The Onyx Dragon (9 page)

She was flying home. Pip tried not to weep.

A fingertip tickled her cheek, gently succouring a tear. She heard a whisper, “I know you’re awake, Pip. Rest. You deserve it after standing up to that bullying Land Dragon.”

Oyda. Cradling her with aching tenderness; a travel-cloak, by the smell of the dyed wool, wrapped warmly about her body. Womblike. Oh, mercy. A terrace lake of tears lay brimming just beneath the surface, about to be spilled, and Pip feared that should she release such a flow of lamentation, she would never stop crying again.

A girl must weep only those tears she could afford.

Pip opened her eyes and promptly squeezed them shut again. “Roaring rajals, is it evening already? Oyda, how long have I been asleep?”

“Three days.”

“
Three!
What on the Islands–ooh, I feel terrible. Weak. Headache the size of an Island. And Oyda, I really need to consult a bush. Quickly.”

“Consult–oh. Master Kassik, we need to take a natural break.”

“A break?” The Brown Dragon growled with all the crankiness of an overburdened Master of the sole surviving Dragon Rider Academy. “We’ve leagues to fly yet, Oyda.”

“She’s awake.”

“Awake?” bugled the Master. “Heavens be praised!”

Suddenly, there was a great fuss and commotion as the Dragonwing drew together, everyone exclaiming and congratulating her, although Pip did not understand why. She caught Silver’s concerned glance and self-consciously wriggled into an upright position on Oyda’s saddle. Honestly! He must think her a babe in need of coddling.

Nak said, “Ay, awake, and Pip needs to debate philosophy with a handy boulder. Shimmerith, would you spy us out the nearest useful Island, my peerless shining beauty?”

Pip’s ears burned at the snickers from her three bodyguards lined up between Emblazon’s spine-spikes, right behind Oyda. Jerrion reached out to ruffle her hair fondly. “Good on you, lady Pip,” he said. Had it not been for his compassionate expression, Pip might just have bitten that hand. She hated having her curls mussed!

Unexpectedly, Master Kassik snorted twin fireballs from his nostrils. “Last Dragon to the Island Shimmerith picks is assigned hunting duty every dinnertime for the next week.”

Nak walloped Shimmerith on the neck. “Go, you flaming sunburst!”

“I haven’t picked an Island yet, Nak,” she said, as falsely sweet as only eighty feet of lustrous Dragoness could be.

“Fly, thou emblem of dawn’s blazing majesty!”

“Hmm, which one shall I pick?” Shimmerith teased her Rider. However, she cast Emblazon a coy, challenging glance. The Amber Dragon tensed.

Nak yelled, “Let us burn the heavens together–”

“Third Island!” bellowed the Sapphire Dragoness, surging forward with a mighty wing-stroke that just so happened to take her across Emblazon’s flight-path, causing him to stall slightly or risk bumping into her tail.

“–as Dragon and Rider!”

His yell floated back to them on the breeze as Shimmerith streaked into the lead. Belatedly, the fledgling Dragons threw themselves into the pursuit. The Sapphire blazed ahead, her sinuous wingbeat as smooth and supple as mercury flowing along glass, while Tazzaral matched her stroke for stoke, all brash, youthful power. Silver tucked in behind Tazz and Kaiatha, cleverly choosing to slipstream the larger Dragon. Jyoss and Emmaraz snarled each other’s wings and lost valuable ground by snapping reflexively at each other. Meantime, to Pip’s surprise, Kassik and Emblazon hung back. Daring each other to be the last? Was this a Dragon tradition?

Pip wanted to cheer as Chymasion showed an unexpected turn of speed, hissing past Kassik, Casitha and Master Balthion. The Amber Dragon eyed his shell-son with manifest pride.

Oyda said crossly, “Emblazon, we are not showing off, are we?”

“We are,” he rumbled, not the least bit contrite.

“Do you always have to give others a head start?”

“I’m a stickler for fairness,” returned the Amber Dragon. “I wish to let the hatchlings and fledglings feel as though they are doing well. It encourages draconic endeavour and builds a youngster’s confidence.”

“Emblazon, shut up and go win the race, will you?”

“As you wish, my beautiful Rider.”

Pip raised her eyebrows at this exchange. Dragons could be breathtakingly arrogant, but she suspected Emblazon was merely stating the facts as he saw them. What did he have in store? The others had pulled a quarter-mile ahead; with a basso laugh, Kassik now embarked upon the chase too, flexing his broad wings with rapid flutter-strokes to build an initial burst of acceleration.

The Amber Dragon drew a huge breath into his lungs.
EMBLAZON!!

Such a battle-challenge! A thunderclap of sound rolled over the space between the Islands; Pip clapped her hands over her ears with a shout of amazement. Behind her, Oyda laughed as though she knew exactly what was to come. The powerful young Dragon, still growing into the prime of his strength, reached out with his wings to cup the air and blast it toward his tail. Great ripples of deeply striated shoulder-muscle popped into relief at each flexion of his wings, but greater still was the subtlety of his use of that power. No iota of effort went to waste. His form and streamlining divulged a mastery of draconic flight science. Moreover, he augmented his already prodigious efforts with magic of a kind she had never sensed in a Dragon before, which seemed to double his strength while protecting the flesh, muscle and structural elements of his wings and wing-struts from being torn to shreds by the extraordinary physical output. Oyda threw her strength behind Emblazon’s efforts, helping him to formulate a projectile-shaped shield to reduce the wind drag to a minimum.

The effect of this outpouring of power was to shove Pip against Oyda’s stomach and pin her there. The acceleration sat on her chest and compressed her stomach, unrelenting. Somewhere, between gasping breaths and delighted laughter, Pip realised that her shoulder did not hurt nearly as much as before.

The race was on!

First to see Emblazon’s tail snake past his muzzle was Kassik. Browns were not renowned flyers, but if one wanted to move mountains, Brown Dragons were the first and only choice. Besides, he was still hauling the additional tonnage of Hunagu in his net. The Amber blew past Chymasion at a pace that made the hatchling appear as if he were a hummingbird hovering above a flower. At a similarly blistering velocity, Emblazon overhauled Jyoss and Tazzaral, who had begun to flag, before closing in on wily Emmaraz and the even wilier Silver. Pip thought she still detected a slight anomaly in her boyfriend’s wing-strokes–perhaps the extreme effort exacerbated whatever healing his body had not completed. Emmaraz sprayed a diversionary barrage of lava across Emblazon’s path, but the Amber Dragon’s evasive manoeuvring was a joyous opus of aerial ballet. Barely a drop of molten rock struck his hide as the massive, multi-tonne Dragon twisted and corkscrewed like a frolicsome dragonet to the younger Dragon’s side, whereupon he cuffed Emmaraz across the earhole in passing as though to impress upon the youngster the lesson of who was the bigger beast.

Now Emblazon closed in on Silver, while Shimmerith remained four or five Dragon-lengths ahead, already tipping to begin her descent to the Island she had selected.

“Come on, Silver!” yelled Pip.

Oyda smacked her on the knee. “Wallop him if he gets in your way, Emblazon!”

Silver jinked in front of Emblazon, buffeting him with playful psionic strikes and blinding him with a gush of silver-tinged smoke that appeared to stick to the Amber Dragon’s shield.

“Ooh, he’s a crafty one,” hissed Oyda.

Not to be outdone, Emblazon shaped a flower-like spray of simultaneous miniature fireballs, five close together encircled by a further ten. Silver somehow captured most of the two-foot fireballs, whizzed them around his head, and in a slingshot motion, fired them back twice as fast as they had chased his tail.

KAAABOOM!!

Smoke and fire rattled Emblazon and his shield. The Amber snorted angrily,
By my wings, how did he manage that feat?

Don’t let a youngster best you, o my furnace-heart of Dragon fire!
Oyda incited him.

Go easy on him, Emblazon,
Pip said.
It’s just a game.

Easy? Insolent hatchling!
Emblazon’s belly-fires achieved a furious pitch that drilled into the mastoid bones of Pip’s ears.
I’ll easily swat him from here to the next Island!

Predictable. But Silver had evidently learned a trick or three in those early nursery battles. He flitted in front of Emblazon like a silvery dragonfly, evading or subverting his strikes, and the much larger Amber Dragon could not pin him down. The Island loomed and still Shimmerith held the lead.

EMBLAZON!!
Thunder tore the air, rattling Silver visibly. With that, Oyda’s Dragon reached out, seized Silver’s tail in his right forepaw, and flung him with a fiery snort of disdain over his shoulder.
Get out of my way, pest!

Pip burst out laughing.

Silver somersaulted away; the proud Amber Dragon surged ahead, putting in a final burst of effort in order to catch his mate. But Pip twizzled her neck to watch Silver arcing overhead. A tiny smile? Tendrils of his trademark silvery fire shot from his claw-tips as he passed by upside-down, snagging Emblazon’s spine-spikes. The huge Amber Dragon’s rushing momentum drew those threads taut and then swung Silver around into a screaming turn. Pip could not imagine the gravitational forces Silver must be suffering, for his mouth seemed to be jammed open by the wind and his wings were fully tucked to his sides, not risking breaking wing-struts or straining the muscles and ligaments.

Thanks, Emblazon!

The rascal had the cheek to waggle his wingtips as he whooshed by beneath them at double the speed he had departed, raising a bellow of rage first from Emblazon, then Shimmerith as the youngster overhauled her. Now, the challenge was all about descent and streamlining. The Island tipped precipitously toward her. Pip whooped as her stomach leaped into her throat. So crazy-fast! Despite the shielding, the wind whipped her already unruly curls into a fine tangle. The Dragons stretched out, limbs tucked up against their bellies as they fought for the lead–Shimmerith and Nak weighing in with a cunning anti-shield that suddenly applied enormous wind resistance to Silver and Emblazon so that she took a nose-lead before the other Dragons bulled their way through. Emblazon squeezed fireballs sideways from his mouth and buffeted them with his wings. Silver knocked the other Dragons about with his psychic power, but Pip sensed his attacks had become ragged.

Neck and neck they raced. Rock. Sky. Pip’s eyes streamed tears. No Dragon gave an inch. They were so close now, Pip feared they would smash into the Island’s flank, but the Dragons responded as if linked by one thought, flattening out, straining for that first touch on a long grassy meadow ahead … she strained with Silver … and he shimmered. She saw it. A breath of peculiar, fey magic. Clear as daylight, beneath her sheltering arm, she saw Silver flicker and gain half a muzzle-length’s lead. He plucked a leaf off a bush.

SILVER!!

P
ip Presented
DRAGON-SILVER with an armful of lake trout.
Spoils to the winner.

Emblazon snorted.
He won all claws in. I’ve never enjoyed a finer race.

Thou, o mighty sunsfire-storm over the Isles, were preoccupied with watching my wings,
Shimmerith suggested slyly. Her fire-eyes developed a distinctly sapphire tinge as she rubbed against her mate’s flank, before she settled down with a smoky sigh.
I thought we’d teach that youngster a lesson. I was mistaken.

He teleported,
said Pip.

Silver’s head snapped up, while a number of other Dragons nearby blinked or expressed their surprise with a ruffling of wings or unsheathing their claws. Pip met her Dragon’s hostile gaze, and gulped. What had she said now? Open mouth, insert entire prekki fruit?

Kassik, returned to Human form, growled,
Pip, teleportation would flout every known law of physics. The Ancient Dragon scientists disproved the existence of this power two thousand years ago. Speak. Clarify your accusation.

She firmed her chin.
Accusation, Master? I don’t understand.

Silver glided to her side in a single serpentine movement that seemed to have neither beginning nor end. Clasping her shoulder with his paw, he said,
Pip meant no disrespect, noble Kassik. I cannot claim to understand, but it seems this subject is taboo in both Herimor and the North.

Taboo?
Pip frowned, trying to read the unfriendly expressions of the Dragons all around her. Typical. Even when she was not looking for trouble, she managed to leap into it without trying.

Taboo,
the Master insisted.

She said,
It must have been a boost of Kinetic power. My eyes were watering so badly from the wind, I can’t be certain of what I saw.
Even to her own ears, her Dragonish betrayed the falsity of her words.
No disrespect, noble Silver. You were awesome, thou, uh–

Look, refugees,
Shimmerith chimed in. Pip suspected that the Sapphire had interrupted purposely.

Description?
rapped the Master.

Two male Dragons and five exhausted hatchlings approach on a south-westerly heading, eight leagues distant,
Shimmerith said crisply.
Permission to invite them to a safe landing, most sulphurous Elder?

Go. Emblazon, assist your noble mate.
Kassik sniffed the breeze with an air of mistrust.
Tazz, Jyoss, take your Riders and scout this Island thoroughly. I don’t want any repeat surprises. Maylin, Arosia–snip snap. Patrol one mile above. Let’s see how quickly you can saddle up. Three, two, one, go!

The half-made camp exploded into chaos.

What can I do, Kassik?
Silver asked.

Stay right there where I can see you, Silver. Protect Pip.

Pip knew her boy-Dragon was infuriated. A conflagration roared against the sphincter valves which controlled egress of a Dragon’s belly-fires, the inner temperatures reaching dangerous levels. His paws clenched fitfully. Yet, when he turned to her, it was with a gentle dip of his muzzle and an unreadable expression lighting his unique eye-fires.

He said,
Pip … I didn’t sense any lie. What did you see?

She realised he had shielded the telepathic link between them, somehow routing it through the paw clasping her shoulders. Kassik, standing less than a foot away as he shielded his eyes to gaze at the sky, appeared unaware of their interaction.

Can I show you a memory?

Ay. If you wish, I can teach you how. It requires openness.

You haven’t done this before?
Pip shivered slightly, then coughed as his sulphurous smoke tickled her throat.
Silver, I’m sorry I don’t trust you as much as I should. Please. Let’s try.

Apologies are undraconic, hatchling,
he said, mimicking Emblazon’s telepathic Dragonish accent so accurately that Pip laughed aloud.
Now, listen to teacher. Here’s your lesson.

You just earned yourself a bite.

“Appalling. Fifty-eight seconds,” Master Kassik grunted, watching Emmaraz and Chymasion take to the ruddy evening skies. “We’ll be drilling this again tomorrow.”

Pip focussed deeply, striving to imbibe the knowledge Silver offered through their link. He had such a deep, instinctual understanding of the mental disciplines. She only wished she had a quarter of his knowledge–becoming a Dragon was such a complex, wondrous affair. She could breathe it for air.

Largely a fluke, then, that she had defeated him?

Attacked by the magic-crazed Prince Ulldari, she had Shifted
toward
Silver. Into his grasp.

She gasped,
Silver, teleportation is possible–and I can prove it.

Quiet. Kassik will hear if you don’t … oh no.

Pip opened her eyes to see Human-Kassik smiling at them, his draconic smile somehow portrayed on Human features–pleased, calculating, triumphant. He said, “Kassik will indeed hear you, little ones. And he will not be offended. Master Balthion. A moment, please?”

Clasping his hands behind his back, the tall Master approached them. “Ay, Pip? Which of our preconceptions do you wish to overturn this time?”

“A draconic one. Over two thousand years old,” said Kassik, winking at Pip.

“Student Pip.” Balthion had a wink for her too. “Make haste to break all the taboos you can before the other Dragons return.”

Now the Masters were complicit in a touch of taboo-breaking? Of course. Kassik had not wished to offend the other Dragons, but having dispatched them all on various errands … oh, the multi-layered cunning of Dragons.

No mind. Pip explained first what she had achieved by relocating her transformation from Dragon to Human forms in Nak and Shimmerith’s roost, from the Dragon’s main sleeping-chamber into Nak’s bedchamber. Then, she described what she had seen Silver do. After some discussion and agreement that her conclusion seemed correct, the Masters encouraged Pip and Silver to develop this power in secret, discerning its inner workings, if they could. It would be dangerous, they argued, but such an unthinkable capability might prove decisive against the Marshal and his minions.

Balthion added, “You are both unique colours, Pip and Silver. But you must remember the transference of powers through the Dragon-Rider bond.”

“Ay, excellent point,” Kassik agreed.

“I mean, from all I have learned from my old friend here,” Balthion clapped Kassik on the shoulder, “it strikes me that the oath-bond between a pair of Shapeshifters can be particularly strong and efficient. Powers may transfer between you and be augmented or take strange new forms, especially in moments of dire need.”

Silver put in, “You’re saying, Master Balthion, that the teleportation power originated with Pip? I concur. The first incident was most certainly all Pip. She caught me completely flat-footed. The second? I couldn’t say, but by the tenor of her memory-echoes I’d say she provided the impetus.”

Pip raised an eyebrow. “Tenor of the what and how much?”

His knowing chortle made him definitely the boy- monster. He said, “Private tuition needed, Pip?”

“Forbidden!” the Masters snapped in chorus.

Aiming a mortified fireball at the sky, Silver blurted out, “Oh. I-I didn’t mean …”

Pip blushed, but Silver was so embarrassed he radiated heat like a furnace. The characteristic cinnamon hint of Dragon magic teased her nostrils. Why now? Pip subdued a sudden, almost overwhelming urge to transform. Not yet! Please.

To her surprise, however, Master Balthion whacked the Silver Dragon heartily on the flank. “Don’t mind our teasing, boy. We’ll put you on the schedule under, let’s see–”

“Herimor tricks,” said Kassik.

“Herimor trick
ster
.” She could not resist.

Silver grinned, “Snarky shyster. Never shy of a word, are you?”

Pip sidestepped smartly. His guileful paw-swipe swished through thin air. Stumbling, the Dragon smudged a flat shale boulder with his nose.

“Words, Silver? Who needs words?”

* * * *

The crown of Shimmerith’s chosen Island concealed a grove of ancient prekki fruit trees growing in a deeply-cut bowl, perhaps a dormant crater, sheltered from the storms and winds over the Cloudlands by sharp ascents of weathered granite. Here, the Dragons and Humans gathered around a storming bonfire arranged by Nak and Emblazon, but the mood was sombre. The Dragons shared fresh kill–wild ralti sheep and an unexpected bonus, easy pickings from a sounder of giant Sylakian boar. Pip’s Jeradian trio cleaned their armour and war-hammers, while the students were put to work checking, repairing and oiling a small mountain of Dragon Rider tack.

After dinner, drawn by a mysterious force perchance known as draconic motherliness, the five refugee hatchlings and Chymasion all made their way over to Shimmerith, curled up in a neat row against her flank and promptly fell sound asleep to the tune of her soft, cossetting Dragonsong.

Then, as the fire died down to embers, the two adult male Reds, called Chassix and Keryflamme, spoke of their epic journey from Tarhûme Island in the farthest reaches of the Southern Archipelago. Their Island had been the very first to bear the brunt of Marshal Re’akka’s brutality. A roost of seventy-three adults and forty hatchlings and fledglings had been decimated. A months-long, deadly game of chase-the-wingtip northward through the Archipelago ensued. Hiding. Doubling back. Skulking in caves. All the while the refugees from Tarhûme and other meridional Islands had poured northward, and the Shadow-beast feasted unopposed.

Many Dragons retreated to the Southern Academy, where the Marshal soon attacked in full spate.

“The suns dawned golden with the blood of our kind,” said Chassix, speaking Island Standard for the benefit of the Humans in the group. “The floating Island was surrounded by such legions of Dragons as I have never before beheld, nor since. Dark they were, like cooling lava, and the sound of their wings was a storm’s approach. The clash of those Dragonwings brought early evening to the very skies. What drives their lust for wanton destruction, we cannot fathom. But we saw the Marshal rise, a Shapeshifter of scales so white he seemed almost translucent, like the fabled ice of Immadia in the North. He did not raise a talon. He had no need. For it rained that day–a rain of Dragonkind that amply fed the Cloudlands. Thousands of Dragons passed on to the eternal fires.”

Many of the Dragons present took up a lamenting cry.

Chassix said, “Another day I shall speak of the great deeds and labours of our Dragon-kin–a day, my Human friends, when this evil has been vanquished. Then, according to draconic custom, is the time to celebrate the deeds of paw and wing.”

Pip stared at the two Southern Dragons. They looked so beaten, it shook her to the living pith, and frosted her hope from the inside.

Now the slightly larger Red, Keryflamme, inclined his muzzle. “We thank you, noble Blue, for treating our wounds.” Shimmerith purred her acceptance of the compliment. “We have guided and carried these younglings many a league. Many leagues lie before us. Will you grant us safe haven at your Academy, o Kassik the Brown? Is there safe haven?”

Human-Kassik, seated alongside Oyda and Casitha upon Emblazon’s curled knuckles, inclined his head gravely. “You would be most welcome, though we both know I cannot guarantee your safety, noble Keryflamme. Yet we believe hope remains, if we can discern a secret rooted in the deepest of Dragon lore. We fly to the Crescent to seek this knowledge.”

“Where the Marshal is now?”

The Red’s soft interjection told everyone he had reached the right conclusion. Pip glanced about the circle, taking in the drawn expressions of the warriors and Dragon Riders, and the darkly burning eyes of their Dragon companions. She read courage torn from the bleakest pits of despair; grit and determination and keen minds seeking answers. How awesome and humbling for a Pygmy girl to be counted one of such company.

“We seek the Shadow’s origins,” Nak confirmed.

Keryflamme said, “Ay. Its song is Dragonwine to the senses. None can fly against. We could not fathom the beast’s speed and coverage. It seemed to be everywhere at once, capable of covering enormous distances without apparent effort, between one breath and the next.”

Silver did not look at her, but Pip sensed a frisson run through his body.

“My wing-brothers fly no more!” Keryflamme’s unexpected roar stunned them all. “My family, my hatchlings, my beloved mate–all torn from my paw! When it sang–when the beast sang, curse its soul to eternal, never-burning darkness! When that creature sang and hunted, it was as though every true and draconic thought fled the mind, and every fire burned low, for the mightiest of Dragons became as helpless Human babes before that terrible summons … its song was a blood-madness, a cancer of the mind! And they fell! Ghastly, consumed, fireless husks of Dragons … gone … sucked out to the marrow, all their fire and magic stolen to sate its ravening maw …”

Chassix cried, “My fires rage, noble wing-brother!”