The Onyx Dragon (11 page)

Tazzaral said, “Look at all those windrocs around Archion Island.”

Almost simultaneously, Kassik bellowed, “Battle formation! Dragonwing to me!”

I
N AN INSTANT,
the younger Dragons broke off their exercises. Chymasion almost flew nose-first into Tazzaral’s flank, but managed to execute a breathtaking sideslip to avoid contact. Unfortunately, he was so pleased with his effort that he tangled his own wings together at the end of his down-stroke and had to suffer the indignity of being by far the last Dragon to join the double-layer V-formation of Dragons, spearheaded by Emblazon and Kassik, who flew just one hundred vertical feet apart. The other Dragons fanned out, taking close slipstreaming positions which allowed an unrestricted yet concentrated field of fire.

Kassik checked them over.
Good. Closer, Jyoss. Silver, try to extend your shield around all of us.

I could do better with Pip’s help, Master.

You could try by yourself,
the Brown Dragon spat, rather more acid-Green at that point than his true colour.

Pip burned with embarrassment for her Dragon, but he did not hesitate. Draconic pride would allow no less. A slight shimmering of the air betrayed the expansion of Silver’s shield. She sensed him straining to hold the shape as it swelled; the Dragon dug deep, until Pip knew she could not have managed as much. There. A touch of Shimmerith’s mind to aid and correct an awkward application of the shield-magic …

Kassik began to growl deep in his throat, but the Sapphire Dragoness said lightly,
Come, Silver, shake a wing. We’ll make a Blue of you yet.

Appreciative chuckles rippled around the Dragonwing.

Now the rest of you,
ordered the Brown.
Today, we’re going to fly through Archion’s finest swarm of aerial mosquitos without breathing so much as a puff of smoke. And they will not touch us.

Emblazon snorted,
Talons and tails, Kassik, you’re spoiling all the fun for these youngsters.

Kassik returned a hundred-fang grin.
If we succeed and reach Archion unscathed, I’ll take volunteers for a little windroc-hunting competition.

TAZZARAL!
The Copper Dragon unleashed his battle-challenge.

Jyoss wagged a wingtip at him.
And that was for what, exactly, my beauty?

Saluting thy beauty, worthy Dragoness.

Archion Island resembled the lower half of a man standing knee-deep in a dark swamp, his legs surrounded by clouds of gnats–in reality, thousands of windrocs that nested in the cliffs of the lower parts of the Island. That was only the tiniest peak of the Island massif of bird life for which Archion was famed. Multiple layers of terrace lakes each housed a spectacular menagerie of water-bird species, but the true wonder was the arch, the joining of the two ‘legs’ that stood akimbo in the Cloudlands. A crazy feature designed by some Ancient Dragon whimsy, the whole concept tickled Pip’s fancy–wasn’t it frivolous? Outrageous? A pet project breathed into life? Several of Nak’s less reverent ballads called it the greatest birdbath in the Island-World, and no wonder.

Shimmerith cheerfully expounded on the subject of joint, overlapping and concentric shields as the Dragonwing angled onto a more northerly heading, aiming to catch the suns-rise beneath the arch. Kassik and Emblazon argued about the best altitude above the Cloudlands and the optimal viewing angle for the suns-rise, while the Sapphire Dragoness made the younger Dragons and Riders sweat to produce the exact shields she ordered.

“Shielding a wing-brother or wing-sister in combat situations is a basic skill,” Shimmerith lectured. “Augmented shields, however, take on particular properties we have discussed before–additional resilience, decreased effort to maintain and even offensive characteristics such as Arosia and Chymasion discovered a few minutes ago. Reflex lightning? That’s a rare skill. Pip, are you listening?”

“Reflex and reflective shields,” she returned promptly, filing those ideas for future use. Could one reflect such a devastating attack as the Marshal’s? Anyone trying such a trick would simply be pulverised. “Noted. Also, not forgetting Silver’s slingshot effort the other day. I’m sure if you cut him, you’d find Blue Dragon blood.”

“Chymasion’s more Blue than I’ll ever be,” Silver grumbled, earning another round of chuckles.

The Jade hatchling said, “You’re all obsessed with colours. I tell you, the world is far more magical than that.”

“Your blueness only polished my scales to a more beautiful sheen,” the Herimor Shapeshifter retorted.

“Saved by your shielding, Silver,” Shimmerith cut in smoothly. “Right. Back to psychic shields. Silver, prepare your attacks. We’ve a few minutes before those windrocs decide to test our skills. You’ll be dealing with two simultaneous types of attacks, physical and mental, my friends–so prepare yourselves. Attack!”

Windrocs were no fun, contrary to Emblazon’s scornful opinion. Eighteen feet in wingspan, armed with cruel, hooked beaks and talons and the attitude of blood-maddened rajals, windrocs were justly regarded as the foremost avian predators of the Island-World. Or just a menace. Flying rats. Fireball fodder. It rather depended on one’s perspective.

As dawn stretched its roseate wings across the eastern horizon, the windrocs began in ones and twos to indulge in their favourite pastime of suicidally-attack-the-Dragon. They had neither fear nor love to spare the Dragonkind. Pip winced as needle-sharp talons scraped thin air not more than two feet above her head. The foremost windroc, deep brown save for the tan underparts and wingtips, screeched furiously as Tazz’s shield held firm. Soon, they were being mobbed by a screaming mass, the frustration seeming to attract their fellow avians like bees to nectar. Jyoss finally managed to copy Chymasion’s shield so that hers began to throw off spear-like bolts of lightning, frazzling any windroc that dared to attack her. Knots of windrocs fell away from the Dragonwing as the healthy ones chased their injured comrades down toward the Cloudlands.

Honestly, they’re spoiling the view,
Emblazon griped.

Unusually aggressive this season,
Kassik said. He blinked as unexpectedly, every windroc within a quarter-mile turned upon its neighbour to rend it beak and claw.
Silver? I ordered shields only!

It’s a de-motivational psychic shield,
he replied, smugly enough that Pip knew he had only just worked out how to achieve that effect.
Noble Emblazon requested a clear view of the suns-rise. I wish only to serve my elders to the best of my–

Cheeky hatchling!
The Brown Dragon snapped at him.

Silver bore the brunt of Kassik’s clashing fangs against his shoulder without flinching.
Ay, mighty Kassik.

Pip saw Casitha bend forward to speak softly to her Dragon. “Battle alert!” roared the Brown. “Riders, to arms! We’ve a flotilla of trader Dragonships in trouble, through the archway. Enough of this nonsense with birds, my Dragon-kin. We’re about to enjoy a little practical schooling.”

All their training translated into instant action and reaction. Peering beneath Archion’s dark underbelly, every person and Dragon could see clear to the far side, where at a distance of several leagues a quintet of trader Dragonships appeared to be under attack by a half-dozen or more pirate Dragonships supported by a trio of matched shell-brother Green Dragons. She and her fellow Riders quickly armed themselves with bows or slid Dragon lances into their bracers, while the Jeradian warriors armed and tensioned the crossbows mounted on Emblazon’s massive war harness.

So much for the spectacular suns-rise, Pip thought wryly, which had cast quadruple overlapping rainbows into the mists above Archion’s terrace lakes. They would do battle against the backdrop of an artist’s masterwork.

“Emblazon, I’ll lead half of our group around the southern leg, highest speed. Pincer attack,” Kassik ordered. “You take the direct attack. Shimmerith, optical shields. Chymasion and Emmaraz, concentrate on the smallest Green. He’s your prey today. Silver, Jyoss, Tazz–with me.”

The huge Amber Dragon nodded. “We’ll synchronise on your mark, mighty Kassik.”

Veering off at once, the Brown pumped his wings to accelerate toward Archion’s league-tall cliffs. Above, layer upon layer of granite terrace lake walls stretched up seemingly to the skies, giving the upper Island the appearance of being encased in layers of banded Eastern Isles armour. They hared around the southern cliff face, blasting the odd unlucky windroc which happened to intersect their path. At this speed, the windrocs barely had time to react before the Dragons zipped past. Vegetation blurred in the edges of Pip’s vision until she learned that with Human sight, one simply had to look far ahead or grow dizzy. Dragon sight, especially with the translucent secondary optic membrane to protect the eye, handled the wind’s buffeting and even the speed of approaching or passing objects much better. No mind. She readied her Pygmy bow and checked the quiver of arrows Kaiatha had quickly foraged for out of Tazzaral’s saddlebags. She fingered the cunning drawstring design that kept the arrows in place even if the Dragon flew upside-down. Quick, belt the quiver at her right hip. Check her saddle harness one more time.

Oh, to be flying like these Dragons …

Not for two more weeks at least,
Silver’s mental voice intruded on her thoughts.
Please, Pip. Don’t even think about transforming.

The note of his pleading touched her.
Ay, Silver. I’m not always as stubborn as I look.

Thankfully.
His fangs flashed a quick grin at her.
When you’re flying again, I’ll gladly be your Rider for a while–because I happen to think you’re awesome as a Dragoness. An awesome enemy, but a far more awesome girlfriend.

Ah … thanks.
What had she done to deserve this accolade?
You’re kind of cool yourself–ah, sorry. That’s a stupid thing to say to a Dragon.

Not to a Blue. Ice attacks are very cool.

Joking, Silver.
If she could have managed it, her smile would have crinkled not just the corners of her eyes, but her entire being.

Silver reacted with a lopsided, slightly foolish grin.
Eh? I didn’t know Humans made fire-eyes.

Kaiatha tapped Pip’s arm. “If you’re done flirting, Kassik would like you to be careful with your shoulder if you’re using a bow. Otherwise, he says, ‘Burn and blast, Pygmy girl.’ ”

Oh. Why did it feel as if she and Silver were alone in the world when he regarded her with that especial gleam in his eye? And that she was the last creature in the Island-World who deserved that regard? Self-consciously, Pip fiddled with her weapons. She had to break away from thinking that differentiated her from big people, at least, in ways that actually mattered. Silver was not tall, mind. Was it not Zardon who had uttered those words seared on her memory, ‘Since when did mere size gauge the worth of Human or Dragon?’ When would she grow within, or did scars or Kaia’s memory-boulders always impact the present?

Silver said,
You need to learn to hide your thoughts better, my Pip.

Double the embarrassment. Pip touched her tingling cheek.
My
Pip? Always, in the cage, her thoughts and feelings had been the one thing no person could own …

He added,
You’re right. It’s not about growing bigger, Pip, or becoming someone or something else. It’s about becoming fully yourself. Knowing yourself. Growing into your … true nature. Sorry, I can’t put it better.
His mind projected a thought-nugget of his own emancipation from the Marshal’s power and influence, majoring on the freedom and sense of purpose he now enjoyed.

Curious how her body could be rushing around the broad base of an Island at a speed exceeding a mile a minute, while her mind leaped about like an overexcited spider-monkey clambering completely different mental constructs. That was the secret to Leandrial’s harmonic magic, surely? Harmony. Exactly as the name suggested–she quirked her lips drolly at Silver’s slight snicker from over on Tazzaral’s port wingtip–the clue had been right in front of her cute little button-nose all along. What? She scowled mentally at Silver. He dared to supplant her thoughts with his?

Got you.

Pip prodded him mentally.
You’re just a muddy-kneed Herimor urchin I picked up in a cave somewhere.

Silver lost his wing-stroke entirely as he stiffened in outrage.
Ugh. Dragon emotions.
He picked up again, especially as the Brown Shapeshifter directed a withering glare at his apparent misbehaviour.

That was when the giggles attacked Pip with a vengeance. Silver winged on, haughtily ignoring his girlfriend’s chuckles.

Scooting beneath the massive cliff overhang of mid-Archion Island, home to millions of bats roosting amongst the deep cracks and thickets of trailing vines, Kassik and his force burst through a thick scrum of windrocs. No more niceties. Four huge fireballs mingled as the Dragons blasted the windrocs out of the sky. They deliberately winged through the smoke and debris, getting a taste of charcoaled windroc meat in their nostrils–Pip noted the immediate effect on their Dragon physiologies, the surging battle-lust, the howl of belly-fires primed to bursting-point and the trembling readiness of paws to rend, rend, rend …

Pip’s knuckles whitened on her bow. She must not transform. Deny the inner burning …