The Pygmy Dragon (14 page)

And then a huge shadow rose above the volcano’s lip. She saw the constellations clearly through it–the Leaping Rajal, the Windroc, and Frakkior’s Dragon. Pip froze, as terrified as a mouse confronted by a cobra. The thing rose and tipped toward her, a shadow spreading like dark rippling water over the stars and the scrubby bushes, a winged shadow-beast with eyes that were pools of nothingness, just darkness upon darkness, and the horror that wracked her chest was so severe, she forgot how to breathe or live or believe. All was pain. The hunter searched with senses unknown to Humans. The touch of its presence brought only a flaring of agony behind her temples.

Pip smacked down on her face. Most fervently, as the creature bore down upon her in majestic silence, she wished that the rocks would rise up to conceal her frail existence.

A whisper of wind stirred her hair as it passed overhead.

Dimly, Pip heard the bugling challenge of a Dragon rise from the gorge below the volcano. Emblazon raced skyward, chasing the Shadow Dragon–but he seemed to become confused, because the shadow slipped away from him and vanished into the Jeradian wilderness.

He turned slowly in the air, scanning the terrain. A Dragon’s blazing gaze locked on her upturned face.

A sound like a thunderclap rolled over her; Emblazon’s bellow of pure fury, which smote her a paralysing blow. The impact of his landing shook her world. A Dragon’s paw smashed the air from her lungs. But he did not crush her–not quite, even though she was as an ant trapped beneath a boulder. Claws curled around her ribcage and lifted her irresistibly into the air. Emblazon heaved several breaths, clearly trying to calm himself.

“You, again,” he snarled. “Explain yourself.”

Pip struggled, heaving, her lungs burning with the need for air, seeing only a Dragon’s smoking nostrils entering her vision through a gathering tunnel of darkness. He breathed softly at her. Stars prickled behind her eyes; sweet air whistled into her lungs.

Healing magic. Even her panic had vanished.

Holding her up toward his muzzle in his fisted paw, Emblazon repeated, “What was that creature? What’re you doing here? What are you planning?”

She shook her head, saying, “I honestly don’t know what it is. Do you? I saw it once before in the zoo in Sylakia, flying overhead. I only went to the forest, Emblazon. I don’t know what that shadow creature is or what it’s doing here. You have to believe me.”

For several minutes, the burning of his gaze consumed her. Pip could not look away. She did not struggle. What he was looking for, she did not know, but at length the Dragon sighed and his fierceness evaporated. He said, “I do believe you. But not all will. Pip, I heard about the exam–everyone heard. You were running away, weren’t you?”

“Ay.” Breaking in, not breaking out. Emblazon had her moving in the wrong direction.

“They’ve been searching half of Jeradia for you,” he said. “You need to report to Master Kassik at once. I will report finding you separately from discovering that shadow creature.”

“I … don’t understand.”

“You and that creature, lurking out here together?” Emblazon snorted fire over her head. “What do
you
think they’ll think? Foolish girl.”

Pip swallowed. And she thought she had troubles enough already?

“Climb on my back.” The huge paw placed her on his shoulder. In a low, troubled voice, Emblazon added, “I do this for Zardon’s sake. He trusts you. That old Dragon might be two leagues short of a full Island, but his craft, judgement and knowledge of Dragon lore are unsurpassed. Hold on.”

For Zardon’s sake? What had the Red Dragon told his kin about her? And when? Pip clutched Emblazon’s spine-spike as he blasted into the air, before trimming his wings and accelerating at a fantastic rate over the volcano’s rim and down into the central caldera. The young Dragon was a powerful, silky-smooth flyer. He had to be awesome in combat.

For the first time, she saw her school from above. Pip gasped in wonder. There, hidden between five volcanic cones, was a lake of the clearest, most resplendent green she had ever seen, swirling slowly and glistening as though it were a window to a starry sky below. Around the lake, lit by the radiant waters, Dragons played. So many colours! Large Dragons and small, whole Dragon families playing in the pre-dawn gloom. Steam rose in numerous places along the lake’s edge from what Pip assumed were hot springs. In one place, bright orange lava flowed into the lake, bubbling and steaming so vigorously it was visible even from a distance. She saw a Yellow Dragon resting its rump directly in the fiery flow.

Emblazon was already approaching the school buildings. His broad wings flared as he braked sharply, bringing them in for a rooftop landing so perfect it did not disturb a single tile.

“Down that tree,” he said. “I assume your climbing skills are adequate to the task?”

Pip flushed. “They are.”

“Then straight to the Master’s office with you. Promise me.”

Oyda’s instruction echoed in her head. ‘Dragon promises are not like Human promises, Pip. They kill promise-breakers. Don’t ever make a promise to a Dragon you don’t intend to keep.’

“I promise.”

Emblazon opened his wings and fell into space.

Pip watched his departure with an unexpected pang of jealousy.

Then she shinned down the tree with ease. Right. She was in the garden courtyard where she had found Casitha before, not far from Master Kassik’s office.

Pip turned around, and bumped right into Maylin. She yelped.

Maylin grabbed her arm. “Pip! Where have you been? We searched this garden …”

Kaiatha and Yaethi threw themselves at her. Kaiatha sobbed, “Where were you? Pip, we were so worried.” Now Pip felt miserable and guilty, on top of her nerves.

But Maylin said roughly, “You little wretch. What kind of a friend disappears like that? Where were you hiding? Master Kassik’s going to roast your backside in the nearest volcano, let me tell you.”

Pip smiled uneasily. “I don’t suppose you’d believe me if I said I flew Dragonback on Emblazon?”

Yaethi spluttered, “
Oyda’s
Dragon? Are you mad?”

“Maybe a little.” Pip’s eyes gleamed. “Can you three keep a secret?”

“Can we turn you into Pygmy pie?” retorted Maylin. “You hold her, Kaiatha, and I’ll do the slicing and dicing.”

M
aster Kassik Gave
her a verbal roasting, just as her friends had threatened. Pip stared at her toes, scrunched up in his thick carpet.

“You’re the smallest student, but a Dragon-sized troublemaker,” stormed the Master, making a tight turn in front of his desk and marching back across his office. The buttons, medals and honours on his Jeradian War-Hammer’s uniform cast winks of light all around her. She dared not meet his gaze. “You drop from the sky, bamboozle that witless Green Jalador, irritate Alathion, assault a Prince–and I still haven’t heard the end of that incident from Udalia Island, may I tell you–break my Weapons Master’s arm, and rile up all of the Dragons! You’ve barely been here a month and you’re wearing a path to my door. What do you have to say for yourself, eh? Eh?”

“I apologise, Master Kassik.”

The Master unexpectedly made a growl worthy of any Dragon. “And then my Journeyman calls you for cheating in front of your entire class. Unbelievable!” He threw up his hands. “I’m surprised you didn’t hear my shouting at that Island-sized idiot from wherever you were up the volcano. You came second in yesterday’s exams, Pip. Second.”

“I’m very sorry, Master.”

“No, you’re not!” he roared, and then pulled up with a low chuckle. “Not for that, anyway. Only Yaethi beat you.”

He was not as angry as he was pretending to be. Why? More and more, the ways of big people confused her. Or was it just as Kaiatha had whispered, that someone who had grown up in a zoo, needed to learn how to be a Human? Surely her humanity–her humanness, rather–was inborn, as natural as breathing? If she read him right, Master Kassik was proud of her. Why then the anger?

She said, “Truly? Master, you checked how many hundred–”

“We know our students, Pip. Unless there are any surprises. Always possible. And, word of warning, young lady–we’ll set different types of questions, next time.” He flashed a big, Dragonish grin at her. “No more running away, Pip, please. My sanity depends on it. Promise?”

Careful what you promise to a Dragon, or to Master Kassik, Pip thought. He did strike her as very Dragonish in his behaviour, sometimes. He certainly had a Dragon’s temper hidden behind that commanding officer’s calm exterior.

“Master Kassik, I promise.”

He held her gaze until with a nod, he declared himself satisfied. Unexpectedly, he barked, “Alathion! Send them in.”

Kaiatha, Maylin and Yaethi joined her on the carpet. Pip imagined it should have been red, not brown. That would have matched Master Kassik’s display of temper. She had thought him so dignified. But he was also a warrior, a commanding officer. Her verbal thrashing could probably be heard halfway around the school.

Quietly, Yaethi handed her a tunic top. Pip drew it over her head. Her undressed state as she was hauled through Master Alathion’s office had caused him to turn as purple as a prekki-fruit.

“Students,” he said, perching on the edge of his desk. “Thank you for joining us. I believe Pip belongs here in this Academy, with us. But I am concerned. What shall we do about the bullying?”

“Have Emblazon threaten the class, Master?” suggested Maylin.

Kassik chuckled behind his hand. “I considered that. Yaethi?”

“Master, she needs to re-sit today’s examination. It isn’t fair, what the Journeyman did. And it’s not fair if she’s placed second not having finished half a paper.”

Pip smiled at her friend. Yaethi was a stickler for fairness, to the point that a simple swap of students in the line for food could send her into a towering rage. She was also one of a select few who possessed real magical powers, and was taking extra lessons in how to direct her magic or shield against attacks.

“Consider it done, Yaethi. Kaiatha?”

“Feed their carcasses to the windrocs, Master.” Everyone stared at the normally shy Kaiatha. She coloured richly, as rosily as the ruby-coloured headscarf she wore in addition to her floor-length Fra’aniorian gown. Pip was surprised to see her noticeably pointy ears outlined beneath the silken scarf material; they had been learning about Island-cultures recently as they delved into the modern history syllabus. She added, “I don’t like bullies.”

Yaethi said, “You could put a Dragon’s eye on–”

“Silence,” commanded Master Kassik. “We do not discuss the forbidden lore. I need to think. This situation needs to be addressed in a way that does not make it all about you, Pip, or the harassment will only worsen. Leave it with me. You are dismissed. Go sleep. All of you.”

Maylin protested, “But our exams …”

“I’ve moved the entire examination schedule by a day on account of one student.” He rolled his eyes at the ceiling. “Never before in the history of this school. Say, ‘Thank you, Master Kassik.’”

“Thank you, Master Kassik,” they chorused.

“Now get out of my office. And you, Pip–much as I enjoy our little chats–stay out!”

At breakfast, taken as usual in the dining hall, Pip was surprised to be patted on the back by a number of students and even several sympathetic Mentors and Journeymen. Each Mentor was an adult in charge of a student dormitory. Pip’s Mentor, Hailia, was a brusque Jeradian woman with twin six summers-old girls who seemed to think Pip was a child just like them, and existed for the sole purpose of playing their endless imaginative games. Her husband Tana was a Red Dragon Rider.

The suns blazed through the huge, iron-barred crysglass windows of the dining hall, so dazzling that their knives and spoons threw sparkles around the table. Maylin and Kaiatha cheerfully discussed plans for their day. Yaethi had decided the time was best used for extra study. The others wanted to go swimming at a pond at the eastern end of the huge grassy balcony that stretched outside the dining hall. The terrace wall on the far side was a favourite place for Pip to sit and gaze out over the mist-wreathed volcanoes.

What should she do about Hunagu? And the Shadow Dragon? Pip searched for answers in her bowl of Jeradian porridge, which was richly spiced as always.

“Pipsqueak.” Durithion slipped into the seat next to her. “Alright?”

Pip caught an arched eyebrow from Maylin, opposite, for whom romance blossomed in the breath of every breeze. She flushed. “Hey, Duri. Have I got a story for you–um, but first, can I write to your family on Sylakia? I didn’t–”

“Did that already, scrap.” Duri made a droll face at her expression. “Couldn’t let Telisia get the first word. I told them everything. It’ll be a few weeks before we get a reply.”

“I should write, too.”

“I think you’ll hear Dad’s scream all the way from Jeradia.” Duri sighed. “Wish I could have been there. They would’ve found the footprints in the cage. Can’t miss those. He probably thinks a Dragon ate you.”

“Ah’ll eat yah myself,” said Mistress Mya’adara, hauling Pip effortlessly out of her seat. “Yah get to bed, yah wicked runaway. Ah scare easy, girl. What yah do to mah poor heart?”

“Sorry if I made you angry, Mistress–”

“Angry?” Mistress Mya’adara drew herself up to every inch of her six feet and six inches and bawled, “Yah want to see angry? Ah’ll boot yah scrawny behind to the next volcano, girl! The worry yah caused, Ah can’t tell yah. Now, yah scram! Ah’ll have none of yah backchat and ‘Ah’m just a cutesy little bundle of pranks, Mistress Mya’adara.’ Yah three feet nothing of pure trouble. Well, trouble’s bit yah this time!”

To a chorus of laughter from the students and various well-meant cuffs and threats from the Mistress, she chased Pip out of the dining hall.

*  *  *  *

An afternoon’s swimming and relaxing was just the tonic she needed. Pip stretched luxuriously, warmed from below by the glittering, black volcanic sand next to the small pond, and the suns-shine from above. The day was so sultry, she just wanted to fall asleep again. How could anyone wear actual clothes for swimming? These big people were so silly about nudity. And how could Yaethi study in this heat? But she lay next to Pip on the blanket and pored over a scroll on Dragon anatomy. Stomachs. Claws and wing-struts. Every bone and joint and strut had its own name. Pip wondered if the names had not been purposely mangled by a vindictive scholar bent on vexing generations of students.

Maylin sat in the middle of a group of boys–Duri’s first year friends–laughing uproariously at some joke or other. Duri had somehow tempted Kaiatha into the water with him. The graceful Fra’aniorian Islander was usually so shy … Pip’s eyes widened. They were holding hands underwater! Durithion, unusually dark-haired and dark-skinned for a Sylakian, was trying not to appear too pleased with himself, but he behaved as a cat whiskers-deep in cream. Pip tried to tell herself she was pleased for her friend, but she sensed an annoying depth of jealousy in her response.

“You told Master Kassik about the Shadow Dragon?” Yaethi asked.

“Yes, that was before he started shouting at me.”

“We heard. Who didn’t?” Pip groaned loudly. “What were you doing there in the forest, Pip? You’ve broken the school rules twice now.”

“I miss the jungle,” Pip offered, rather weakly. “I … well, you know I speak Ape, Yaethi. I made friends with some monkeys there. I didn’t want anyone else to know because they already call me names.”

Yaethi seemed to accept this half-truth. “I wish I could speak to the messenger monkeys,” she said. “I could find out a lot that way.”

“Or create chaos.”

“Yeeeesss,” Yaethi smiled. “A whole Pygmy mud pool of fun.”

“Hey!”

“Master Shambles is your new admirer. You should just hear him extolling your powers of memory.” Yaethi grinned wickedly. “Maybe you should ask him about the Shadow Dragon.”

Pip snapped her fingers at Yaethi, a rude gesture on Jeradia. “Zardon said I’d be safe here.”

“Even a Dragon has to be wrong sometimes,” her friend pointed out. “You said he was as loopy as a fledgling doing aerial cartwheels.”

“He’s not loopy.”

“See? You’re crazy about Dragons. Maybe … maybe mighty, magnificent,
muscular
Emblazon floats your Dragonship. Does he?” She elbowed Pip slyly.

Pip yelped, “He does not.” She lowered her voice as a dozen curious stares came her way. “Yaethi, you stop teasing–you stop yanking my hawser this instant. Oyda will fry you like a grasshopper if you–”

“Yeeeee-uck.”

They both laughed.

“Oyda and Nak,” said Yaethi. “That’s the answer to matchmaker Maylin’s riddle.”

“Nak?” Pip squeaked, and bit her lip unhappily. “Oyda doesn’t like Nak.”

“Ah, but their Dragons like each other,” Yaethi said, archly. “I’ve seen the way Shimmerith blushes like a Northern Isles maiden whenever Emblazon looks at her.”

“You’re ralti-silly. Dragons do not blush.” Shimmerith did not care for Emblazon, she had said. “The only person who’s going to be blushing around here is you, if you don’t get your pale skin out of the suns-shine right away. Mentor Hailia made me promise–”

“And you listened to her? Loosen up, girl. Better still, find yourself a boyfriend. Don’t you like Duri?”

“Duri’s taken.”

Pip could have kicked herself. Yaethi’s eyes snapped to the still pool, where Duri and Kaiatha were immersed in earnest conversation, oblivious to anyone or anything else in the world. A wicked smile curved her lips. “Ooh … he’s positively steaming in there.”

“What are you plotting, Yaethi?”

“We should cool him off, Pip. Double Dragon bomb?”

“Sure.”

They raced each other to the edge and leaped toward Duri and Kaiatha, tucking up their legs and arms to make as much of a splash as possible.

“Dragon bomb!” they yelled.

Durithion looked up, and was swamped.

*  *  *  *

By the end of examinations week, Pip was more tired than she would have believed possible. All she had been doing was sitting and writing. But the dining hall was abuzz with excitement that final afternoon, as the staff and students gathered for the traditional end-of-exams feast. The kitchen had been a madhouse all week, generating such wonderful smells that every time Pip walked past, she wanted to drool like the school’s entire population of
jallada
cats, great tan-and-brown striped beasts who stood waist-high to her, who had gathered to meow piteously outside the kitchen windows in the hope of scraps.

Each segment of the school population was dressed in their formal robes–purple for the first years, emerald for the seconds, bright yellow for the third and fourth years, black for the Journeymen and Mentors, and crimson for the Masters. Pip, to her annoyance, had endured a tailor’s sniggers as he cut her robes down to make them fit.

Glorious suns-shine, so rich and golden Pip imagined she could swim through the beams like a trout, blazed through the great crysglass windows to light the colourful gathering. At the clear blast of a bugle, the Mentors and Journeymen stood up, climbed onto their bare tables at the head of the hall to tumultuous cheers from the students, and began the traditional dance. Every year, the tradition was to make up a more wildly descriptive and funny song in praise of the kitchen staff, before the food would appear magically through the swinging doors along the side of the hall. The Masters gathered on the stage and began a counterpoint chant, ridiculing the efforts of the Mentors and Journeymen.