by Marc Secchia
After some one hundred and seventy leagues the canyon with its handy airstream petered out upon a vast, flat plain stippled with almighty cylindrical fungal growths sporting a tasteful variety of colours – Zip dubbed them throw-up yellow, the green of ultimate putrescence, and ghastly grey-blue. Here after five hours of running, they cut across the swathe of destruction left by their allies the best part of three days before, a churned-up path nine miles wide.
In keeping with their previous agreement, they conversed with Yiisuriel via coded longwave communication, informing her of their success and Azhukazi’s death. The Air Breather welcomed the news and responded with a report on the ongoing battle at the entrance to the Passage of Darkness. Apparently, it was a tunnel that delved beneath the mountains, which measured a staggering three leagues wide by four and a half tall! Ardan’s mind practically fell over in a quivering heap just to think upon it. Indeed, the tunnel was large enough to accommodate Yiisuriel herself!
Thoralian’s forces had blockaded the entryway to a depth of thirty miles with whatever they could lay their paws on, mostly the debris created by destroying the magical doors which had previously concealed the legendary route from most eyes. Their allies responded by having Land Dragons climb the Air Breathers’ flanks in their thousands to form living batteries of eye cannons, and were blasting the living pith out of anything that did or did not move in that area – the greatest barrage in history, Yiisuriel pointed out proudly. The backing Cognates, Living Springs and Blast-Runners supplied additional services, such as removing molten slag and Drake bones, or blowing up particularly stubborn patches of defence.
“Don’t quote me on this, ever,” said Zip, “but did anyone else get the impression that Yiisuriel was actually having fun over there? Perish the thought!”
“Even the greatest among us might learn new skills,” Ardan said sententiously, before reaching out to smack Aranya sharply upon the backside. “Eh, darling?”
“What?” She jumped. “What does that mean?”
“Oops, mistook you for Zuziana.”
“As if!”
“Random swatting of Remoyans. It’s generally good for the Island-World.”
Aranya glared at him, tapping her right foot and folding her arms tightly across her torso. “You’d better not be making a habit of swatting other men’s wives on the backside, Ardan of Ur-Naphtha – not even in your imagination!”
“Wow, you’re strict,” he complained.
She batted his questing hand away from the region of her hip. “No. Off-limits until you apologise.”
Ardan said, “What are you teaching Yazina?”
“Not to look at Asturbar and Iridiana. They’re terrible,” she quipped. When the pair did not respond, she called more loudly, “When are you two planning on surfacing for air?”
Wow, that’s what I’d say, petal, Zip said admiringly.
Not releasing Iridiana from his grasp, Asturbar called, “Oh, learn to be quiet, woman!”
“Asturbar,” Iridiana protested.
“You too,” he said, returning to kissing her with the air of a bandit handling a strumpet. That did him no favours, for his girlfriend transformed in a flash. He recoiled. “Ouch!”
“Oh, sorry,” Iridiana lamented. “I’m not even sure what this form is … you’re bleeding! Oh, Boots, I’m so sorry!”
“Yes, I am deeply wounded,” Asturbar growled. “Comes from kissing a pretty, draconic … er …”
“Bramble bush?” Zip tried.
“Spike-a-shrub?” said Aranya.
“I’m not sure if those are tentacles or stems,” Ardan pointed out. “They sure look sharp, however.”
Asturbar was still feeling his lower lip with an injured air. “You cut me.”
The mauve bush managed to form its complex, ever-twisting and intertwining vine-like structures into a remarkable pout that stood all of seven feet tall. “Next time, shall I rather allow you to make a public nuisance of yourself, o mighty, muscular, mountainous Azingloriax warrior with a teensy-tiny cut on his lip?”
Laying one hand upon the haft of his colossal battle-axe, Marshal Asturbar sneered, “You’d sure make for a pretty pile of kindling, girl.”
“Stinking fumaroles, a fine blow!” Zip crowed.
Iridiana sidled toward her man, three-inch thorns all a-bristle. “How’s about a nice hug, you great big sap?”
“Suddenly, I’m feeling remarkably skittish,” Asturbar said, twitching away.
The Remoyan gurgled, “I challenge you to extract yourself from this windroc’s breakfast with dignity, Marshal Asturbar.”
Humans silly-funny, Sapphire chortled happily. To her, many Human customs were hilarious, especially kissing. Sapphire was also unimpressed by Human necks, which were lamentably unsuited to nuzzling each other – except Aranya’s neck, which was apparently the exception. Ardan was sure the dragonet would wear calluses upon Aranya’s neck and shoulders, the way she loved to wind herself so close.
The Chaos Shifter waved a needle-edged frond somewhat acrimoniously in his direction. “How’s about I caress your rear end with this, my lovely man?”
“Erm, now –”
“These points look quite poisonous, don’t they?” she continued implacably, growing toward him with a sinuous, coiling movement.
Asturbar almost tripped over his boots as he stumbled backward. “Iridiana!”
“I’ll just – oh!”
Everyone laughed as she snapped into a tiny dragonet form with extremely frilly pink wings and a slender, feminine body that seemed to be comprised of a thorax and a stinger.
Curving her tail overhead, she sprang for his throat with a sharp hiss!
Iridiana! Sharp as ever, Aranya whisked her away with a touch of Storm power, and then corralled her sister with a soft word, Easy, Dragoness. They meant nothing by it.
The little creature snapped at the bounds of her air prison.
Yours is a fierce, tempestuous and altogether magnificent expression of beauty, Aranya coaxed. Come now. Be at peace, and remember who you are. I will release you now.
A half-second later, Iridiana switched through two dracofloral forms before returning, not without an uncertain wobble, to her Human form. She apologised to Boots and then reached out to clasp Aranya’s shoulder. “Thanks. So, what did we learn?”
With a coy glance at Ardan, the Princess of Immadia deadpanned, “In today’s lesson, we learned that kisses are proven to inflame a Dragoness’ emotions. And, their backsides are lethal territory!”
How the men roared with laughter!
* * * *
Aranya and Iridiana fell asleep holding hands.
It seemed the perfect opportunity to try to contact Fra’anior; a balmy evening during which Leandrial had several times climbed long slopes that led into the foothills of the mighty mountain range that separated northern Wyldaroon from the Rift Storm. The Air Breathers had been forced to take a long but uneventful detour westward to bypass the rolling ranges of hills, following a route that Yiisuriel had described as suspiciously smooth. Sailing or rolling – their underlying pods could not be properly described as feet or paws – Yiisuriel’s kin had achieved unprecedented speeds of up to seven and a half leagues per hour. That said, it took them over half a day to decelerate again!
As they zeroed in on Yiisuriel’s position, this latest low mountain range had at last brought Leandrial’s head and shoulders up out of the Cloudlands. The evening was hazy with dust in the air, probably thrown up by the Land Dragon barrage that was still a hundred and fifty miles distant, borne toward them upon an icy breeze that smelled sharply of smelted minerals, like furnace slag. The setting suns sank into the horizon huge and fiercely orange. Dimly, Aranya heard Leandrial instructing Yazina in the optical effects created by volcanic gases and particulate matter thrown into the atmosphere. The scene was indeed breathtaking, with serried ranks of mountains ascending in disorderly ranks out of a dense blanket of billowy clouds as far as the eye could perceive to
the North and East, all fired and burnished in the most glorious golds, saffron and vinaceous reds by the suns-set.
Settling her head upon a travel pack, Aranya tried to focus upon inviting Iridiana within. The girl’s mind was as capricious as ever, as far removed from the steady presence of Ri’arion or Ardan as could be imagined. It took a great deal of concentration to keep grappling with its ostensibly infinite number of chaotic manifestations, which in turn kept her from sleep.
I’m frightened, Aranya, her sister breathed.
That did not help either. Fra’anior will adore you, she replied warmly.
What if he treats me as did Yiisuriel-ap-Yuron?
Anger flashed to the surface of her mind. Then I’ll have words with that – oh! He was the creator Dragon, after all. Iridiana chuckled sleepily at her response, yet seemed comforted. The Immadian added, I’ll admit, our relationship was not easy at first, until I realised how similar we appeared in our draconic forms. Then, finally, the brass dral dropped.
You’ll protect me, wing sister?
More than that, I’m a sister-sister. Aranya willed her eyes to shut, and stay that way. Always –
–and forever, Iridiana finished the thought for her. Three breaths later, she was breathing slowly and evenly, and Aranya was left to wonder how people did that. Wave a pillow-roll beneath Ardan’s nose and his brain shut down for the night. He could sleep through an earthquake. She woke if Sapphire snuffled in her sleep, or one of the other dragonets so much as squeaked. Ardan just snored on.
Was life not horribly unfair?
Laughing at herself, she eventually drifted off.
* * * *
“Iridiana!”
Zip cried out with joy as the silver-blue girl appeared in Aranya’s soul space, that desolate yet unaccountably cosy area atop an utterly impossible spire of rock. She had peered down there. It just vanished into nothingness. Vanished!
Nyahi appeared confused. She had managed to bring along clothes in the form of a sky-blue version one of her long belts, as Ri’arion had amusingly disparaged her scandalously brief skirts. In a second, however, her gaze dropped to the petite bump that was just beginning to show on Zuziana’s tummy. Alright, she had pulled her dress a touch tighter to emphasize it. She was inordinately proud of that little bobble. She could not wait to show her family!
“Zuziana!” the other girl gushed. “Holy Fra’anior, I can’t believe – we should have done this before! I’m ashamed to admit, you’re prettier than I had imagined. Small wonder you turned a monk’s head.”
“Where’s Aranya?” asked Zip, holding out her arms to assure Iridiana that the hug she had intended was not only appreciated, it was mandatory.
Nyahi hugged her bashfully. “I feel as if we know each other already. How are the – you know?”
“Fluttering away,” Zip smiled.
“Three?”
“Aranya showed me how to check. Aye. Three little – well, it’s a surprise. I’ve an Thorali, but I’m not telling. Maybe if you ask nicely. Like my bump?” Heavens, Iridiana was just as annoyingly tall as her sister, and fabulous in that exotic Immadian-Ha’athiorian way. Sculpted cheekbones. Lissom legs. A smile that never stopped at the corners of the mouth, but found its way into sparkling eyes that crinkled at the corners, and welcomed her as a friend.
“May I?” Iridiana reached out. “Can you feel them?”
“I think if you use your draconic senses you should be able to. I’m told that Shapeshifters are even able to speak to their egglings in the womb. Oh – Islands’ greetings, best friend!” Zip bit her lip slightly as she emphasized that status. Not a competition, Remoy! “Just introducing the mighty wrigglers to their Aunty Iridiana.”
“Oh!” Nyahi gasped in unabashed delight.
“Bump check?” asked Aranya, in exact synch with her Dragoness twin.
Iridiana stared! “Two – how?”
“Dragoness. Human,” said Zip, pointing out the differences. “I can’t manage this trick yet, but Hualiama Dragonfriend does it. Might be an ability unique to Star Dragonesses.”
The two Aranyas chuckled, before swooping to pop tandem kisses upon Zuziana’s cheeks. “Bump’s looking rainbows over Islands!” said Human Aranya, patting her stomach, while the Dragoness explained to Nyahi, “The Azure loves to have a fuss made of her. She’s shameless, as I’m sure you’ve learned by now. Come on. Let’s all cuddle cutesy Zuzi.”
Ten seconds later, Zip had to wave her hands and yell, “Mercy! This pregnant woman needs her air, and I’ll thank the three of you twins for giving me some – a severe case of brain discombobulation!”
“There’s air here?” asked Human Aranya.
“Three twins?” Iridiana giggled, linking arms with an Aranya to either side. “So, the patterns maketh the Dragoness, I see. Can you manifest in your Dragoness form here as well?”
“Aye.”
“Oh, here comes Fra’anior now,” Zip heard herself say. “Oh. Oh, mercy me, it really is … he’s that inconceivably ginormous? Oh Aranya, help …”
Chapter 24: The Passage of Dark Fires
GOT HER! DRAGONSOUL smiled at Humansoul. They had both caught Zuziana with a fraction of a second to spare.
Fainting again. That Remoyan, said Human Aranya.
I’ll make her comfortable and check her over, said Dragonsoul. You take Iridiana in – oh, wow! Did she just … no, back to Human again … for a second, that is.
Poor Nyahi. She could barely control herself as she tried to stand alongside Aranya. She strained, but her form wobbled continuously. She glanced up at the armada of obsidian clouds racing toward them with unnatural speed, and flickered through five forms before clutching her sister’s arm.
Shh, Nyahi. Now, she held a handful of petals. He’s just a touch awesome, that’s all.
He’s … pop, pant, flicker … really … dragonet, plant, cactus, person … coming! Fra’anior, the Great Onyx …
Our grandfather, aye. Peace, please! She was nonplussed to find herself addressing a striking diamond wristlet which covered her left forearm from the base of her thumb to the point of her elbow. Again? It quivered in terror. Nyahi, pull yourself together.
I am together. Sort of, the diamonds pouted.
He’s going to love you. Fra’anior does rather define the art of the grand entrance, however. As in, generating bands of storm clouds that covered half of the sky, with seething billows of black-upon-black thunderheads laced with pure white lightning stretching from the roots of her soul space to a height ostensibly miles above their vantage point. The thunderheads seemed to exhale before drawing together into frightful solidarity. A fragrant gust buffeted the mountaintop. Then, the watchers beheld the immensity of his onyx-armoured flanks sliding out of atramental canyons, the coiling body and tail that reached way, way back into the storm, and now a septet of immense muzzles mounted upon sinuous necks brought to the fore the unbearably conflagrant fourteen-fold gaze of Fra’anior, the Onyx of Ages and the Storm of Storms, and as Aranya not for the first time fell to one knee and bowed to her ancestor, she both saw and felt him smile.
ARANYA! THOU, THE WHITEST OF MINE FIRES!
Was it just that every word emerged as the sevenfold blast of an earthquake-like trump, that she felt so insignificant before him? Yet his ebullient greeting assuaged her feelings.
She forced herself to rise. Thou, Fra’anior, my hearts’ greatest storm. I have brought a gift for thee.
A gift, saist thou?
Oops. She had not intended to tantalise. Fra’anior’s instant curiosity was a palpable force. His jaws cracked open in surprise. A low rumbling rose from deep within his throats. The tempo and intensity of his all-mantling lightning storm redoubled, sparking in jagged ferocity about and between his heads, across his skull spikes and even skittering across his slightly revealed fangs. The seven heads focussed intensely upon the small group gathered upon her mountaintop.
A … a person, o Fra’anior, she faltered. Privately, she said, Nyahi.
Human form, please. Quick wings.
Her Chaos magic appeared to be misfiring rather badly, because the Onyx Dragon’s gaze leaped from the prone form of Zuziana to the bracelet-dragonet-bush-firestorm that raced about Aranya, and his brow ridges drew down slightly.
Iridiana! Behave.
As his fire eyes seethed with rainbow hues of curiosity, Fra’anior rumbled, I should like to meet the Remoyan, but this canst surely not be thine companion, the fearless dragonet called Sapphire?
Sapphire would enjoy that description! No … not quite, said Aranya, attempting in vain to corral her sister.
She might more readily have caught a spray of water with her bare toes.
Two of Fra’anior’s heads swivelled to gaze backward to wherever in time and space he had appeared from. Our time together must perforce be short, I fear. Be quick about producing this most whimsical gift – if thou canst – and accept mine hearts o’er shadowing regrets.
Perhaps it was the humour-love indicators in his Dragonish, that mellow if thou canst, which decided Nyahi. With a soft cry she succeeded in finding her Human form once more. Her hand slipped into Aranya’s. Most diffidently she stepped out of her sister’s shadow. Almost perishing for fear, she gazed up at the legendary Ancient Dragon.
Aranya said, O Fra’anior, I would like you to meet Iridiana.
He gazed upon her with patent puzzlement. She is – you – how? Thou hast … multiplied?
His spluttering was a delight. Four heads jostled robustly, gazing down at Nyahi from various angles with intense interest. Then, the two trailing muzzles whipped about so fast that their lashing tangled up with the fifth, which had been trying to sneak glances past the eager front foursome.
His realisation detonated over them like a volcanic eruption: DOTH MINE FIRES DECEIVE ME?