by Marc Secchia
By his dam’s egg, he was weary in every bone of his body. They faced another long haul up to the northern edge of the island – not far from where Aria’s personal lair was located, he had learned during one of their briefings. Two Lords lived on headlands of this island, one on the large island between the major Human and Dragon domains, and one just shy of the interior mountains, on the western slopes. Gazaram’s fortress was regarded as easily the most challenging to penetrate. The others were more standard castles, vulnerable to an air attack. Almost as if Gazaram had expected such a day …
To Aria, he said, I am concerned about Lord Gazaram’s level of preparedness. We should scout the castles with extra care before engaging.
We know this, she said, but her tone invited explanation.
The detail of the metal tower bothers me. Why should he expect Dragon attack? We know they likely worked with this faction against your dam. It seems an unusual precaution to take. Either he’s playing the long game, or he knows something we do not. I … could not say what that might be, but my scales itch.
Your scales, Dragon? the orange Dragoness to his left wing queried.
Before he could reply in wrath, the Princess put in quietly, For example, were there ever any suspected links to the Terror Clan?
Aria said, Not to my knowledge.
At the very same time, the light blue Yalia said, There were rumours. The Dragonesses eyeballed one another over his back. You were much younger then, Aria Seaspray. This was before – I forget. Maybe ten or twelve years ago? Just around the time your dam assumed leadership of the Isles Dragons. We were much more fragmented then, as you’ll know from the histories. What I know is two things: one, there were rumours of Terror Clan visiting our shores, and two, rumours that they were the sinister talon behind Faylielle’s assassination. I have no proof. Your dam might well know more. As to potential cooperation with the Humans? No idea.
The cobalt nodded. I did not know this.
Dragons and Humans alike digested this for a few minutes.
Turning, the Cobalt Dragoness called, “Be on the alert for dark magic at the citadels. Let’s reconfigure the teams to distribute our most capable magic users amongst the four hit squads. We leave no stone unturned when we scout, we hit them hard and acquire each target as planned. Rendezvous at my lair after the mission is accomplished. Remember that the youngest brother, the six year-old, has not yet been located. Upon acquisition, question your target about him. We must find little Varazim – they call him ‘tay-Varazim’ after his father.”
Acquisitions. Targets. He had the impression Ariamyrielle Seaspray liked to acquire targets of the large scaly variety.
Onward they sped, making for the southerly tip of the small but rugged mountain range that formed the spine of this island. They passed the lantern lights of seven towns along the way – more than Dragon had expected, although they were individually quite small. In general, each was the heart of a single Lord’s domain. Here and there, they saw the pinprick lights of tiny hamlets. Indeed, there were so many thousands of small islands and reefs offshore, the Sankir was telling Azania, it was a standing joke that every Human owned their private island. At least one palm tree and a strip of beach. She tugged his leg about inviting him to her private beach – the whole of T’nagru.
Just missing the water.
Charielle the copper Dragoness joined them in the sky, seeking news. Three homing pigeons had been destroyed that she knew of; Aria related developments in Zunityne and what they had learned before her dam left again. They would keep the line until after dawn, by which time they hoped to have good news.
At last, they saw rising ahead the silhouettes of the mountains one hundred and twenty miles northwest of Zunityne, and to their right paws and hands, a gleaming silver bay. The Lumis Ocean put on its most glorious show. Dragon ached to immerse himself in the phosphorescent gleam. He pictured a midnight swim with Aria. How romantic. Even Azania must be impressed by the sappy sonnets of his Dragon hearts.
The Cobalt Dragoness brought them in for a landing on a wide white strip of beach fringed with tall, tufty palm trees heavy with a fine crop of coconuts.
Dragon sniffed the air. “Humans nearby?”
The Sankir said, “How do you smell them upwind?”
“You Humans have your own very special reek,” he suggested, elbowing the man in a comradely fashion. Dumped him in the sand. “Ah, sorry.”
“Save it for someone else,” he growled, coming back with a shove of his own.
Dragon lurched toward the water, and decided that was a good idea. Salt. Yum! “Join me?” The Human leader walked to the water’s edge with him while Azania helped one of the Rangers to redo a bandage. He said, “Just between us males, I scented earlier that you might indeed have someone special. Am I right in thinking this person might be up at Gazaram’s fortress?”
He laughed curtly, “Is much hidden from you?”
“I sense emotional states, sometimes. Call it a Dragon sense.”
“Much more to you than just the lumpy muscles, isn’t there?” he said, wading into the shallow, lapping surf. Lowering his voice, he added, “I’m afraid you and Azania read me all too well. I must be an open scroll to you both – aye, she is Gazaram’s bondservant, and … special, to me. I have four times tried to buy her back. No chance.”
“This bond is a kind of indentured slavery?”
“As good as.”
“So, shall we just kidnap her for you and be done with?” He rubbed his paws in simulated glee. “I have experience with kidnapping damsels in distress. I can highly recommend it.”
“Azania claims she kidnapped you.”
“Close enough. I was a hopeless, lonely sack of misery when she came into my life, kidnapped my Dragon hearts, and with her inexplicable feminine wiles helped me change into what you see today. Brown Dragon to white. A runaway weakling to a creature who is … more – one who crossed an ocean, and has hope for the future. Those are not inconsiderable achievements.”
Sankir said, “What I hope for would be … inappropriate.”
“How so?”
“She is twenty-three. I am thirty-seven.”
Dragon shrugged. “Age gap? Pah! Don’t be ridiculous. Is that all?”
“No. There’s a story. When she was six and I had just entered the King’s service, I was stationed up here for a few years. Chanize – that’s her name – had an accident while she was exploring out on the reef. She stepped on something called a Hybraki Stonefish. Both feet. The poison is slow-acting but invariably lethal. I saw her in trouble as the tide was rising, swam out there, and brought her back. The surgeon had to amputate both legs at the knee to stop the poison from spreading. She lived.”
Taking a deep breath, he said steadily, “When she stepped on that fish, she knew she’d lose her legs. She begged me to leave her out on the reef, to let her die. But I had to be the hero. I brought her back and gave her over to the surgeon. Her feet were already turning black. Chanize said she’s happy to be alive and that she’s always been grateful to me …”
“So, I’m not great with Human emotions.” Dragon put his forepaw around the man’s shoulders and squeezed gently. “Help me to understand. Am I hearing that you feel torn between guilt and a sense that any feelings she might profess for you would be clouded by obligation?”
“Aye … aye! Can’t believe I’m having this conversation with a Dragon.”
He wiped his eyes.
Dragon felt the same, although his weak eyes failed to leak. “Have you spoken with Chanize about these things?”
“No! I can’t! Well, physically I can’t, because Gazaram keeps her under lock and key. She’s one of the finest seamstresses in the kingdom and so her contract is profitable. Amazingly –” how bitterly the word rang in the night air “– she has not managed to pay off her debt as yet. I smell a rat. And obviously, she can’t just run away. One needs the use of legs for that. Look, most of all, I just want her away from Gazaram. He
’s misusing her and that is wrong.”
“Right you are.” He squeezed the man’s solid shoulders one more time. So much bigger than his Princess! “Leave it with this Dragon. May I inform Aria and Azania?”
“Perhaps that would be best. My judgement might be clouded.”
* * * *
Clouded judgement might better be described as the sensation of being the only male Dragon amongst a Dragonwing of forty, flying alongside and behind the beauty whose every wing flexion made his hearts turn rapturous somersaults. Close enough. Maybe less poetic, but the effect was no less devastating. He occasionally found the patterns and movement so hypnotic he had to look elsewhere for a moment, or he might have flown headlong into a mountainside without even knowing what had hit him.
Clouded also described the weather, which was for the better. Cover for nefarious deeds. Localised storm? He scented moisture and stronger winds pushing at the ever-restless oceans.
The Dragons split up as planned. Two hours after midnight, Aria led her smaller battle group out over a rocky isthmus and around via a coastline that once again, on the eastern edge of an island, was a jag-toothed Dragon lying in wait for the unwary. Up here rocky teeth bit the sky with savage intent, while deep cracks and canyons abounded. Some were inlets for the ocean. The single access road – one used the word with a wince – visible a mile to the interior, was a white-paved, torturous failure to tame the wild landscape.
Carts just gave up out here. For the last twenty miles, Lord Gazaram had donkeys haul his goods up to his citadel.
The castle, home to the crustiest, most infamously bad-tempered Lord in the Archipelago, certainly made a statement. It stood upon a solitary island just off the mainland, reached by a well-defended bridge, surrounded on all sides by water. Not only were the black battlements windswept and rugged, some thoughtful designer had decorated them with spikes and busts of traditional island creatures – all the friendly sorts, like spitting sea serpents, spiny urchins, barracuda, stonefish and poisonous corals, to name those Dragon could recognise through his spectacles.
Sure looks like the architectural equivalent of an angry porcupine, he grumbled as they swept in low along the coastline, hugging the shore for cover.
Glasses? Aria raised her brow ridges.
They help me to see. I’m good underwater, I’ve discovered. Useless above it.
What’s the exact issue? she asked.
I’m pretty badly short-sighted. Everything’s blurry from about the length I can hold my paw in front of me. I was sort of hoping that once I discovered my true fires, this debility would … go away. He smiled wryly. Azania has many times been my eyes in battle.
I see.
Me, not so well.
She chuckled softly, And here I thought you were just fluttering your eye membranes at me. We never spoke about the details before, did we? Not apart from your need to consult an optometrist regarding your severe conjunctivitis – how’s that been?
Actually, I haven’t thought about it in weeks.
Azania said, I wonder if the regular immersion in salt water is helping? You’re right, Dragon. You’ve stopped itching. However, your sight is still worst when you’re tired.
Her perceptiveness still had cause to surprise him. He nodded. Aye, that’s right.
The Cobalt Dragoness said, Alright. So, that’s the main fortress. You’ll enjoy Gazaram’s favourite iron tower. It’s something else.
Just as tasteful? Majoring on the ‘evil overlord’ décor and cladding only a self-respecting executioner would be proud of?
Dragon! Azania snorted.
Well, clearly some men like to wear their dungeons inside out.
Aria stared at him as if he were mad.
The strike team drifted along past the fortress. One last, very tall sea stack stood at the far end, separated from the main castle by another short bridge. What a miserable, eerie place. He squinted into the darkness. The stone stack, some eighty Dragon paces tall, almost completely surrounded a sheer metal tower which had been built inside what he took for a dormant volcanic pipe. Only the top twenty feet or so surmounted the encircling stone. Those twenty feet were as heavily armoured as he had ever seen. Narrow slits for ballistae. Thick metal. An air of foul magic, the cawing of crows about the place as if they had been attracted here by carrion. The magical and other echoes around this place made him shudder.
Below, the Human-sized entryway was a barred metal gate set between two imbedded gatehouses. A couple of vertical cracks in the stone showed that the metal tower inside was smooth and unrelieved, with almost no space for any Dragon to manoeuver around it.
Impregnable? And then some.
His scales prickled. That sense of dark magic, that focussed intent … he bellowed at once, Evasive action!
A hail of ballista quarrels hissed out of the darkness. Had they not been forewarned, the flight of ten Dragons would have been cut out of the sky. As befitting the largest target, he now wore two shots in his left shoulder. The others hit did not fare as well. One Ranger died instantly as a shot pierced his chest, and one green Dragoness tumbled toward the waves.
He dived at once. More quarrels whipped through the darkness. Where were they even firing from? How were they so accurate?
Split up! Execute the plan! Aria roared.
Rescuing one of their number was far from the letter of the plan, but a couple more holes in his hide would only add to his long list of aches and pains. Extending his talons, he gripped the Dragoness by the shoulders and dragged her bodily sideways through the air, ending up beneath the bridge between the mainland and the castle. Unconscious? Draping her atop a flattish rock, he heard Azania unbuckle. She jumped down and put her ear against the Dragoness’ throat.
“No heartbeat!”
Stopped her hearts? What magic was that?
At once, he pushed her over onto side and raised his fist. Thump! Thump! “Check her.”
“Nothing.”
He hit again, twice and then three times, to no avail.
Thump! The Princess added her own, fists-doubled punch. She listened again. “There it goes!” Azania mopped her forehead.
The Sankir said, “One Ranger to stay. Brief her and get her back into battle if you can.”
“Me!”
“Thanks! Let’s go,” Azania said. “We’re needed up at that tower.”
The Sankir pressed a bow into her hands. “Heard you’re useful with one of these. If you see a tall, greasy-haired man with a love of flashy black leather cloaks – he’s our rebel Lord.”
Dragon launched sideways, taking advantage of a sea breeze to whisk him aloft. Time to sniff out the stench of evil magic around this dark citadel, and end it. Otherwise, he had an awful sense of what Azerim’s fate might be. Backed into a corner, the Lord might just decide to end his captive’s life.
He hissed, Gazaram, fear the talon that carves your doom!
Chapter 31: Talon Magic
IMMEDIATELY, HE CAME UNDER fire from the so far ridiculously accurate defenders. However, they faced a capable enemy. Five Dragonesses swarmed over the battlements, kicking catapults and slicing apart ballista crews with horrific precision. They never seemed to be quite where the defenders expected them. Azania picked off a couple of defenders on the battlements, while he rapid-fire hit a series of arrow loop slits lower down, silencing the archers behind. They wheeled past a fierce battle for the inner keep.
Tower door lower right. Hit it! Azania yelled.
A stream of white fire ignited the defenders trying to bar the door against ingress.
And the left! Hit the keep door!
He spat again, surprising himself with a precision blast that set the front doors of the inner keep alight. In that glow, he saw a silver-edged black cloak swirling away; a big man who moved like animate shadow, marshalling the defenders.
Gazaram!
I know, the Princess panted. Took a shot but missed him. To the tower!
He burst over the short gap,
alert for more mischief. What he saw was Aria diving toward the tower, only to veer off and come within a scale’s width of braining herself on the rock below that top section.
What the … WHAT?
The world turned upside-down. Jangled to his core, Dragon veered off instinctively and achieved two things: one, a stream of fire that still managed to hit the target, and two, he bounced off the summit of the sea stack with a great deal less elegance than the cobalt warrior. The warriors on his back cried out, rattled like him.
Wheeling away, he collected his senses. The sky and ground switched places and behaved themselves once more.
“Dragon, what was that?” Aria’s call alerted him.
“Dark magic!” one of the Rangers cried.
“Some kind of directional pretzel magic,” he spluttered, “plus a very powerful repulsive force. I mean, it completely scrambled my balance and seemed to flip my vision?”
“Mine, too,” his Princess agreed. “We have to break in there. Fast.”
“Effect on Humans?” he asked.
“Nil. I sensed something going on, but nothing like – Aria duck now!”
A silver ballista quarrel hurled past the cobalt warrior as she flicked out of its path with the most incredible reactions Dragon had ever seen. The quarrel grazed her chest before arcing away into the pounding surf, where it struck a rock and detonated with a crack! Electricity! At once, his mind spun back to the lightning machine the Skartunese had used to strike him down. Somehow, these quarrels stored an electrical charge powerful enough to stop a Dragon in their tracks. Was this a new Terror Clan technology?
He summarised this information for the openly shocked cobalt Dragoness; whirling toward the rest of the fight to warn her team, she ordered him to stay away from the tower until she returned.
His ears, however, detected a different sound above the rising hissing of the wind – a whine he recognised all too well. The weapon needed to be recharged. A window of opportunity was open if they acted swiftly. Three warrior Dragonesses circled the metal tower. Seven Rangers to land on the summit, if they could.