Dragonlove

by Marc Secchia

  Armed, re-shod and wrapped in a midnight-blue Enchantress cloak, Hualiama prepared to break out of the fortress-Isle of Chenak, Azziala’s stronghold. Drawing deep from the Juyhallith and Nuyallith lore she had learned, she formulated a shield and a disguise. Midway, the ruzal shocked her by offering a different solution–to alter her appearance. No. The path to the inferno began with just such a temptation. Easy. Small. Almost no thought required. Grim-lipped, the Princess braided her long, easily-identifiable hair, coiled it up, and tied the bundle with a leather thong. She put up her hood, and padded to the doorway. She loved these monk-slippers–soft and tacky, a silent invitation to nefarious doings.

  Time to go rescue her Dragon. Again.

  Hualiama had lifted the fortress’ schematics from Feyzuria’s mind–a vaster network of Burrower-excavated caverns and tunnels than she had ever imagined. Now, straight of back and arrogant of stride, a woman who looked much like Feyzuria slipped down through the fortress, wondering how exactly one avoided the detection of telepathic mental giants in their own territory. How long would Shazziya remain unconscious?

  She received her answer within three minutes. Lia had barely descended four levels in the metal cage-lift when it ground to an abrupt halt. Her mind rang with a mental summons.

  “FIND MY DAUGHTER!”

  Line-of-sight, Ianthine had said. Hualiama glanced up and down the shaft. Thick rope hawsers connected the cage to a winch system above, much like a certain mine she had once burgled. There was a small gap in the centre of the platform through which the hawsers ran, allowing the trailing end of the hawser a free run. Usually, everything in this place operated to a tightly-monitored schedule. Lia had counted on the turmoil of war preparations to be her ally. Not so. Someone approached the shaft, above, to check the stalled lift. Soldiers sprinted to their posts, carrying out the checks within their remit of responsibility. Lia blocked out the chaos impinging on her mind. Go!

  Thank heavens for a tiny frame. Wriggling into the platform’s central hole, Hualiama wrapped her legs around the rope and swarmed downward with the skill of an adept Dragonship pilot. She hoped nobody looked up.

  Two levels passed by without incident. Storage levels. Perhaps nobody was bothered with those–they had no egress, and were used infrequently. But she had to pass through the Dragonship engineering works ahead. At the third level, a soldier peered over the edge of the tunnel, a four-foot gantry jutting out to make stepping from the cage lift safe and straightforward. His neck twizzled to look first down, and then up. From twenty feet above, Lia pinned him with her last poisoned dart. The man yelped, stiffened and tumbled off the edge. She raced by.

  Now she sensed Azziala’s mind, searching. Imagining herself a wind-blown mote, Hualiama ghosted through her grasp. Islands’ sakes, Azziala was powerful! One more level. Lia swung herself around the hawser like an acrobat to build momentum, and launched herself over to the edge. Misjudged. A frantic grab fetched a fingertip hold on the edge. Panting, Lia swung her feet up and hid beneath the platform. Here came two soldiers, checking this level for the man who had fallen. The mental lattice strengthened under the directive of the Enchantresses, closing off possibilities, tightening the net in a frightening exhibition of co-ordination and teamwork. Grasping a metal stanchion in both hands, she swung back and forth twice, before arching her body upward with a supreme effort. She locked her legs around a soldier’s neck and yanked him off the edge.

  “Aaaaaahhhh!” he wailed on the way down.

  Repeating the manoeuvre, Lia released her hands as she swung up onto the platform, and came within inches of suffering the same fate as the first soldier. His overzealous partner tried to charge her, but she was smaller and lower than he expected. He pitched over her legs and took a brief flight down the shaft. Nasty.

  Hualiama bounced to her feet, dashed along the short connecting tunnel and dived behind the first stack of crates she found. Great. This cavern was heaving. She could not simply kill everyone in sight. Her eye fell on a furnace used by the metalworkers to forge Dragonship parts. Oh. What a nice little fire. Unattended. Hualiama had always been fond of fire, particularly when it came wrapped in gemstone-blue hide! Seconds later, she removed a spadeful of red-hot coals from the glowing heart of the furnace, and tossed them onto a nearby stack of coiled-up ropes. One more. Sneaking around the edge of the cavern, ducking beneath ropes and gantries, Hualiama set a second location alight. Burn!

  When sufficient smoke billowed from the spreading fires, she simply marched out into the open. “You! Put out those fires!”

  “Aye, Enchantress!”

  She marched right through the middle of the engineering works, her heart not giving her chest a second’s respite from a good thrashing. Almost at the end, she paused. Ooh, meriatite. That conjured up all sorts of interesting possibilities. Lugging a sack, the Princess of perfidy–to coin a phrase which would have made her madcap brother wriggle in delight–moved steadily to the next platform. Drat. Three soldiers. No choice but to play out her arrogant, assumed station.

  “You three. Take me down. I’m to check the heir isn’t hiding among the lizards.”

  They glanced at her curiously. Perhaps Enchantresses did not explain their business so openly? One of them began a mental query. As swiftly as an angry cobra, Hualiama’s ruzal reached out and modified his thought. Roaring rajals, it could do that? Lia stuffed the magic back where it belonged.

  “I’m waiting,” she snarled.

  Hiding in plain sight? This could not end well.

  The lift, however, operated perfectly. Hualiama arrived at the Dragon holding pens only slightly out of breath, to find hordes of Dragon Enchanters rushing about, renewing the command-holds on their captives. Way down at the cavern’s end, the doors inched shut.

  The real Feyzuria stood in the middle of it all, scanning the pandemonium with an experienced eye. Any moment now, she’d turn and see herself on the platform.

  “You may return to level five,” she said coldly, alighting.

  Hualiama strolled casually past the first pen, and then ducked into the second. Right, where was Grandion? Sneaky. They were trying to move him. Out there, Feyzuria turned as if she had sensed the feather-light touch of Lia’s mind as she snitched that information from the Enchantress. Perhaps she could turn this mental network to her advantage? No time to think about that.

  Laying her hand on the nearest Red Dragon, Lia said, “Dragon, obey. You are my slave. You will do exactly as I command. You will listen only to me and no other voice. ”

  “Aye.” The Red Dragon flexed his massive muscles.

  Seconds later, the Red Dragon charged out into the open, smashing one of the stone columns with his tail, and launched a massive lava-fireball down the central corridor of the Dragon pens. Hualiama sprinted after him. Feyzuria was commendably quick to leap aside, but many of the Dragon Enchanters were not. They perished as their robes exploded in sticky, molten-rock fire. Feyzuria crashed into one of the columns and staggered away, clutching her forehead.

  “Sorry,” said Hualiama, pausing to deliver a whip-snap left hook to her jaw that felled the woman instantly. “No hard feelings.” Grandion! Come to me.

  The Dragon did not respond.

  Had they deafened him with their command-hold in addition to the usual commands? Hualiama ran so fast that the cloak whipped out behind her like wings. “Red! Turn and attack any man wearing robes like these.” How was she planning to break those stone doors? They had to be ten feet thick.

  With her mind on other matters, Lia raced into Grandion’s pen and bounced off his flank. Four Dragon Enchanters! Springing aloft, she kneed the foremost of their number in the throat. Then she unsheathed the Nuyallith blade, flickering it around her with deadly accuracy. Azziala must have had the briefest of glimpses, because a sharp, hot pain stabbed into Lia’s head just before the last man fell. She finished him with a thrust to the throat.

  No time to free Grandion from the command-hold. “Dragon, obey.”
>
  Grandion rushed out of his pen to attack the doors with his storm-power. Thunderclap after thunderclap deafened her, drowning out even the sound of Azziala bellowing for her daughter, for someone to report, for any view of the traitor. The doors shook as though kicked by a Dragon, but they seemed to be reinforced. Out in the pens, the Red Dragon created mayhem, pouncing upon any man standing, and the sight of blood and the Red’s booming, triumphant battle-challenges made the other Dragons restive. A chorus of angry bellowing rumbled through the caves.

  The doors would not yield. She could see no obvious mechanism. Lia ransacked the information she had stolen. Of course. They were operated from three levels above. Smart planning. Shouts came down the corridor, Dragon Enchanters trying to seize the rampant Red with the Empress’ help. Merciless claws seized her temples. Lia fell against Grandion’s left hind paw as he attacked the doors, over and over, mindlessly. She tasted blood.

  “YIELD, DAUGHTER.”

  “Dragon, smoke,” she gasped.

  The pain abated as thick, choking smoke billowed around her. Whoever had seen her no longer had line-of-sight, stymieing Azziala, at least for the moment. How could she escape this? Suddenly, Lia began to laugh, but she sounded so much like Ra’aba’s maniac cackling in that moment that the mirth died on her lips. Aye. A line or two of Saggaz Thunderdoom ought to throw the proverbial fresh meat to the rajals.

  “Dragon, obey. Sing this with me. Use your Storm power.”

  Thus the Thunderdoom arose, borne on wings afire,

  His mighty enemies to smite,

  Clawed of heart, his purpose so dark-fire dire,

  They fled, howling, into the night!

  She could have done no better had she insulted their lineage, shell-mothers and the sacred First Eggs of the Dragonkind in a single breath. The caverns exploded. Huge reptilian bodies churned up the place, frenzied.

  Suddenly, another Dragon loomed through the smoke. A massive Brown. “You. What’re you doing?”

  He must have escaped the command-hold. Creating chaos. I’m the Dragonfriend–

  I don’t care who you are, hatchling, or that you speak our tongue with a barbarous accent. Are you trying to kill us all? The Brown’s accented Dragonish was hard on her inner ear. His eyes blazed darkly. They’ll take us again.

  Free your brethren.

  The Brown shook his massive muzzle. My mind’s dark-fires. How?

  Grandion had also seemed confused after exiting the command-hold. Inspiration struck. Use your Brown powers to break down these doors.

  And find legion Dragon Enchanters on the far side?

  Hualiama almost lost her nerve. How could she prevent this fate? The Dragons could make themselves deaf, but the commands were magical. The Dragon Enchanters probably didn’t rely on auditory reception to work on a Dragon’s mind.

  Sight. Dragonsong. Listen. She fired thought-chunks at the Brown. If they see you, they can formulate the command-hold, and they see with their minds so conventional shields simply don’t work, not even your vaunted phased mental-metal shields. They can break through those like this, see? So you need physical shielding–clouds, smoke, anything to break that initial contact. Then, if you can’t shut them out, fill your mind with Dragonsong. Tell your brethren to sing with all three hearts and concentrate only on the Dragonsong. Maybe that’ll be enough to save some. I don’t know how else–

  Enough, Dragonfriend. The Brown’s fangs gleamed at her. Here is my life-obligation-gift. My secret name is Jallynthallior!

  White-fires surged around her vision.

  In those fires, the knowledge of how to help these Dragons burned within her. A sacrifice of self. “Dragon,” she addressed Grandion. “Get your Dragon-kin singing. Storm them with Dragonsong.”

  Jallynthallior! I need your strength.

  Aye. Call me Affurion, my common Dragon name.

  Summoning the ruzal from the place of darkness, Hualiama bade it attack the ratchet-mechanism holding the doors in place, and the guides that held them in the channels filled with rollers that allowed movement. The dark magic rushed gleefully to its work. The four-winged Brown Dragon wrenched the doors ten feet apart.

  Again, growled the Dragon.

  A new sound rose above the bedlam. Dragonsong, hauntingly beautiful and infused with the unique melodic interpretations of the Lost Islands Dragonkind, poured from the long throats of two hundred Dragons. Lia gulped back unforeseen tears. Now? Amidst a battle? She lost count at over fifteen separate harmonic melodies as their song gelled, quelling the feral madness of the last few Dragons. No. Ruzal was not required; besides, it faltered as the Dragonsong gained strength and clarity. The Human girl searched for the white-fires. Pure and refining. Gracefully, she imbued Affurion’s strength with her own unique brand of magic.

  The Brown Dragon’s eye-fires glowed an eggshell-yellow, almost white. At once, his massive earth-magic strength flowed into the rock, bending it to his Dragon-adamant will. The doors melted downward into the rock, leaving an opening three hundred feet wide to bathe the Dragons and the Dragonfriend in fresh, frosty air. Every Dragon scented freedom. Their Dragonsong swelled to a thrilling pitch.

  Fifty Dragonships waited out there.

  “HUALIAMA, STOP!”

  Honestly, mother? Her daughter had fair winds and a clear sky. What more could she want?

  One thing more. A beast of gemstone blue. Turning to Grandion, Hualiama said, “Dragon, obey. Let’s burn the heavens together as Dragon and Rider.”

  Chapter 33: The Dragon’s Bell

  The Tourmaline Dragon charged across the short landing area and unfurled his wings to embrace the dawn above Chenak Island. To his left flank came the Brown Affurion, pumping his double-wings to take off, and then a stream of Dragons in twos and threes poured out the side of the Island. Smoke and mist billowed around them, produced primarily by the Jade Dragons.

  Hualiama slapped Grandion’s shoulder. “Dragon. Hear your instructions.” And she taught him what Ianthine had shown her. Lia’s skin prickled as the Tourmaline’s magic enveloped them, and the Dragon seemed to sigh as she connected their sight. Already the Dragonwing peeled apart, racing in different directions as the individualistic instincts of their kind took over. Some turned back at once, falling under the sway of the Dragon Enchanters.

  There was one sure-fire way to put a stop to that. Affurion! Let’s burn a few Dragonships. Grandion … he was still unresponsive. What had they done to him?

  “Dragon, obey. You are my …” Hualiama sighed. Dragonlove? “Let’s whistle up a storm.”

  “DAUGHTER, YOU’LL REGRET SPITING ME.”

  Hualiama flipped Azziala a cheeky salute. It was unlikely to be spotted in the haze, but the intent probably communicated if her mother could sense her at all. “Have fun with Razzior, mother.”

  Grandion banked and powered ahead, accelerating to attack speed.

  “DRAGONS, OBEY! YOU ARE MY SLAVES.”

  Dozens of Dragons faltered and fell away, many already weakened by the bloodletting and enforced captivity, but the core group around Grandion and Affurion remained compact. They speared toward the Dragonships and lashed out with a hail of fire, acid and ice.

  BOOM-BOOM-BOOM! Sweet music to a Dragon’s ears. A detectable frisson of excitement jolted Grandion’s flight as he dodged several incoming crossbow bolts, and jinked to avoid a tumbling airship cabin. Many simply vanished. Lia wrenched her neck trying to scout in all directions. What had happened? Illusions? Suddenly, more Dragonships–real Dragonships–appeared spaced apart in the air around that initial flotilla, and Hualiama knew they had been duped. Decoys. She groaned. Commands resounded around her as the Dragon Enchanters pounded their magic into the Dragons, picking off targets with gut-twisting ease.

  Lia recognised Gyrthina’s mind in the midst of the battle, directing her Enchanters with pinpoint accuracy. Dragon after Dragon fell away, overcome by the powerful command-holds of the Enchanters as they worked in pairs. She pressed Grandion into a tight
turn, hunting airships. He seemed to have found her, for the Dragon secreted within her mind came alive to her thoughts.

  Lightning flashed across the roseate dawn sky. KAARAABOOM! An airship imploded.

  Laughing, the Brown Dragon flashed past their bow, turning two airships into crumpled balls of metal and cloth with a twist of his power. Acid splattered several others. Lia knew they had to take Gyrthina. Searching, she recoiled as the Enchantress responded with a blast of power. There. Hiding in a cluster of five dirigibles. Palming the small sack of meriatite, Hualiama almost laughed as Grandion’s head twisted back over his shoulder, mouth agape. She flung the entire sack down his gullet. A touch of his mind showed her the meriatite being separated into two stomachs, one for holding and one for digestion. Gas billowed forth.

  “Dragon, obey. Dragon, obey!” cried the Enchanters, with tenfold strength.

  Grandion did not waver. Hualiama received the commands and rejected them, despite experiencing a compelling sucking at her own consciousness. Shock arrested her heartbeat. Could this command-hold work on Humans? She would not be surprised.

  “Strike them down, my beauty!” Lia shouted.

  Grandion’s meriatite-fuelled Dragon fire engulfed the hovering airships as though they had haplessly sailed over an erupting volcano. Perhaps they expected the Tourmaline to succumb. Perhaps they thought their mental shields enough, but they buckled after briefly weathering the firestorm’s white-hot onslaught. Gyrthina’s thoughts flared, ‘Empress! Help–’ before her voice snuffed out as if someone had pinched the candle of her life.

  Dragons to me! Affurion’s joy drew them skyward.

  Without Gyrthina’s mind directing the battle, the Dragon Enchanters quickly became disorganised, picking overlapping targets or losing track of their charges amidst the heat and flurry of battle. As the Enchanters fell, the Dragons they controlled flew free, except for Grandion. Had Feyzuria renewed his commands? The Princess realised she may have erred by not killing Feyzuria. But she directed her Dragon grimly, striking down three more dirigibles before she sensed the exhaustion of his magic, and bade him follow the Lost Islands Dragons skyward. Safety lay in great height.