Tytiana

by Marc Secchia

  They slept apart that night.

  By their fourth becalmed day, food was running low and tempers, high. Jakani muttered about ‘that bratty rich girl’ under his breath when he thought she was not listening. Tytiana suggested he might have mostly dirt between his ears, the way he was behaving.

  However, they did have one working turbine.

  “Congratulations,” said Tytiana, meaning it. “We’ll rig it up, set it going and celebrate.”

  “Hmm. Looks like another storm’s coming in. Figures,” he groaned, pointing to the Eastern horizon.

  Out there was a thin line of darkness stretched between two bands of blue: the endless, mesmerising aquamarine of the Cloudlands and the far lighter azure of a perfectly clear sky above. They had been becalmed in one location for four days, and had not a single sighting of a Dragon or Dragonship which could have helped them. They might as well have been alone in the Island-World, alone in a near-featureless dome – but the stars at night had been spectacular, and for the first time in his life, Jakani had observed the awe-inspiring play of Northern lights in the sky.

  So many firsts.

  “Just when we’re about to get underway again.” Tytiana leaned in for a kiss, groaned, and settled for patting him on the shoulder. “Suffering spiders, I need that snowfield!”

  As if on cue, a light breeze ruffled his hair. He kissed his own fingers and touched them to her chin. “Sorry if my belly’s growling came out at you.”

  “No problem. I’ve been climbing the – ah, rigging, myself. Got to know you a little, though! Alright, let’s lug this beast up top and head East.”

  Using a jury-rigged rope winch, they hauled the bulky turbine up top. It was approximately the three foot diameter of an oil barrel but eight feet long, with fully thirty blades inside. Almost all of the parts were made of wood to save weight, always a prime consideration in Dragonship construction. Using the fittings they had moved when it became clear that only one turbine would survive the mix-and-match butchery, they settled the turbine in place atop and back of the navigation cabin and bolted the brackets, then hooked up the complex drive shaft that led from the meriatite furnace engine.

  All the while, the wind picked up and the black smudge on the horizon grew steadily.

  At last Jakani swung down and unhitched the safety rope Tytiana had insisted he wear. Even on the thin metal gantries that ran outside the cabins, he was not comfortable. They made the final link at the engine, switched the gears beside the helm, and he sang out, “Away we go!”

  Not that they could tell.

  Still, with the helm lashed to the best course they could determine and those dark clouds now having climbed two hand spans above the horizon, well, life felt good. Jakani daringly kissed Tytiana’s fingers. Only a couple of sparks, and a yelp of dismay – mostly from himself. Oh, by the Great Dragon, how could he feel this way about a girl and barely be able to touch her?

  Life was brutally unfair!

  * * * *

  By evening, the wind was whistling through the rigging once more and Tytiana and Jakani were at the silly stage of finishing up the last of the berry wine. They had to fill their bellies with something, didn’t they? They swapped stories of their most comical memories, such as his entirely unimpressive fishing exploits and her early obsession with dancing that had ended with a slip and a broken arm, and cried with laughter over her decidedly wobbly renditions of the trout slap. She described some of her more eccentric relations in hilarious detail, and Jakani told her about the time Sokadan had tried to trick him into eating baked fenturi spider. After that, there may have been a small incident that involved setting the bedding on fire.

  The morning dawned with a blustery blast and a couple of very delicate heads. The Sylakian spirits they had graduated to after the bed-burning incident, had a brutal after-burn that clearly lingered like an unwelcome relative. Tytiana heard Jakani dunking his head in their water bucket, and yelled at him.

  She went to stoke the engine and discovered they had forgotten to bank the fire the previous evening. It was cold. She was fumbling with the sparkstone when a voice from behind her teased, “Bend a little further over the engine, o Choice Tytiana. The pose helps.”

  Crimson sheeted across her vision, fire and pain and fury. It was too much. “You snarky lamko rat …”

  Before she knew it, in a roar of flame and fury, her shoulder slammed into his chest. In a second, he crashed backward into the thin metal railing lining the gantry outside the engine room door, and the metal snapped with a sharp ping!

  He lay there, dangling half off the Dragonship with his right leg twisted between the door and her body. That was the only thing that had prevented the worst. “Freaking idiot woman, what were you thinking?” he snarled. “Control yourself! Please!”

  Tytiana held onto that leg for dear life, and sobbed. How can this ever work, Jakani? I’m all fire, driven, toxic for anyone and any relationship …

  He reached out to touch her shoulder. “Sorry.” Then he breathed, “Would you look at that?”

  The softness, the wonder in his voice brought her chin up. Through a break in the racing clouds, she saw a sight straight out of legend. Gone. No, here it came again, twice as wondrous as before.

  They could not even see above the towering cliffs, twice as tall as Herliss and perhaps more again, and it seemed inconceivable to him that above those three-mile ramparts, further peaks should yet vault toward the sky, but so it was. Immadia looked like a white-tipped arrow reaching toward the heavens, impossibly tall and slim and beautiful. Up there must be a terrace lake and perhaps a city, but they could not see those because their altitude was too low.

  Breathlessly, Tytiana quoted:

  There surmounting the clouds I did see,

  A marvel to pierce a soul eternally,

  Lapped by Cloudlands of peerless sapphire,

  A towering Isle by whitest of peaks becrownéd,

  The song of Fra’anior’s glorious desire!

  “Indeed,” Jakani agreed.

  What was not to love about a girl who could quote poetry?

  Struck by the same thought, they both looked to the wind and their direction of travel. Oh no. On this vector, they’d sail right past and miss Immadia’s southernmost peninsula by perhaps three leagues, for the wind was pushing them directly eastward.

  “To the wheel!” Tytiana cried.

  “You get that. I’ll stoke the engine,” Jakani said. “Need height. Lots of height.”

  “Go!” She slapped his shoulder.

  As he fed the engine, he heard her yelling through the thin wall. One of the ailerons must be stuck. “Don’t feed the engine too fast!” she added. “Build the pressure steadily.”

  No time for that. Jakani shovelled meriatite into the chute. More wood. Archives. Slapping the oven door shut, he ran to the navigation cabin. “What’s the matter? Get that turbine running faster – use that lever.”

  “Oh, now we’re the expert?”

  “Now you’re the Choice? Forgive me for breathing!”

  Dimwit! He picked this moment to start an argument? More obstinate than a rock-headed Brown Dragon. More softly, she said, “Won’t it shake apart?”

  “You’re always overthinking … everything! We have to give it our best shot.”

  True. But she could not resist a riposte, “Aye, but a little forethought saves a lot of grief.”

  “Did your precious father teach you that?”

  Shaking. Mourning. Watching her hands make the helm smoke. No, Jakani. That was my mother, and you wouldn’t understand that grief, would you?

  A few seconds later she heard a dull thump and a squeal of metal above the steady roaring of the gale. The helm bit with new vigour, and the rudder pedals danced at her feet. She snarled, “Get over there, you ridiculous …”

  She willed the vessel farther into the wind, until they were flying in a juddering diagonal slew toward that vital peninsula of Immadia. The storm clouds had closed in again,
some surging below them to obscure the rocky skirts of the Island, some above to batter the vessel. The hawsers above the cabin thrummed urgently under the changing wind pressures, while the balloon flapped and bulged alarmingly as she gazed out beneath it. Any sign of the Isle. Any! Were they high enough? She spied the breathtaking peaks a couple of times, but clouds obscured the rest.

  Krack!

  The helm lost resistance once again. Jakani howled something bitter at the storm, and then he was stomping inside the cabin. “Useless thing broke.”

  “Guess you kicked something?”

  He glared at the wall. “Aye. But I can fix it.”

  “Safety rope!”

  He gave her that look he reserved for Choice Tytiana commands. “I hadn’t forgotten. Just, it won’t reach in here.”

  She said, “This isn’t going to work, is it?”

  “Me, or you?” Then he made a soft sound of resignation. “I understand my place in this, Tytiana. I should have known better than to imagine we had any kind of future together. It isn’t my place to think so.”

  “I … it’s just happening too fast, Jakani. Sorry if I’m acting scared. All I know is that I’m the kind of person who needs to pause, consider and plan for the future, and every time you look at me all I know is that my fires spiral out of control – no, I don’t know how we could ever be together, either, and I’m terrified to think of what father might do to my sisters or even your family, but right now, let’s just land this rag bucket, shall we?”

  His face purpled with anger. “Let’s try a dash of actual honesty, shall we? I’m not good enough for you. I’ll never be, will I?”

  “No, that’s …”

  He spun, dashed outside, and slammed the door before she could reply.

  “That’s untrue,” she whispered.

  So aggrieved. Spitting with anger. Tytiana knew that feeling all too well, and she knew also that he needed space to realise that what was speaking, were his fears and insecurities. Aye, a million billion challenges would face them, but did that mean it was impossible? Did she truly want him enough to take on everything that the differences between their stations meant? A rebellious part of her did long to throw a lamko in all their sneering faces, but then she knew her actions would instantly ruin her sisters’ futures. Father might destroy them all.

  In a few minutes, the helm jerked again and the Dragonship veered. “Great job, Jakani!”

  He dashed inside the cabin, panting. “Saw the Island. Going to be close. We’re losing altitude fast – storm must have ripped something loose up there. You’re doing great. But my idiocy with that aileron might just have cost us.”

  “No. There it is!” Her finger stabbed forward, and down too. A good gain in altitude! Through the forward crysglass windows, they saw the vital spit of land looming ahead. Thick, blanketed snow. Tall brown conifers perhaps blasted clean by the wind. Farther around the edge, a village of tiny lodge huts clung with impossible tenacity to the side of that peninsula. “Touch and go.”

  * * * *

  More than. As another minute slid by and Tytiana kept the rudder and turbine angled to their maximum effect, Jakani knew they would shave the very edge unless the wind dropped entirely. Fra’anior, please – make it so.

  “Maybe we can crash-land. Shall I cut the balloon?”

  “No, you – what?”

  The Dragonship shuddered in a completely new way. A huge force caused the vessel to veer toward the Island, and then they saw a solid red tail lashing toward the forward windows.

  “Duck!”

  Clutching Tytiana by the waist, Jakani threw her to the floor with his body atop of her. Shards exploded over them. Dragon attack! Was it feral? He drew his sword, and a paw snatched at the glass, further wrecking the cabin. Now a muzzle and a burning eye pressed into that space.

  “Sulphurous greetings, little ones.”

  Bad Dragon. Down, boy! He wanted to shout that so badly. A stupid, hysterical reaction.

  The beast gazed at them, slowly flapping its wings to keep the vessel aloft. When he saw Tytiana rising behind Jakani, he smiled broadly. One hundred dazzling fangs. “Oh, by my wings, what a find! You’re worth a decent hoard these days, heiress, but my o my, who is this rat you’ve eloped with? You’re even wearing the little lamko’s shirt. How precious!”

  Jakani began, “Noble Dragon –

  “Noble? How poorly you mistake me. Not a noble bone in my body. She will come with me. As for you … oh, put it away, boy. You cannot best a Dragon.”

  As the Red Dragon’s forepaw reached for him almost playfully, a monstrous feline to his tiny mouse, Jakani slammed the blade down upon its talons with all of his strength, severing one and almost cutting clean through a second. Thundering his pain and rage, the Dragon ripped into the vessel, snapped Jakani up in his paw, and coiled.

  “No!” Tytiana cried.

  “Fly well, rat!” snarled the Red, and hurled him toward Immadia Island!

  * * * *

  Tytiana howled, “Jakani!” She clutched the helm, the only part of the ruined Dragonship that was now preventing her from sliding to the same fate. “No, you brute! You have to save him. Please!”

  “The rat has no value. You, on the other paw …”

  She cared not a rotten fenturi cluster for her fate just now. Carried off once more? Old news. Instead, Tytiana cried to Jakani, No, Fra’anior, no! Not when we’ve just begun … to love … o Great Onyx, help him …

  His body arced slowly toward the trees at least a mile below, arms and legs flailing as if he sought to run upon the wind. She was sure she heard his faint cry, Tytiana! He vanished into the clouds, and the Island behind him also was enveloped in a flurry of whirling white. Would he hit? Miss? Strike a boulder? How could any person hope to survive a fall from such a height, even into snow?

  Horror strangled her inner weeping. The fire within was the white heart of a furnace, but completely unlike her previous experiences, this grieving wrath did not manifest in outward flame and explosions. Instead, she focussed every last iota of her heart and soul upon him, and cried, Fly to safety, Jakani! FLY!!

  She had never screamed like that; a raw, injurious tearing of the soul that needed no words to express her anguish. Did she feel a deep, inexpressible perturbation in return? Did the – where was that egg?

  Tytiana …

  No. She must not give in to despair. How could she imagine hearing from him now? From this distance? Yet, in reaching for her, the Red Dragon flinched as though she had struck him, and his paw hesitated before he clamped his two remaining talons about her waist with a triumphant growl. “Mine!”

  He dragged her out of the wrecked Dragonship.

  “Please, noble Dragon.”

  He snarled, “Forget the rat, Choice. You and your fey magic are coming with me. Long and far have we mercenaries of Merxx searched for you, ever since that foul, null-fires fool Excorion took you in paw.”

  He was one of the hired mercenaries? Yet why then was he behaving in this way? She could not think. Could not focus. All she saw when she closed her eyes was Jakani’s body flailing in the distance, pitifully small and growing smaller as he plummeted to his death. All she heard was the storm’s remnant wuthering in her ears like the icy knell of death itself.

  The Red Dragon dropped away, wheeling to fly into the teeth of the dissipating storm clouds. Cerulean cleared from the eastern horizon as if ignorant or uncaring of the act of violence just moments before perpetrated offshore of Immadia. He said, “Now we will wrest the truth from your devious shell-father, little one. For we Dragonkind smell more than a lamko rat in his dealings with us. Cooperate, and I shall make your flight not an unpleasant one. Cross me …”

  He tilted his paw purposely, opening his talons until Tytiana began to slide and had to scramble to try to hold on. “No –” He shook her playfully. “No!”

  “A short flight from a great height.”

  * * * *

  All that day long Tytiana saw little
. The Island-World was grey and dull, all life leached from the glorious heavens and the great vistas that the storm’s aftermath opened to a Dragon’s wings. Quadruple overlapping rainbows created by the suns striking the clearing storm skies could not be appreciated. The delicate azure of the heavens filled her heart with heaviness and woe.

  They flew more directly southeast than she and Jakani had come, that much she knew, for the Red Dragon told her plainly they were bound first for Gemalka and then Pla’arna Cluster, where he planned to hide her in one of the pirate roosts while the Dragons worked out how best to approach her father.

  Juzzakarr had this much power over the Dragonkind? Interesting.

  She filed the intelligence she gleaned from the occasional grunts with which the Red deigned to address his captive, without great interest. How could she be keenly engaged in anything, ever again? How could she nurse a hope that flew against all logic or common Isles sense, yet nonetheless, persisted somewhere, somehow, in a part of her that naïvely wanted to believe – well, perhaps that there was justice on the Isles, that rainbows did indeed signal new beginnings, and that maybe, just maybe, the true magic that lived between them could not be terminated by such a callous brute as this Ablazion. She remembered him now from her research. Why? Why had he featured on Gemalka’s lists – as a pirate or a travelling mercenary?

  Yet mostly, she mourned for what was lost. For words never spoken. For an argument that could now never be salvaged with regretful kisses. For the hollowness that dwelled where once fire had been; that abiding spark which had ignited whenever they were together. Even when they were apart, Jakani had followed their inexpressible fire connection to rescue her from the fire at the Annual Choices’ Ball. She stroked her hair, thinking how he had spent two hours sitting finger-combing it night before last, hank by intractable hank, until every last knot had been tamed. That took a special kind of patience. Most of all, she grieved a love never openly declared, for they had been unable to scale that invisible mountain of class and caste and culture, and now it was too late.

  What a waste.

  A waste? Never! How could she think such a lie? For she knew she had found in Jakani a soulmate and a fire-mate, if that was an expression that made sense to anyone but herself. A funny, caring young man of surprising depths, who had made her gnash her teeth and laugh in equal measure, and in whose eyes she had found her universe.