by Marc Secchia
The same points slowed the movement of people, but Asturbar kept turning to encourage them. “Down. We’ll make it. Evacuate calmly,” he kept saying.
Aranya primed Yuaki, who had used her Brown powers to drill a bolt-hole into the base of the Island, passing through rock and ragions to the outside world. She caught the cloying scent of smouldering Dragonflesh on the breeze and wondered if the essential ragion layer beneath the Island was under attack. Wasn’t that taboo in Herimor culture? She filed the requirement to check this detail with her incoming Dragonwings. The Island would likely tip and tumble before that became an issue.
BOOM-BOOM! The creature resumed its assault. Each blow sent a shock thundering through the bedrock, adding to the rising sense of panic around her. She spoke to all the Dragons within the fortress in an open-group telepathic mode, urging composure and directing their efforts to ensure a swift evacuation.
Check the companions. Ardan glowered and fought up a storm against Sapphire and her tiny white coterie, clearly still deeply enthralled by the Thoralians’ command and driven to a near-feral state by the reality of his captivity. Fangs, talons, fireballs, Shadow – nothing seemed to work for him. He was forced to tag along like a sheep wearing a halter. Zip suggested that Ardan appeared to be enjoying his treatment about as much as if an intrepid Dragon dentist had started drilling into the nerves at the roots of his fangs. How would Ardan respond to being enchained once again? Badly. Now to Gang, who had pitched a limp Nyahi over his shoulder and held her solicitously with his left forepaw curved around her haunches, much to Huari’s disgust, while he stumped along three-legged or glided down with exaggerated care. ‘What?’ his glare demanded. Aranya suspected Huari would give him ‘what’ and a few Islands of thrashing besides for his tactless behaviour. She flipped above him as they leapfrogged a jam on the stairs and reached down to check Iridiana’s pulse with an outstretched digit. Still breathing. A curl of healing magic eased the pain-wracked pathways of her body, enhancing her innate draconic healing capability, in a very similar way to the Balance she had learned from Leandrial. Injury or trauma was Imbalance.
Aranya was so struck by the insight, she collided mid-air with Huaricithe, who had a gruff laugh and a steadying paw for her relative. Focus?
She burned! Aye.
The Navy-Blue Shapeshifter deposited Asturbar carefully at the entrance to the lowest storage caverns. Still with us, Marshal?
He nodded tersely, clearly fighting great pain but unwilling or unable to make any allowance in the face of this crisis for his people. Blood seeped out of the seams of his boots. Sweat beaded his brow. Aranya understood. The Dragons below were taking off with fifty or sixty persons apiece, heavily loaded even under normal conditions. Out there, they would be sitting targets for the voracious Drakes. She fed them shielding information and commands in highly compressed packets of information.
At last, her group cleared the crowd and pushed into a broad, low-ceilinged storage chamber right at the base of the Island. Her nose lifted. Outside tangs. Fear. The pungent smoke of burning fabric, flesh and Dragon acid. Just as they paused and Asturbar gathered his breath, the Island lurched. Terribly. People screamed and clutched each other in family groups.
That was it, Aranya said grimly. Marshal –
Huari broke in, “Drake packs incoming. Thoralian has just unleashed his hordes.”
“Any ruddy good news around these parts?” Asturbar snapped.
“I’ll have Leandrial and her kin warm them up,” said Aranya. He just looked confused. Of course, this man would never have seen Land Dragons in action. Can you speak to your –
“SILENCE!” Asturbar roared at the crowd.
Ouch. Not so much the diplomat, then, said Zip. Off to support the gliding Dragons outside, Aranya. Ri’arion?
With you, beloved.
I’ll help you, the Star said to Asturbar. Just speak normally.
This was it. This was the moment he must speak for his people.
“Ah … attention?” said Asturbar. Hundreds of pairs of eyes leaped to him as if he spoke to each individually. They must see his wounds, but more than that, they would read his countenance. His broad face remained reassuring as he said, “Under attack from the Marshals Thoralian, the Island has been split in half.”
A babble of screams and pleas greeted his grim pronouncement.
“Listen. LISTEN!” he thundered. “We beat him off – well, the Dragons did. Our lives depend on what you do in these next few seconds. Help is at hand! I need as many of the women and children as possible to climb aboard these Dragons and fly away. The Island is about to start tipping due to the unbalanced forces exerted by the ragions. We have to get you to safety. Act quickly and calmly. If the Island starts to roll in the air, walk with the movement. It is imperative that you do not panic.”
Better. She read the mood of this sea of dark heads and eyes. They were deeply shocked by the incipient loss of the only home they had ever known. He had to show confidence; to offer hope. Speak of the Star, Asturbar, she put in a touch wearily.
“Please. I have the Star Dragoness with me. Listen to the Dragons! We will do our utmost to help you – to help this entire House – escape this calamity. May Fra’anior’s favour smile upon us this day.”
His entreaty availed nothing.
Drawing deep, he roared, “To the Dragons! Move, people! Men, help your families or walk that way! Help the elderly. You. Get on your feet, man! Show some spirit.”
Aranya’s grin bared her fangs. This Marshal had what it took.
* * * *
More noticeably now, the Island tipped beneath their paws, and within, the people shifted with that unease that often preceded outright panic. They could not take much more, Zip judged, but now she saw small knots of order forming as soldiers, mothers and Dragons took command. Out there, through the fifty-foot diameter hole Yuaki had quarried in the Island’s base, the prospect remained grim and foreboding. Dense wedges of crimson Drakes poured toward the fleeing, overburdened Dragons, their bloodthirsty fervour palpable even from a distance. Above and all around, thunder rumbled like a dyspeptic old Dragon venting his spleen upon a youngling.
It was a day when steely clouds frowned upon the appalling business of war.
Then, her hearts lifted. “Leandrial!”
Asturbar turned his pain-dulled eyes upon them as Aranya explained, “Allies.”
SSSAA-BOOM! SSSAA-BOOM! The familiar voice of the cannonade began as the Land Dragons, three miles beneath their position, breached the Cloudlands like graceful trout angling for insects hovering just above the surface, and fired their mighty light cannons in slanted array. The Drake advance disintegrated in greyish-golden puffs of vaporised Dragonflesh, but thousands more beasts winged in from higher up and farther afield. Asturbar gasped heavily. Zuziana advised adjustments to their gliding configuration and direction. With their allies at paw, the danger of falling into the Cloudlands lessened by the second, but other dangers lurked –
The Marshal collapsed without warning. Aranya snapped out a paw to arrest his fall, but he just groaned, “Iridiana?”
“Alive,” said Gang.
“Her first.”
Gaah. That man was worse – leagues worse – than a certain Immadian she could name.
“He’s way too curmudgeonly to let a pretty young Dragoness die in his paws, anyways,” Zip told him. Asturbar just stared at Aranya as though his own ghost had just spoken. “Aye, soldier. Princess Zuziana of Remoy, best friend of the Star Dragoness, at your service. And, for the record, Gang is awesomeness on –”
He growled, “Well, best friend who is apparently having a free ride in there, can you not just give Her Starriness strength to heal a few folks out here?”
“What?” She and Aranya gasped as one.
Human Aranya chuckled gruffly, “He’s sniffed us out, Zuziana. Why didn’t we think of this before? I’ve been drawing ourselves down to nothingness, but there’s you –”
And Zuzi-
me, growled yet another voice!
Do we even have anything to give? Human Zip asked herself. Technically speaking, we don’t actually possess physically existent magical resources.
There’s always your omnipotent capacity for snark, the Amethyst Dragoness cooed, giving herself a paw-pat of approval for the droll observation. Zip rolled her eyes.
We can only try, the Azure responded, smirking at Asturbar.
“That’s her Shapeshifter form,” Aranya explained, flexing her knees to keep upright. Asturbar seemed beyond caring. “Quick wings, everyone! Let’s get these people to safety. Marshal. Hold your stomach together. Ri’arion –”
“Here.”
“Do exactly as I direct.”
Grey-faced now with shock and loss of blood, Asturbar pleaded, “Aranya, please, Iridiana needs you more –”
“Shut it!” Zuziana snapped.
“I suggest you don’t bite your tongue,” said Ri’arion. “Bite your gauntlet instead.”
“Gang! Bring the Iridium Dragoness!” Huari waved the hovering Gladiator Dragon in. Zip suspected he had been hanging back for fear of squashing someone accidentally. “Line her up for Aranya’s ministrations. Yuaki! Faster on the loading!”
“Drakes!” someone screamed, pointing into the hole.
Several grimacing crimson heads peered up into the hole they had discovered. Huari and Yuaki fired at once, and Gang rather dangerously spat a fireball just over the crowd’s heads, placing an inch-perfect shot between his target’s eyes. First of many, Zip knew.
Meantime, she felt a strong drain, as though someone had siphoned her powers and slipped them away down a plughole. That was Aranya making sizzling repairs to Asturbar’s flesh with Ri’arion’s deft hands holding the bits of guts and stomach wall and suchlike in place, whilst her friend laid a paw upon Iridiana’s muzzle and set to work there too. Pure Aranya. Always pouring herself out for others. Always becoming and being more.
Zip loved her so fiercely!
A few long seconds later, as the tipping motion of the Island increased and she heard rock grinding heavily against rock, making people stagger and start to slide downslope, Iridiana’s right eye flickered open.
“Ouch. Morning already?” she moaned.
Good. The more vociferously they complained, the better they must be feeling, was Zip’s motto.
Asturbar yelped, “Nyahi!”
Her belly fires purred sweetly. “Silly Boots.”
Pure mush. Zuziana found herself grinning uncontrollably. Just like herself and Ri’arion, not so? Odd that Aranya had detested this Dragoness on first sight, then … how very peculiar. Never, in all they had been through together, had her best friend behaved in this way. What was different now?
Aranya said, “Right. Enough healing for you two love-parakeets for the time being.” Dragons, start throwing everyone out of the hole.
So they did.
* * * *
Having Dragons toss droves of people out of a hole three miles above the Cloudlands was one way of ensuring mass obedience. Aranya cared more for life than sensibilities, and she felt energised rather than shocked by her own paucity of concern. Jump, or die. Simple – or not so simple, aye? So the sky was murky, full of storm and Drakes, and to most minds, a fall into the Cloudlands represented certain death. Nothing she could say about incoming Land Dragons or Dragonwings winging aloft to catch them would help now. She had family groups tie themselves together and jump. Some people were tossing their belongings into the swinging hole. Children and even adults wailed, but most appeared phlegmatic. Maybe she would have small Runners try to recover some of the chattels, if they could find time, for she also understood the pain of facing the loss of home and identity.
Turning to Asturbar, Aranya found him back upon his squelchy, blood-soaked boots, looking pale but determined. Perhaps that was due in part to an Iridium Dragoness standing possessively at his shoulder, her eyes fiercely a-gleam.
The Amethyst Dragoness’ jutting chin and fiery gaze answered fire for fire, giving no quarter. “Reports from the other half of the Island say the Drakes already penetrated the halls. Hundreds have died, I’m sorry to report. I have Dragons scouring the hallways in search of survivors. You can feel the change in atmospheric pressure already. Iridiana, you look ready to fly?”
The other Dragoness nodded pensively.
“Take it easy, hear me?” You can fight on borrowed reserves, but you’ll pay for it later. Here’s some data from the Dragonfriend’s lore. You’ll take Boots?
The Shapeshifter’s eyes flashed. He’s mine.
Aranya winced, breaking eye contact. The other Dragoness must know her animosity.
And that worthless lump of soot over there is Aranya’s, so you can just wipe that glower off your face, girly Dragon, sniped Zip.
We are not ungrateful, Iridiana returned proudly.
Aye. Neither was she, for together they had achieved the nigh-impossible and destroyed a Thoralian before he could sneak away as he had done many times before. A deed worthy beyond measure.
This Dragoness would make a formidable ally.
Human Aranya whispered, We make a habit of collecting the odd ones, aye, Dragonsoul?
Like the Remoyan? chirped her Dragoness.
Asturbar accepted his torso armour from an aide and clipped it into place with the solicitous air of a man who had recently been examining the world beneath his abdominals, and was grateful to have that wound closed over. Again, Aranya’s inner artist noted the Dragonesque details of his physique. The thickly mounded ropes of abdominal muscles. The lack of body fat that lent his pectorals and deltoids extraordinary definition, as if they had been sculpted from pure Dragon muscle – and the Iridium made a narked growl as she observed Aranya’s assessment. Worse and worse! It was very hard not to stare, for he truly was a giant among men.
Apparently oblivious to her scrutiny, Asturbar hefted his battle-axe and said, “Let’s fly, noble Dragoness!”
The chamber was empty at last. Now, all that remained was to see the people safe.
With a deft nosedive, the Amethyst Shapeshifter dropped through the short tunnel and then flicked her wings wide to catch the breeze, darting out from beneath the bulk of the falling Island. Cliffs and rocks wheeled dizzily past on either flank – she swerved between the two halves, deliberately seeking to enter the split in search of survivors. As the monoliths crashed together, however, she was forced to hover for a moment or face the danger of being crushed. Iridiana was not nearly as experienced a flyer. She wobbled and then steadied in a poor wing position on Aranya’s right flank, scanning her surrounds eagerly. Of course. The Dragoness could see properly for the first time in years; a low warble of delight-horror emerged from her long, slender throat.
Casting aside an odd pang at their similarities, Aranya scanned the battlefield with all senses alert. The two halves of the Mistral Fires’ Island tumbled away slowly, marked by trails of debris, lingering smoke and a few Human bodies dangling among the wreckage. The Drakes were voracious feeders, uncaring of what meat they preferred or even whether or not it happened to be fresh. Blast marks and scores pitted the undersides of the Islands. The millions-strong ragion population, despite their general hardiness, had been decimated by the marauding hunters. These Islands must surely fall.
Below and to the sides, a languid aerial dance developed between Thoralian’s forces and the rising Dragonwings. “Genholme,” she said, pointing for the benefit of Asturbar and Iridiana. She explained the lay of their forces in clipped sentences. How the Metallic Fortress Dragons would use their Bullets to snatch people out of the air and whisk them to the safety of the flying metallic fortresses. The marauding Land Dragons below, who synchronised their efforts with the Dragonwings to burn away the thickest knots of Drakes. The aerial bombardment was dense yet astonishingly precise. Furthermore, she had commanded the Dragonwings to sweep across from the direction of due East toward the Northwest, cutting off the main body of incoming Drakes from th
e beleaguered transport Dragons. No person had been lost to the Cloudlands as yet, but the losses in the air and inside the Islands were severe, any mistake punished by instant death. The slow-moving Air Breathers were two hundred leagues behind but making their best speed across difficult terrain.
Away to the Northeast, protected by a huge body of Drakes, a patch of Cloudlands boiled upward in immense grey pillars of moisture and debris – the location of the First Egg. The disturbance on the magical level was a phenomenon in its own right. Iridiana acted openly spooked. Aranya tried to reach out again with healing power in order to steady the Dragoness, but her chaotic mind repulsed her overture painfully.
Sorry, Iridiana apologised privately. I told you I’m … unstable. The Egg’s magic sings strangely to me.
Same here. Here are some constructs and mental routines to help –
I’m not yours to cosset – the other Dragoness pulled up with an irate snort. What I am is an ungrateful wretch, assuredly! All instruction welcome, o Star Dragoness.
Aranya’s laugh was a half-strangled gurgle. O lofty Star Dragoness? When I am the one who wishes to be in your paws?
You do? Oh, I … oh Aranya …
That note of realisation in Iridiana’s voice and her accompanying sympathy were unbearable, stoking the crucible of grief that always ignited within her when she considered Thoralian’s bequest to her. Revenge could never satisfy, she realised now. Nor would wishing to pull up the Cloudlands and hide beneath them for all the rest of her years under the suns. She must pursue healing. She must develop a thicker hide!
Mercy … how could she survive this?
Gruffly, Aranya said, Is that how you two fly – in paw, so to speak?
He’s too big for my spine spikes, Iridiana responded with a rueful chuckle.
I did wonder at first if he was some unknown form of Dragon, Aranya admitted. One glance at Asturbar, and the Iridium started steaming audibly all over again. This was not a competition! Below, her Dragon sight spied Ardan being dragonet-handled away by Sapphire and her crew, heading for a Runner who would deliver him on to the tender ministrations of Yiisuriel and her kin.