Dragonfriend (44 page)

“And when you face him, and have to slay your own father?” asked Flicker.

“Pray that I find the courage of a Dragon.”

* * * *

It was only in looking back that Hualiama spotted a curl of smoke.

The day following their overnight stay at the blue pool, they spent twelve hours criss-crossing a sea of Islets off the north-easterly tip of Ur-Tagga Cluster, little pockets of copper-headed vegetation dotting the Cloudlands like a peculiar form of the pox, which was due to being overrun by a larger relative of the prekki-fruit tree which abounded in these parts. Golden eagles nested in the coppery treetops, while crimson flycatchers inhabited the lower reaches of the rugged cliffs of each Island in their millions. Lia had never heard such a monotonous cacophony of birds. Fra’anior enjoyed variety. This corner of the Island-World enjoyed two things: flying insects and birds to eat them.

“My belly is going to pop!” Flicker declared. He had taken to riding atop Grandion’s shoulder, the better to simply hang his mouth open and enjoy the airborne offerings.

Lia ducked away as another flurry of iridescent flying beetles bombarded her body. Maybe she should face backward. That might save her the indignity of copying the dragonet in his bug-munching exploits.

That was when she saw smoke.

“Grandion! Flicker! Down there … I saw something.”

“Where?” asked Grandion.

“Just trust me and turn around, would you?”

The Tourmaline Dragon flicked his wings to execute a neck-wrenching screamer of a turn, evidently irked by her request, but seconds later, he stiffened. “That’s it. Well spotted, Lia.”

“Especially with your weak Human eyesight,” Flicker added. “How do we know that’s what we’re looking for?”

“We don’t, not yet,” said Grandion. “But any building which is so well concealed halfway down the side of an Island, in such a remote location, has to be hiding something. My guess is a secret mine.”

As they flew closer, Grandion deployed his concealing magic in full force. They ghosted by a quarter-mile offshore, eyeing the portion of tan-coloured brickwork they could see, set flush against the side of the Island. Narrow windows provided some ventilation, but were clearly designed to be difficult to detect, especially as the suns lowered on the far side of the Island, deepening the shadows on the east-facing cliffs. Little else was visible from afar.

Dragonet and Dragon swapped notes.

Flicker said, “To the left of the building is a cave or ravine heavily overhung by those prekki-fruit trees. I thought I saw the tailpipe of a Dragonship in there. And you saw that Green Dragon leaving to patrol, Grandion. We’ve been very fortunate on the timing.”

“What would they mine in there?” asked Lia.

“Gold or gemstones,” said the Tourmaline Dragon. “This is the way Dragons used to work their Human slaves. You see, the closer you get to the Cloudlands, the better the pickings. It has something to do with the way that the Ancient Dragons raised the Islands. But the atmosphere is poisonous lower down. So it is safest to mine inside of an Island. That outlet you spotted, Hualiama, is likely to be the exhaust for a smelting operation. They’ll mine, refine and work the metals down here, and then ship out the finished product by Dragonship.”

“Lighter than handling all that ore,” she agreed. “I’m familiar with the theory, Grandion. But if the King was being held here, why would they have just one Dragon guarding the entire Island?”

“Actually, it’s the presence of that Green which reveals Ra’aba’s hand,” said Flicker.

Grandion snorted, “Is one Dragon not enough?”

Her emphatic agreement elicited a chuckle and an aerial bounce from her ride. His fires began to fulminate, a low vibration transmitting itself through his Rider’s seat into her bones.

“Down, Dragon,” said Lia. “We need to find the King first–and who says there aren’t more Dragons inside?”

“Dragons do not sneak about, it is dishonourable–”

Typical Dragon! Lia interrupted, “Grandion, why don’t you go challenge that Green with a nice bit of honourable thundering and leave the sneaking to the little people? If Ra’aba’s men know we’re coming, they might kill my family. Besides, I’m already disgraced.”

Swiftly, they hammered out a plan. Flicker and Hualiama would have two hours inside before Grandion attacked, or if the dragonet warned him earlier, he would ‘tidy up’ for them, as the Tourmaline Dragon put it. Lia readied her blades and implements of sabotage. If only the Master of Shadows could see her now, she thought, tying her black head-covering in place and blacking her face with coal dust mixed with a little oil. She slung the Haozi hunting bow across her back, clipped a quiver of arrows to her belt, and readied her Immadian forked daggers at her hips.

Grandion turned, and flitted toward a narrow, square window beside the exhaust outlet Lia had identified.
Go burn the heavens, Rider,
he said in her mind.
And, be careful.

I will.

The Dragon added,
Don’t let her do anything rash, Flicker. Call me the instant you need me.

Lia said,
Stay out of sight, Grandion. Paw?

She clambered over his wrist onto his paw.

Scouting swiftly, Flicker returned to say,
The Dragonship’s flying the purple of royal Fra’anior, but has the symbol of a windroc.

Ra’aba,
she nodded.
He isn’t here, is he?

Seems unlikely,
the dragonet reassured her.

Balanced in the palm of Grandion’s right forepaw as the Dragon hovered just twenty feet from the building, Hualiama sucked in a breath. This was it. This was the moment of change; after which, a Human might never again ride her Dragon. Yet her duty was clear. She must set aside her feelings for the sake of her kingdom.

Grandion tossed her gently across the gap. Lia made a soft-footed landing courtesy of her tacky shoes, and grasped the ledge. She lifted herself into the gap before glancing back.

You’ll hear me before you see me,
said the Tourmaline Dragon, bending his neck in a regal bow.
Go. Save your family, Dragon Rider.

Thanks, Grandion.

Hualiama’s eyes blurred as she squeezed her slight frame through the window and dropped into the room beyond.

B
Urglary. Flying Dragonback.
Search and rescue of banished royal families. Living in a volcano full of young warrior-monks–this was the brand of mischief a royal ward perpetrated in her spare time. Lia suppressed a nervous chuckle as she allowed her eyes to adjust to the gloom of a storeroom which was filled with barrels of mohili flour, judging by the musty smell.

Hualiama began to draw her Nuyallith blades before sheathing them with a grimace. The Master of Shadows would’ve striped her hide. ‘Weapons only when needed,’ she mimicked his sarcastic tones. ‘No time to braid your hair, Princess.’ Finding the door locked, Lia raided her wristlet for lock picks. She had raced against time often enough to know exactly what needed to be done to this type of lock. With a horribly loud click, she turned the simple mechanism and eased the door open. Faraway, the low thrumming of machinery came to her hearing.

I’ll investigate,
said Flicker.

Hualiama nodded.
Go.
While it made sense to take advantage of her Dragon companions’ superior abilities, it did leave a Human feeling rather stuck on the ground and inadequate, at times.

She padded down a corridor dimly lit by oil torches set in sconces on the wall. Up or down? The slaves’ living quarters had to be lower down, close to the mines. That would make it easier for Ra’aba’s men to control them and prevent escape. So these levels would likely be used for storage, or accommodation for his men.

Lia came to a central staircase leading to a lower level landing. She shrank into the shadows. Flicker. Mercy, the sudden, silent movement had scared her.

Found something,
he said.
One level down, a set of guarded apartments. I think it might be your family’s accommodation. Two soldiers at the door.

Let’s take a look.

Lia bounded down the stairs, three at a time, before flattening herself against the wall and peering around the corner. Forty feet down this corridor, two soldiers moped either side of an imposing-looking doorway. Promising.

She motioned to the dragonet.
Distract them.

Next she knew, Flicker sauntered out into the open and began scratching his rear! Lia gaped at his gall before taking the opportunity to scan her surroundings. A warm breeze on her cheek brought the acrid tang of smoke and metals to her nose and throat, suggesting that the entrance to the mines proper was nearby, lower down. Lia heard male voices deep in discussion.

“Huh? There’s a dragonet,” said a voice, in the familiar accent of her home Island. Aye. This was the place, alright.

“Chase it off,” said the second soldier. “Ra’aba doesn’t like anyone near his quarters, despite that a few dragonets would keep the rat population down around here.”

Hualiama froze, but the first man replied, “He isn’t here. Scoot, you dumb animal! No food here.” Footsteps sauntered closer. “Scoot!”

Hualiama palmed one of her forked daggers. Drat, the soldier would appear on her less favoured right side. Closer, closer … Flicker walked past her, still scratching his unmentionables … the soldier marched around the corner and straight into the razor-sharp blade of an Immadian forked dagger. He gurgled. Lia tried to lower his body silently, but the soldier’s sword clattered on the stairway.

“Fa’arric?” called the other man. “You alright there?”

Plucking an arrow from her quiver, Lia set it to the string and drew hastily. Time to see what her Haozi hunting bow could do. Stepping just an inch clear of the corner, she sighted her shot.

“Who’s–” The man’s voice cut off. Lia had aimed for his chest, but the soldier’s reflexive duck meant he took the arrow right beneath the rim of his open-faced helmet. Not the most pleasant end for any man, but certainly quick and painless.

Lia stole along to the door, checking in both directions. She tested the door handle. Locked, of course.

Flicker said,
Quiet in there.

She retrieved her arrow with an effort, a gory but necessary task. No telling how many more arrows she might need. Right, lock picks–this lock had been recently oiled, but was considerably more complex than the previous one. Lia bit her tongue, listening and concentrating.
Click.
There, a welcoming sound. She pressed the door open, keeping to the closed side of the double door as she had been taught. A light glimmered inside. Was Ra’aba truly absent?

Oh, come on,
said Flicker, darting through the doorway.

Swish! Thud!

Had the dragonet stood an ordinary Human’s height, he would have been struck by five arrows, whose points penetrated the wooden door but stopped an inch shy of Lia’s chest. As it was, Flicker received a nick to his shoulder, but was otherwise unhurt. Reckless beast that he was, the dragonet shrugged off the near-miss and merely flitted further into Ra’aba’s chambers! Lia searched with her senses. A false flagstone? A trip wire or other traps and triggers? Clearly, Ra’aba wished no disturbance in his absence. Her skin prickled. There was something in here, something dangerous …

Magic,
Flicker’s voice entered her mind.
I’ll see if I can disarm it …

A magical trap?
Her training had not included much on the subject, although her readings of ancient lore had suggested that Blue Dragons in particular were adept at constructing fiendishly clever magical traps. As the dragonet hovered, the Human felt that unmistakable prickle of magic at the back of her retinae. Mercy. Flicker had been right.

I think that’s it. Proceed with caution,
said the dragonet.

Lia crept into the room. Clothes in a chest. Weapons. Parchment and quill pens arranged with exactitude on a wooden desk tucked into the corner, where it might receive light from another of the tiny, square windows. Led by instinct, Lia approached the desk. Ra’aba–or someone–had been copying a scroll. A half-finished fragment peeked from beneath a neat stack of what appeared to be sealed royal missives, scrolls prepared with the royal authority of the new King of Fra’anior. But the scrap was out of place. Just a single sheet.

Her eyes fell on the last line, and a gasp tore out of her chest.

… third Great Race will emerge from the shadows,

And take their place at destiny’s helm.

The flowing, beautiful script delighted the eye. The contents paralysed her. The prophecy! They had just stumbled upon the prophecy by blind luck … chills racked her body. What terrors and what hope might this knowledge represent?

Her hand reached out, and touched the parchment.

* * * *

Voicing a soundless scream, Flicker hurled himself through the air. Flame erupted from a tiny hole in the wall above the desk. Straw-head was already ducking, alert to the danger but too slow, her hand scraping the pile of parchment onto the floor as she tumbled sideways. Burning scraps blew off the table as the dragonet flashed between his girl and the flame. She clutched something to her chest, snuffing it out by rolling rapidly across the floor.

Another danger-sound, a
snick
from above the bed! Poisoned darts skittered off the stones where Lia had been just a dragonet’s heartbeat before, but her swift motion saved her. Of course, she clobbered the back of her head on the bedframe. For a second, the Human girl lay still.

Flicker, darling?

Ooh, he could sing flame-songs all day when she said that! If only the Tourmaline lout could hear how dear she held him in her regrettably singular heart, he would turn into a Green from sheer jealousy.
I’m fine,
Flicker replied gruffly.
Hotter than usual, but you already appreciate my lava-hot–

Lia clucked crossly.
Took care of that trap, did you, mister daring dragonet?

Saved your hide from a roasting, didn’t I?

She turned the parchment over in her fingers. “Oh, toss it in a Cloudlands volcano …”