by Marc Secchia
Shut your oversized, flapping gob and get airborne before I kick you so hard, you’ll bounce off the moon!
Clear enough.
Raising his wings, he roused himself into a proper flap.
As they worked hard to gain altitude, he called over, How’s it working out with your new armourer?
Very good. She knows her business – no experience with Dragon armour as yet, but the skills are solid, as is the attitude. I will be pleased with her work.
Unusual for the gruff Dragon to be so effusive.
Could this strange business of regard for Humans be infectious? Watch out, mighty Dragon! Cough, sniffles and an appalling case of Humanitis?
Your sire took a great risk, he commented. I never would have thought it of Blaze the Devastator – but I don’t know that your old Clan will be so forgiving. Will you search for your dam in the North?
Aye, Master.
Good. Consider this an essential part of your formation. A true warrior understands who they are. They might not like or accept everything they discover. That is a different issue. Tracing the pattern of who we have been informs our present, and allows us to hone our training for the future. You see, Dragon, some things we cannot choose about ourselves, but some things we can shape, actively and mindfully, to become who we want to be. Your scales will be the colour they will be. Nothing can change that. But you can choose to hate your sire, or shun him, or accept his flaws, or anything between. Understand?
I do. He looked to the day, to the soft azure-orange sky and a towering weather front building in the East. It isn’t easy, Master Juggernaut.
Aye. It will take time, is all I can say. No other can fly this course for you.
What nuances of memory traced his words, Dragon could not say. In silence, they winged up into the great dome of the sky, where Dragons reigned supreme.
Juggernaut said, Chalice spoke highly of you, Dragon.
She did, he replied, keeping his tone neutral. Interesting how he brought her name up.
Show me. Race me to that peak.
Only if you will promise to hear me out on a particular subject when I beat you wings and paws down, Master.
The warrior glared at him. What is this?
A promise I made to someone.
Huh. See if you can keep up, youngster!
With a great clap of his wings he was off, surging into the lead with the power and grace that Dragon expected of him. Juggernaut was a subtle, effective flyer perhaps out of keeping with his name, but definitely in keeping with his combat philosophy. Never waste energy. Efficiency increased speed, keeping one alive.
For half of the three-mile flight, he struggled to find that novel rhythm again. He fell five Dragon lengths behind, then ten, as his ineffective exertions snarled him up. The orange Dragon powered ahead, indefatigable.
Twizzling his neck, Juggernaut roared, Don’t make a fool of Chalice, youngling! Fly!
Second time.
Perhaps he was right, and Chalice’s intuition was on target …
Shutting his eyes – decent sight was overrated, anyways – he set upon painting swells upon an imaginary ocean. His body began to undulate. Suddenly, as if something clicked, his parts all began to work together and he accelerated past Juggernaut as if the older Dragon were hovering in place, not making his maximum effort. Gruff laughter! No chance even of matching him. He hurtled toward the peak and around it while the older Dragon was yet more than half a mile off, his own laughter thundering out of his chest for sheer elation.
Stalling and swerving to fall in line with his slower wing companion for the return journey, the Master said in a tone of clear approval, Old Dragon, new tricks. Is that a swimming stroke? Could you teach it to me?
So that you can impress her? he said lightly, before he thought the better of his words.
A fiery growl thundered across his bow. If we are talking about whom I think we are talking about, Dragon, then it is more than clear that it is you who stokes her fires.
I thought so, too. By my sire’s egg, I was badly mistaken.
What? Last night, her eloquence rose for your fires. I am not mistaken.
Dragon met Juggernaut’s gaze with all the honesty he could muster. Do you want to know why?
Surprise me.
Why could he never approach these matters in a sensible way? He had just thrust his talons into all the arguments he had been so carefully mustering, and ripped everything apart. Blitz the Fritz in full cry. How he hated that old nickname!
He said, She hoped to gain favour by supporting your position.
The older Dragon gave this argument short shrift, barking out a rude response.
Dragon said, Hear me. I went to Chalice the Grinder this morning expecting that she favoured me. As it turns out, that is a common mistake males make due to a muscular issue with her eyelids. What she wanted to know, was why you shun her? She asked me to speak with you, since we share –
This discussion is over!
You promised you would hear me.
Not on this subject – GNARR!! I must. Teach me the wing stroke before I clout you around the ear canals. This is how we do it.
With a limber barrel roll, he suddenly left his position at Dragon’s right wingtip and turned up directly above him. By his wings, had those Talon Clan greens been capable of such a manoeuvre, he would not be here today to remember their meeting. In a second, he felt the older Dragon’s paws touch and grip his shoulders. His hind paws rested four feet above his haunches, also holding on without any use of the talons. Double Dragon. He had not known this could be done, either. Juggernaut still worked his wings, but the connection allowed him to sense exactly what the lower Dragon was doing.
After a short struggle, he worked out how to demonstrate the stroke pattern without snarling up both sets of wings.
Faster, Juggernaut ordered. This uses the muscles very differently to what I am used to.
It’s strange, isn’t it?
A very different dynamic. I will have to study this. I’m not sure I could ever do the stroke as naturally as you, but it does appear to offer incredible speed over shorter distances – given high energy output.
Surprise value for combat? Dragon suggested.
Aye!
Together, they passed over his training ground, whereupon the warrior Dragon broke off and led the way to a hot spring that fed a wide, mauve-tinged pool. Here, they settled into the steaming waters. Only then did he growl that he was ready to listen.
Chalice the Grinder was older than Dragon had supposed, thirty-six years of age. She had been mated before, but her mate had perished of a brittle bone disease. She had cared faithfully for him during a long, lair-bound illness of eleven years. She described herself as socially awkward – rather similar to someone else with a brand new white hide, one might argue. The tic in her eyes, which manifested when she was stressed, often led Dragons to believe she was flirtatious and coy. On the contrary, she was shy and often unsure of herself. Juggernaut’s behaviour toward her had struck her as particularly harsh and unjustified.
Everyone knows I desire no mate, Juggernaut said quietly. However, I may have encouraged her … that was a mistake. I don’t dislike Chalice. I was not fully aware of her story.
Sinking deeper into the pool, Dragon muttered, I’ve no idea why she asked me to speak to you. I’ve no talent at relationships.
The Princess seems to have survived your dubious talents, unscathed.
The dry joke brought forth an even dryer chuckle. Master, why were you jealous when Chalice spoke highly of me?
Now, his gaze lidded. Was I? Why are you suggesting this?
Because I’m young and idealistic and a fool when it comes to females? he offered glumly.
Youngling! Spit that rubbish out this instant!
Dragon blinked as Juggernaut’s roar swooshed hot water into his face. Eh?
I don’t stand for lies. What I also do not stand for, is brash young Dragons trying to tell me how to f
eel and run my life! Have you finished mangling this subject? Or are you going to plead that I give this Dragoness a chance?
No, Master.
A low growl across the pond turned into bubbles as the warrior Dragon immersed himself. He came up snorting and shaking out his wings in pleasure. Marvellous substance, water. Truly extraordinary how it could be so many things – cleansing, refreshing, warming, terrifying, life-giving.
An eye full of yellow fury glared across the waters.
Courage, Dragon.
Quietly, he said, Perhaps due to my being half a Sea Dragon, o Juggernaut, I have a particular magical capability which allows me to scent sense something of the feelings of both Dragons and Humans. I am not skilled in the art by any means, but I will be open and tell you that you may not realise exactly how you feel about Chalice, and – I AM SPEAKING!
The eye blinked. Aye, he dared. Dragon feared a world of pain was about to erupt. His hearts bounded around inside his chest like a quintet of startled deer. No. He would finish. Bury the disaster he had been. Juggernaut could do what he liked afterward; that was his responsibility.
Holding up a paw, he managed to say steadily, You’re right. It is absolutely not my place to speak to you of such things, Master. I lack the faintest inklings regarding your past, your inner thoughts and state, or anything else – but if you asked this idealistic fool over here what he would want to say to you, then it is simply this: Give yourself a chance. You do have fiery regard for Chalice. Maybe you are denying it for reasons you cannot divulge? You took me in and mentored me when I saw nothing of my true self, only pain. I know little, but one thing is clear to me: you are worth loving, and deserve to be loved.
How naïve he sounded. Blergh. Wash the tongue with a caustic!
When Juggernaut did not speak, appearing to have gone to sleep, he surreptitiously pulled himself out of the water and began to pad away.
Dragon.
He glanced back over his shoulder. Master?
You do know that you not only have the biggest butt in these mountains, you’re also the biggest pain in the butt?
What the – he blinked, ten times. The grin that showed just above the water did not change in the slightest. Rude, yet true in the most infuriating way possible. Did that mean …
I will speak with Chalice. Now, get out of here before I loosen a few of your fangs as I really ought to.
Result!
* * * *
That afternoon, they packed and prepared for the northerly run to Amboraine. While it was not far as the Dragon flew, the vertical height of the final pass posed the main challenge to even the draconic traveller – a whopping twenty-three thousand feet. The alternative was a four-day flight around the mountains to the East, which carried the distinct possibility that they might encounter a few Terror Clan friends once more.
The type of friends who only wanted to get close enough to slip a talon between one’s ribs.
He was not a happy Dragon.
“Did you know your new patterning makes it look as if fires are playing along your flanks when you fly?” Azania chirped.
“How nice.”
“I can trim the excess hide a bit more around your head, where it’s looking tatty.”
“Tatty? You are too kind, Highness.”
“How is my hair?”
“You tamed the frizz? Astonishing.”
“Frizz? Bad, bad Dragon!” she growled, making to stomp off in a huff. “You’re in a foul mood – let me go!”
Clasping her in his right forepaw, he wagged the fore-talon of the left beneath her definite little chin. “Behave. Just because I’m outvoted on the route doesn’t mean I have to like it. Apologies for the undeserved growling session. So, I observe that you have used a slightly heavier, silkier hair oil with a wonderful fragrance – Hulbine lilies and attar of crimson desert rose, am I correct?”
“Er … aye?”
Her tone implied how weird it was that a male Dragon should know such feminine matters so well.
“Very good,” he purred, almost tripping over his own ego in the process of adding, “the quality of curl and the lustre of the individual filaments, to my disbelief, has improved from merely arresting to outright jaw-dropping. Congratulations, Highness.”
“Dragon, stop mocking me.”
Instantly, he regretted his tone. She was sensitive about her hair, just as Dragons were sensitive about their scales. “The admiration is sincere. Listen to what I say, not to how I say it.”
“Do as I say, not as I do?”
“Quite,” he grinned, then ironed his lips straight. “Are you also nervous about flying North? Not the immediate North, I mean …”
“Aye. How are you with people kissing your paws, Dragon?”
“Blergh.”
“I thought so. Therefore, settle for my grateful thanks. I had not realised what was making me so ratty.”
“Ratty?”
“The Human equivalent of a nasty scale rash.”
“Ooh, how you conjure up my very worst nightmares.”
Laughing, they walked up together to Juggernaut’s lair, where the Princess fetched her talon dagger and informed him that she was his beautician. Purr! In a manner of speaking. She tidied up the loose scales and hide with a steady hand, sitting right atop his head. This drew a number of very strange looks from the Dragons who were still about. When she fished a great glob of brown wax out of his previously infected ear with a wooden spoon, Dragon teased her that she would shortly have Dragons lining up for the full treatment.
Much better. He could hear all of her complaints at his awful jokes now.
True enough, Flare the Bonfire shortly wandered over to inquire if a Princess could not be persuaded to check his ear canals, since he had not been hearing well on the left side for seven years.
“Oh, sister dearest?” Azania called sweetly.
“What is it?”
“Could you help honoured Flare here, please? It’s a medical issue – a hearing problem.”
Twenty minutes later, having gathered an audience of fifteen increasingly voluble and amused Dragons who were nothing if not keen to offer the best advice, she deftly employed a blacksmith’s pair of pliers to extract the offending object from his ear.
“A blue diamond!” she gasped.
“Too much rolling about in your hoard, honoured Flare?” Warpaw the Wrecker chortled.
“Seems so, seems so.”
He shook his head, completely forgetting he had a Princess aboard. Chalice snaffled her up before she fell too badly.
“Mmm, nice catch,” Juggernaut approved. “Starting with your own Princess, Chalice?”
“I’d prefer a Prince – with respect, Inzashu,” she said shyly, squeezing her eyes shut before the quivering became too pronounced.
Azania said, “You could start a whole new tradition of kidnapping pretty Princes for sport and holding them ransom, until their Dragon-riding Princesses come to the rescue.”
“A modern twist on the old ways,” Dragon agreed heartily.
Flare passed the diamond to Inzashu. “It’s yours, with my thanks.”
“Honoured Dragon, I could not possibly … I am grateful, of course,” she spluttered. “A king’s jewels should be proud to showcase such a gemstone. It’s huge!”
“Better out than in, I’ve always said,” he replied testily. He ambled off as if that comment settled the matter for good.
Inzashu asked, “What do I do with this?”
“Well, don’t get it stuck in your earhole,” Dragon advised.
* * * *
A bright and fair dawn greeted the travellers. Down in Juggernaut’s warm sinkhole, energetic birdsong was the order of the day, along with the raucous honking of a group of blue-necked mallards somewhere down near the hot springs. Loud feather-brains! Was there time for roast duck times ten? Probably not, unless he tried to flash-barbecue them with his new skills?
Juggernaut stumped over to greet the team loading Dragon. “
Chalice will fly with you.”
“How come?” Azania asked.
“When Yardi recruits my armourers and blacksmiths, I’ll want them to travel here. There’s a viable ground route into the mountains from near Dorline, especially in the summer, but it’ll require an escort from someone who knows the territory,” he explained. “Chalice can bring them safely through.”
“That’s a good idea,” Dragon agreed.
“I’m full of good ideas,” came the baleful reply, but he flicked wingtips with the pretty yellow Dragoness, making her jump. “Hope to see you back here soon, Chalice? Don’t tarry.”
The Dragoness shook her head as if she had received a robust wallop.
Juggernaut flexed his muscles, and then shoulder-thumped Dragon on the way past. Low of voice, but at a volume he suspected was perfectly calculated to carry, he said, You look after her for me, alright?
Of course, Master.
His snigger turned into a stifled cough. Juggernaut needed a few lessons in tact, in his estimation, but the results appeared inarguable. By the time they were airborne, Chalice still did act as if she knew what she was doing with her wings. No need to flap, indeed. She floated in a bubble of happiness.
Sly old reptile. Juggernaut had not waited long to make his move on the Dragoness, had he?
Light white cumulous clouds drifted from the East, catching Ignis’ crimson blaze around their edges. The Princesses played at spotting different cloud animals as the two Dragons winged up out of the lair and down a long, slight slope toward the wall of a distant mountain range. Mighty peaks! Several were over thirty-one thousand feet in height, well beyond the height even a Dragon might fly with impunity – so tall, indeed, that their purple heads stood disrobed of the snow that blanketed their lower reaches.
They flew for forty-five miles along a snowbound valley that wound back upon itself like a constrictor, climbing steadily. At Chalice’s pace, this flight took the whole morning; selecting a spot where the dark ground and a couple of green bushes proclaimed the presence of a fumarole, Dragon brought them in for a landing. The Humans needed a break.
So did he, before they tackled that high pass.
Once the Humans had all dismounted and wandered off to hide behind bushes and stones, to Chalice’s amusement, she said to him, So, you spoke with Juggernaut?