by Marc Secchia
She took pause. “Are you smelling infection?”
Dragon said something very rude. “Aye! Sorry, I didn’t add one talon to the next … I believe the salt water immersion should help. Are you alright, Princess?”
“I don’t feel great. The water’s cooler than it ought to be, if that makes any sense at all.” She wriggled against his neck. “Oh … it’s my breast. Hot and – ouch. That can’t be good.”
“Usefully, I shall refrain from referring to your breasts as ‘hot’ around King Azerim. Deal?”
“Deal!” she chortled.
Keeping low in the water, he paddle-scrambled over the reef toward the rocks, approaching from the ocean side. He definitely smelled someone in there now – quite a few people, he realised belatedly. The scents of their emotions were not as he remembered from Gazaram’s castle. More … wary, perhaps, and not enemies or dark-hearted as he would have expected of men holding a young Prince. What was this? Could it be –
“Halt! Who goes there?”
In a second, the Princess scrambled to her feet, waist-deep in the surf. She called, “We are with King Varazim, searching for Prince tay-Varazim.”
Had she listened in to his thoughts?
“Who are you, o dark spirit of the ocean?” Fear trembled in the voice. “Stay back!”
Chapter 34: The Little Prince
AMONGST THE NAMES SHE had been called, to his knowledge, this was unique. Was it because she had emerged seemingly from the deeps? Easy to imagine how Archipelago Islanders might be superstitious about creatures which rose from the surrounding ocean. Most of the people they had met this day had never imagined someone being as dark as her; again, most found her an exquisite curiosity, like an exotic painting or animate artwork.
Bracing his paws upon the reef, Dragon rose. And rose. The quartet of roughly dressed men and women who had emerged from a gap high amidst the rocks, drew back in shock.
He said, “Dark, aye. Spirited, most definitely – but this woman is flesh and blood like you Humans, and no spirit. We are Dragon and Dragon Rider, and we seek the young Prince tay-Varazim, in the name of the King. This is Princess Azania of T’nagru.”
“T’nagru? That’s on the other side of the world,” one of the men exclaimed.
“They are said to be dark,” the other noted.
“Aye, and wont to dislocate men’s eyes from their sockets,” his female companion added sourly. “Be off with you both. There’s nothing for you here.”
“Lord Gazaram is dead,” Azania noted politely.
Dragon sniffed the air meantime, and listened intently. Was that a younger, faster heartbeat back inside the rocks somewhere?
“We’ll believe that when we see it,” the first man blustered.
“Unfortunately, I did not leave a great deal to examine, unless you feel like picking through his ashes.” He did not intend to threaten, but a hint of irritation was more than enough to convey that impression.
I’m sure they’re hiding him, he added for the Princess’ benefit.
Call Aria?
Aye. Might be the safest option. Aloud once more, he said, “Do any of you know Ariamyrielle Seaspray? And the other Princes?” A stifled gasp within the rocks. At their nods, he said, “Since you do not believe us – which I do understand, given the circumstances – shall I summon them here? They are nearby.”
“Aye, you do that,” said the sour woman.
Raising his muzzle to the sky, he almost lost it with a guffaw as the Princess stuck her fingers into her ears. Wise. He let out a wild, triumphal bugle that must have echoed for a mile about, and launched a bolt of white fire just as high into the sky, where – to his eternal shock – it exploded in a wide burst of sparks.
“Pretty,” his companion approved. “What do you call that Dragon power?”
“I have absolutely no idea.”
“It’s kind of an explosion … an artwork … of fire?”
“Fire-art-work?”
“Firework for short?”
He purred, “Excellent. Time to update the dictionary.”
To the men and women, who must be soldiers in disguise, he said, “Don’t go anywhere. We will not trouble you meantime.”
Within seconds, the bugle began to pass down the chain of nearby Dragonesses. They called to one another, summoning the whole force to the coastline. Eyes grew round as Dragonesses shaded the moons. At their forefront was Aria, and beside her in wing position, none other than Charielle. He was not aware she had joined the search.
Five hearts thumped together inside his throat. Hope he was right …
Azania pointed. “The Princes come riding on Dragons.”
Kerpoof. Little brains, blown. They clearly recognised both Ariamyrielle and her dam; the three Princes were a bonus. The fact that Anhoyal Rangers and Princes alike rode Dragons was too much. Jaws catching flies. He loved it!
Gathazim called down, “Isles greetings! Is our brother here? Have you found him?”
“Here!” A scream came from inside the rocks. “Here I am, brother!”
The Princes alighted as quickly as they were able; Gathazim was so keen, he almost took a very bad fall before one of the soldiers snapped out an arm to steady him, along with Dragon’s paw. Harazim and Tahluzim were more circumspect for the time it took their boots to touch rock. Then, they collected a little brown-haired thunderbolt in their arms. A big, scrambled brotherly hug with many moist eyes, backslaps, a surreptitious tickle or two and a great deal of yelling ensued. Azania dabbed at her eyes. Dragon discovered a boulder-sized lump in his throat.
This made it all worth it. He had begun to fear they would never find the little Prince, or worse discover a very small grave somewhere. As it turned out, these faithful soldiers had kidnapped him from the kidnappers and brought him here for safety.
They apologised at least fifty times to Azania, who remained gracious throughout.
Not so much to him, but it did not matter. Not when his Princess had a case of the sniffles, the brothers nearly had a small war over who would get to fly with the youngster back to the castle, and Charielle complimented her daughter on a job well accomplished.
Quite the day.
* * * *
Perfection would have been to return to news that King Azerim had woken and was doing much better, but he had not, as yet. The surgeon wanted to make plans to transport him to Zunityne in the morning, where he could receive further treatment. He delicately opened the cut upon the Princess’ right breast and drained an infeasible amount of nasty-smelling pus, before closing and bandaging it again, and dosing her up to the eyeballs with medicines.
She spent the entire night being violently ill.
Come morning, he had two patients to fly to Zunityne. Marvellous.
At least the prone patients balanced out atop his back. He flew with Chanize and the Sankir once more, taking up Azania’s habitual position on his neck, while the patently terrified surgeon travelled with the patients up top.
Better be terrified. Touch the Princess one more time or suggest any more of those foul concoctions, and this Dragon would dump him somewhere far from shore! Gnarr.
Aria had flown to Wave Dragonhome with her dam before dawn, seeking to deal with the draconic politics arising from those Dragonesses who had dared to help the four rebel Lords. She left with a kind word, however.
Fly true, Dragon. I’ve sent twenty Dragonesses ahead with the Princes, since none can possibly keep up with you in flight. We need someone close, especially someone trusted, near the King and Queen at this time. You are that someone. Keep the family safe. I would not have wished to deal with these duties now, but … needs must. I will come to Zunityne as soon as I can. I’ll miss you.
Likewise, he said, wondering if she meant it.
Did she need time to think over their relationship, such as it was?
Crooking his neck, he eyeballed the Sankir with a certain unmistakable intent.
“Right behind her,” he said at once.
“Make sure you keep it that way,” he growled balefully. “Chanize, you’ll tell me if he doesn’t hold you tight every second of the way?”
“I am your humble servant, Dragon,” she managed to splutter.
“No laughing, you two. I’m being deathly serious.”
They both straightened their lips at once, and snuggled with gratifying submission to the very letter of his command.
Feeling somehow better about life, since having a minor tyrannical tantrum was all it took to lighten his mood these days, Dragon stretched up and climbed onto the Lord’s battlements. The ease of a large Dragon walking up a twenty-foot height in one step always seemed to mesmerise these little Humans. Aye. Think about what might be done to such a fortress. Think long and hard, rebel Lord!
“Riders, cover your ears, please,” he ordered crisply.
I AM DRAGON!! he boomed, shaking the castle down to its roots.
Off like the wind!
Chasing downwind on a brisk Archipelago breeze, he set a spanking pace for the first leg over to the Human Island. No way were those Princes, with barely one and a half hours’ lead, getting to Zunityne before him. Plus, he needed to move the King as fast and with as little fuss as possible.
Fast air stretcher.
All part of the service he offered.
Do I really have to fly lying down? Azania grumbled.
Just don’t throw up on my nice white scales. I’ll never forgive you, he advised acidly.
The fresh air’s good for me, she whispered. Still so weak. Rough night, and then some. Azerim – could you touch him once more with your magic? I know you don’t feel it’s done any good …
I’ll do it.
Thank you, Dragon. Do you mind if I sleep?
Blergh. Thus was the mighty Dragon demoted from stretcher-bearer to being a flying royal crib.
She chuckled faintly.
Stretching his wings, he accelerated smoothly.
Within the hour, they were over Human territory once more. Dragon smoothed out and lengthened his wing stroke, trying to find the most efficient configuration. They raced into the heart of the Island, the suns at their backs and a bright green jungle before.
About three hours into the flight, Dragon had just spotted the Dragonwing carrying the four Princes in the distance, when Azania snuffled and woke abruptly, as if wrenched from a bad dream. The surgeon supplied her with water and was about to arrange shade for her face and head, when Azerim stirred too, and said distinctly:
“Why’s the sky moving?”
Everyone jumped, especially the one with the wings.
He peered back over his shoulder. Azerim gazed at the Princess with an expression of utter stupefaction pasted upon his face. Giving every village idiot who had ever lived a run for his money. She must be smiling, although from his angle, it was hard to tell and so he had to resort to sniffing out her emotions to be sure.
“A-Azerim?” she faltered at last. “It’s me, Azania.”
“I know you … Aza … where are we?”
“Flying to Zunityne upon a Dragon’s back.”
“Am I … dreaming? Must be … dead – so confused. I feel terr –”
His body went limp. The surgeon gave a low cry as he reached forward to check the royal, but after a minute, he said simply that King Azerim had passed out once more.
As far as reunions went, Dragon decided with a huff of vast annoyance, that was decidedly underwhelming. He would have to arrange a redo. Round two. Otherwise, a sneaky Dragon might seize his chance to knock a bit of sense into His Majesty’s indestructible cranium before anyone noticed. Fancying he must be dead. How incredibly rude and inconsiderate of him.
Landing to give his Riders a comfort break and his own wings a fifteen-minute rest, he was even more narked to discover that Azania was feeling perky enough to be released from her stretcher. Why, when he was playing captive Princesses and Kings, did she have to spoil the party?
Murgh-hurgh-harr! What a nasty Dragon he was. Time to vex someone.
He sniffed loudly at her breast. “Ah, much better.”
“Dragon!”
“I still detect a tang of infection, however.”
The surgeon said, “In which case, I should change the dressings at once. Come aside with me, Princess.”
Dragon gave him a look promising instant death. Astonishing how rapidly his superior attitude evaporated. With a meek bob of his head, the surgeon scurried off to do his duty.
Murder was too good for that man. Now, what form of slow torture would be most enjoyable? Evisceration? Stake him out for the desert ants and vultures? Pickle his eyeballs and serve them up with a tangy garnish of –
Dragon, behave yourself.
Gnarr, he complained mildly. Why do Humans make such a fuss over milk glands?
Exasperation! She snorted, Why do male Dragons hide their bits beneath an armoured shield and not wave them all over Zunityne, eh?
Might make all the smaller males jealous?
Oh, excuse me, mister monstrosity, your ego nearly slapped me all the way back to T’nagru, there.
Laughter gurgled in his throat.
With another sea storm sweeping down from the north, harbinger of what Aria had warned him would be a week or two of more unsettled weather caused by the changing of oceanic currents, they elected to fly on quickly. They joined the Dragonwing carrying the Princes shortly thereafter. Perplexed Dragonesses! Ah, the day was shaping up nicely. Someone might have been guilty of making a small show of having to slow down for them. No Dragon he could name, mind.
To his further surprise, the older Dragoness Yalia ordered her compatriots to shift over so that he might take the lead position in the flying wedge.
Only because he was carrying the King. Grrr!
Ah, but now a compliment about how he eased their slipstreaming? Better. One must always be sure to paddle in the shallows and eschew deeper waters.
Around mid-afternoon, the red tile rooftops of Zunityne hove into view. The weary Princes revived with miraculous aplomb, especially the youngest, leading the Sankir to request that Dragon announce the royal return in suitable style. Bugle or roar, he inquired archly?
“Shut your ears, everyone!” Azania advised.
III – AAMM – DRRAAGOONN!!
His melodious roar shattered the sticky afternoon, sending thousands of sea birds into a cawing panic over the city. Full retreat!
FOR THE KING!! he added, causing everyone who had thought he was done, to complain about their ears.
Stretching out his wings, he signalled a slow swoop over the city. Time for the populace to see and believe two things. One, their younger King and his brothers had arrived home. Two, people rode upon Dragons. Aye, perhaps it was naïve to believe that others would find what he and his Princess enjoyed, but could he help wanting to share? How else would his life ever have changed if not because of her, and moreover, what they brought to one another?
His hearts squeezed inside his chest as the first cheers rose from people rushing into the streets. The Princes waved madly. Even the fierce Dragonesses responded to the mood in the air, their butterfly wings finding a statelier cadence, their expressions changing from stern to bemused and even cautiously gratified. Perhaps in their culture it was not often that warriors received such adulation apart from in combat in front of one’s peers. One’s dignity precluded any overt show of vanity, but the underlying changes to their emotions were more than clear to his senses.
Given their numbers, he led the Dragonwing to a landing along the road just outside the Palace gates. They paraded inside as servants burst out of the building, all pretence of orderliness or decorum thrown to the winds. The King and Queen made an appearance on their balcony, although the Queen was seated in a rolling chair like the one he carried in his right forepaw.
Kerfuffle! Cries! Tears! Cheers!
Mad Humans everywhere. The Princes leaped down from their Dragons and rushed inside the building, hugging random peo
ple along the way. The Sankir commented that security was commendably tight, as he had expected. Dragonesses and Rangers. Soldiers stationed on the rooftops and guarding the building in a visible show of force.
Here came the crowds, a swelling, murmuring mass. The older King ordered them to be let into the grounds.
Before his Riders dismounted, Dragon rose onto his hind paws to allow them to see their son, and for Azania and Sankir Farizam to brief them quickly. The Princess told them Azerim had saved her life, taking a blow that Lord Gazaram had intended for her neck – even while he had been hooded, and unable to see who it was that he defended.
Dragon glared at her. He had not known that!
The King leaned out to kiss Azania upon the cheek. “My dear Princess of T’nagru, how can I ever thank you for your service to our Kingdom?”
“We … had a great deal of brave help, Your Majesty,” she stumbled, her cheeks heating up noticeably. “The Anhoyal Rangers, the Dragonesses from Wave Dragonhome … we lost a number, but prevailed in the end.” Her eyes flicked guiltily to Azerim. “I’m sorry we couldn’t bring your son back unscathed. We did our best.”
The King’s dark eyes considered her at disconcerting length. Then, he bowed very deeply. “Your Highness.”
“Your Majesty.”
Dragon wondered what exactly the exchange meant.
King Varazim extended his hand. “Dragon.”
They shook gravely. At least he understood this gesture!
The King said, “The power of your paw has shaken our islands, mighty Dragon, earning the undying gratitude of myself, my Queen and all our people. We are indebted.”
He said, “Thank you, my King and my Queen. It was the least we could do. It’s my personal hope, sire, that Azania and I will be able to usher in a new era of co-operation and friendship between your people and the Dragons here. Now, if we are only able to move the Sea Serpents along as easily as a few traitorous Lords, I shall be satisfied …”
The royals chuckled incredulously.
Queen Vyioli smiled, “I would not put anything past the pair of you – Dragon and Dragon Rider. Who would have thought?”
The Princess said, “The flame for justice burns bright in my Dragon.”