Dragonfriend (21 page)

Casually, Master Jo’el said, “So, how can we help you, Ra’aba?”

“That’s King Ra’aba to you, Dragons’ paw-licker,” growled a soldier. “Search the place, men.”

“Please don’t scare the children,” said Yualiana.

“How many in your sorry brood now?” asked Ra’aba. “Ten? Eleven? A few less after today?”

Dead silence.

Then, Lia heard the movement of heavily armed men shuffling around the house, checking under beds and peering into cupboards. Children whimpered. She hoped the Nameless Man–the boy–had escaped to safety. A hand turned her over, cradling her head. Fingers, scraping at the back of her throat, tugging at her slippery tongue. Sweet air flooded her lungs.

“Nothing, o King!”

“Curse it!” roared Ra’aba. Furniture shattered against a wall; splinters of wood spun past Lia’s nose. “Search again! Tear the place apart!”

Soldiers, going through the motions. Boots tramping past her head, while Hualiama helplessly tolerated the nearness of a man she could have loved. Oh, Ja’al. What if she had followed her heart?

“Curse her to a Cloudlands volcano!” screamed the Roc. Lia felt a dull thud through the floor, as if a body had slammed against a wall.

“Sire? Sire?”

Her body refused her command to look at the scuffles and grunts which followed. Abruptly, vile curses flooded from Ra’aba’s mouth. “I killed her with my own hands! Twice … the prophecy is broken. It must be. There’s no other way … no other person … the bane … that Dragoness brought it down on me … on us all …”

His voice broke down into meaningless babble, punctuated by more curses; now sobbing, the deep, rasping sobs of a man gripped by mortal terror.

“Tell us about the prophecy, Ra’aba,” said Ja’al’s father. “Perhaps we can help.”

“You’ll never have it. Never! I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you all if I have to.”

Sarcastically, aiming to rile, Master Jo’el said, “Ra’aba, no man can escape a word of fate spoken by the Great Dragon.”

“You’re the one who doesn’t understand.” Ra’aba’s voice grew fainter. Lia imagined his men were dragging him away from the house, down the path. Yet, his final wail carried to her hearing, “It’ll mean the end of us all … of everything we hold dear!”

* * * *

Hualiama knew Ja’al’s mother had noted the tender care her son bestowed upon the Princess of Fra’anior. Now beardless, she sported a hot red rash where her disguise had been glued to her much-abused cheeks. His mother was the least of her worries. She explained all that the Nameless Man had told her–or not–careless of the irritation boiling beneath her manner until Master Ga’athar crashed his fist down on the table.

“My son saved you from a reckless attack on Ra’aba!” he growled.

“I would’ve killed him!”

Ga’athar shouted, “You would not!”

“Not when I was thrashing on the floor like a speared trout, no!” Hualiama yelled back.

Master Jo’el said peaceably, “You simply aren’t ready.”

Lia roared to her feet, stung by his words, when realisation sucked the wind out of her Dragonship’s sails. The Master was right. The heat of righteous anger could only carry a person so far. Last time a thrown blade had fortuitously nicked the Roc’s skin. His reactions were quicker than a dragonet’s–she, of all people, should know. Ra’aba and his soldiers would have slaughtered this family. What a fool she was. She had to train. She must grow stronger.

Collapsing into her seat, Hualiama fought bitter tears. She would not cry on account of that man! Never again! Yet she was afraid, so dreadfully afraid. How could she ever face Ra’aba? Please, Great Dragon, lift this soul-shivering destiny from her life …

“It is said,” Jo’el added, “that Ra’aba has a mysterious, magical capacity akin to the rare Dragon skill known as stone skin. You told me of the legend that he had never been touched by another blade, Lia. Except yours.”

“He wasn’t prepared, that’s all,” she spat. Stone skin? None of her delving into Dragon lore had mentioned that ability, nor had it mentioned Dragon-empathy so deep-seated, it was as if she had inhabited a hide of gemstone hue … “You heard the Nameless Man. Much as I would have loved to hear, ‘Do this and your victory over Ra’aba will be assured’, what he said was, ‘To stand a gnat’s chance in an erupting volcano’–well, that’s my point. And what, by every Cloudlands hell in the entire Island-World, do my parents have to do with the price of silk in Helyon? Riddle me that!”

She glowered at the group gathered around the table. Fulminating. Fuming at the dragonet, who had just suppressed a purr of approval at her ire–she hardly needed his encouragement!

“Another sweetbread?” Master Jo’el offered her the basket.

“More spicy ralti stew?” suggested Hallon.

“A cheeky dragonet’s tail to stir the stew?” Rallon grinned, holding up Flicker’s tail. He had gently lifted the dragonet off Hualiama after Flicker arrived in a mewling mess, scratching at the front door, clearly feverish and delusional.

Flicker cracked open an eye. “What say you I stir your intestines with my talon?”

Lia grinned grimly. Clearly the herbs she had instructed Ja’al’s nineteen year-old sister, Inniora, to prepare, were having the desired effect. “He’s touchy about his tail,” she advised. “Treat it as a sacred object.”

“He’s beautiful,” said Inniora.

“Mmm,” purred Flicker, switching laps with alacrity, nestling into Inniora’s sky-blue Fra’aniorian lace gown with an exaggerated sigh. “Tell me more, you lovely girl.”

She was the girl who had played for them in the Nameless Man’s chamber. Inniora had all the graceful height that Lia lacked, a mischievous twinkle in her dark brown eyes, and hands which appeared to be calloused from the use of a blade. She moved as though she knew how to take care of herself, but had a gentle air about her that belied the firmness of personality expressed in her definite chin and jawline. Inniora took possession of the dragonet in a way that made Lia’s blood boil.

Ja’al said, “Inniora, maybe you should play some soothing music for Lia.”

Mutinously, Hualiama grumbled, “When I feel like soothing someone’s head off their shoulders? I think not! You heard our report, Master Jo’el. I’ m sorry, but I didn’t expect to come to Ya’arriol to be told I can flutter my eyelashes at Ra’aba and dance him off the Onyx Throne!”

“Now, Lia–”

“Ooh, it’s my deep, dark destiny.” Despite her intent to keep a lid on her volcanic emotions, words tumbled over each other in a bid to escape. “I tremble on the cusp of a ruddy volcano! This way, I toss myself into the caldera; that way, I fall into the Cloudlands. Has anyone ever heard of a maroon-coloured Dragoness? Islands’ sakes, no! Red, aye! Crimson, of course! Greens enough to forest a hundred Islands. So I’m supposed to just march up to some mythical Dragoness and demand to learn about an ancient and perverted prophecy and trust it has to do with my parentage? How in anybody’s imagination does any of this make sense? How will the Dragoness not slay me on the spot?”

From behind her, Yualiana put her hands on Hualiama’s shoulders. “Are you scared, petal?”

“If I were a Dragon I’d be spitting fire!”

Ja’al’s mother leaned close, clasping Lia exactly as Queen Shyana used to. “I’d be, too. We all understand that feeling. You try defending your children in wartime and see if you don’t know a fear that turns your bowels to water.”

“If anyone is scared, it’s Ra’aba,” said Inniora. “I’d take comfort from that, Lia.”

Comfort? Hualiama stared at her hands.

Inniora touched her arm. “What is it?”

“I buried five children today.” Her fingers trembled. She formed them into fists. Faintly, she said, “One was a little boy. He had this toy Dragon. Of his family, he was the only one left alive when we found him. I sang to him as he died in my arms.” She opened her hand. Imprinted upon her palm, she had clutched it so tightly, was an exquisitely carved wooden Dragon. “I felt so stupid and helpless. As my tears wet his face, he looked up and saw this Dragon scale that I wear, and he said, ‘May the Great Dragon comfort you, lady.’ As if I were the one who needed comforting! And then he said, ‘Why didn’t the Great Dragon save us? Why?’ And I had no answer. I held him, and whispered that he was loved.”

Master Ga’athar said, “The nature of evil is to destroy all that is precious.”

“The nature of love is that it can be wounded, but never destroyed,” said Master Jo’el. “Like a Dragon’s soul, it rises from the ashes, reincarnate.”

Lia stared at them, bereft of words.

What was it about these monks and their insights?

“You’re right,” said Ja’al. “Ra’aba just confessed to murder. How can he be the rightful King?”

Master Jo’el said, “The kings of this Island-World are hardly above murder, Ja’al. But he is not the rightful King, nor can he ever be. Our task is clear. We must restore our King to the Onyx Throne, and defeat Ra’aba’s plot, before he brings down ruin upon Dragon and Human alike with his evil collusions. We must understand this prophecy. What ruin does Ra’aba envisage, apart from that which his reign will produce?”

In the ensuing silence, the dragonet purred, “How do you murder a person twice? Is this a Human saying? Of course, I saved Lia through an incredible feat of bravery–”

“Once, Ra’aba threw me off his Dragonship,” said Lia, her mind racing. “The second time? Did Ra’aba send that Orange Dragon to roast me? The Dragon addressed me as the Princess.” Unconsciously, her voice echoed the Dragon’s growl, “‘Run. Scream, if you’d like. I’ll give you a count of three.’”

Ga’athar’s fist pounded the table again, making the plates jump. Rallon swore unhappily, while a tic jumped in Jo’el’s cheek. Yualiana laid her hands on Hualiama’s shoulders to comfort her.

Hallon pointed out, “But Ra’aba said, ‘With my own
hands’
.”

“Has anyone–anyone else–tried to murder you before, Hualiama?” inquired Master Jo’el. “Because it seems to me that this Orange Dragon knew you all too well.”

“Er, well, there was another Dragon who stood on me. But he turned out to be nice.”

Lia chuckled glumly as Flicker’s eyes filled with baleful fire. The dragonet complained,
I’m nice. I saved your hide. That craven beast was a sulphur-stinking monster who dared to attack my favourite girl!

Flicker, you’re awesome.

He sniffed,
Obviously the sheer magnitude of my awesomeness is wasted on the likes of you.

She said,
“And then, one day, Ja’al and I were sitting on the rim-wall above the monastery–”

“Doing what, exactly?” inquired Yualiana.

“Talking,” said Lia, at exactly the same instant as Ja’al had a coughing-fit and turned a fine shade of purple. “Well, I …” Her fiery blush did not help her cause one iota. “I-I d-didn’t mean–”

“I kissed the Princess to save her from a Dragon,” Ja’al said, firmly.

His mother’s hands felt like a Dragoness’ claws, digging into Lia’s shoulders. She could not see her expression, but from the way she snapped, “Explain!” it must have been a picture. Beside her, Inniora stifled a chuckle beneath an extremely fake cough, while Hallon and Rallon wore the identically stunned expressions of startled ralti sheep. Yualiana stalked around the table, pouring berry-wine into the tall wooden goblets from a large wineskin, the very tension in her manner demanding answers.

“You kissed my brother?” needled Inniora. Poor Ja’al’s nerve rather deserted him as he slumped in his chair. “Wasn’t that like kissing windroc droppings?”

“We saw her first,” said Rallon. “Why didn’t we get kisses?”

Flicker put in, “Actually, Lia kissed
me
first, after I saved her hide.”

“Bah, what’s so special about a kiss?” snorted Master Jo’el. “I got one for my birthday.”

Yualiana paused over her husband’s goblet, staring across the table at her brother in a way that made him turn as red-faced as Hualiama. He quickly busied himself with his bowl of stew. Yualiana said, “I can’t believe my pointy ears. What kind of a monastery are you running, brother? Fomenting rebellion against Ra’aba, taking in stray royals who run around kissing monks … and you, son!”

Ja’al narrowly avoided slipping off his seat. “Me?”

“When are you taking your vows?”

“Actually, that’s the main reason we’re here–apart from meeting the Nameless Man, of course.”

His mother snapped, “
Are
you taking your vows?”

“Of course,” spluttered Ja’al. “No mere kiss could stop me–this very week, in fact. The whole family’s invited. With no disrespect, Princess–”

“By the First Egg, Lia,” Flicker interjected, “didn’t you kiss him properly?”

When it became apparent that embarrassment had stolen Ja’al’s tongue, Lia said, “We had to fool a Dragon, Flicker. But Ja’al’s incorruptible, which is rather helpful, considering …”

Unexpectedly, the dragonet launched off Inniora’s lap, turned sharply in the air, and smacked down on Ja’al’s shoulder. In seconds, Ja’al was being treated to a close-up view of a pawful of razor-sharp talons. The dragonet hissed, “You don’t like my Lia?”

Eyes bulging with alarm, the young monk quickly clarified, “No, no … it’s not like that at all.”

“Is she not the greatest prize of a thousand Isles?”

“Of course she is.”

“And what about her eyes–do they not sparkle with magic?”

“Flicker,” Lia warned.

“They do,” Ja’al agreed.

“So, as a Human male, you admit that you find my Lia attractive?”

Taking in his mother’s frown, he gulped, “Er …”

“Flicker, get your claw out of his nostril!” snapped Lia, beyond amusement now.

“Very attractive!” Ja’al howled.

The dragonet made an unmistakably curvilinear gesture with the forepaw that was not holding Ja’al’s nostril hostage. “What about the size and shape of her br–”

Crimson washed over her vision. Hualiama found herself leaping to her feet, roaring in Dragonish,
ENOUGH, FLICKER!
Her chair crashed down behind her, but that sound was drowned out as her cry shook the room like a minor thunderclap.

Flicker, being the sensitive dragonet that he was, bared his fangs at her. Into the dead silence that followed her cry, he deadpanned, “Ears.”

So help me, you are unbearable!
Lia stormed around the table. Her hands clawed before her as she angled for the dragonet, fully intent on throttling the flying pest, otherwise known as her friend.
I’m so ashamed! Everyone knows exactly what you meant, you outrageous … you exasperating … beast!