by Marc Secchia
By way of reply, Affurion bit the Tourmaline’s skull-spikes. You are not to twist my philosophy against me. Let no dark-fires possess your hearts, noble Tourmaline. Your destiny is to perform your task nobly and well. Should the Great Dragon roar for us, Hualiama will return to you, shining her unique light upon the matched flight of your wings over the Islands. And her forever-love will be your possession, even as it possesses you.
Such words should make a Dragon lose track of his own wings and paws.
From the fullness of his third heart, Grandion responded, Equally, let no dark-fires possess your hearts, noble Brown. Your destiny is to lead these Dragons ably and well. Should the Great Dragon roar for us, you will secure a new roost for the Lost Islands Dragonkind, far from the depredations of these children of Dramagon’s spirit. You are not fated to struggle forever.
Formally, they genuflected wingtips toward each other, then with identical smoky chuckles, returned to the business of teaching the Dragons the secrets of Siiyumiel’s resistance against the Command-hold magic.
Still later, as he prepared to launch out on his long flight down to Kaolili and the fledgling Dragon Rider group, the Tourmaline caught himself staring at his empty paw. Aye, he had much work to do. What he longed for most, however, was to cup scales of the deepest blue there in his palm, and to know that he and the Star Dragoness could envisage a future together.
As surely as he lived and breathed, he would find a way. May it be.
* * * *
In the impenetrable darkness, Mizuki’s fire-eyes burned like lamps. “Can you breathe, little one?”
Lia was growing heartily tired of the moniker ‘little’. Fair enough, the Copper Dragoness was at least six or seven times her size. Did these Dragons have to relish the term quite so blatantly? She said, “Enough to complain at your knee digging into my ribs. But I can’t move an inch.”
“Good Dragoness. Make sure you squash my sister properly,” Elki advised.
“Why did you come after me?” Hualiama growled.
“Oh, I must have missed the moment her Highness forbade us to rescue her,” sniped her brother. “As in, this clever Dragoness I know was about ten inches or so from braining herself on a rock.”
“Oh. Thanks, Elki.”
He waved an arm languidly. “All known forms of worship gladly accepted.”
Saori had already unbuckled her seatbelt-arrangement and walked down Mizuki’s flank, because they appeared to be lying at a thirty-degree angle, Siiyumiel’s tumbling fall having unaccountably smoothed out. Thankfully, his shell’s seal gave the impression of perfect closure. Her sensitive Dragon’s nose detected a rank, noxious whiff in the air, however, and she knew they would soon be breathing poisons.
“Mizuki. Are you any good at semipermeable shields?”
“Better than your Grandion.”
Lia felt her eyes flare–a very peculiar sensation. She snarled, “You had better–”
“Lia!” yelled Saori, smacking her shoulder for emphasis. “You girls can fight and bite later. Mizuki, please put the pride aside and help her. All of us. Lia can explain, but I think the pressure’s going to kill us first, followed shortly by contagion–”
“Or if His Islandic Majesty decides to scratch the fleas on his neck, we’re also dead,” Elki put in, correctly but rather unhelpfully. “I do believe we’re doomed.”
Saori whirled on him, fists balled. “I did not promise my life to a soggy blanket! If you think, o Prince of Fra’anior …. mmm–stop that!” Her attempted slap caught the pointy tip of his left ear, making Elki yelp. “Kisses do not solve the Island-World’s problems, contrary to your very peculiar beliefs!”
“Sure go a long way, don’t they, sister dearest?”
“What? How am I part of this lovers’ tiff?”
The Prince said, “Hualiama once kissed a monk–at considerable length, I’m led to believe.”
Saori’s face was a twisting picture of amazement, loathing and curiosity. Hualiama’s entire body boiled with her blushing. She faltered, “I … uh, Elki! We had to escape a Dragon. Anyway, Saori, I only managed to convince that monk to take his vows. Must have been a terrific kiss.”
Poor girl. Had Lia slapped her cheek with a rainbow trout from the famous terrace lakes of Helyon Island, Saori would have been no less taken aback.
Elki, never one to be put down for long, added, “Saori, I gladly promise to teach you all you could ever want to know about kissing. Later. When we escape. Mizuki–”
“Working on it, my Rider.” Star Dragoness–
I’ll follow your lead. Shall we construct overlapping, augmented shields?
Aye. Like this. Good. You need to filter both tangible particles and the more insidious gases. More restrictive is better. Here are the constructs …
Hualiama felt an odd popping sensation in her ear canals as the pressure equalised, and her careful shield bubbled into Mizuki’s. She and Grandion had been working on this technique, but her practical experience was very limited. The magical constructs Mizuki presented to their shared mind-space were fascinating, at first resembling intricate threads of white, glowing string, but as she looked more closely at each individual filament, the constructs magnified into multi-stranded threads of draconic rune-language, of which she knew only the barest smattering. She could try to grasp the whole, but the detail, the fiendishly byzantine product of thousands of years of draconic shield-research … Lia bit her tongue in concentration. Right. Keep it simple. Following the Copper Dragoness’ lead, she pushed the pneumatic shield outward, helping to develop and sustain a porous membrane that filtered the air as it passed through. Almost immediately, her nostrils flared in appreciation. Sweet.
No, Hualiama, you’re filtering the oxygen. Let these particles through, scented like … aye, think of the fireflowers of your native Fra’anior. Magic has its own scent. It’s often that magic-aroma that’ll help you perceive the right properties. Much better. On to the pressure shield. Usually, we use this for high flying, not for low, so we’ll invert the constructs. Let me teach you how.
After ten minutes spent constructing a secondary shield-layer, Lia said, “Mizuki, if Lesser Dragons can shield like this, why do they never fly beneath the Cloudlands?”
“Because shields are imperfect,” replied the Copper. “Toxic magic still leaks through, as well as physical poisons, and because … I don’t know. Only Land Dragons have what it takes to survive down here. This is their realm, in which we are intruders.”
Worriedly, Lia said, “Can we help Siiyumiel? He feels hurt.”
“Because there are predators unknown to your kind,” rumbled Siiyumiel, weakly. One of his eyes snapped open, flooding the interior of his carapace with unexpected light. “And why would you help me, traitoress? To succour your contemptible existence?”
“To ensure that light lives to Balance darkness,” she replied. Oh. Esoteric, but logical.
You talk like a monk, Human-Lia snorted, deep inside. Dragon-Lia turned up her nose at the incorrigible mite.
When Siiyumiel did not reply immediately, the Dragoness looked around. Apart from being stuck like ticks in the ruff of an animal’s neck, she and Mizuki appeared to be safe from any pressing danger. No pun intended. The Land Dragon’s folding carapace had trapped them in a cavern perhaps one third of a mile wide, at least on this side of his neck, a space easily large enough for Mizuki to fly about inside, never mind a hatchling-sized Star Dragoness. A maroon field of folded Dragon hide surrounded them, the skin knobbly and tough, like a tortoise’s hide but far thicker. Hualiama wondered where his paws were–inside this cavern, or elsewhere on his body? Where the folding, protective covers fitted together, she saw that the seal was fortified by a second layer of thick, rubbery brown hide that appeared slightly moist, as if designed to be glued together. How, then, did a Shell-Clan Dragon breathe?
“I appear to have developed an unexpected infestation,” said Siiyumiel, with forced joviality. Lia did not want to admit it, but
he sounded dreadful. His eye somehow managed to communicate a faint smile. “What do you call your parasites? Scale mites?”
“Three fleas and a louse,” said Elki, earning himself identical snarls from the three females. “Siiyumiel, could you kindly bend your neck the other way? I mean, I fully understand anyone who wants to flatten my intransigent little scale-mite, I mean, sister …”
“She’s your sister?” Groaning softly, Siiyumiel shifted his neck. As the folds loosened, Hualiama and Mizuki wriggled free.
“What happened, mighty Siiyumiel?” asked the Prince.
“Damaged … secondary heart-nodes … cluster,” he gasped. “Can’t heal myself … no strength. Find other Shell-Clan. So far. Dying, dragging you to death …”
“No,” said Elki. “Show us where to go. We’ll get in there and help you.”
“Get in where?” Mizuki and Saori blurted out.
The Prince waved his hands vaguely. “Wherever we need to be. Near his hearts. Clobber them into motion. Stop the bleeding–right. It’s a stupid idea, isn’t it?”
“Insane,” murmured the Copper, her eyes riotously agleam.
“Insanely brilliant,” said Saori, apparently entertaining a scandalous inclination to undergo another round of cultural training with her Prince’s lips. “Lia saved Sapphurion. Siiyumiel, open your mouth and show us which way to go.”
Hualiama clicked her dangling jaw shut. Great Islands, were they seriously intending to execute this crazy plan? Right. Siiyumiel was so mind-bogglingly humungous, they could probably walk down his throat into his stomach or swim down an artery. And then? She had no idea how to use her healing power, if she actually had any.
Simple. A matter of Balance, Siiyumiel’s thought entered her mind.
Simple? For a Land Dragon, maybe.
This way, little fleas.
Lia said, Ooh, I’m so going to swat–uh, never mind, Siiyumiel. Physically infeasible.
In a moment, Mizuki had picked up Elki and Saori, and Hualiama leaped onto the Copper Dragoness’ back to make the business of maintaining the shield easier. Gracious heavens, she was still holding her blades and the egg. She passed them to Elki for safekeeping. Then, Mizuki flew into Siiyumiel’s mouth and down the violet tunnel of his oesophagus, four hundred feet wide. Flew! Lia shook her head in disbelief. Under which moon would anyone ever believe this story? At another level, she felt Mizuki adjusting the pressure shield and she increased her contribution accordingly, sensing the enormity of the air density building without. What happened to air down here? Was it still air, or more like swimming through liquid?
One league under the Cloudlands, Siiyumiel murmured. I’ve fallen into the middle deeps … into my egg … his voice faltered. Was he delirious?
Elki said, “Quickly, down into the–what did you say? Tertiary food-stomach?”
“Quaternary chamber, tertiary food-stomach,” Lia corrected, pointing with her foreclaw. “Fly down that tunnel, Mizuki. Quick-wings.”
Flipping over Dragonship-sized clumps of plant matter, Mizuki shot into the acidic domain of the tertiary stomach. Glistening bands of flexible tissue stretched across a cavernous chamber comprised of many ventricles, most stuffed with half-digested khaki and brown vegetable matter that resembled tree-sized leaves. The sharp tang of powerful draconic stomach acids hung heavy in the air. Stomach muscles the size of fully grown trees slowly churned and kneaded the mixture, making flying a treacherous affair even for a Dragoness of Mizuki’s flying prowess. Following Siiyumiel’s increasingly feeble directions, Hualiama directed Mizuki between the bands, deeper into the stomach. The Copper hissed unhappily as acid dripped onto her tail and lower back; Lia realised they had neglected to shield her lower body.
Mizuki pushed on to the place indicated. Here, they heard a rushing sound behind the stomach lining, a major artery leading to the damaged heart-nodes.
“Quick. Make the cut,” said Saori.
Lia cried, “Wait–”
KERAACK!
Mizuki snatched her paw back. “By my wings! Some form of lightning I’ve never encountered.”
Elki cried, “Your talon! It’s melted!”
I warned you … Siiyumiel sighed. Lia stared! Nothing broke Dragons’ talons. Ever. Innate magic. Can’t …
Can, said Lia. “Saori. Give me one of my Nuyallith blades.”
“It’ll melt the metal,” protested the Eastern Isles warrior.
“That’s why I don’t plan to use the actual metal,” said Lia. Elki began to protest, but Saori elbowed him in the ribs. “I managed this once …”
Gripping the blade awkwardly in her right paw, Hualiama summoned her memories. Shut the eyes. Lift the knowledge of Nuyallith from its resting-place and weave it with the magic of dance …
Mizuki whispered, “Whatever is the mad Dragoness doing?”
Dancing. Shutting out the whispers, Lia extended her wings. Beyond awesome. What girl had ever dreamed of dancing the Soul Dance with the fluidity of a Dragon’s wings to enwrap her dance, to spin her endlessly in the air without ever needing to touch down? Yearning burned in her breast. The draw of the flame which had always characterised her deepest linkage with dance, the irresistible candle to a Human moth fluttering about that flame.
The flame is me. Who had spoken–Humansoul, or Dragonsoul? I am a living flame.
Spinning in the air, Lia released the inner burning. Fire washed her vision. It crackled over her wings and shot from her talon tips, passing dangerously close to her brother’s upturned face, but he did not flinch. He smiled, gesturing in a wide, crescent-moon shape with his arm. She understood. Tightening her focus, Hualiama directed the flame along her forepaw and into the red Nuyallith blade, which ignited eagerly. Tapered flame shot four feet from its tip, so hot, it appeared white-blue. Lia flipped her wings. The flame-blade bit deep, hissing and spitting. Though Siiyumiel’s strange, electric-like discharge sprang across the gap to her paw, she would not relent. She must do this.
My turn, said Mizuki, as Lia finished her cut. Thrusting her talons into the gap left by the cut, she peeled back the deadly stomach lining, five feet thick, to reveal another layer of soft tissue beyond, thin enough that they could see the arterial blood running golden behind it. A three-quarters-full blood vessel?
“Make the cut at the top,” said Elki.
“But the artery won’t close itself,” said Lia. “Siiyumiel said the stomach would heal instantly, but he needs his magic for an artery.”
“We’ll stitch it with strips of cloth, or something,” said Elki. “You take Saori, swim down to those hearts. We’ll follow. Quickly, Lia.”
Squeezing between the artery and another, whitish layer of tissue or membrane just above it, Lia wielded her sword a second time, then allowed the fire to gutter. She was smoking. Her right paw was a throbbing mess.
“Go!” The Prince booted her in the rump.
Dragon-Lia needed no second invitation–neither to pay the Prince back later, nor to leap inside. Siiyumiel had said his blood was safe to swim in, and the flow was fifteen feet deep. But he had not mentioned its scalding temperature. Catching Saori before she burned herself, Lia turned and plunged into the semidarkness. The golden blood swooshed along, so rich and dense that Lia felt as if she were swimming in soup, but it was relatively easy to keep her head above the surface. That was, until the artery bent and she tumbled over the edge of a waterfall.
“Your–glub! Shield, you–glug!” yelled her friend.
“Saori!” She dived.
Clutching Saori to her breast with a half-sob of relief, Hualiama pushed out a shield-bubble. So close was the fit, it cleaned Saori almost completely before pressing outward, surrounding them with a slightly shimmering bubble of air. They bobbled and bumped along the artery, riding the slow, surging swells as they travelled the half-mile deeper into Siiyumiel’s body to where the secondary heart-nodes were clustered. Further arteries joined from the sides or ran parallel, until the world filled with the rushing of blood and
the glorious, dizzying scent of Dragon blood.
Ventricle-pumps ahead, Siiyumiel’s voice intruded. Time to cut out.
Peering ahead, Hualiama spied the problem. The great, magic-powered muscles lay silent. Twisted. Blackened and atrophied, where they should have shone with health and power. The entire area had become grotesquely swollen as blood rushed together, but could not leave fast enough due to the lack of muscular action.
The rush of blood sucked the Dragoness and the warrior through a rent and dumped them both at the edge of a walled cavity, just outside the heart-nodes, which were linked like beads on a string.
Saori said, “Alright, Star Dragoness. Unpack whatever you did for Sapphurion, and save this Land Dragon.”
Chapter 12: Surgical Precision
STANDING KNEE-DEEP in golden Dragon blood, Hualiama tried to recall what had happened, that fateful day the white-fires flowered out of her, delicate and uncontainable, falling upon the attacking Dragons with the outrageous fatality of starlight kisses. Amidst that obliteration, Sapphurion had not merely survived. He had been healed. Snatched from the portals of the Dragons’ sacred eternal fires and returned to fiery life, hale and well.
One issue. She had absolutely no idea, under the heavens or on any known Island, how she had achieved that stellar result.
Oh, and she had a matter of minutes to scrag several cubic miles of Land Dragon by the carapace and haul him back from the same fate, before they dropped to the bottom of the Cloudlands. How did she keep landing herself in these impossible situations?
Easily, teased Humanlove. By being ourselves.
You … go carol to the dawn or something! Dragon-Lia snarled. I’m trying to work here.
No. Learn to dance.
Honestly, you ridiculous little–uh, genius. I understand. And … I apologise.
Her Human did not gloat. Hurry, Dragon … love. Dragonlove.
The first time. The Dragoness wanted to fly around the Blue Moon, screaming her joy to every star that would listen. But she must work fast.
