by Marc Secchia
Asturbar and Iridiana glanced at each other, discovered identical expressions, and burst out laughing – a momentary release from the day’s grim events.
“I guess that was lesson number one from the Star Dragoness,” Iridiana said.
“Less arguing, more killing,” agreed Asturbar.
“Arguing is fun at the right moment,” said Aranya’s other voice, rather snippily. “Huh. Pretty-scales, did you notice how similar your Dragoness manifestation is to Aranya’s?”
“Ah … no,” Iridiana protested. “Please don’t compare me to … to a Star –”
“Aww, aren’t we a shy little predator?” Zuziana teased.
With a fond smile at Iridiana, who was Dragon-blushing up a small firestorm, Aranya snorted, “Zip’s just jealous she isn’t flaming things with us, Iridiana. Help me seat this man, would you?”
“Gashukan,” said Asturbar.
There was a startled pause. “Well, he’s a bloodthirsty soldier – I approve!” exclaimed the Zuziana voice.
“Eh?”
Iridiana chuckled throatily. “Gash-you-can? No mind, Boots. We can go gash a few things open if you like. You’re a bit sore about your House, aren’t you?”
“Our House,” he corrected firmly. “And, yes. Very sore.”
Aranya swung a paw upward to point at a huge flock of Drakes descending suddenly out of the clouds. “Let’s give that axe arm a little overdue exercise, shall we, Marshal? Follow me!”
“It’s a trap!” squealed Iridiana.
“No …”
Asturbar’s groan faded on the winds as Iridiana popped and fizzed through a rash of transformations as her old panic took over. Then, a different sound replaced the confusion. Waterfall? Where? At once he landed astraddle a seething comet of draconic Chaos magic, that in some manner hearkened to the body that had been, for he sat upon solid scales – so his senses suggested – but another part of his brain insisted that these were semi-transparent substances formed of insanely roiling fires that ran the gamut of the blue spectrum, from ultraviolet to ultramarine. The fires surged up his body to cover him like armour, spitting off the blade of his axe. Primed for action.
A voice like a rushing wind roared, FOR THE MISTRALS!
They left a bemused Star Dragoness wafting through a trail of silvery dust as they seared into the heights.
Chapter 25: The Mistrals!
Asturbar was quite certain the speed of Iridiana’s take-off left his teeth four miles behind. She lanced past Aranya’s Dragonwings as though they were flying backward – no disrespect, of course. A thunderclap of sound accompanied their rising; he saw Dragon Riders throw their hands up to their ears as the pair rocketed by, and the same thunderclap out of clear air repeated as she evidently realised that they had stormed far past any hope of backup and were screaming toward a thousand Drakes in a solo assault.
Perhaps not the smartest idea.
He had never imagined wind such as which smote him as they slowed; Iridiana belatedly found some shielding to help him, for he would not have been able to hold on. No chance. Being plastered against her insubstantial, fiery spine spikes helped him survive the experience, however. This form was large enough to seat him comfortably …
With bestial screams of hunger, a thousand pairs of talons dived for their throats – KERRR-WHOMP!!
Asturbar shook his head a second time. He was seeing suns-spots. Those creatures Aranya called Land Dragons had just cleared a nice quarter-mile of sky for them.
He coughed, “Uh …”
“Well, that’s annoying,” snorted Iridiana. “Talk about an anti-climax.”
He reached down to slap her neck. “Well then, girlie, what are you waiting for? Permission?”
GIRLIE? roared the Dragoness. Well, that was one way to warm up his sweet little silver-skinned marauder. Her Shapeshifter form tore across the occluded afternoon skies with such fury, even the magic-maddened Drakes seemed to pause in recognition, and for a goodly few dozen that they downed in those precious opening seconds of combat, that was the last thought they experienced in their mortal lives. Rising upon Nyahi’s back, Asturbar struck out left and right with his battle-axe, ignoring the renewed tearing sensation in his stomach as his thirty-foot sweep hammered surprised Drakes into oblivion. Within a minute, they had earned themselves a respectful area of wing space in the air, and Asturbar had to resort to taunting the beasts to draw them into killing range.
“Honestly?” Nyahi complained. “What did you call that one?”
“Popped out. Sorry. Bad case of soldier mouth.”
“I have to kiss that mouth later.”
“Do I have to?” he pretended to groan. “Go! Go get them. Drakes – over there!”
A mauve patch of fire winked at him. “Do I have to?”
Hooking a thumb over his shoulder, Asturbar said, “Those lugs are catching up. Why don’t we show the famous Dragon Riders of the Vassal States a few of our signature moves?”
KERRR-WHOMP!!
He shaded his eyes. “That is, if you can find any more Drakes in these parts. Sodding nuisance having to put up with allies, isn’t it?”
* * * *
Apart from an embarrassing incident involving a dracofloral form wrapping itself accidentally around a Drake’s muzzle, which deposited Asturbar upon the attacker’s back just in time to put the actual metal of his battle-axe to good use for the first time since he could remember, the battle alongside the famed Dragon Riders of the Vassal States proceeded according to plan. They joined the Dragonwing and were bluntly informed, ‘Fledglings should not show off,’ at which point Iridiana lost her cool and ‘flared’ a clutch of Drakes ahead of them. That made the bigger Dragons sit up and take notice!
The afternoon quickly wore on into frustration for Asturbar. Learning the patterns of mass Dragon battle was one matter, which he quickly adapted to since he was used to considering issues of crossfire and cover, backup and saturation of a field of fire, but deep in his heart he knew that the longer they battled, the farther the Thoralians flew from any form of justice. A dull, poisonous lust for revenge burned in his heart as he watched the Cloudlands close over the broken Island, and the only home he had ever truly known, vanished forever. The Mistral Fires were broken.
This conflict was dull and attritional. The forces were evenly matched, with numbers and savagery on one side stacked against teamwork and determination on the other. Iridiana acquitted herself, in his unbiased opinion, exceedingly well. They learned how to fly in wing position behind and slightly above or below a lead Dragon; they observed much about the interaction of Dragons and Riders, and the ways that they supported each other in battle. Some of the bigger Dragons carried powerful weapons emplacements and crews of up to six upon sturdy harnesses fastened beneath their torsos and at the base of the neck, and the occasional intervention of the Land Dragons below cleared thicker knots of Drakes as if by magic. There was a steady stream of up-and-down communication, he learned. Picking targets. Setting the pace for their Land Dragon allies. Timing assaults. The Riders co-ordinated and fired ranged weapons at the Drakes, many of the arrows, crossbow bolts, flechettes and shrapnel being poisoned with a neurotoxin that was especially efficacious against Drakes, while the Dragons provided the close-up firepower and claws and fangs where needed. Gangurtharr and Huaricithe kept close, they noticed, and Huari in particular provided apropos instruction and encouragement when the intense combat allowed.
After several hours aloft Iridiana was drooping visibly at the wingtips. The command came to stand down and new Dragonwings rose to take up the challenge – an entirely different combination of Dragonkind including types Asturbar had never seen before – Swarm Dragons which were similar to Drakes but considerably smaller, heavy metal-armoured Grunts that Blue Overminds physically fired at the enemy, and phalanxes of blue-robed Enchanters that joined the battle Dragonback, using their formidable mental powers to confuse the Drakes and turn them against each other. Bloody snarls developed within s
econds wherever those blue robes flew.
“You’re shaking your head,” Iridiana said as they turned in gliding formation and dropped away from the battlefront.
“You sustained your form beautifully,” he observed.
“A few mishaps.” The Dragoness shrugged with an aerial stutter that she quickly smoothed out before the pair of Dragon Riders to their starboard flank had opportunity to complain. “I feel like I’ve been stuck back in the classroom – lessons complete with fireballs and hard knocks.”
“Me too.”
“How’s the tummy?”
“Feels like I’ve given birth recently,” he said, making a face that drew a tired wheeze of laughter.
To their surprise, Marshal Huaricithe cupped air slightly to sideslip into position alongside Iridiana port flank. She touched wingtips with the young Dragoness. “Not too awful for your first Dragon battle. You made it.”
“Only because we babysat them,” Gangurtharr taunted from his position ninety feet below.
“I advise you ignore that decrepit old rock muncher.” The Blue Dragoness winked, seeming in a cheery mood despite leaking blood from at least fourteen locations Asturbar could count. “Actually, I came to inquire – Iridiana, we have a nine-hour flight ahead of us and my insight-glamour-detection sense tells me you’re running dangerously low on magical energies. In fact, given the levels of depletion, I’m surprised you’re still aloft at all.”
“I …” The smaller, younger Dragoness chuckled self-consciously. “Sorry, Marshal Huaricithe.”
“Sorry?” Huaricithe gave her younger charge the full benefit of the proverbial fiery eyeball. “You are a fledgling. You are permitted to ask for help. This is unacceptable!”
Predictably, her verbal broadside shattered Nyahi’s final strands of control. Whee-paf! Hiss! Zeee … she raced through four floral forms, a dragonet, a spiky bush that whipped across Asturbar’s nose, and finally, her diamond bracelet form that latched to his neck – then belatedly slithered down to his left forearm, shivering and decidedly sulky. How exactly a dense diamond lattice managed to sulk, Asturbar could not entirely explain, but her mood was clear.
He glowered at Gangurtharr as the Dragon performed a typically lackadaisical aerial catch – all studied nonchalance and unsubtle egotism, yet he caught the pair with barely a bump against Asturbar’s back and thighs.
“Thanks,” Asturbar growled.
“Odd little creature,” said the Gladiator, peering at the contents of his paw. “You’re ugly. She’s pretty in a ‘don’t you want to add her to your hoard’ kind of way.”
“Felicitations,” pouted the diamonds. “Thank you for the ride, noble –”
“Gang. Just Gang. To think I used to call Aranya ‘Scrap’ or ‘dead meat’ … ah, before I knew who she was – the holy Star Dragoness and all that. On the other paw, I think I’ll call you –”
“Iridiana,” she growled, flashing dangerous little amaranthine fangs at him.
The scarred Dragon clacked his fangs together in surprise. “Ha! A feisty one. I like the snap and snarl! You want to ask her to change into Human form, Asturbar. I’ve recently learned that the female Human form is –”
“Oh, do please elucidate,” purred Huaricithe, falling into formation with her mate.
GRRRARR! Gangurtharr blurted out.
Asturbar chortled aloud at the Dragon’s expression, and it only grew worse as Nyahi asked quietly, “Why are you such a strange colour, Gang? You call me odd –”
“Mightier Dragons than you have been pulped for that sort of comment,” he sniffed majestically. “Still, you could develop into a respectable fighter, given the quality of instruction I am able to offer – I trained the Star Dragoness myself, I’ll have you know!”
Iridiana’s growling tingled against Asturbar’s arm, and he was sure her miniature claws would have drawn blood had he not been wearing his gambeson.
Gang seemed to find her reaction amusing. Switching to shielded Dragonish, he confided, I’ve not been a Shapeshifter long. I believe the Star Dragoness brought out the true colour in me. Ha. Shapeshifter religion, Asturbar thought. Interesting beliefs for a veteran of the Pits! He added, Now, young Iridiana, but one important task lies ahead of you this day. Just one.
What’s that? she asked.
GO TO SLEEP!
* * * *
To Asturbar’s surprise, Nyahi did as she was told.
A Chaos Shifter was not often inclined to be meek or obedient, for it was not in her nature. Or perhaps, he reflected, it was not in her Dragoness’ nature – here was a dichotomy he ached to explore. Until this very day, he had assumed that Shapeshifters were one person with one personality. Yet the Zuziana persona hid within Aranya’s person had several times spoken up in her allegedly different manifestations; her Dragoness had snippily interjected or thrown a markedly different perspective on matters. Aranya seemed highbrow and aloof – no, perhaps reserved was a better word – whereas her Dragoness was a fierce and fiery creature, much quicker to anger, for example. Similarly Iridiana’s innate shyness only surfaced occasionally, whereas in her Human form it was always discernible in the way she allowed her hair to slide forward to veil her eyes, or the nervous mannerism of turning her foot back and forth like an embarrassed child. Disagreeing with oneself was either a sign of madness, or a clear indicator that indeed different personalities manifested from the sacrosanct notion of the single Human-Dragon soul.
He did like to trample all over taboos, didn’t he?
And what of the Star Dragoness? How could he deny the apparent fact that a dragonet had popped out of her … soul, if that was what had happened, under the duress of her Shadow Dragon’s strike? He knew what he had felt. The implications made his marrow curl inside his bones, coldly mordacious.
What a fearful power!
What a terrible burden of responsibility lay upon those young shoulders – a girl not yet twenty summers of age, if the whispers were true, one who claimed kinship with the mighty Onyx! No wonder her character appeared carved in granite.
Sucking in his lips at the unfairness of his thoughts, Asturbar traced their course with his eyes. Yes, they were about to enter the Cloudlands. Yes, this was also impossible. Why didn’t they just turn his head inside out, rearrange the contents, and stuff everything back inside again? He’d be less discombobulated.
Scratching his shaven pate, Asturbar flew down into a realm he had been taught to believe was utterly deadly to all living creatures, seated in Dragon Rider position above Gang’s shoulders. The Gladiator Dragon chuntered away with a certain irascible harmlessness that belied the performance the soldier had seen in battle. He had celebrated his release from the Pits by blasting, smashing, tail-crushing and bludgeoning his way through every Drake in his path as though they had caused him personal affront. Now, he occasionally cast covetous fire-eyes upon the beautiful Huaricithe with her navy-blue scales and sleek lines, and took the opportunity as the opaque Cloudlands closed over their complex shields, to sideslip behind the Blue Shapeshifter and tweak her tail.
A not entirely playful buffet to the hindquarters was her riposte.
Fires on your mind, beloved? he asked.
Many, she admitted. Not least, how to rehouse thousands.
Aranya does seem to have a knack for picking up strays – no disrespect, Marshal, Gang noted soberly. We have a Lost Islands nation mobile upon Dragonback, sundry displaced Dragon Riders, Land Dragons scraped up across the better part of five thousand square leagues, headed up by a few rascals from North of the Rift seeking nothing less than to change the world –
Not to mention the odd crusty reject from the Gladiator Pits, noted the Blue.
That’s spelled, ‘lusty,’ he said, daring to reach out a second time. Huari’s tail-slap was so rapid, Asturbar did not even see the movement. He only felt Gangurtharr judder. Suffering murgalizards, Dragon romance was … well, different!
As he was learning.
They drifted steadily dow
n through the cloud layers which stubbornly refused to give up any secrets as to what might lie below, but Asturbar’s patience was eventually rewarded. The clouds suddenly thinned as if they had descended beneath an overcast sky, but the realm below appeared strangely well-lit by ambient light, for which he could discern no source. The air was noticeably thicker and very murky toward the horizons, especially to the North. He listened peripherally to Huari explaining how the Dragons used a complex set of pressure and anti-toxin shields to almost perfectly negate the deleterious toxins present in the atmosphere – but that was hardly the beginning of the problems down below, she added a touch snidely as Asturbar gasped at his first proper sighting of a Land Dragon.
“Large?” she quipped.
Somehow, his standard curses about lizards just didn’t seem to fit, size-wise. Or anything-wise.
Eventually, he just about managed, “Words fail me.”
This is Leandrial, our noble transportation and mother to us all, Huaricithe said proudly. Hail, Leandrial.
Asturbar wondered if she was over a mile long. Maybe a mile and a half – well beyond the size of any self-respecting Island, anyways. She was a sleek grey salamander-like creature in shape, with powerful, squat legs tipped with spatulate paws and talons that could skewer Dragonships for fun. He had thought Asjujian Emoflits were enormous. Leandrial’s mouth could swallow a half-dozen Asjujians any which way, with acres of room to spare. A single white eye blazed in the middle of her forehead, its wash like a glorious beacon of welcome that arrived well before her languid greeting:
In a voice like many basso flutes, the behemoth said, Fra’anior’s fieriest greetings to thee, noble friends. Come. I have many hundreds onboard, but there is always room for more.
Noble Dragoness, he said politely, genuflecting as best he could given his position stuck between Gangurtharr’s spine spikes – like a chunk of meat trapped between a Dragon’s fangs, he supposed, trying to take command of his dangling jaw and bulging eyes simultaneously.
Leandrial added, Aranya asked me to personally conduct the noble Marshal Asturbar and his bright flame, Iridiana, to noble Yiisuriel. Her mouth cracked open. Inside, quickly. There’s a tidal backwash coming.
