by Marc Secchia
Dragon Enchanters poured into the room, shouting their Command-holds and falling over each other in their anxiety, but Hualiama whisked forth the benefits of a royal upbringing. Drawing herself up to every inch of her five-foot stature, as if she were clothed in magnificent royal robes rather than her natural state, and with attitude sufficient to stun a Dragon, Lia snapped, “You! Give me your cloak this instant.”
The pasty-faced man dropped his cloak into her hand.
She drew the cloak over her shoulders and clasped the front shut. “Alright, fix your eyes back in their sockets. Anyways, most of you Councillors have seen me naked before.”
“Where’s the Dragoness, mighty Empress?” stammered the foremost woman. Although she was young, her hair was already turning iron-grey–a side-effect of the consumption of Dragon blood and the magic it contained.
“Gurzia, this is my daughter, Hualiama. The one who killed your mother.”
Azziala appeared to derive vicious pleasure from making this statement. The young woman’s face remained golden, but her fists clenched white-knuckled at her sides. Lia nodded at the woman, regretful. “Shazziya was your mother?”
The Empress said, “The eyes, daughter. Always examine the eyes. By the Protocols!” She clapped her hands sharply. “Since we’re all present, let us convene.”
Gurzia’s hatred was a palpable force; the tall, strong woman seemed on the point of leaping at Lia to strangle her, when Azziala called together the circle of Councillors. They held hands to facilitate the linkage of minds through physical contact, but this time there was no inclusion of Hualiama–a clear signal. No trust. Thirteen pairs of identical blue eyes had barely blinked when her Council of Twelve, and the Empress herself, turned to Lia, who was the shortest by a head apart from her mother. Yet she felt the proverbial Dragon in the room–or a wart, or something equally delightful. The massed eyes judged. Pared back the flesh to find secrets near the bone.
“You fear Numistar Winterborn, therefore you wish to forge an alliance of convenience,” said Azziala. “Yet we discern that the greater fear is the loss of your usefulness to the Empress, linked to the fear that your status atop the draconic hierarchy will end with Numistar’s advent. That, it will.”
To these charges, she had no answers.
“To you, uniqueness has always served as a source of strength and pride. Pride shall be your downfall. Possessed by a Dragon, there is no place in this Island-World where you shall not be hated.” Her mother spoke without inflection, but Hualiama could taste the underlying relish and imagine a dagger twisting between her ribs. “Therefore, the sooner you learn the Protocols of Hate, the stronger you will become.”
“I’ll never be like you.”
Her mother spoke in the same monotone, as if Lia had not responded. “I’ve a job for you in our newfound alliance. You will assume responsibility for readying my Dragon army, minus my Dragon Enchanters, whom I shall require should negotiations with Numistar fail. You will accelerate the schedule of bloodletting and be responsible for choosing those lizards which will die. Your preparations will be perfect, and the Dragons’ obedience, faultless.”
Hualiama eyed her mother with a mixture of caution and shock. “You’re releasing the Dragons?”
Roaring rajals, the woman was devious! The position was lower than any other of her Councillors, but above all the Dragons–above Sapphurion, even. An invidious role, despised by all.
“You will discover, my daughter, that my Enchanters have made significant progress in the construction of subliminal Commands using the knowledge you passed on to Ianthine, and by extension, to us. You would not believe the devious ways in which magic can be inserted into the draconic mind. I will leave you to discover the exact constructs and forfeits for yourself.”
Lia hissed between her teeth.
“Aye, this should provide ample reason for the Dragons to hate you even more than they already do. Thus, you shall walk in the Protocols of Hate, and your soul shall be forged anew.”
* * * *
Grandion whirled toward his shell-father, raging, You cannot support me! You’d lose the respect, the leadership of all the Dragonkind! I cannot roost-love a Human!
Grandion, oh, shell-son …
The Tourmaline gashed the cavern-floor with his talons, circling the walls of the circular granite chamber with the fury of a caged Dragon–for caged they were. The door of this cell was twenty feet thick. That was no match for an enraged Blue, but his shell-father refused to be goaded. Rightly so. Grandion wished for a pinch of the patience his father displayed.
We raised her. We know her, Grandion–you have known Hualiama since your hatchling paws cracked the shell. We all loved a Human babe with true-fires love. There is nothing perverse in caring for the innocent, even a child of another species. Who wanted her? We did. Who nurtured her life? We did. Is life not a treasure beyond–
I will not make you a traitor to the Dragonkind!
Shell-son, I am already convicted under the rune of our law. For three and a half years, Qualiana and I concealed a Human child within the Halls of Gi’ishior itself.
A minor infraction! Grandion gnashed his fangs against his father’s hulking shoulder, but both Dragons knew the true target of his wrath. My third heart is torn, shell-father. Speak truth’s fires! This liaison, this treachery of my hearts, it is perverse, undraconic, unthinkable! How, what … what have I done, to love a Human?
You opened your third heart to the song of her fire-soul.
GNNAARRR-NNOOOOO!!
The Tourmaline’s thunder crashed in the enclosed space, shaking dust and pebbles from the cavern roof. His hearts raced as if he tore through the middle of a Dragon-battle, pulsing so fast, the crimson of battle-rage sheeted over his vision. Wrong! Deviant! Forbidden! Words of accusation crashed through his mind. The girl, who had sung to him in a cave beneath the holy Island. Her outrageous courage in succouring a crazed, blind Dragon from Shinzen’s lair. Standing up to Razzior. Wishing to lay down her life for the Dragons, yet even that fate had been denied her. Hualiama was, in every way, beyond extraordinary, beyond admiration … yet she was Human. Maybe. Human and Dragon. A wing-shiveringly exquisite hatchling. He simply could not erase her from his hearts. She was more than written there. The Dragonsong called Hualiama lived within him.
Do not be hasty, shell-son, Sapphurion advised, rubbing his muzzle against Grandion’s flank. I sense a greater purpose at work here, greater than you or I see or understand. Do you wish to lose her?
He groaned, Nooo … oh, no, I could not live …
Look at me. Shell-son–
No!
LOOK AT ME!
Grandion’s head jerked up. By his wings! He had never heard Sapphurion rage like this, grief and power and majesty exploding in his breath, commanding the respect Grandion knew was due to his draconic sire. Shell-father?
In the ancient metre, Sapphurion declaimed:
Fire-promises belong to the Dragonkind, given aeons ago,
The assurance of souls united, the soul-seal eternal,
Given and received. Thus, Hualiama is Dragonkind,
She cannot be other.
The voice of Ancient Amaryllion crooned over her existence,
Speaking white-fires immortal, elemental of creation, the breath of life itself,
She cannot be other.
A Star Dragoness journeyed from realms beyond knowing,
To grace our Island-World with wing and word and star-fire,
She cannot be other.
How could one immutable truth coexist with another immutable truth, yet the two be mutually exclusive? Her existence was physically, spiritually, existentially impossible–except for another immutable fact.
Hualiama lived.
Proof, complete with hands and paws and laughter, that … his quick ears caught the beat of a familiar tread, ever so lightly shivering through the basal rock to his awareness. He had been yearning for her. As if spirited forth, Hualiama came.
> She is something new, Grandion said.
The tread faltered. Lia called, Grandion? What does that mean?
We need a new word for a new kind of Dragon, said the Tourmaline, more firmly. She withstood the lava-attack of an Orange Elder, and the hottest fires of four dozen Dragons besides. What Dragon could claim such a feat?
Without, Hualiama must have worked the entry mechanism, because the doorway began to grind open on its rollers, shifting toward Grandion’s left paw. There in the gap, he saw Hualiama smiling, wearing a blue woollen dress which fit her like Dragon hide, Prince Elki leading an orrican by a rope, and Saori standing legs akimbo, as if ready to spring into battle at the drop of the proverbial feather. Behind them came Mizuki, filling the lantern-lit corridor with her dusky copper beauty.
Lia bowed extravagantly, half a dozen Fra’aniorian twirls and a dance-step to boot. “Share fresh kill with us, noble Dragons?”
“When you’ve finished your peculiar cultural dance,” said Saori.
Grandion’s eyes flicked from Hualiama to Mizuki, remembering how the Human girl had unsubtly tried to point him in the Copper Dragoness’ direction. At least she’s a real Dragoness.
A thought filled with dark-fires.
* * * *
Lia apprehended the Tourmaline’s disloyalty with a sensation like a dagger to the gut, yet she appreciated the dark-fires of draconic sadness that accompanied his regard of Mizuki. It took all of her courage to smile in greeting, to wave Elki into the cave with the placid orrican, apparently oblivious to its imminent fate. The orrican was a dark, shaggy heap of bovine ugliness, renowned for the strong flavour of its meat and for its stupidity–exceeding that of the ubiquitous ralti sheep, a most impressive feat. It also provided many essentials for the Dragon-Haters, including food, hide, leather, bags made from the stomach cavity and even glue from its melted-down hooves and horns.
She said, “Grandion?”
“We discussed your nature,” he explained. “There’s a need for a new word to describe what type of Dragoness you are.”
“Oh, that’s easy,” said Elki.
“Shall we share a meal first?” suggested Sapphurion, his attention clearly focused on the jovial and very enthusiastic workings of his stomach.
Hualiama scowled at her brother. “What exactly is easy about me, Elki?”
The Prince rubbed his hands with glee. “Well, if I may elucidate–”
“Eruption incoming.”
“–you are a delightfully intricate paragon of feminine sophistication, by a million leagues, far too confounding for us poor, simple males to ever wrap our bedazzled brains about,” Elki opined, drawing open laughter from Grandion and Saori. “Your nature, however, is simple.”
She folded her arms, wishing her deepening scowl could have been accompanied by a handy fireball to appraise her unbelievably irritating brother of how unbelievably irritating he was being. “You have it all worked out?”
“I have it all worked out,” he confirmed, airily.
“Elki, honestly, you drive me up the Island cliff and back down again!”
He said, “I’m with Sapphurion. Let’s eat.”
Deftly, Sapphurion slit the orrican’s throat, gripping the beast with his left forepaw so that its death throes would not endanger the Humans; the right, he cupped to catch the spurting blood. Drink and be nourished, and grow in wisdom, my Dragon-kin, he said.
Next Hualiama knew, she was pushing past Grandion, shouting, I want some! Bring that paw down to … huh?
Huh? Grandion agreed.
Drink. Sapphurion tilted his paw.
Reason had just begun to intrude when the tang of fresh blood struck Lia’s nostrils. She heard herself make a noise she had never made before, a cross between a snarl and a desperate mewl. Then she was leaping and grabbing at Sapphurion’s paw, licking, slurping … and at the same time, distantly, utterly disgusted at her behaviour.
Dragonsoul! Control yourself.
Uh … sorry.
Had Grandion spoken? Or her? Unsure of anything now but her hot, raw humiliation, Hualiama retreated, fighting for control. She did not want to look at Saori or Elki. She could not. But that meat … oh, great Islands! Never had her body so craved bloody cuts of veal, she was actually drooling. She backhanded her mouth and groaned softly, curling up, “Oh no.”
Elki’s hands raised her gently. “It’s alright. This is your Dragon’s emotions mixed in with yours, see? You are both Dragon and Human at the same time.”
She whispered, “Elki, I’m in no state to debate philosophy with you. I need meat. I need …” A claw-tip offered her a bite. Raw, but that was best. Lia ate greedily. “More?”
She ate this offering more politely, resisting the urge to bolt the meat. Grandion’s fire flared as he barbecued the next portion; the sound of sizzling fat almost set her off again. Elki did not seem to mind. He had his belt dagger out, and set to carving bite-sized portions for her, blowing on them and then popping them into her mouth as quickly as she could eat, as if she were a baby bird. Sapphurion offered Mizuki a choice slab of haunch, while the Tourmaline appeared content, like Saori, to hang back and wait for the others.
Eating like a Dragon hatchling. Was this to be her new life?
The Prince said, “Right, simplifying this matter to terms even those whose function merely serves to prettify our company–yie!”
Mizuki tickled his neck with her left fore-talon. “Explain this Human term, ‘prettify’? Does it equate to, ‘I want to die?’ ”
“It does rhyme nicely,” said Saori, trying to look vapid.
“I’m told that the heat from all those volcanoes around Fra’anior has deleterious effects on the Human brain,” Sapphurion put in, unexpectedly.
“It’s a stretch to imagine this talking monkey has a brain,” suggested the Copper.
Twining his arms across his chest, Elki ignored his Dragoness pointedly. “Here we go. Hualiama has the power of Shifting. As in, she Shifts between her Human and Dragon forms. Unlike the mythical Dragon power of Projection, which we all know is entirely impossible–” Grandion coughed discreetly “–this is a Shift of physical states or shapes, which meantime remain linked at the level of the spirit or the soul. This is why she evinces draconic behaviour even while in Human form. There is but one soul.”
Grandion’s jaw hung slightly askew as he stared at the Prince.
Hualiama said, “Alright, genius, so where’s my Dragoness right now? In my pocket?”
“Perhaps so, but at that size, she’d be incredibly dense,” Saori put in.
Lia’s fists clenched. “Dense?”
The Prince explained smoothly, “No, dear sister, it is clear from the symptoms of starvation that your Human form existed in a real, physical sense, and was wasting away to nothingness, while your Dragoness’ form languished under the Command-hold. Again, you’re eating like a hatchling. The physical forms are more than allied.” Elki interlaced his fingers. “Not like this, although that is one idea. No, you Shift between planes of existence. When you’re here, you’re also there, so to speak. Human and Dragoness exist synchronously in time, in space and in spirit, even though only one form or aspect of your nature reveals itself at a given moment. When you Shift here, the physical form manifests accordingly.”
Now, Hualiama found herself imitating her Dragon. Her lower jaw sagged like a broken hinge.
How could Elki not know about her inner space where Human and Dragoness met, and yet put words to what she had not even begun to understand?
Colouring under the silent scrutiny of the small company, Human and Dragon alike, Prince Elki said, “So I, uh, came up with a word. I hope you’ll like it. Because I want you to know that your existence is neither a lie nor a fraud. I’ve known you for all of my eighteen years, and I can vouch for the fact that you, Hualiama, are the most truly authentic person I know. You dance through life, just yourself. No façade, no deception, just pure Hualiama.”
She sniffed, “You’re …
trying to make me cry?” Lia grabbed his hand before he could look too shamefaced. “No, Elki. You’re extraordinary. Have you been secretly glugging the juice of the prekki-wisdom tree?”
He laughed softly at the reference to a ballad they both remembered from their childhood. “So that’s why I stowed away on your Dragonship. I’ve always wondered.”
“You didn’t tell me that detail!” Saori said crossly.
“Saved Lia’s life,” said Elki, returning to his natural diffidence, “ran into Mizuki who shredded a few windrocs who were bothering us, and of course, I discovered you, o Saori, fetchingly occupying a sack.”
“A sack?” the three Dragons chorused.
“Ouch! Long story,” said the Prince, rubbing his arm where Saori had punched him. “Best decision of my life, truth be told, pinching you from Qilong, Dread Pirate-Lord of a thousand Isles, scourge of the Western–”
“As I recall, Saori nabbed you,” Hualiama corrected.
“I’ve always thought silence a marvellous virtue in sisters.” Elki winked at Lia. “Anyways, before I get distracted with embellishing tales of my indubitable magnificence, shall I tell you the word?”
“Yes!” This time, a chorus of five.
“It has a certain, charming simplicity–”
“Such as, I’ll bite you if you don’t speak quickly?” Mizuki interrupted, flexing her talons near his throat.
“Shapeshifter.”
An awesome silence billowed around them, like waves of Cloudland stirred by a rampaging storm of Land Dragons.
“You are a Shapeshifter Dragoness. The third race.”
Chapter 8: Third Race
QUestions Swarmed through her mind like an infestation of fire-ants. How did it work? Could she simply summon her Dragoness from this ‘other’ place? Her Human body ached in every place her impromptu ride up and down a Land Dragon’s nostril had bruised and battered her Dragoness-body. If she ever became pregnant, would she have babies or eggs? Or–boggle the mind–would they be both? How could one woman become the progenitor of an entire race? Yet more curiously, Hualiama knew peace. Somehow, her rapscallion brother had plucked a jewel out of pure dross, stitched together a masterpiece from a tailor’s offcuts. The word, the whole idea, simply fit.
