Dragonlove

by Marc Secchia

  To Grandion’s shock, Yukari thrilled the heavens with her bugle, causing the waters of her pool to ripple in response, and the nearby dragonets to break into trilling, happy song. She was awesome. Dragons grew all their lives, albeit more slowly as they moved out of their fledgling years into adulthood. Sapphurion, measuring one hundred and thirty-two feet from wingtip to wingtip, was the largest Dragon Grandion knew–though not the oldest. Yukari had to be double his size. Her fangs stood like lances in her jaw, and the magnificent sweep of her hindquarters made him weak-kneed.

  Then he beheld her eyes through Lia’s sight, and Grandion had a further shock. The Dragoness was blind!

  If Yukari could not heal herself, what hope was there for him?

  I was wounded young. The great Dragoness’ thoughts, redolent with notes of experience and potent magic, fired his mind. In those days, the Eastern Dragonkind believed that a Dragon born with the power of Seeing could never attain their full potential unless they were blinded. So, my eye-fires were snuffed out by my shell-parents’ talons.

  Grandion bowed mentally, chastised and sorrowful.

  How is it that pictures of me form in a blind Dragon’s mind? Yukari asked.

  Hualiama is my eyes, Grandion replied, suddenly aware that Yukari could read his thoughts like an open scroll. She is my Rider, my friend, my rescuer and the fires of my soul.

  Yet what is this sadness I sense between you? the Dragoness inquired. A quarrel between soul-bonded lovers?

  The Tourmaline stiffened at her use of an ancient term. Cautiously, he said, Not soul-bonded lovers, great Yukari. Hualiama is no Dragoness. We’ve not even spoken of the mystical ascending fire-promises–

  No Dragoness? A vast snort blasted water at the pair of them.

  Lia’s tiny hands rubbed her eyes. In a moment, the Aquamarine Dragoness returned to his view. The sardonic expression curling her lip minded him of nothing more than his shell-mother about to rebuke an errant hatchling. Huge as he was, Grandion shrank into a hatchling’s submissive posture. It seemed appropriate.

  Grandion, I don’t understand that word she used, Lia’s broke in.

  Soul-bonded lovers? It’s the state of a pair of Dragons who have breathed the sacred fire-promises together, the Tourmaline Dragon explained, conveying disapproval, outrage and finality of the utterly impossible in the nuances of his reply. These promises are for Dragons alone–they are oaths made between fire-souls. For there are types of Dragonish love beyond roost-love or mated-love or egg-hatching love … he trailed off in embarrassment. Yukari, with all possible respect, I must correct you. Hualiama is a Human–

  Piffle, growled Yukari, rudely. Hatchling-spit and fireless smoke.

  Lia’s gaze darted to Grandion. He saw himself crouched at the water’s edge, an expression of stubborn disbelief crinkling his eyebrow-ridges, never mind the confusion roiling in his belly. He must swallow Yukari’s withering insults. Among the Dragonkind, an Elder’s words were sacrosanct, inviolable. Yet his fires betrayed him, for a smoky fireball leaked past his fangs.

  Quietly, the girl explained the Ancient Dragon’s passing on, and her confusion over her growing magical gifts. The Aquamarine Dragoness spoke right over her, as if she did not exist.

  Grandion. Smell her.

  He protested, I know how she smells–

  HOW DARE YOU DISOBEY! The Dragoness’ wrath rolled over him like a scalding lava flow.

  Pressing his nostrils against the girl’s back, Grandion inhaled hugely. Involuntarily, his tongue flicked out to taste her upper left arm, drawing a quiver from her body to match his own, albeit on a far larger scale. Hualiama’s scent was as he remembered, and so much more. Fire and spice. A staggering richness of mystery. Starsong over moons-lit Islands. She was the bewitching heart of Dragon fires and the tingle of magic upon his scales.

  As intricately beautiful as any Dragoness, he whispered.

  Yukari growled in approval, Nobly done, youngling. Now, hearken to the song of her inner being.

  The Dragon’s ear-canals attuned to the eager throbbing of her heart, to the catch-me-if-you-can rhythm of her life.

  No, go deeper. Like this. Yukari’s magic tingled against the scales of his head and muzzle. Listen with your third heart, youngling.

  The Tourmaline Dragon saw an egg of pearlescent white, nestled in the warm sands of a Dragoness’ roost. The egg stood with two others. Where was their shell-mother? It would not do to leave a clutch unprotected. Grandion pressed deeper for the truth of this vision, but it eluded him. A tiny Dragoness-spirit lifted free from the egg and soared away from his presence, coy and fey. Tinkling laughter fell upon him. Suddenly she became that Human sprite who had so entranced a Dragon hatchling with her irrepressible zest for life.

  You never wanted to wear clothes, Grandion told Lia. You never wanted to be bound or restricted in any way. You sang, oh my wings, how you sang! There were days you spoke nary a word, but your words were dance and your heartsong, Dragon fires.

  Standing with them in a shared vision of the past, the Aquamarine Dragoness said, How do you see her now, Grandion?

  She’s as unruly as the wind.

  Hualiama’s laughter lingered over both of the Dragons. Grandion knew that Yukari’s wings burned with the sweet fire that the girl’s laughter evoked; it was the whisper of wind caressing Dragon scales in flight, and the magic that burned in their veins and flowed in rivers of golden Dragon blood. Her hilarity was a blood-fever, a power akin to the slow rolling of a storm over his Island, and it sang to the lightning of his Blue Dragon powers. A thrilling battle-readiness surged behind the protective strictures of his fire and lightning stomachs.

  Dragonsong, said Yukari.

  Dragoness, agreed Grandion.

  And what of her dreams, Grandion?

  Abruptly, his paws returned to the ground, and the soaring sensation vanished. She claims to dream shell-dreams, he said, troubled. What can this signify but Amaryllion’s power, unleashed?

  The image in his mind walked upright on two legs. She had no wings. Grandion did not understand the import of Yukari’s lesson. Must he learn to see her differently? Aye, he could. Must he listen with all seven senses? Aye, he would. But the reality of Lia’s humanity could not be escaped. Belief could only convey a creature so far. A Dragon must know what his paws touched, what entered his senses, and what buoyed him across the abyss.

  In a profoundly deep voice, Yukari said, There is blindness no Dragon power can heal, young Grandion, no salve can ease, and no medicament can make well. If you truly would be the noble-hearted son of flame for which you are named, then you must slough off this inner blindness.

  Grandion shook at the force of her censure. My Hualiama is Human!

  Yukari ruffled her wings derisively. Think you I lack sense because I lack sight?

  The Tourmaline’s wings half-flared in response to her challenge. No, but I believe what my eyes have seen. I hear two feet brushing upon stone and gravel. A single heart beats in her chest …

  Dragoness!

  She has dreams and hopes, but dreams disappear with the dawn, and hope can play us false. Grandion loomed protectively over his small companion, gathering a trembling body into his talons. She is a living soul, o mighty Dragoness, and I fear these injurious words. You play on her most inmost fears–

  Yukari roared, GRRRRAAAAARRRGGGH!

  * * * *

  Dragon-thunder shook the world-within-a-world beneath the archway.

  Hualiama laid her hand upon Grandion’s muzzle, quieting his fury. Though both Dragons were blind, they faced each other with their lips curled back to bare their fangs in challenge, their stances matching each other for muscular aggression and their fires primed to a fighting pitch. Gratitude and fear pulsed equally in her veins. Somehow, the aged Dragoness’ insistence on the unattainable had liberated the great-hearted guardian in Grandion, and his attitude moved her more surely than Yukari’s words had roused her grief and despair. The Aquamarine Dragon-Seer had shed no l
ight upon Lia’s state or her magic, but she had broken a barrier of pain and offence which had grown up between Dragon and Rider. Perhaps her Dragon had not realised it yet?

  Aye, Yukari played a deep game. A Dragoness’ game.

  Drawing a shuddering breath, Lia said, I’ve dreamed of flying for longer than I can remember, Yukari. The fires of a precious dragonet dwell within me. It must be his earliest memories which stir my soul, for I have these shell-dreams, as you call them, strange dreams of a time before Sapphurion and Qualiana raised me with their own paws. I’m unashamed to admit that I love those Dragons. The truth of the matter is, Yukari, that you See differently to other creatures. I understand that your power can be both gift and curse.

  Yukari’s wild, vicious spurt of laughter boiled the water to Hualiama’s right hand. Oh, now you understand me, little one?

  Lia found herself baring her own teeth. I understand I’ll be whatever you want me to be, if you’ll help my Dragon. If I must be a Dragoness, then may it be so. And aye, I have insight. I know that something of your pain might be healed, if you see Akemi again.

  Shoulder to shoulder, she and Grandion confronted the huge Dragoness.

  By degrees, the two Blue Dragons began to simmer down, communicating with each other at a level Hualiama could only guess at–instinctual? Magical? The Aquamarine Dragoness’ regard burned upon her without need for ordinary sight, for the power of her inner gaze was enough to arouse Lia’s white-fires, until the pools seemed to burn and breathe the magic she had sensed before. As Yukari’s gaze penetrated her being, Lia stood stock-still, fearing to trust the Dragoness but knowing she must succeed for Grandion’s sake.

  Ungovernable indeed, said the Dragoness, appearing unexpectedly contented.

  With that, Yukari fell to a ponderous examination of Grandion’s condition, which soon tested the limits of Hualiama’s patience. Shinzen advanced. Dragonwings marshalled in far off places. Amaryllion had warned of an impending war in which Lia would play a crucial role. Unease drew together in her belly like storm clouds gathering in their battalions, preparatory to unleashing their fury upon the Isles.

  Hualiama expended her frustration in exercise and dance. She listened in as the Dragoness spoke to Grandion at inordinate length about Dragon powers and the dampening, stunting effects of long captivity–not just the obvious effects on physiology, musculature and even bone density, but the effects on what she called his inner balance and flow of magical powers. Yukari confirmed what the engineer in Hualiama had long suspected. Dragon flight was magical, not merely mechanical. Blues could manipulate the flow of air about their bodies and over the wing surfaces, achieving greater flight speeds, endurance and manoeuvrability than any other Dragon colour. Kinetic and levitation powers, rare even amongst Blues, could arrest the effects of momentum and gravity, giving a Blue Dragon unparalleled advantages in combat, and even strike an opponent down without need to bloody claw or fang.

  Dishonourable, Grandion sniffed.

  The Aquamarine Dragoness staggered him with a paw-strike, roaring, And when this hollow honour wastes Dragon blood and lives, only death wins!

  Aquamarine and Tourmaline, Hualiama thought, comparing the two Dragons–two ultra-rare gemstone colours, indicating their consummate magical abilities. Yukari’s colouration was like the blue of Gi’ishior Island’s terrace lakes, several shades darker than the luminous hues of Grandion’s scales, which hearkened to clear lake water beneath an enchanted gemstone sky.

  After completing her Nuyallith exercises, Lia stripped and swam in the warm, alkaline waters, washing off the grime of travel. She sensed the feathery touch of Grandion’s magic, and knew that Yukari noted it. Did the male Dragon reflect upon her humanity and femininity? Suddenly conscious of a queer but not unpleasant burning in her belly, as though she boasted her own fire-stomach, Hualiama slipped behind a clump of ferns and squeezed the water out of her long hair, which when wet trailed to mid-thigh. Mercy. She must remember to braid it to keep from tangling her hair in the flowing Nuyallith forms. And she must remember that neither fern nor boulder could keep a Dragon-adept from sensing her with his magic.

  Grandion and Yukari conversed long into the balmy night. Lia eventually found a warm hollow and curled up to listen. Of course, that was a prelude to drifting off to sleep. She enjoyed dreams of Flicker tugging her hair with his small paws and calling her straw-head. Hualiama stirred in the small hours. She checked the position of the Dragon’s Paw constellation. Three hours until dawn. Padding over to Grandion, she sleepily noted the renewed sheen of his scales. Had Yukari achieved that? How?

  You’ve star-shine in your scales, she yawned, pulling his paw over her torso.

  Aye? Are you cold, Lia? Did you dream ill?

  No. But there had been a dream just before she awoke, a fragmentary memory of searching endlessly across the Island-World … Lia murmured, You warm my fires.

  To the tune of the Dragon’s purring, sleep enfolded her.

  Lia often dreamed vividly, but the dreams that came upon her thereafter seemed to have a purpose about them, even a driving force, that she could not fathom. Many Dragons soared through the portals of her memory, great and small, and she joined them in a Dragonwing flying to the stars, but the stars changed into bellowing Dragons. White-fires rose within her, and in the flames strange and troubling images danced.

  In an instant, a White Dragoness flicked by her sight, wild and agitated. Behind her came a storm–the most fearful storm Hualiama had ever seen, an Island-swallowing black vortex that pursued the Dragoness with deadly intent.

  Mamafire, she whispered, touching the scale which rested against the pulse in her throat. Flee, Mamafire. I’ll protect you.

  My eggling!

  Go. Fly strong and true, Mamafire.

  Somehow, her strength seemed to calm the Dragoness, to return sanity and reason to the churning eye-fires and terrified pulsating of her wings.

  How are you able to do this, little one? wondered the beautiful White Dragoness. Why …

  I am the balance, she said.

  The storm broke over them! Dragon-thunder shook Dragoness and eggling mercilessly. ISTARIELA! a mighty voice roared from the storm. WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?

  Mamafire! She summoned her tiny magic, and thrust it like a sharp pin into the White Dragoness’ breast. Nothing here but a spark. Be the spark shooting from his bonfire, lost in the night.

  Taking the form of a tiny, gleaming mote of light as bidden, the White Dragoness shot away into the gathering dark as if a shooting star had briefly flared, and died. She was gone.

  The little one turned. Seven black thunderheads reared out of the storm, titanic Dragons’ heads, as black as obsidian, writhing about the mote. Bolts of lightning surged out of the clouds. Smoke billowed, hot and acrid with the fury of an Ancient Dragon, and before he spoke, she knew his name.

  I AM FRA’ANIOR, DRAGON-LORD OF THIS ISLAND-WORLD, thundered the seven heads, his voice the Dragonsong of the tempest, at once spine-tingling and overpowering. Darkness and tempest mantled his majesty. WHERE IS THAT TRAITORESS?

  Gone where you can never find her. A squeak of a reply.

  Far away across time and space, Hualiama groaned in the clawed grip of her dream. Mamafire! Help me …

  The Black Dragon’s heads surrounded her with all the devastating power at his command, as if seven storms had joined forces to obliterate an unwanted Island. Fra’anior roared, WHO ARE YOU?

  She whispered, I am the future.

  With a mind-shattering roar, the seven Dragon heads vented their wrath upon the little one who defied the mightiest of the Ancient Dragons. Chaos enveloped her. She was tossed away, helpless, but a flicker of maternal consciousness clasped her in paws of love. I will never leave you, precious one. I’m always inside you. My knowledge is yours.

  Knowledge flowed into the eggling. She folded the fabric of her world about herself, and vanished.

  The Black Dragon’s rage obliterated nothingness.

  Li
a blinked. Awake, or asleep? She could not tell, but her heart lurched in her chest for an entirely new reason, for she found herself lying in the arms of the young man of the brilliant blue eyes. A hand, warm upon her cheek. His lips, so close that his breath caressed the upturned corner of her mouth. His scent, beautiful cinnamon and sweet musk, a melody of draconic intoxication playing upon her senses. Concern registered upon his expression. Had he sensed her chaotic dreams, and come to her?

  The contrast between her nightmare of the Black Dragon and this sweet awakening could not have been starker. She feared to breathe lest the intense connection be broken. All she knew was his smiling eyes. Lia did not move a muscle, yet it seemed that every element of her being had been ignited by an unknown, overwhelming force, and that upon the swelling tide of its power, her soul could indeed take wing, and fly. Every heartbeat detonated against her eardrums. There was a taut ache in her chest, as though the fullness of her feelings stretched her ribcage almost unbearably, and that within the comfort he offered lay a peril so delicious that no woman could resist–and Hualiama did not know whether she was strong or fragile, for the way he held her made her feel both at once.

  Her eyes lidded.

  Only the slightest shift of her head would bring her lips to his, but a fingertip stroking the tiny whorls of hair beside her ear rendered her helpless. Hualiama’s fires coursed through her being, radiant. Had she ever imagined a lover such as this? Now, she must take courage. Riding the inner tempest with the audacity of one who dared to ride the mighty Dragons of the Island-World, Lia melded her body against his. Questing. Hungering.

  Only the cool night air greeted her burning kiss.

  Lia sat upright with a desolate cry. Grandion? Where … oh. Had she dreamed?

  The Dragon slept.

  * * * *

  Grandion heard sobbing, muffled against his paw. His third heart melted. Comfort her, would he? He had only succeeded in hurting Lia again. A Dragon should rather tear off his own wings.

  When the girl’s breathing eased into the rhythm of sleep, the Tourmaline Dragon’s breathing eased too. Close. The exhilaration of lava-like heat running through his veins gentled, and Grandion allowed a soundless exhalation to impel a jumble of draconic emotions into the pre-dawn stillness. Ever since the first time he had pounced upon this girl intending to slay her for her trespass upon the holy Dragon-Isle, Lia continued to confound him. Then, he had been suffused with righteous indignation. Any other Dragon would have smeared her life upon the rocks. Now, his fires sang a different Dragonsong.