Dragonfriend

by Marc Secchia

  “A library?” Lia whispered.

  The narrow tunnel she had taken opened abruptly onto a tall, circular chamber, lit from above by a spectacular, branched crystal formation, so that it was almost as bright as daylight. The walls were lined for thousands of feet up and down with scroll-racks–at least, as far as she could see, for what she had assumed was the floor, was only a platform beyond which she saw further ranks of scrolls and books and even more platforms. Crystal lights burned lower down in the library. This cavern dwarfed the Palace library. It dwarfed the Palace itself.

  She expected to smell musty, mouldering records, but there was none of that. Only fresh, clean leather and the tang of treated scroll-leaf, as though the library were regularly maintained and aired out by beings now absent. Her hand flew to her mouth. The scroll-stands stood fifteen feet high!

  Dragon-sized.

  A library of lost Dragon lore? What a treasure trove!

  However, Lia could see no way of entering from where she was, unless she wished to climb down the shelves. That seemed sacrilegious, somehow.

  With great reluctance, Hualiama retraced her steps. Where would a dragonet be hiding? She had already been walking for several hours, and had passed by enough gemstones to finance her father’s kingdom for her lifetime and a few more.

  Finding several of her stone arrows, Hualiama jogged wearily along the trail to where she had previously found a dark place, which seemed unique in these caves. Her steps slowed as she began to hear a faraway thudding, a monstrous drumbeat which filled her with trepidation, and a gentle breeze brought the scent of the deep caverns to her nostrils. Now, this was more dangerous. She had no light, unless–yes. Picking up a fallen shard of luminous crystal the size of a decent sword, Lia advanced into the darkness.

  She came quickly to the place where she had rested before. Her footprints were still visible in the dust. But here she saw fresh dragonet tracks, claw-scratches leading away into a tunnel to her right. Ha. She was hot on Flicker’s trail. Just wait until she caught that pesky runaway! She’d wring his sinuous little neck until he bawled out his answers. No more evasions. No more sneaking off at night and sleeping the days away.

  “Dragonet steaks, chargrilled to perfection,” she muttered, flexing her fingers. “Spicy dragonet stew served with purple tubers. One cheeky dragonet stuffed and mounted for a trophy!”

  Pressing on, Hualiama followed the twisting tunnel for another twenty minutes, losing the trail twice, before she broke out into a vast, dark space. Where were the crystal lights? Her little spar gave her just enough illumination to spy an enormous gorge to her left hand; she maintained a respectful distance from the edge. The drumming sound was louder and clearer here, and wind seemed to rush somewhere nearby, across the gorge, although no breeze ruffled her hair.

  Lia cast about for the source of the sounds. Nothing, just the pervading, warm darkness within which … a presence brooded. She rubbed her temples tiredly. Mercy. Mortal terror followed by an evening’s spelunking? Not her smartest choice of late. Perhaps her madness had started with confronting Ra’aba. Did that not prove her brain was stuffed with pollen?

  Lia delved in her bag, and bit hungrily into a juicy prekki-fruit. Delicious, the nectar of life itself.

  The path led on across a cavern of unknown size, before twisting up into a maze of tunnels beyond. Was that Flicker’s voice? Hualiama paused, straining her ears. There, issuing from her right. She remembered to scrape an arrow on the tunnel she entered. The darkness was absolute, now, but she tracked the sound of his chirping through a short stretch of tunnel, guiding herself with a fingertip touch, every step ventured with care, before climbing a steep slope into an open space. The light in her hand suddenly illuminated the dragonet, perched on a spire of rock in front of a black wall.

  … power of visions, o Ancient One, he was saying. There’s more to this Human girl than … Lia! What’re you doing here?

  Lia snapped, I might ask you the same question, you little runaway!

  The dragonet seemed stricken. He glanced at the wall before replying, I come here to meditate.

  Rotten liar! Lia drew breath to scorch his scaly rump with all the irritation she had built up during her long search.

  NAY, LITTLE MOUSE. IT IS TIME SHE KNEW.

  A vast voice boomed in her mind, which should by rights fracture the cavern’s ceiling. She gasped, “W-Who said that?”

  Beyond the dragonet, light cracked through the black stone. Lia froze. Twenty feet wide, a gash of streaming light opened up, growing taller than her with startling speed, until the Human girl suddenly realised what she beheld.

  “Mercy!” With a scream, her legs gave out and she tumbled several yards down the slope she had climbed to reach Flicker’s perch. An eye! Oh, mercy, mercy … she began to cover her head and tremble–no, she would remember her courage! Lia peeked beneath her upraised arm. Dragon fire swirled in the depths of that massive orb, hypnotic, multi-layered patterns shifting and coalescing, entrancing the senses. Having looked, she found herself unable to glance away. The radiance illuminated the cavern behind her, and enough to all sides that Lia discovered she stood on a rocky ledge that brought her to the height of a Dragon’s eye, while a mountain of obsidian scales towered above her and to either side until they were lost in the darkness. The eye alone was twice her height. She could not begin to imagine the rest of its body.

  She felt naked, a mote trapped in a beam of the purest starlight, impossibly tiny in comparison to this vast creature which hid beneath Ha’athior Island.

  Lia stammered, A-Are you a L-Land D-Dragon? Your … majesty?

  The drumbeat was its hearts. The soughing of the wind, its breath. The touch of its mind cowed her, but did not strike her as evil–she sensed the presence of an ancient, utterly alien intellect, but it was not hostile.

  Absurdly, Hualiama pictured herself walking into the creature’s eye.

  I am Amaryllion, an Ancient Dragon. The creature’s voice resonated in her mind like an orchestra of many instruments, so dense with half-understood, half-felt tones and nuances, that Hualiama became giddy and confused. Oddly, she imagined growing slightly drunk on an Island-sized bouquet of scented flowers, such was the impression his telepathic speech produced within her. He said, Thy companion hath told me much about thee, little mouse, and I confess, I have looked forward to this day ever since thou took thy rest against my flank, and sang a poignant song, and the lilt of thy laughter tickled mine ears–the first laughter I have heard in many a year. Rise, little Human. I deserve none of thy bows, nor do I desire thy worship. I am not worthy.

  Nevertheless, she sensed he tempered his power for her sake.

  Uh … Lia gasped, struggling to rise. I think my knees are stuck, o Ancient–

  Flicker hissed at her, Talk sense, Lia. Do not disrespect an Ancient Dragon.

  You Dragons talk mind-to-mind!

  Her mental exclamation brought a sense of two minds smiling at her. Lia felt a fool. The truth was so obvious. All those times Flicker had looked at her, demanding her understanding even though he had said nothing aloud, suddenly made perfect sense. Her dull, half-blind Human senses simply had not picked up his speech. Now, the portal of the Ancient Dragon’s eye seemed to have opened a similar portal within her, in which she glimpsed new facets of a world she had taken for granted.

  The Ancient Dragon said, Art thou a telepath, little mouse?

  Concentrating so fiercely that a migraine began to throb between her temples, the Human girl formed words in her mind, I never realised that Dragons spoke in this manner, Ancient One, but you are so powerful, so clear and easy to hear …

  Thy Dragonish flows with eloquence, Lia. I remain to be convinced thy wings are not hid behind thy back.

  She felt Amaryllion’s deep chuckles right in the pit of her stomach. Emboldened, Lia replied, If it were possible to grow wings from sheer yearning, mighty Amaryllion, then I would have flown away to the moons many yea
rs ago. I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m only Human.

  Only Human? The Dragon’s great eye bent upon her, all-conquering and omniscient, seeming to strip away the layers of her being until nothing remained hidden, leaving her soul a quivering, defenceless lump before his scrutiny–yet he did not harm her, nor steal her secrets. How many of thy people have ever found this place? Only thee. To my knowledge, thou art the only Human to have learned so much Dragonish in such a short span of time. Thou hast only defeated death itself, thrice. If this marks thee as ‘only Human’, then may I be only Human, too?

  A treacherous, fey chuckle escaped Lia’s lips. She said, I think you’d have legs the size of this Island, Amaryllion.

  Her voice stole away into silence. Swallowing away an unreasoning desire to flee as fast as her little legs could propel her, Hualiama instead sketched a deep Fra’aniorian bow, somewhat spoiled by the trembling of her hands. On behalf of my Island–uh, and all Humankind, if you’d allow … her formal greeting floundered in a welter of scattered thoughts and emotions. How awkward was she?

  And the little Human’s mind popped like a meteorite exploding in the sky!

  Lia blurted out, I’m just enormously honoured, o Ancient Dragon.

  Somehow, Amaryllion’s eye conveyed the essence of a mental bow. Likewise, Hualiama of Fra’anior, I extend the most sulphurous greetings of the Dragonkind to thee. Be not afraid. Flicker told me of thy suffering today, little mouse.

  Little mouse? Such a description should make a person bristle, but instead, Lia found a smile curving the corners of her mouth–an uncertain smile which doubtless betrayed the hysteria rampaging through her mind as she thought, at least the Ancient Dragon did not choose to call her ‘gnat’ or ‘gadfly’ or something worse! She was talking to a … to a Dragon-mountain … great Islands! She wobbled.

  Quick as a flash, Flicker landed on her shoulder and twined himself about her neck, crooning softly. Lia found that her fear evaporated like a thunderstorm’s puddle vanishing beneath the full glare of the twin suns. Magic? It had to be. Nothing could prepare a person for such an experience, for the soul-crushing magnitude of a legendary Dragon’s physical and mental presence. Flying ralti sheep, people worshipped these creatures!

  Squeezing her eyes shut, Hualiama sucked in a deep, calming breath. Flicker saved my life. Twice, now. I was not hurt, o Amaryllion, but I am … greatly shaken.

  Aye, he rumbled. His fiery gaze blossomed with colours of apricot and streamers of turquoise, as if to underscore the deeply affecting gentleness she sensed in him now. To behold the visage of death is no trivial matter, little mouse. To know how narrowly one has escaped the clutches of a murderous claw, chills the very soul-fires. Tell me, how came thee to Ha’athior? Who is this Lia whom Flicker holds in such high esteem? Spare no detail in the telling, for mine ears hunger to hear thy tale.

  Faintly, she said, I must start then with the unknowns of my birth, great one. For I was discovered by Dragons upon Gi’ishior Island. How I came to be found, and how I came to the royal household, I cannot say.

  Lia hesitated, wondering why an Ancient Dragon should be interested in a life like hers. She was not long-lived in comparison to him, for she deduced from the timbre of his voice that he was ancient indeed, nor had she been greatly successful or notable in many endeavours. She must seem like a gnat, buzzing near his ear. Where were his ears? Somewhere up … there? Yet the great creature seemed content, and his hearts beat steadily in her hearing, and Flicker seemed unafraid–awed, but unafraid.

  How much of this beast lay beneath Ha’athior Island? Part of her brain–a foolish part, admittedly–wanted to calculate his size. If Amaryllion’s eye was twenty feet across and the Orange Dragon’s evil orbs had measured perhaps eight inches apiece, or a little more, that made this Ancient Dragon, if she could assume the proportions held true, some thirty times the size of that Dragon … her mind boggled. Over half a mile long! Even her mind stammered, ‘N-N-No!’ She could not contemplate it. Imagine such a creature falling upon Fra’anior’s small, pretty city, with its lush gardens and rose-festooned walkways where tall, graceful women walked together with their Helyon silk umbrellas angled against the suns’ heat? A thousand Islands and more cried, ‘The horror!’

  Sit thee down, Lia, Amaryllion invited her, as if blithely unware of her thoughts. Tarry awhile.

  So that was how Lia found herself sitting cross-legged before an Ancient Dragon’s eye, with a dragonet on her lap, speaking with them, and before she knew it, the remaining hours of night had tiptoed by unnoticed.

  Hualiama curled up and slept beneath Ha’athior, in the presence of an Ancient Dragon.

  Chapter 9: Charming Monks

  IF asked later, Hualiama would have been unable to recall how many days she spoke with the Ancient Dragon, for beneath the roots of Ha’athior Island, time assumed a surreal, imprecise aspect, neither demarcated by the twin suns or the moons’ waxing and waning, nor measurable by any other ordinary means. She sat or paced about, or even danced and performed her exercises, while Amaryllion looked on with lively interest and allowed her to pose question after question, debated points of consequence with her, and recounted the histories of the Dragonkind with perfect, unfailing accuracy. She slept and woke, and he was there. Lia sang ballads and sagas and histories for him, as many as she could remember. Flicker brought them food, but the Ancient Dragon seemed to need no sustenance. She wondered if he existed by magic alone.

  Lia knew the exact moment she lost her fear of the great Dragon; when he told her that he was the last of his kind.

  “The last?” she asked. “Are you not lonely, Amaryllion?”

  “Not anymore,” he said.

  She puzzled over this. “You mean–oh! Really?” Tears sprang to her eyes. “You lie … uh, sorry, Amaryllion. Without disrespect …”

  He spoke excellent Human. In his fantastically basso earthquake-voice, Amaryllion said, “A person such as thee can hold herself in too low esteem, Hualiama, Princess of Fra’anior. I find thy heart neither undersized nor immature. For what worth mine words may hold, I value thy friendship more than thou knowest. This time thou hast given of thy freewill has accorded me great joy, as though a choice, molten droplet of the twin suns themselves came to reside in this dark cavern.”

  “I … thank you.”

  “Thou asked why I wait. Simply put, the time hath not yet come to fruition, little mouse. I will wait until it is time for my soul to depart this mortal flesh and return to the eternal fires of the Dragonkind.”

  Lia ducked her head. It was too much for her to contemplate friendship with an Ancient Dragon, but there it was–he had put words to the softening sensation in her heart, to the warmth which she had begun to sense inhabited their interactions. What did it say about her that she struggled to make friends among the Human-kind, but she counted a dragonet and an Ancient Dragon among the finest friends she had ever known?

  Amaryllion said, “I have a task for thee. For thou cannot tarry beneath this mountain forever, Princess. Thou must know that the man Ra’aba oppresses thy people, and foments war with the Dragons. Thy family must be found. And thou canst not reside upon Ha’athior Island–”

  “I don’t want to leave, Amaryllion!”

  “Wilt thou not learn to listen before spouting thy hasty words?”

  Sometimes, the several thousand years’ difference between their ages became painfully clear, Lia thought. She nodded, but then essayed a cheeky grin. “Speak, o mighty Island-biter.”

  “I am no Land Dragon,” said he, chuckling so mightily that the ground trembled beneath her feet. “I would have thee return here as often as thou might like to pester me with thy endless questions, Hualiama, to take instruction, or to keep me company.”

  “See? You do think I’m a pest.”

  “Oh, you Humans multiply like lice on a warm, furry body,” Flicker put in.

  Lia scowled at him. “Overgrown mosquito. Desist before I swat
thee mightily.”

  And now she was beginning to speak as the Dragon did, in ancient speech patterns? Lia tasted these words with amazement, coupled with a sense of peace. They fit. Perfectly.

  The Ancient Dragon said, “But there are other types of instruction, and the mellow company of those of thy own kind. Therefore, I propose that thou take up residence upon the small volcano just south of here. Within the cone, thou wilt happen upon a monastery of warrior-monks, who are worshippers of the Great Dragon, Fra’anior himself.”

  Hualiama exclaimed, “There’s a secret warrior monastery … it’s been that close all along?”

  “Didst thou not express a need to learn the weapons and techniques to defeat Ra’aba?” said Amaryllion. “The monks can teach thee the uses of weapons, and much besides. When the time is right, in thy judgement, ask to speak to their Nameless Man.”

  “He exists?”

  “Aye,” Amaryllion rumbled.

  So, the mysterious, magical leader of the warrior monks was real. Her father would be–Lia clamped her jaw shut. The less King Chalcion knew about the Nameless Man, the better, for he had oftentimes ruminated upon taking the warrior monasteries ‘under his command’ or ‘breaking their subversive influence’. Now his daughter was about to join the undesirables. How would a Princess of Fra’anior be received if they knew her father’s view of them?

  Still, the idea was excellent. She could learn the monks’ combat techniques and use them to defeat Captain Ra’aba! Maybe they would even have Dragonships. She could find out where her parents had been sent …

  Lia enthused, “Thank you, Amaryllion! You’re the best. I’ll definitely come back, as often as I can. I’ll keep you up to date with everything that I’m learning, and sing you songs–”

  He growled, “Forget and I shall be insulted, little mouse, so don’t make me shift this Island to come and fetch thee to thy fate.”