The Pygmy Dragon

by Marc Secchia

  Pip wanted to laugh because Maylin was dancing an impromptu jig on the Brown Dragon’s head, but Kassik’s sombre tone made her focus on their conversation.

  “What happens if you try … too often?”

  “If you force a transformation? The magic should warn you. There is pain and great resistance.” He sighed. “But if you compel yourself … a failed transformation can kill, Pip.”

  Master … you grieve.

  I do, little one. Allow me to speak when I am ready. There was an Island-foundation’s worth of heaviness in his spirit, Pip sensed. Trust me when I say this–I speak from experience.

  Chapter 24: Graduation Day

  EMblazon And KASSIK, after seeing the students safely buckled in, climbed to a tremendous height, one and a half leagues above the Cloudlands. None of the friends had ever flown so high. Now Pip appreciated the fur-lined jackets which Nak had insisted they be fitted with before the trip. At that rarefied height they found a Dragons’ Highway, a high-speed airstream that swept them northward on a chill blast. The air was gaspingly thin and cold. No Island broke the ocean of Cloudlands the Dragons traversed with such consummate ease.

  Pip huddled in her jacket, shivering, wishing for her comfortable, steamy jungle.

  Night passed, a gloriously starry array traversed by the Blue and Jade moons in their stately courses. Despite the gale-force tailwind’s aid, it was early evening of the following day before they sighted the reddish glow of Fra’anior’s volcano on the horizon, the gigantic caldera around which the twenty-seven Islands of the Cluster perched on the rim like insects clinging to a shaky branch. Golden Cloudlands washed up against the volcano, glowing from beneath as lava poured steadily out of several breaches in the rim–at least, those Pip could see. Spectacular cliffs, pocked with gloomy caves that resembled the eyes of lurking animals from a distance, fell sheer into the Cloudlands. But the Islands were lush, fuzzy with vegetation that trailed improbably far down toward the caldera floor. The air rippled slightly from the volcano’s heat, Kaiatha was telling Durithion.

  “Only crazy people live on top of a volcano,” he teased.

  “You can do some more unarmed combat training with me,” offered Kaiatha.

  Duri winced. “No, I’m still sore.”

  “Say yes, Duri.” Nak could not resist. “You know all she really wants is to get her hands on your body.”

  Blushing, he retorted, “Kissing isn’t so much fun when it comes with a stranglehold.”

  Kaiatha pretended to experimentally wrap her fingers around his neck from behind. “Kiss me or die, thou piratical brute.” But her golden Fra’aniorian skin burned as rosily as the suns-set over her home Island.

  “I perish but for thy sweet caresses,” said Duri, who had evidently been taking lessons from Nak in bad romantic poetry.

  “This is the ancient home of Dragons,” Kassik told them. “Below the Island of Ha’athior, home of the dragonets, near the lava on the south-western aspect, is a Dragons’ graveyard. Many bones of our people lie there; it is a holy place.”

  “Pip should see it,” said Emblazon.

  “If she wants to,” returned Kassik.

  “Oh, I’d love to.”

  The Brown Dragon nodded. “Emblazon can take you.”

  With a whoop of joy, Pip whizzed in a tight circle around Kassik’s neck.

  “Very agile, Pip,” he complimented her, dryly. “I have decided that you should present yourself as a student. There’s a chance a Dragon will choose you for their Rider.”

  “Will they know I’m a Dragon?”

  Emblazon cut in, “You’re a Shapeshifter, not a Dragon!”

  Kassik’s dark gaze measured the younger Dragon for a long, awkward moment. At length Emblazon bowed his head, but he made no apology.

  “Straight on to Ya’arriol Island,” said Kassik. “We shall arrive as three Dragons. Then, if I am not mistaken, the gossip shall fly even faster than Dragon wings over the Cloudlands. And, as I speak, here comes a welcoming committee.”

  “Very perceptive of you, Master,” Casitha said.

  Teasing the Master? Pip blinked. She was a brave one. And, if she was not mistaken, Kassik’s belly-fires signalled his enjoyment of her comment on cue.

  Following Kassik’s gaze, Pip spied Dragons rising from behind one of the Islands. To her low question, Kaiatha replied that her Island lay just behind Ha’athior, a separate volcanic cone abutting the rim of the main one. A ripple of excitement ran through the students as the two groups hurtled toward each other. A grizzled Blue female led the delegation, with a gaggle of fledglings, judging by their smaller size, a respectful distance behind her tail. Many curious stares were exchanged as Kassik made cordial introductions.

  Every student and fledgling was thinking the same thing–could one of these be mine? My Rider, or my Dragon?

  “Warm and sulphurous greetings in the name of the Great Dragon, Fra’anior Himself,” trilled the Blue, in a surprisingly soprano voice. “I am Turquielle, Leader of the Dragons of Ya’arriol. These are my inquisitive fledglings. You will excuse me for not naming them. Our tradition is that the Dragon names him or herself when they choose their Rider, and not before. You are most welcome to our Island.”

  “Your Island-Cluster is surpassingly beautiful, mighty Dragoness,” said Yaethi.

  “Ay, you didn’t describe the half of it,” Maylin accused Kaiatha.

  “Thank you,” said Turquielle, inclining her head. “Do I detect one of our own among your number?”

  “Student Kaiatha, upon my back,” said Emblazon. “Raise your hand, little one.”

  Turquielle bowed a second time. Her eyes gleamed with magic. “I welcome you home with honour, Kaiatha. May you fly strong, and true.”

  From the answering sparkle of Kaiatha’s deep blue eyes, Pip wondered suddenly if her friend was not concealing some ability in the magical arts. Her magnified Dragon sight brought her that detail unmistakeably. If so, her friend had never spoken of it–or said much about her past.

  Pip collected many stares, some aggressive, some friendly. She was perversely pleased to see a very unusual Dragon among the fledglings, a female albino. She had the softest pink eyes and pale scales, not the pure white of the legendary Star Dragon Istariela, but a white tinged with pink and darker red highlights along her spine-spikes, wing struts, brow ridges and muzzle. She was striking. There were several young but powerful Reds, already seventy feet in length, a fine Copper Dragon of noble bearing, and a group of Greens who hung back a little from the rest. They were smaller than the others, but still measured at least forty-five feet in length.

  Not one of them was less than three times her size.

  With an inward sigh, Pip followed the group as they winged toward Ha’athior, which smoked from what she realised had to be a secondary volcanic cone. Yaethi, who had of course studied Fra’anior in detail in preparation for their trip, was telling Maylin that the central caldera was fifteen leagues across, and reciting the names of the different inhabited Islands on the rim. She saw several Dragonships coursing between the Islands. The smell of moist tropical foliage came to her nostrils, an infusion of her jungle home that bamboozled her brain.

  Suddenly she remembered the village, the people she had grown up with, flames engulfing the trees every Pygmy knew by name … and dropped as though she had morphed into a flying pebble.

  Pip! Kassik dived after her, folding his wings to provide as little resistance as possible.

  Before the Dragon could clutch her in his outstretched paws, Pip transformed a second time. Snap! Her wings caught the wind. For a moment she just rested on the wing, gliding, seeking balance in her chaotic thoughts. Mercy. A simple smell had shocked her into a transformation?

  “Pip. What is it?”

  Kassik’s muzzle touched her curled-up feet.

  “The scent of the Islands reminded me of home,” she said. “Sorry, everyone.”

  “You can rub my neck later,” said Maylin, rotating her head and
groaning–rather theatrically, Pip decided. Silly Human.

  “As a Dragon, she could screw it on backwards for you,” Casitha offered.

  Pip shook her head. “Kassik, as I transformed, I felt something strange nearby.”

  “You mean you’ve transformed too often,” he rumbled, immediately exhibiting that softening of his gaze she had begun to associate with grief in Dragons. “Pip–”

  “No, Master. At first, I thought it was the shadow. But it was more like … like an echo of what I remember.” From the corner of her eye, she saw Emblazon slip into formation with them. “I know it sounds crazy, Kassik. But I felt something at the very instant I transformed. I fear we’re in grave danger here.”

  Emblazon snorted mildly, but Oyda and Kassik both gave him quelling hisses.

  “I’m not jumping at every leaf that rustles in the jungle,” Pip growled at Emblazon. “I don’t make up stories.”

  “In the same way as you weren’t visiting the Oraial?” asked Yaethi.

  “Or constantly seeking attention?” suggested Nak. She knew exactly what he was thinking.

  For the first time, Pip understood what it was to be mad enough to want to kill–even a friend. Undermined! Cut short at the knees. The power of her Dragon emotions shook her to the core. She deliberately flew away from them, fighting to swallow down her Dragon fires before she burned someone with a fireball or said a word she might regret. Silent and lonely, Pip trailed the other two Dragons and the flotilla of fledglings around the edge of Ha’athior. Even the sight of Kaiatha’s home Island, a perfect volcanic cone silhouetted against the suns dying into the western horizon, gave her no cheer.

  No Dragon would want a Pygmy for their Rider.

  * * * *

  The fledglings spent the entire night in a secret, sacred cave, singing to the great Dragon Fra’anior, for whom the Island-Cluster was named. “Legends say that Fra’anior was an Onyx Dragon, like you but a hundred times bigger,” Yaethi whispered to Pip, earning herself a fierce glare from Kassik, looking on in his Human form.

  They stood together with seventy other prospective Dragon Riders beneath the rocky surface of Ya’arriol Island, in the depths of a cavern so vast it seemed inconceivable that the Island yet had a foundation to stand upon. Above their heads, a narrow volcanic pipe pointed to the fiery skies above. Pip wondered if the blood-red clouds were a portent. She had slept so ill, worrying in a way she would never have worried back in her cage, tossing and turning until Maylin, who loved her pillow-roll more than was good for a person, threatened to toss her to the windrocs.

  The Humans were dressed in all their finery, except for the group from Jeradia’s Academy. They wore their flying clothes and jackets, but Pip saw that Maylin had taken a moment to thread several of the abundant blossoms outside the cave into her hair. Pip, as usual, wore her ribbon daggers.

  Now, her Human hearing detected the sound of Dragons approaching. Wings. She alone among the students did not flinch as the young Dragons rocketed up from a hole she had not previously spotted in the cavern floor and circled the cavern above their heads, carolling their joy. There was magic thick in the air. Her senses prickled so fiercely, she saw pinpricks of light appear on her vision.

  Twenty-three, she counted rapidly. Twenty-three Dragons, for seventy prospective Riders. She should not be disappointed if none chose her.

  Deliberately, she looked to her friends as the graduate fledglings landed in what had to be a pre-arranged circle around the students. Tall, elegant Fra’aniorians, several petite Southerners, a group of muscular, dark boys and girls who had to be from the Western Isles … they drew together as one, awed by the presence of Dragons.

  Kassik said, “Students, will you welcome the graduating Dragons?”

  There was whistling, stamping, knee-slapping and finger-clicking depending on where the students hailed from; a cacophony which quickly faded into silence. Dragon eyes scanned the Humans. The Humans waited for the Dragons. The silence in the cave could have been cut by a Dragon’s claw.

  If she could wish for anything, Pip thought, it would be for a Dragon to choose Casitha. Her friend could not dare hope. Casitha studied her toes.

  Suddenly, the silence was broken by a gasp from one of the Dragons. “I know!”

  Turquielle had appeared from below too, and stood a little apart from her brood. She said, “Go ahead, then. Choose.”

  The solid, seventy-foot Red stumbled forward. He whispered, “You. I choose you. The girl with the violet pansies in her hair.”

  Everyone looked at everyone else.

  Pip knew, too. She had never known Maylin to tremble as she did now. She gave her friend a nudge. “Bow to him, Maylin.”

  “Me?” she squeaked.

  Maylin–impetuous, fiery Maylin–took a half-step forward and did a commendable job of trying to land flat on her face. The Red Dragon moved swifter than thought, clutching her in his paw. He made to put her down, then changed his mind, patently as awkward as a man unaccustomed to holding babies, being handed a wriggling infant. His huge muzzle lowered toward her.

  It seemed there were only the two of them in all the Island-World. The connection was so immediate and deep, Pip sensed, a complex bond she could hardly begin to fathom.

  “I am Emmaraz the Red,” he rumbled, but his tone betrayed an astounding depth of vulnerability. He adjusted his paw, making sure he was not squeezing her too hard. “I would be honoured–so honoured … I–flying ralti sheep, I can’t even remember what I’m supposed to say. What’s your name, little one?”

  “Maylin,” she said. Clearly, her nerves ruled as she babbled on, “I would be over all five of the moons, and any constellations you care to name, Emmaraz, for that matter, to burn the heavens together with you, as your Rider.”

  Laughter accompanied their pronouncements, for it was clear that the pair were besotted with each other.

  As if that were a signal, the Dragons began to approach the students, some sniffing about as though a scent would alert them to a potential Rider. One Red sat on her haunches and scratched her neck as if she were a hound.

  Please let a Dragon approach Casitha. Pip wanted to beg them, but … she blinked. There was a Dragon for her friend, surely? She knew it in her marrow, as the Pygmies put it. She saw two Greens pairing up with Western Isles warriors. And here, another much lighter Green, approaching Yaethi with a transparently hopeful gleam in his golden eyes.

  Pip took Yaethi by the hand. “Turn around. Don’t faint.”

  “Since when do I–oh! Oh, Pip, what do I …”

  “Shh.”

  The Dragon struggled for words before saying, with a sweet lisp, “I’m called Arrabon. I’d be very surprised if you would–honoured,” he gulped hugely, “if you’d even think about being my Rider. Because you’re beautiful, and I’ve never thought that about a Human before. Respectfully so.”

  Yaethi’s throat bobbed. “I’m Yaethi of Helyon Island. You’re beautiful yourself, Arrabon, if I may say so to a man.”

  They stared raptly at each other.

  “Dragon,” whispered Pip.

  “To a Dragon, I mean.” Yaethi giggled as she had never known her serious-minded friend to giggle before. “Is that it?”

  “Burn the heavens,” said Pip, quite enjoying the matchmaking now.

  “Ah,” said Arrabon, seeming by some trick of illogic to shrink into his bow, “I would be indescribably honoured, fair Yaethi, were you to consider my proposal that we burn the heavens together, as Dragon and Rider.” And then he spoiled his gallant words by adding, “I’d understand if you refuse, I really would.”

  “Arrabon!” She ran over to him before discovering how awkward it was to give a Dragon a hug. “I accept, of course, dear one. You’re perfect. So perfect.”

  Yaethi held him, arms outstretched against his hide, sobbing.

  But now Pip was distracted by two Dragons approaching at once–the striking Albino Dragon and the male Copper Dragon, who almost walked into each other
as they homed in on Duri and Kaiatha.

  The Copper said, “I’m Tazzaral.”

  “I’m Jyoss,” said the other, at exactly the same time.

  Attempting to speak to their respective choices, they bumped heads in the middle. The Dragons then jostled to switch places, which was nigh impossible in the chaos.

  “Hold still,” Duri grinned. “Kaiatha, over here. I’m Durithion, or Duri for short. This is Kaiatha.”

  As the Humans swapped places, Jyoss said, “I hope this isn’t an insensitive question, but are you two like a Dragon and a Dragoness roosting together?”

  “Whatever that is in Human terms,” Tazzaral put in, in his regal, ringing tones.

  Duri and Kaiatha exchanged embarrassed glances.

  Jyoss nuzzled the Copper Dragon’s neck. “Because we are. Not roosting, roosting, but–”

  “We hope to roost,” Tazzaral announced for half the cave to hear. Jyoss took a playful nip at his neck. A little loud, thou my third heart? he said.

  Thou, my soul’s rest, she smiled back. “Are we making any sense at all?”

  To Pip’s astonishment, she saw Kaiatha’s back straighten. “We hope to roost together as well,” she said, crisply. Whatever had come over her shy friend? Duri coughed and spluttered and blushed a deep, wine-red colour. “Duri and I accept.”

  “We accept,” Duri whispered, looking as though he had been slapped by a Dragon’s tail.

  “We haven’t asked you yet,” said the Copper Dragon, rising on his forepaws to a towering twenty-five feet above the Humans. He ducked down again.

  Jyoss, with a sly bunt of her shoulder, admonished Tazzaral, “Silly formalities, but you do love them so, don’t you, Tazz?”

  “I do.” He stiffened even further until he resembled an improbably enormous, coppery boulder. “Durithion and Kaiatha,” he thundered.

  “Tazz!”