Dragonfriend (40 page)

Umm … thanks, Flicker.
She could not withhold a smile, and it must have communicated in her voice, because the dragonet’s purr swelled.
What did you bring me?

Herbs to ease your grief and distress.

How thoughtful. Lia said, “Thank you. One second.” Having slipped into her undergarments, she splashed through the stream and reached out to the dragonet. “Join me, thou pinnacle of dragonet magnificence. Let’s bask beneath the twin suns.”

At times, he seemed just a vain and silly creature, she thought, like when he crooned at her extravagant compliments or posed and postured to be admired. Then, even as the suns reappeared from being eclipsed by Iridith’s great bulk, the lustre of his third heart shone through. Accepting a pawful of fresh herbs, Lia chewed on the sweet stems and leaves.

“Are you alright, Lia?”

“Aye.”

They soaked up the suns-shine for an hour more, not speaking, just being together. The Human girl’s arm lay beneath the dragonet’s head, her hair spread out on the soft, fragrant riverside grass to dry.

At length she said, “All my life I longed to know my parents, Flicker. I made up silly stories. They were anything from farmers to merchants, even Cloudlands pirates. Of course I’m not alright, and I am sorry I lied, but it just …
hurts
. It’s as if Ra’aba stuck me with that dagger all over again, as though he dug around in my innards with a blade and carved out all the goodness, all the light and beauty and laughter, bit by bit.” Flicker did not move, but she sensed his full attention. “We Humans say that you can’t choose your parents, but you can choose who you will be. That’s the Island of sanity, Flicker. When I face Ra’aba and wrest back the Onyx Throne, I will say to him, ‘I am the daughter you scorned, Ra’aba. I am love, overcoming your hatred. I am joy, the wellspring of my mother’s precious tears. I am the child of the Dragon.’ That is how it must be.”

“Child of the Dragon?” echoed the dragonet.

An inner acidity embittered her words. “It seems I have three fathers, Flicker. Ra’aba, Chalcion and Amaryllion. Why should it take an Ancient Dragon to teach me what a father’s love ought to be?”

Flicker replied, “Amongst the deepest tenets of Dragon lore, there is a truth seldom spoken. We say that a Dragon is thrice born.”

“Of course, it would be three, with your Dragonish love of triplets,” said Lia.

“Very insightful, Lia. So you knew that Dragon clutches always number three eggs?”

“No …”

“Allow me to instruct you,” said Flicker, in that smug, I-am-so-learned tone which unfailingly made her imagine slapping him. “It is said, a trio of shell-mates is the most potent draconic power of all. A Dragon is born once of the love between shell-father and shell-mother, and a second time of the shard, it is called–the moment a hatchling breaks free of the egg. The third birth is a rebirth of spirit and fire.”

Hualiama shook her head slowly. Just when she thought she knew a few things about Dragons! “Go on, Flicker.”

“It is a sacred subject,” he said gravely. “I hesitate to reveal such things to a Human. Sorry, Lia.” He flicked his secondary membranes at her, signalling a shared joke. “Therefore, I shall pretend I speak to a Dragoness. When a Dragon passes from juvenile to adult, he or she must pass through a rite of passage. So, Grandion will remain a juvenile until he–”

“Grandion,” the Tourmaline Dragon boomed, “says that gossiping dragonets should not speak without knowledge or understanding.” Lia stifled a giggle at Flicker’s peeved hiss; Grandion’s muzzle appeared at once over the log to fix them both with a savage glare. He snorted, “Twittering hatchlings! The quest of sacred fire is not for all Dragons. It is not a physical quest, necessarily, but a spiritual journey to understand one’s own fire-spirit, which is the innermost incarnation of every Dragon. For a year or two, a Dragon might withdraw into seclusion or roam the Island-World, seeking that one defining deed, that moment or insight which will guide and forge the fires of a Dragon’s soul. Often, this results in the release of new Dragon powers. Once a Dragon has completed this quest, he or she is regarded as a full adult member of the Dragon community, and is expected to bear a burden of responsibility and take a mate.”

Lia said, “So, you haven’t–”

“I have started.”

“Am I to understand, then, that exchanging oaths with a Human Dragon Rider was not a defining incident for you?”

“You think too much of yourself, Hualiama of Fra’anior!” His growl sounded so much like an admonishment of Amaryllion’s, at that moment, that Lia felt her lower lip tremble. Her terrace lake brimmed … and she despised her weakness. Grandion already thought her fragile, just a Human girl. The Dragon growled, “Nay, you meant it well, Lia. I … apologise.”

Briefly, a smile curved her lips. An apology from a Dragon?

With a visible twitch as he realised what he had said, Grandion complained, “By the fires of the Great Dragon himself, I’m starting to think like a Human!”

With that, the mountain of torment and confusion resulting from the last day dissolved into mirth for Lia. She knew an edge of panic lay at its root, but found herself incapable to withhold her laughter, especially as she took in Grandion’s increasingly bemused expression. She laughed until her stomach hurt and tears trickled down her cheeks. Too deeply wounded, her mind rebounded to a ridiculous extreme.

“What?” his discomfited laughter rumbled forth. “What’s so hilarious?”

At length, Lia chortled, “At last, one Dragon in this Island-World has achieved enlightenment.”

“ENLIGHTEN-WHAT?”

He coughed out a fireball at least ten feet in width, destroying a prekki-fruit tree across the dell from them. Oh, Grandion! Teasing him was a sport she could never tire of, even if it affronted a proud young Dragon. Despite his quick smile, Grandion’s belly-fires proclaimed his annoyance for an hour afterward.

Much discussion of the Maroon Dragoness’ words ensued, and much debate about the bargain Lia had struck with Ianthine. Grandion was scathing. “For what purpose did you grant that vile slug a favour? For knowledge which will haunt your nightmares ever after?” Flicker was more pragmatic. “As long as you never meet Ianthine again, Lia.” Hualiama concluded that if she could discover from which Eastern Island an envoy had come to Gi’ishior, fifteen and a half years ago, then she might learn her mother’s name and fate. But first, they had to return to the monastery offshore of Ha’athior.

As for Ra’aba, she refused to speak about him.

“We will not return to directly to Fra’anior,” said Grandion. “We must find your family, Lia.”

“Master Jo’el was very clear on the order of events–”

“On
his
order of events.”

Quirking an eyebrow, Lia smiled, “You’ve a better idea? Tell us.”

Grandion naturally set off on the wrong wingtip, snarling at Lia and squashing her–only half-jokingly–beneath his forepaw, before Flicker intervened to inform him that Lia was being neither insolent nor obtuse, but merely asking for clarification. His fires simmered down to a dull roar.

Arrogant male Dragon that he was, he made no move to release her.

Lia demanded, “Let me go!”

“Judging from the direction you say the Dragonships took while leaving the Fra’anior Cluster,” Grandion said, ignoring his captive’s wriggling, “we can surmise that Ra’aba removed your family toward Yaya Loop, or to Ur-Tagga Cluster, the closest of the Western Isles–both of which make for strange choices. Yaya Loop is inhabited by cannibalistic Human tribes, and Ur-Tagga would invite an enterprising Western Isles chieftain to take matters into his own paws for profit.”

Lia corrected, “Hands.”

Flicker burbled, “And you say I play with my food, Lia? Just look at Grandion.”

“I am not food! And I’d thank you to get your fat foot off my chest this instant, you weirdly flying chunk of flexible gemstone.”

“She might do that squeaking noise if you squash her a little more,” the dragonet suggested.

The Human girl drew breath to yell at her draconic companions, when the cunning reptile tapped his paw against her diaphragm. What came out was, “Grand-
eeeyooo!
”

Grandion snickered happily, making smoke billow out between his fangs. “Perfect.” Flicker zoomed around the Tourmaline Dragon, touching wingtips with him in celebration.

“Islands’ sakes, gently with the little Human,” Hualiama complained. “We’re breakable.” She shoved Grandion’s paw with all of her strength, but she might as well have attempted to move an Island. Lia gave up with a long-suffering sigh, peering up at the Dragon between his knuckles. “Fine. Grandion, where do you suggest we look?”

“Well, I conclude that we’ll find the King of Fra’anior in neither of those places.”

Hualiama pictured a map in her head. “You’re thinking they switched direction? I’d guess offshore of Naphtha … but that’s relatively close to Fra’anior.” The Dragon showed rather more of his fangs than Lia would have preferred. She pouted, “Pray explain the workings of your incredibly dense reptilian brain, you overweening tyrant, and stop oppressing me!”

“Op-
pressing
?” Flicker hooted. “Good one, Lia!”

Affecting a haughty sneer, Grandion pontificated, “Pay attention, you vanishingly primitive life-form. Human cartographers have clearly passed their delusions on to you. It is over seven hundred leagues from Fra’anior to the Western Isles, a distance not even the most powerful Dragon could traverse in a single flight. Noxia to the Western Isles measures nine hundred and fifty leagues, give or take a few Dragons’ tails.”

“Correction noted, you suns-addled lizard,” she retorted. “So?”

Flicker said, “So our route must lie northwest, past Remia to Horness Cluster. From there, there’s a little known under-Cloudlands ridge by which we might be able to Island-hop to the Western Isles. We skirt the Western Isles, exploring southward. There are plenty of hiding places up to a hundred leagues offshore of the main body of the Western Isles–isolated Islets, boulders, volcanoes and such. If your family are anywhere to be found, it will be there.”

“Bravo, little one,” said Grandion, “and the Dragonkind beat Humankind for two minutes of history, at least.” With that, he raised his paw.

Lia stormed up the length of the Dragon’s body to kick him in the neck. Hurting her foot was rather pointless, but Grandion’s goggle-eyed reaction certainly was gratifying.

* * * *

Looking to the skies, Grandion said, “What say you we make the hop over to Remia Island and roost there for the night?”

Handy, when you could ‘hop’ several hundred leagues from Island to Island. Lia considered all the preparations she would have made for such a journey in her solo Dragonship–stores of food and fuel, filling up on hydrogen gas, extra ropes and sails … and a Tourmaline Dragon simply spread his wings and flew where his whimsy took him. She was just beginning to feel sour about the differences between her huge draconic companion and her wingless, fireless, talon-less self, when the Dragon suddenly nosed the back of her neck and rumbled:

“Best clothe thyself, o Princess of Fra’anior, before this despicable beast develops a craving for Human sustenance.”

How his voice trembled her Island! Lia, making for her clothes and weapons over a perfectly even, lush stretch of meadow grass, yelped as her knees crumpled–she managed a frightfully undignified wobble that turned into a hands-and-knees scramble, landing her on top of her belongings with a huff of infuriation. Grandion’s hot snort of laughter flipped her hair over her head. Sly beast! He knew exactly what mischief he had wrought. When Hualiama made to mount up, he offered her his cupped forepaw with a measure of debonair flair that threatened to put the most pompous Fra’aniorian courtier to shame. Fire blossomed in Lia’s cheeks as she lowered her eyes to evade his scrutiny, while her breath quickened for no good reason.

What peculiar mood possessed the Dragon?

Worse, what was wrong with her? Surely, she no longer feared the Dragon? And she was no giddy thirteen year-old to simper over handsome courtiers or servants at the palace. Unlike her sister Fyria, Lia had always regarded herself as the one with her feet firmly grounded on her Island, and to the windrocs with self-indulgent behaviour. Now her feet were grounded upon a Dragon’s shoulders, about to fly ten thousand feet above the Islands.

Life seemed a different prospect when soaring Dragonback.

Trumpeting, “Let’s burn the heavens together as Dragon and Rider!” Grandion launched into the sky on the wings of turbulent emotion. Power and grace. Fire and fury. He exhibited a driving anger which Lia did not understand, but it mirrored how she felt when she thought about Ianthine, and considered the curl of her claw about an innocent baby. There were depths to that interaction she could not fully grasp; an intertwined fate whose story was yet to be written upon the scrolleaf.

And so it was that as the dread of her future threatened to embroil Hualiama and drag her into the toxic Cloudlands of despair, Grandion began to sing:

Still be thy soul, let thy fears take flight,

Gaze upon the dawn bright and fair,

For the spirit of fire unquenchable lives on,

There is no death, only flame everlasting.

Dragons had three areas of the long throat in which to produce sound simultaneously–the booming depths of the chest, the warbling tenor of the middle throat, and a soft, flexible flap of the palette which a skilled Dragon could manipulate to produce notes of piercing clarity which rose to pitches inaudible to the Human ear. A symphony of sound poured from the Dragon’s throat, as though he were the singer and his instruments merged together. Such music no Human could ever produce. It was otherworldly, stirring a wild, inexpressible conflagration in Hualiama’s breast. Shucking her saddle straps–to Flicker’s gasp of dismay–Lia stepped out to dance upon the Tourmaline Dragon’s broad upper shoulder, as though he were the stage and the Island-World spread out before them, an audience of uncountable millions of souls.

The dragonet burst into a rapturous, trilling descant as he sprang into the air, surrounding Hualiama in a complex aerial dance. The sweeter her draconic companions sang, the higher she danced, careless of any consequence. All that was pain could be surrendered to the splendour of this endless moment. Three souls worshipped in ways common to their kind, yearning in their oneness for a greater, more exhilarating reality beyond the veil of world and flesh, a place where the song never ended.