptable places either. “You just set off all my allergies at once, Balthion.”
Duri grinned at Pip. “Hey, can I call you my titchy little sister?”
Maylin piped up, “Why don’t you make Jerrion and Oyda the parents, and Nak the boisterous little brat?”
“Hey!” Nak flicked a fish-head at the Eastern Islander, who caught it with a snap of her wrist and a smirk aimed to infuriate.
Balthion pretended to consider her proposal. “Hmm. Excellent strategic thinking there, Maylin. Emmaraz, you and Chymasion will be main watch on the zoo complex. Emblazon and Shimmerith are too recognisable. The other Dragons will wait in a wood a mile southwest of the zoo. Saddled. Ready to depart at the drop of a rajal’s hat.”
“Ah–are we sure this zoo visit is worth all the trouble?” asked Pip.
The Sylakian Master bowed formally to Emblazon. “Noble Amber. What is a Dragon’s foremost weapon in battle?”
“Heart,” he growled.
Shimmerith agreed, “Absolutely. We Dragons say the brighter the heart burns, the more powerfully a Dragon burns in battle. White-fires, battle-fires and heart-fires–in Dragonish, these words are all formed from the same root. My Emblazon is a great-hearted Dragon and that is his battle-secret, the true power behind the outward appearance and a battle-honed mind.”
Emblazon squeezed his mate’s paw with his own, much as Humans would hold hands. “Ay.”
Balthion said, “Therefore, Pip–”
“I understand, Master, and I thank you for this lesson.”
He dipped into a Sylakian quarter-bow. “Then I expect you to apply your understanding to the attainment of mastery, student Pip–and that goes for all you students, understood? Right. Questions, anyone?”
Arosia raised her hand hesitantly. “Father?”
“I suppose I have to, don’t I?” A wink softened his low growl. He indicated his cheek. “A kiss for your poor, bereft parent. Right here.”
Arosia leaped up with more than a shade of rose complimenting her glad cry. “Father!” She stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, and then added an impulsive hug.
Balthion held her close. “Permission granted. Hasten back, precious daughter.”
* * * *
The Dragons spiralled aloft upon thermals generated by the intense late afternoon suns-shine, soaring above the northern massif supporting the great natural arch. Archion’s splendour only increased the higher they rose. The multiple layers of terrac
e lakes, twenty-eight in all, gleamed like bands of molten silver. Above the lakes, the flat summit of the Island played host to four small Human villages, the total population of the Island being less than three hundred hardy souls. Neat triangular fields of crops abutted thick, dark green coniferous forests. Everywhere the eye fell, flotillas of multi-coloured specks affirmed the abundance of bird life. Pip spied a family of rajals slipping past a village. Apparently these people tamed the huge black cats. Mad!
“Beautiful, but you’d need earplugs to live here,” Nak said irreverently. Pip and Human-Silver rode Shimmerith together with Nak, for Emblazon expected to carry Chymasion partway.
“Oyda’s the one who needs earplugs. You snore,” said Pip.
“Bah. I am the epitome of flawless masculinity,” Nak boasted. “Islands’ sakes, are Balthion and Kaiatha puzzling over that diary again? Pretty girl, but ridiculously tenacious. Remind me to give Durithion some pointers about dealing with stubborn women.”
“Of course, Nak.”
“Meantime, Silver, haven’t you taken Pip up on her offer as yet?”
“Ah–what offer?” asked Silver.
“Kissing.” Nak winked over his shoulder. “My boy, you are surely not so dense as to have ignored such an opportunity? Whatever do they teach you over there in Herimor?”
“Courtesy and respect,” Silver snorted.
“Bah. Toss that in a Cloudlands volcano. Can’t you see she’s rainbows over the Islands for you, boy?”
“She is right here, sitting between you,” Pip interjected.
“Oh, great Islands,” Nak teased, “I must’ve overlooked you there, Pip.”
Marvellous! Definitely a lick of ethereal flame as his short-person joke did not fail to irk. Pip said, “I hope fate sends you three little Naks to drive you up the proverbial Island cliff.”
“Three pretty little Oydas to cherish, cosset and protect from all those roguish Naks out there,” said the Rider, sounding so serious that Pip smothered a gasp. “Now, let us use our time wisely–see? Even the merest hint of parenthood has transformed me into an improbably responsible man.” That deserved a chuckle. “Let’s us four put our heads together and figure out how you trigger this Balance power which is supposed to heal a Shapeshifter’s hidden manifestation. Because that’s where the problem is. I’ve thought about it. Your Human flesh is fine. It’s your Dragoness who is suffering, Pipsqueak.”
