by Marc Secchia
He glanced about. Fog?
Unseasonable but welcome, Dragon, one of the older Dragonesses called.
Aria said, Last night, my dam gave me command of fifty-two fine warriors. These Dragonesses have promised to follow us to the far side of Solixambria in support of the T’nagrun people. We just need to work out how to cross the ocean.
Azania nodded. Also, Charielle apologised for ‘testing my mettle’ last night with her comments regarding Humans – how very dry her irony – and promised a new era of cooperation with Isles Humans and beyond if the Ambassador to the Dragons can live up to her mighty title.
Ooh, the draconic backbite? he groused.
Quite. The rule of talon around here is to test a warrior’s mettle, the Princess replied. Being female, I am also up for testing.
Interesting leadership style. Certainly one way to keep one’s allies and enemies alike on the back paw, while providing a convenient excuse to wriggle out of blunders, too. Smart. He did not admire or condone the strategy, but he could see how it would work. Azania was more than up to the task. Not that he was biased. Not even to the tune of four feet and eight inches of snark-a-licious Human royalty.
Showtime.
Flexing his muscles in the most massive display he could physically achieve, Dragon twizzled his neck, flexed his wings, and prowled over to Aria with predatory intent. He distinctly heard her belly fires hit a pitch of excitement as he paused before her, and then lowered his muzzle to nuzzle hers, cheek to cheek in the draconic way.
May dawn’s fires burn as brightly in your eyes as upon your scales, Ariamyrielle Seaspray, he declared in ringing tones. Unorthodox. Hope that melted her hearts!
It’s rather foggy out, she grinned.
The metaphorical shall become literal the instant this fog burns away, he chuckled. Good morn, Princess. What’s the plan for the day?
Why, I wish to catch me a King, she purred.
More than fifty Dragons around her inhaled as one. Dragoness! So authentically draconic, even the Princess caught the vibe and played it up by pretending to flick out her wings and check her talons. Then, she bared her neat row of white teeth. Who’s ready to fly?
The murmur that rose from the Dragonesses was at once approving, zealous and the stuff of chills running up and down his spine.
Aria said, Flying to the south, we’ll pick up a troop of Anhoyal Rangers. We’ll need their help in two phases; firstly to infiltrate Zunityne and activate, brief and organise loyal forces there, and secondly, to help us infiltrate Lord Gazaram’s fortress and secure the King. We’ve learned that it’s deliberately been Dragon-proofed. Also, we need to learn the fate of Azerim’s four younger brothers and then plan our next move accordingly.
Four more brothers? Dragon echoed.
Aye, but as the crowned King, he’s the key, the cobalt warrior explained. We’re concerned that the hostages might have been split up as well. One for each rebel Lord, or something like that. The older King and Queen will be easily controlled due to their illness, and confined to their royal chambers.
That sounds messy, he growled unhappily. One thing I do know, is that the Palace building could be controlled by a small number of Dragonesses with orders to hold particular chambers or floors.
Princess and Dragoness stared identically at him.
We should isolate the royal chambers. It’s an idea, he said, on the defensive. How do Humans communicate quickly around these islands?
Homing pigeon, Aria said.
Then we know what to do, don’t we? It might take more than our number, however.
Aria narrowed her eyes. Do what, Dragon?
Oh. Was she not used to taking opinions from a male – did she not know him? Or could this be a culturally tricky moment? Hmm.
Best paw forward.
With careful respect, he said, Aria, if we can isolate the north of Human Island from being warned by pigeon, we take these Rangers and go hit the Palace – hard and fast. Dragon bombardment. Land them on the roof, the grounds, on balconies, whatever it takes. Is your dam still around? We’d need a screen of Dragons right across the width of the island to make this work.
The Dragoness shook her head slowly, eyes narrowed in calculation. Then, she smacked him upon the shoulder. Excellent idea. Council?
The two older Dragonesses plus three younger joined them and discussed the strategy briefly.
One more thing, he said. Who among these warriors is willing to carry a Human upon their neck?
Aria growled, Dragon, you are too much!
It’s a question of timing, he argued. We need to move fast. You aren’t going to catch anything infectious, or is this idea a stain on a warrior’s honour?
Not mine, said one of the older Dragonesses.
Another agreed, Nor mine. Carrying allies into battle is like carrying additional weapons. Whatever gets the job done.
Show of paws! Aria roared. Who is prepared to carry a Human Ranger into battle? About thirty Dragonesses raised their paws. The sweep of her eyes came around to Dragon. And what’s this?
He checked his splayed talons. I’ll carry ten. Just saying.
With an exasperated huff, she growled, You’ll do as you’re told, Dragon!
Best let that one go.
Ten seconds later, with a hop, skip and a jump, the Princess strapped herself aboard in her usual place. Dragon launched into the air the instant he had wing space, chasing the Dragonesses up into the thick, salt-scented mist.
Turning into quite the rascal, aren’t we? Azania thought privately to him.
It’s catching.
Are we having fun yet?
Picked up the attitude from this crazy desert Princess I kidnapped in the south.
Mister ‘I’ll carry ten,’ who were you trying to impress?
One guess.
After communicating with Charielle Seaspray and receiving her agreement to support their plan, the Dragoness army swept south in a flying wedge, slipstreaming one another in perfect formation. Frightening discipline. Aria was one of four blues. Another was the oldest Dragoness, fifty-one year-old Yalia, who was a much lighter blue than Aria, the colour of ocean shallows over a reef. The other two were a most unusual pair, twins hatched of a single egg, primarily turquoise in colouration with the usual dramatic wing flares and features that gave them that deceptive butterfly-like appearance.
Fifty-three cutthroat warrior Dragonesses, one Human Princess, and the white behemoth bringing up the final position of one arm of their wedge. Best escort beneath the suns. His chest hurt from feeling so swollen. Or was that the aftereffects of yesterday’s sprint?
They cut wing across the jungle-bearded spine of the island toward a wide bay said to be dotted with myriad, heavily overgrown islands. The foliage dripped in the mist, with individual trees rising out of the ghostly atmosphere to a height of two hundred feet. Dragon did not see too many dots, but as they headed out over the waters again after a three and a half hour flight, the mist began to lift enough for him to see the plethora of small, bougainvillea-overrun islands where the King’s crack regiment, the Anhoyal Rangers, had a jungle training camp.
Just the kind of place to do nasty things to fresh recruits.
However, the lead Dragoness spied a white sail just vanishing into the mist several miles ahead – how, Dragon had no idea, because the outer end of the bay was still soupy at best – and so the Rangers had the memorable shock of being tracked down by a flight of Dragonesses.
They saluted when they recognised Aria.
Dragon liked them at once. Gruff, rangy and nut-brown of skin, the Rangers were lightly armed and armoured, but had that air of understated confidence that pointed to them being men and women of action. He knew Dragons like this: Gangbuster and his own sire, Blaze, to name but a couple.
In neat formation, the small, speedy sailing craft pulled up on a sandbank large enough to accommodate fifty feisty, fiery females.
Aria brought over the Sankir, or troop captain, to meet h
er crew. The rest of his troop lined up neatly nearby. Eighty men and women on their way to Zunityne, having just received word of the coup, he was telling Aria.
“I am Sankir Farizam, ma’am, Dragons!” he saluted smartly.
“Sankir!” Azania smiled.
Poor fellow. He did a triple-take. Face, outfit, face. Tan as he was, he coloured as he realised that he had just looked the girl over with far more than polite interest. “Uh, ma’am … you do look familiar …”
Oof. He stank of embarrassment.
“You are not allowed to say, ‘my, how you’ve grown,’ because that would be wholly untrue.”
Her smile reached her eyes, daring him to make the connection.
“Princess! Princess … Azania, of T’nagru! Your Highness, what are you – excuse my astonishment – doing all the way out here? And, how? How wonderful you look, Highness. You’ve grown into a most striking young woman.”
She said, “It is lovely to meet you again, Sankir. It has been far too long – I recall that you were Azerim’s bodyguard during your tour of the kingdoms. We met in the Kingdom of Ayren, correct? You rescued me from a dreadful fate when Azerim and I were playing and we knocked over that sculpture.”
So, he must know that Azerim and Azania had made friends. What thoughts must be rushing through his mind just now? Dragon could almost hear his brain fizzing as it jumped to conclusions.
He grinned, “Aye, that I did. Soldiers! We have royal company – this is the Princess Azania of T’nagru, the Black Rose of the Desert.”
Eyes popped, but they all bowed respectfully, taking a step forward before swooping low in a style that must belong to these isles. Azania returned one of her flowing desert greetings. Once again, she was the smallest by a head; these islanders must be tall and rangy in frame, he thought, unless they only recruited to a particular minimum height? All were nut-brown of skin, shades lighter than her, however.
The soldier said, “The sea lanes cannot be open, surely?
“Sankir, I flew to the Archipelago with my Dragon.”
Dragon rumbled, “The Princess of T’nagru is my Dragon Rider, and I am honoured to fly together with her.”
Epic jaw-dangler.
He and Azania gave a wicked laugh at exactly the same time.
Turning to the men and women, the Princess said brightly, “So, given the rush to get to Zunityne, who would like to fly there aboard a Dragon?”
Exactly two women leaped into the air, shouting, “Me!”
The rest gasped as if she had slugged them each in the gut, simultaneously.
Chapter 28: Riders Aloft!
THE CHOSEN DRAGONESSES STARED at the Humans, and shuffled their paws in the sand. The chosen crack troops stared at the Dragons, and shuffled their boots in the sand.
Dragon pictured kicking sand in everyone’s faces.
Azania clapped her hands sharply. “Wake up, everyone! We’ve a kingdom to plunder!” Only Dragon chortled at her joke. She said, “Alright … uh, Dragon. Any ideas how to make this happen?”
“Me? I think … aye. Here’s what we’ll –”
He paused as Aria growled, “Would you two just like to take over?”
Oh dear. Issues of a romantic nature. He said, “Sorry. With your permission, my little Drag – oh, help! That came out all wrong!”
Withering glare. Keeping her lethal paws to herself, however, she purred, “I promise to make you pay for that audacity later, handsome.”
Whooooff! His fires raged to life at her coquettish tone. The watching Dragonesses chortled in smoky appreciation. Nothing for it. Before he conducted an unfortunate decimation of their new allies, Dragon jerked his muzzle aloft and let rip with a thunderous roar and a plume of flame that raged eighty feet tall. When he felt ready, he cut it off and returned to the conversation.
“Sorry, fire breathing is quite new to me,” he explained. “Bit of a lack of control, sometimes.”
Aria did not look unimpressed. Nor did the rest of their army.
“Permission granted,” she said, with a fangs-flashing smile coupled with a saucy wink.
Dragon almost lost it a second time.
Swallowing back all the unruly fire, he said, “Right. Dragonesses, I want you to sniff your way down the line. Trust your instincts. When you find the right person, pair up with them. Get them onboard and settled. Men, mind your manly jewels when you mount up. These Dragonesses are sharp.”
Many of the women chuckled; one called, “And what about us, Dragon?”
“Don’t pop those bosoms, ladies!”
That cracked the tension like a clay pot dropped off a cliff. Suddenly, an air of nervous excitement overtook the entire congregation as Aria led her way down the line, picking a tall, strong brown-haired woman. The other Dragonesses jostled behind, picking here and there until Dragon was left with the remainder.
All females.
“Are you trying to tell us something about male Dragons and harems?” Azania sniped, drawing a poisonous glance from Aria.
That would be a jealous Dragoness. One and one only, that glare told him.
Or, a fate indistinguishable from death.
“Let’s get these women tied on,” he said grandly. “Use your belts, little Humans, and hang on tight, especially on takeoff. My crew, we’ll try a running, skimming takeoff to make your first flight as smooth as possible for you.” He curved his head to eye the women seating themselves gingerly between his skull spikes. Eight above his shoulders and down his back, two behind Azania on his neck. “Hold onto one another, and trust me to do the flying. I’ve flown Princess Azania from T’nagru to the Archipelago without dropping her once.”
“We did have a long swim, however,” she put in.
“Not helpful, Princess,” he growled. “You see, she was inside my mouth at the time.”
Maybe that wasn’t the most helpful comment either.
He watched the Dragonesses launching into the sky. Their pretty but highly flexible wing structures did things he could only dream of. Soon he was left alone, along with the soldiers who would return some of the vessels to their base camp, before setting sail for Zunityne to support the Rangers there later. After walking up to one end of the sandbank, he dug his talons into the soft sand and called, “Ready?”
“Is that possible?” one of the soldiers called.
Her squad leader clipped her around the earhole. “Respect the Dragon.”
Azania said, “She’s right; there’s nothing quite like Dragon flight. Dragon, show them what you’re made of.”
The extra weight he bore had to be over half a tonne, he reminded himself as he raised and flexed his wings back and forth, loosening up the muscles. Time for a run. Digging in his talons, he pressed into a powerful sprint along the sandbank. Enough speed and the slight headwind in his favour, and he could call a warning before leaping into the air with a tilt of his wings that took him clear of the water for the all-important initial wingbeats that gained altitude and flying momentum. A couple of the Rangers whooped.
He gazed ahead at the Dragonesses disappearing into the bank of sea fog ahead. “Is it normal that it sticks around like this?”
“This weather can occur around the changing of the seasons,” said a Ranger on his neck, sounding breathless. She had the right idea. “Colder currents from the north bring in the fog; usually, it’s a sign that the Sea Dragon migration is near, because the cold waters bring important nutrients to the oceans around these isles. Used to be you could see them from this side of the islands, but nowadays, they pass around to the northern side. Some years they rest up and around the talons for a few weeks, playing, mating and hunting Sea Serpents, but they never stay long. Restless creatures. I do wonder what drives them.”
Will I want to take part in a migration one year? he thought privately.
Azania said, Do you feel the itch?
No. But what an experience it would be. Imagine seeing the world that way?
Incredible, without a doubt. He
sniffed the mischievous purples and pinks popping into her emotions as she said, You know, it would be easy to get lost in this fog. What say you we beat Aria and the Dragonesses to the eastern tip of this island, where we agreed to rest?
How you lead me astray, Princess.
I’m just along for the ride, she chuckled, patting his head.
Hardly! Yet he well knew how fragile confidence could be. Would she ever grasp all that she had done for him? Could he find a way to tell her? Build her up from the inside?
A gristly thought to chew upon.
Picking his wingbeat, he accelerated smoothly into the enveloping greyness.
* * * *
Rolling on his back on the warming beach sand, Dragon peered sideways to see Aria spearing out of the dissipating fog bank with a certain vexed gleam in her eye. Loving it!
She led her Dragoness army in at a healthy clip; every last one of whom was doubtless wondering what their leader should do with an insubordinate male like him. This must go against the grain of their culture like a paw rubbing scales up the wrong way. Playing it cool, Ariamyrielle brought her army in to a neat landing beside the stream which ran across the beach and into the ocean. The Dragonesses paused to slake their thirst, just as he had done, first at the stream and then in the ocean. His body needed salt, a strange new compulsion.
Aria called, “Council. Princess. Sankir. Dragon – stop fooling around over there.” She clicked her talons at him, as one would summon a naughty hatchling! “Come. Let’s talk assault strategy.”
With a low growl, he stalked toward her, hot words burning unsaid upon his tongue.
The cobalt warrior frowned. “Something I said?”
“The talon click!”
“Oh. Oh! That’s just how we talk to males on the Archipelago. Is it –”
“Insulting? Gnarr! Highly, where I come from.”
“A cultural difference, then. You’re a big Dragon. Swallow your pride. We’ve more important things to talk about.”
Azania laid a hand upon her neck. Easy, Dragon. Later. Help me focus on the mission. Please?
Shaking with suppressed rage, he joined the team watching Sankir sketch in the dirt. Neat hand, he approved, as a map of the Palace grounds and a section of the main building appeared in the dirt. The Ranger explained that King Varazim and Queen Vyioli – her family were originally nobles but also refugees from the destroyed Kingdom of Taribonli, who had resettled on the Archipelago – had private chambers on the third floor of the east wing. The initial intelligence his team had received pointed to the royals being held under house arrest there; they would be heavily guarded, but mostly from inside the building, with other enemy troops stationed in and around the grounds.