Dragonfriend

by Marc Secchia

  Alas for the scorching winds, which stole thee away …

  Her voice kept cracking. “I’m a mess,” Lia apologised. “I’m sorry, Flicker.”

  He said, It isn’t looking good, is it?

  “We’re close to Ha’athior, darling friend. Hold on just a little longer …”

  I’m sorry I won’t get to see you fulfil the prophecy. Yet I will ask Amaryllion a boon. If even in death I can be with you, then I will be content. Lia nodded, although she did not understand. The dragonet added, ‘Let my soul take wing upon dawn’s twin fires … and fly to thee.’ He breathed, Fly far and free, my Hualiama.

  After that, Flicker had no more strength. Lia sang them around the northern shore of Ha’athior, cradling him to her bosom as best she could to keep out the wind and the rain.

  Alas for the far shores, my heart, my third heart,

  Alas for the stars, illuming thy doom …

  To the dragonet, she said, Thou art my third heart.

  Perhaps he smiled.

  Grandion screamed across Ha’athior’s volcanic slopes and over the western shore without once stinting on pouring out his utmost power. They shot down the cliff so fast that the rain turned into stinging pellets. Then Hualiama realised that it was hail. The Tourmaline Dragon shielded her with his left forepaw. Still, she curled lower over Flicker and directed Grandion to the lower cave entrance, which lay closest to Amaryllion’s lair.

  Into the mountain she raced, a Human girl bearing a precious bundle, down through ravines and crystalline geodes and glorious magical crystals to the Ancient Dragon’s resting place, crying, “Hold on, Flicker! Amaryllion, Amaryllion, Amaryllion!”

  I am present, little mouse.

  And Lia knew it was too late.

  Her friend’s great orb opened, and Hualiama ducked away from him, unable to bear the destruction of her last hope. She moaned, “Please …”

  “His spirit flies, little mouse,” Amaryllion rumbled. Infinitely mellifluous and compassionate, his voice enwrapped her like a mother’s hands gentle upon her babe. “Show me what transpired.”

  Falling to her knees with a desolate groan, Hualiama summoned her memories. She could not still the shaking of her shoulders. Could Amaryllion hear through her sobbing?

  Shortly, the Ancient Dragon responded, “Truly, this dragonet saved both thy life and thy kingdom, holding in abeyance by his courage the power of ruzal and Ra’aba’s dreadful revenge. Allow me to commune a moment with what remains of Flicker’s spirit-fire.”

  Her grief rivalled the breadth and depth of the Cloudlands, ravaging her spirit, wounding her body by its force.

  “There is something Flicker wished for thee, Hualiama. A name.”

  “A name, mighty Dragon?” she sniffed, thinking of all the names he used to chirp at her. Straw-head and flat-face and slow slug …

  None of those. Amaryllion read her thoughts effortlessly. His mental voice deepened, rushing like vast rivers in her mind. In recognition of thy noble deeds and the virtues of thy soul, in the most Dragonish tradition, Flicker proposed a new name for thee, Hualiama. I concur. Truly, this name did spring to my mind as I considered the flight of thy life. Even since I have known thee, thou hast grown mighty in spirit and deed.

  Thou art a friend to Dragons, Hualiama of Fra’anior, from the smallest to the greatest, and not only in the making of friends, but in knowing and serving and devoting thyself to the Dragonkind. Therefore it is with great pride that I, Amaryllion Fireborn, last of the Ancient Dragons, name thee ‘Dragonfriend’. May the courage of this little dragonet live on in thee.

  Oh my darling Flicker, Lia smiled through her weeping. Even at the last your spirit shines. How can I ever repay you? A dragonet’s chuckle seemed to tinkle somewhere, unseen.

  To Amaryllion, she whispered, Thank you. Is he truly gone?

  His body has perished. His soul flies forever with the fires of the Dragonkind, little mouse.

  She wept harder.

  Chapter 32: Asleep with Dragons

  When HUALIAMA EMERGED from the caverns, hours later, she had no need to speak. Grandion threw back his head and uttered a cry she had never heard from a Dragon. It began as an earthquake-low rumbling in his chest, rising into a descant of such piercing sweetness, it brought fresh tears to her eyes. Lia thought she would never cry again. Now the Dragon grieved, too.

  “His spirit had already flown?” Grandion asked.

  Lia pressed against his lowered muzzle, shivering. “Almost. Amaryllion said he spoke with Flicker’s fire-spirit. Is that even possible?”

  “We Dragons should leave a few secrets unplumbed by the ever-inquisitive Humankind,” Grandion said. “Aye, it is possible, briefly. What else did the Ancient Dragon say?”

  “I–I will return to him later, after I’ve honoured Flicker. I’m afraid I wasn’t very coherent. I just … ache.” Lia looked to the far horizon, visible now that the storm had blown over. Tiny jewelled rainbows hung over the vegetation nearby. “Grandion, will you fly me up to the White Dragoness’ cave? I wish to honour Flicker there.”

  “Gladly, my Rider. We will honour him together.”

  Hualiama slid into her customary position between Grandion’s spine spikes. Was this the last time? When he flew away, would the Tourmaline Dragon remember a Human girl? Better he found a sweet Dragoness to grace his roost. Better this friendship ended, for the good of all.

  Grandion bore them aloft with stately majesty.

  Lia clasped the dragonet’s body in her lap, unable and unwilling to give Flicker up as yet.

  Long before they reached the cave, dragonets began to join them in their flight, first in ones and twos, and then in their dozens. Silently, they shadowed Grandion and Hualiama to their landing on the ledge. The Tourmaline Dragon’s eyes were alight, resplendent, awed.

  Dragonets covered the ledge in a scintillating blanket of Dragonflesh. They hung on every boulder and bush and crevice on the cliff above and all around the cave. More dragonets, unable to find room to land, circled in the air just above the ledge.

  Lia gasped, “They must number five thousand! Ten!”

  Every dragonet of Ha’athior who is yet able to fly, said a voice Hualiama remembered with a shudder. Aye, Human creature, I am Lyrica, warren-mother of our dead kindred you hold in your arms. The oldest and largest dragonet Lia had ever seen, Lyrica had to measure five feet across her wingtips, and her eyes appeared rheumy with age. Yet the power of her mental voice was unshakable. Mother Lyrica said, Will you share your memories with us, that we might judge what has been?

  Gravely, Hualiama bowed from her seat upon Grandion’s back. Today, I wish to honour a brave and noble spirit, a dragonet I was privileged to call my friend.

  The red dragonet inclined her head ceremoniously. As the Ancient One charged us, we join you in honouring our warren-mate. Never have the dragonets sung the fire-songs with one of the Humankind.

  Her tone was mildly censorious. When a space miraculously cleared for landing, Grandion put down and helped Hualiama dismount. Kneeling, she placed Flicker’s body between her and Mother Lyrica. The dragonets fell silent. Even the tiniest fledglings quietened their habitual chattering and chirping. A sea of expectant eyes fixed upon her.

  Drawing a deep breath to quell her nerves, Lia said, The first touch I knew of this dragonet’s paw, was that which saved my life. As was the last. To this dragonet, I owe the very air I breathe. He named me Dragonfriend. But I confess, it was he who taught me the true meaning of friendship.

  I will tell you what I knew of Flicker, may his soul fly as Dragon fire, forever.

  * * * *

  When, late that afternoon, the last of the sacred fire-songs had been sung, Hualiama interred Flicker in the White Dragoness’ cave, beside the pool where they had played and sung together. She built a cairn of the finest gemstones to cover his body. Grandion wafted his Dragon-fire and magic over the pile, melting the gemstones into a many-hued casement f
or the dragonet. A grave fit for royalty.

  Then, Grandion took his leave.

  Wings outspread, tilting forward off the precipice, the Tourmaline Dragon suddenly pulled up and turned to her. “One last thing, Lia. That day by the pool, when you were bitten by ants. And I acted … weird.”

  Hualiama blushed. “Grandion, don’t.”

  He said earnestly, “That was wrong–at least, how I felt at that moment, was wrong. The rest was real. When you stood in the water clad in just your hide and told me who you are, it was …” Grandion swallowed, while her mind shrieked, ‘Humiliating? Terrifying? Flattering yet acutely disturbing?’ “It was a revelation.”

  Now Lia wished she could immolate herself in a curl of flame. “Grandion, please. You’re embarrassing me.”

  “No, you don’t understand. I put that badly.” Uttering an affectionate growl, the formidable Dragon slipped a talon beneath her chin to raise her eyes to his. Lia resisted, futile a gesture as that was. “Hualiama, I saw you in that moment as a desirable object–as a Dragon might lust after a bauble or a fine jewel–and not as a living soul. For all my fine talk, that day I learned that my third heart still regarded you somewhat as a pet, or slave. I have much to learn about Humans. I would learn much more from you, given the chance.”

  “Oh,” said Lia, ambushed by this unexpected torrent of feelings. “Oh … is that so?”

  “By my wings, it is.”

  When she did not speak, Grandion’s head swung away. His muscles coiled.

  “Wait!”

  The Dragon turned so sharply, he almost knocked her over.

  “I feared you,” the Human girl said, raising her hand hesitantly. It hovered just above the scales of his left eye. “You’re a monster of fire and magic, and there’s just so much of you, I oftentimes felt … overshadowed. Obviously.” Lia chuckled softly. “Everything about you is just so predatory, Grandion, and so forbidden. Forgive me–” she forced the words out in a breathless rush “–if I treated you as an animal.”

  With the tiniest movement, he shifted to nuzzle her hand. He remembered! Helpless captive to her heart’s hegemony over her thoughts, Hualiama whispered, “Grandion, for me it was that day at Horness Cluster, after we evaded the Human fleet from Yorbik, when I touched you like this. And you, with your paw, you held me just so … as if I were precious, and infinitely cherished. Not grasping an object as you said, but–”

  “Like this?”

  Warmth enclosed her back and shoulders. The Tourmaline Dragon drew her close, tender to the shuddering of her body against his paw.

  Lia whispered, “It was indeed a revelation.”

  “I wish I didn’t have to leave,” he said.

  “You must. You promised.” Hualiama wiped her eyes, knowing she had to release her Dragon now, before the anguish destroyed her. “Be reconciled to your family, Grandion, and become the Dragon I know you want to be.”

  “Thank you, Lia.”

  When he winged away, she watched until the faraway speck of blue merged into the evening sky. The ledge suddenly seemed chill and vacant. Only her memories remained, drifting like an unseen fragrance upon the volcanic breezes.

  A Human girl walked alone through the underground halls of holy Ha’athior. Every so often, her hand would touch her shoulder where Flicker once sat, and she imagined him warming her neck and chattering nonsense into her ear. Her steps slowed. Straw-head. No kissing that monk–whom he had so memorably nicknamed ‘egg-head’. She would never look at a monk in the same way again.

  Poor Master Jo’el. He had perished defending an ungrateful king from his own folly.

  Hualiama wandered down through the maze of tunnels, wishing she knew the answer to that most unanswerable question of all–what now?

  Would the part of her soul that winged with a Tourmaline Dragon across the Island-World, return to her whole? What would become of her father? Would she be required to testify against him? Lia knew she must trust Grandion, and not live in fear of her fate. She must resolve to keep Flicker in her heart.

  Amaryllion’s eye was wide open. He waited for her.

  Weary beyond exhaustion, Hualiama seated herself on the stone barely two feet from the fiery surface of that great orb and buried her face in her hands. Her thoughts spun off in strange directions. She pictured herself flying a Dragonship to Gi’ishior to defend her father in the courts of the Dragons … she remembered Ianthine’s warning about possessing the power to escape her Dragon-forged prison. Had she unwittingly effected the Maroon Dragoness’ escape? And what of the mystery of her mother’s detestable bargain with Ianthine?

  An enormous emptiness seemed hollowed behind her breastbone. The kingdom, saved, at the expense of her friend’s life. Shattering.

  Lia muttered, “Any wisdom for a broken heart, o Ancient Dragon?”

  “Time will temper thy grief, little mouse,” he rumbled, with great kindness. “Much remains to be learned of thy destiny. Now, thy task is to rest and sleep, and to forget.”

  She gazed into the wall of his eye. Lia said, “Perhaps I might step within your fires, and thus forget.”

  “Nay, I meant that I will touch thy mind.”

  “But I don’t want to forget!” she protested. “My memories are precious–please, Amaryllion, you cannot rob me thus, painful as it might be. I am not crushed. I will survive.”

  When he spoke, his voice acquired an unexpected edge of iron. “These are not my reasons. Thou art a Human of a mere fifteen years and several months’ age, little mouse. Thy knowledge of this Island-World and its dangers, and the forces of darkness entrenched against thee, vanishes into insignificance in comparison to the wisdom of an Ancient Dragon two thousand years thy senior! I adjudge that thou must forget, and forget thou shalt, even this conversation. Do not question my decision.”

  “Amaryllion, I do trust you.” Hualiama swallowed. “If I cannot question you, then I must beg you. Please, for the sake of all we’ve shared … please. Don’t do this to me.”

  Heavily, the Ancient Dragon replied, “Many of thy lifetimes have I watched and waited. The sense of mine hearts, the leap of my fires, the tingling of deep knowledge in my seventh sense, all point to one fact. We must wait. The fire burns brightly, but the coals are not yet ready. And while we wait and grow in our understanding, greedy and fey eyes will fix upon thee and thy life. Dragonish eyes. Human eyes. I shall wait beneath this mountain. And thou wilt understand, one day, that it was for the best.”

  Lia could not contain the bitterness that crept into her reply. “It has already been the worst day of my life. Why not truly crown my Island?”

  Amaryllion blinked, a shuttering of that vast eye which in no way diminished its power, although the cavern flickered through twilight to utter darkness, and back to the fire of his gaze. “What is thy meaning, Dragonfriend?”

  “Do what you will, beast!” Lia burst out, trembling so hard she flung tears into his eye. The teardrops sizzled briefly against its surface. “Maybe you wish to wipe me out and start afresh, as the dragonets do–why not a better, more compliant Hualiama? One who neither tramples upon ancient taboos, nor questions her elders? This is not wisdom–”

  When an Ancient Dragon sighed, Ha’athior Island trembled on its foundations. Such a sigh shook her now. The wind of his breath whistled away through the caverns, and a distant rockfall rumbled before falling silent.

  “I see you as one of my fathers,” she whispered, half statement, half plea. “The father of my spirit. One who understands the flame within me.”

  “I am honoured,” he said.

  There were times Hualiama simply could not find it within herself to believe Amaryllion. How he condescended to a mere Human! What ancient lizard would truly be honoured that a miniscule Human of fleeting life and uncertain destiny should consider him a father?

  Truly, I do not understand the nature of thy flame, he said in Dragonish, while his monstrous chuckle rattled her bone-deep. Surprised
? Aye. This is the enigma I spoke of before. Thou art mystery unfathomable, Hualiama Dragonfriend, a child of the endlessly unpredictable, many-faceted, impossible to define power we so inadequately describe as ‘magic’. And that, o delight of mine Dragon hearts, is why I must bid thee sleep. Not to change thee, but to guard thy very soul.

  A deep, brooding thrumming filled her senses. Hualiama resisted, unwilling to forget. Her eyes drooped.

  Lay thee down, little mouse.

  She pillowed her head upon a rock beside the Ancient Dragon’s titanic eye.

  Sleep, o child of the Dragon. Dream much, live much, love much, and forget just a little, and only for a time.

  Hualiama slept. She dreamed of the whisper of tourmaline-laced wings greeting the flames of a twin-suns dawn, and of a faithful dragonet trilling to her, ‘Fly, Lia, fly!’

  About the Author

  www.marcsecchia.com

  Marc is the bestselling author of 11 fantasy books. Born in South Africa, he lives and works in Ethiopia with his wife and 4 children, 2 dogs, a rabbit, and a variable number of marabou storks that roost on the acacia trees out back. On a good night you can also hear hyenas prowling along the back fence.

  When he’s not writing about Africa or dragons, Marc can be found travelling to remote locations. He thinks there’s nothing better than standing on a mountaintop wondering what lies over the next horizon.

  If you enjoyed this story, please consider leaving a review, or reading one of my other works. You can find links to all of my works on my website, www.marcsecchia.com. Every review matters and I read them all.

  Where you can find me:

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  Email: marcsecchia@gmail.com

  Other Books by Marc Secchia

  Shapeshifter Dragons: (Young Adult and older readers–a bestselling dragon adventure series) Chained to a rock and tossed off a cliff by her boyfriend, Aranya is executed for high treason against the Sylakian Empire. Falling a league into the deadly Cloudlands is not a fate she ever envisaged. But what if she did not die? What if she could spread her wings and fly?