by Marc Secchia
Onyx and Silver tumbled through the sky, tangled, screaming, cuffing at each other with open-clawed paws. Pip was less than a third of the Silver Dragon’s size, but her ferocity eclipsed his. The smaller Dragon chased and harried him relentlessly, hacking off bits of his scales and snapping a neat, painful bite out of his left wingtip.
Pip spat bits of skin and wing-struts at the Silver Dragon. This is my fight, she snarled at Kassik and Emblazon, hovering nearby. Their Riders, Casitha and Oyda, gave her identical frowns. He’s mine.
Emblazon’s smile was wreathed in a twenty-foot plume of Dragon fire. Don’t bother to leave any bits for us, Pip.
The Silver Dragon smirked at her. You think you’re going to beat me, little one? I’ve seen Dragon fights more times than you’ve seen the suns rise.
Spiralling in between his grasping forepaws, Pip lashed out, slashing three bloody trenches right through the middle of that smirk. He snagged her wing in passing, shredding a section midway along her right wing.
Don’t fall asleep there, Silver.
In answer, his challenge thundered across the huge volcanic caldera. With a neck-popping wrench, Pip changed direction mid-swoop and curled in beneath his belly. His hind legs worked as though he were sprinting, trying somehow to keep her at bay, to strike a telling blow or buffet her clear. A claw smacked Pip in the jaw. She bit it instinctively. Tumbling away, she caught herself with flaring wings and drove in once more, gashing his flank in two places. Golden Dragon blood welled up at once.
Silver spun in the air. You’re going to pay for that, you pest!
Spoiled your good looks? Next, I’ll trim your slug-ugly nose.
His gaze told her that he could not quite believe a Dragon of her size was attacking him–but now, Silver was hurting enough to take her assault seriously. His eyes narrowed. Suddenly, fire slashed across her path. She braked, thinking it was a fireball, but instead, the spray of white fire opened like a blossom and smashed into her from every direction. For a moment the heat was so intense she imagined she had flown into one of the suns. Her scales burned from black to white, as if coal had turned to ashes in the heart of a bonfire. Pip screamed.
Within the fire there was something else. His mind. A Silver Dragon appeared in her mental space, diving toward her with a howl that shook her Island to its foundations. All was white. All was pain.
But Pip drank deep of that pain. Within the refining agony, she found the strength to push back at him. Silver reeled. His attack evaporated. Perhaps he was not as powerful as a Silver Dragon could be, given the injuries she had dealt him the week before. Pip stared at her paws and then back along her body. Her virtually indestructible scales looked melted in several places.
Silver Dragon star power, Kassik’s dry voice sounded in her mind. Pip, let us intervene. You can’t fight this. No Dragon can.
What had been meant as a private communication to her was easily read by Silver. His smile made its reappearance. Star power, he said. Why don’t you let Kassik and Emblazon die for you, Pip?
Pip needed to clear her head. No. I’ll kill you myself.
You? You fight like a dumb animal.
A wave of rage engulfed her. Stars were meant to be beautiful. He was evil, a travesty of what should. Through clenched teeth, Pip said, A few nursery spats don’t count for battle, Silver. They couldn’t cage me. I am a jungle warrior. The power grew within her, the strength that Hunagu had always feared. You don’t want to learn how much of an animal I can be.
Try me.
His sneer was all the incentive she needed. Pip’s challenge resounded across the beautiful green lake, ten times louder than his had been. Silver’s eyes had only begun to widen when Pip closed with him. They locked claws and limbs, wrestling, straining, trying to jab a claw into a vital spot. Their jaws champed furiously, fangs clashing, tearing at the scales of each other’s necks. Wrenching her upper body sideways, Pip leaned around his flank and punched him with all her strength in the precise place she had struck Silver before, breaking his ribs–just aft of his left foreleg, in the upper ribs of a Dragon. She sensed the quake her blow caused in his body. He whimpered. Grimly, Pip punched him again, five or six times in rapid succession, until her much larger opponent managed to kick himself free.
He winged for the sky.
Silver flew badly, clearly in extreme pain. Pip took a moment to enjoy his limping wing-stroke before chasing after, driving her tired body upward. There, above the black volcanic rim, she caught him. Pip sank ten claws into his lashing tail and pulled him back as though she were yanking a cat by its tail.
Try some Onyx power, she hissed. I’m not finished with you.
She flung him back down toward the two huge Dragons circling below.
Pip gathered herself, eyeing his tumbling body. The Silver Dragon was not stricken, yet. He had fight left in him, and if her senses were not mistaken, the star-power which had struck her a moment before, was gathering somewhere within his chest. She had to have something left. Her magic was spent, but she had her strength and her fury. Furling her dark wings, Pip nosedived.
Her wings beat. Once, twice, thrice. She had struck him this way before. She did not have long to gather speed, as she had done before, but five hundred feet would have to be enough. Pip aimed for his neck. This time, she would snap his vertebrae with her strike. A tension gathered in her body and limbs, forming her into a dark thunderbolt of strength. She arrowed toward the gleaming Silver Dragon. Dark and light. She was the unseen spear hurtling from the deepest jungle, the animal power he so despised. He was radiance and beauty, yet as evil as the Shadow Dragon stalking the Island-World’s night.
At the very last instant, the Silver Dragon’s wings flared, arresting his flight. He barrel-rolled sideways, presenting the curve of his back rather than his neck to her strike. She was unable to arrest or divert her attack. Pip smashed into his back. She groaned as his spine-spikes pierced her belly in numerous places.
Murderer, she wheezed, clawing at his wings.
Stubborn wretch, he retorted, trying to shake her off. Bellyful too much for you?
Kill you … Her struggles only drove the spikes deeper.
Silver clawed ineffectually at her. In her position, stuck midway along his back like the Pygmy kebab she had once joked with Zardon about, he could not easily bring his claws to bear. He flapped weakly. Pip hoped she had reopened his wounds. He deserved worse.
But she knew her battle was finished. Her strength had spilled out like water. There was nothing more.
He snapped, Emblazon, I order you to come help me.
Not a hundred feet from them, the Amber Dragon laughed scornfully. Try another Dragon, Silver. Was he waiting for the moment to strike? Pip willed him to withhold, just for a vital second or two …
Silver’s eyes widened in shock and realisation. I will.
Emblazon lunged. He struck the base of Silver’s tail. Pip realised he had modified his attack to avoid clawing her. The Amber Dragon kicked out with his massive hind talons, opening three ten-foot gashes in the gleaming, silvery hide. As his fierce blow rotated the younger, smaller Dragon in the air, Emblazon whirled and struck him a whiplash wallop with that bulky tail, a brutal, meaty smack to the side of the head. Silver went limp.
Oyda yelled triumphantly, raising her sword over her head.
Pip, flung free, saw Kassik swooping up toward her. He broke her fall with his own wing, before clutching her to his chest with both forepaws.
Got you, Onyx Dragoness. Just a helping paw.
Thanks, Kassik.
“Nice catch, my Dragon-heart,” called Casitha.
Pip did not know if she could have flown another foot. Blood mixed with a clear, pearlescent liquid gushed out of her stomach in quantities that dizzied her. Emblazon loosed a wrathful fireball of disdain after Silver, who tumbled end over end until he splashed down in the lake.
Fish him out, said Kassik. I want that grass-chewing ralti sheep right where I can smell his fear.
She was in so much pain, it was difficult to laugh. But Pip did chuckle when Emblazon fished Silver out of the lake. He was not at all gentle. He dumped Silver on the shore, before following Kassik’s orders and ‘flying’ him to the field outside the dining hall. Emblazon did not seem inclined to swing his load over any boulders or trees in the way. Oyda said something from the saddle, but she suspected it was only encouragement. That made their feelings quite clear, Pip thought, wincing as Silver’s dangling head smacked against a boulder and uprooted bushes and trees.
The huge Brown Dragon flew her directly to the infirmary. Emblazon dumped Silver contemptuously on the grass nearby.
“Great Islands, yah a mess,” said Mistress Mya’adara, looking her up and down with a jaundiced eye.
Pip struggled to her paws. “Uh … what about the other Dragons? The battle?”
“Yah lie down right there,” screeched the Mistress, flapping her arms so violently that Pip wanted to laugh again. “Peace, mah girl. We’ll win the battle, don’t yah fret.”
There was still a faraway roaring of Dragons and sizzling of fireballs out there, but Pip no longer had the strength to lift her head. The roaring in her ears drowned out all else. Her belly burned. Pain stabbed deep in her shoulder joint as she shifted.
“Pip!” Oyda bounded down from Emblazon’s back. “Rajion. Over here. Belly wounds, mostly. Lie on your side, Pipsqueak. Don’t you know to catch yourself with your paws if the lower Dragon brakes? Spine-spikes are there for a reason, girl.”
“I … discovered that, Oyda.”
“Mmm,” said Maylin. She had a slab of a bandage plastered over her left eye. She and Emmaraz, looking on nearby, looked battle-weary. “I figured you’d bring a boy Dragon home at some point.”
“Shame he’s the enemy,” Yaethi said, acidly.
“Sooooo sexy,” Maylin persisted, drawing her words out as though seeking to goad a reaction from Pip. Had she been able to move, her reaction would have been an irritable slap, Dragon-sized.
Kassik had his own ideas. “I’m going to lock that miserable piece of slug vomit in the deepest, darkest dungeon I can find,” he said, thumping his huge paws over to the prone form of Silver. “Get me that collar, Casitha. And chains. Heaps of chains.”
“Right here, Kassik.”
“And all my implements of torture,” Yaethi whispered, very softly.
“Ahh, don’t make me laugh,” said Pip. “I just remembered, someone needs to go fetch Prince Ulldari. Silver recruited him, too.”
“Done,” said Yaethi. “If Shimmerith hasn’t eaten him already, petal.”
“I hope I didn’t break his neck.”
“Mercy, Pip, I can put both my hands inside these puncture-wounds,” said Maylin, as helpfully descriptive as ever. But she ran off immediately on Oyda’s orders to fetch cloths and a bucket of herbal cleansing rinse and the gluey bandages fondly called Dragon-hide bites, because their application made an injured Dragon look moth-eaten.
Rajion nosed Maylin aside in order to make his examination of Pip’s belly. He said, “Straightforward wounds, little one. Whatever you do, don’t transform. These are dealt with much more easily in your Dragon form.”
Pip grimaced. “I couldn’t transform again if I tried, mighty Rajion.”
She risked a glance over to Kassik. The Brown Dragon favoured her with a blistering glare, obviously having overheard every word. Oh, heavens above and Islands below. One more time to the Master’s carpet. But when the Silver Dragon stirred, Kassik pounced on him with a leonine growl. Three or four dozen other Dragons, injured and well, drew closer with menacing intent. A choir of low growls greeted Silver’s opened eye.
The Brown pinned him with an ungentle swipe of his paw. Transform, or die. As I believe you told Pip, before.
Silver’s regard flicked to her, his silvery gaze undefinable–regret? Surrender? An acknowledgement of her victory? Pip expected to feel triumphant. Instead, a sorrowful wind keened within her spirit. She could not bring herself to gloat, unlike the other Dragons. The sense of connection with him was so deep, so intense and captivating, a craving unlike any she had ever felt before. So right, yet so wrong. It had to be another trick of his. Pip dropped her gaze deliberately. She let her ears bring to her awareness the Lavanias collar’s click about his throat, the jingle of chains, and Kassik’s soft command to bring forth salve for his wounds and clothing.
Ga’am approached to confer with Kassik. “The collar suppresses magic, as we suspected,” she heard him say. “Extraordinary.”
“Still, the Shapeshifter holding cell is the place for him,” said Kassik.
“Ay, Kassik,” agreed Ga’am. “Wisdom dictates it.”
The Brown Dragon hulked over the Silver Shapeshifter. Extending his longest foreclaw, he symbolically touched it to the base of his captive’s pale throat. “We will speak, Silver. Do us the courtesy of honest answers, and we will deal courteously with you according to the code of Dragon lore, which you and your kind have spurned. We, at least, will behave honourably. If you choose otherwise, or attempt escape or coercion, we will deal with you less kindly, torturing you with every means at our disposal until your life wings from your body. Verox is particularly adept with slow-acting poisons. I assure you, death would be sweet succour compared to what he is capable of.”
“Lie still, Pip,” said Rajion. “This is going to hurt.”
In his Human form Silver seemed so diminished and young, considering all the grief he had caused. She wanted to hate him. The faces of her slain classmates accused her. How could she harbour even a jot of sympathy for the vile Silver Dragon?
Pip hardened her hearts.
Chapter 33: Captive
LIKe MinDLESS Beasts, the Herimor troops had attacked to the very last. Human-Pip, visiting Master Kassik in his office three days later, following her release from the infirmary, reflected upon his words. Her bandaged torso itched madly; the good itch of healing, Mya’adara and Rajion assured her.
In a voice like gravel rolling in a swift-moving flood, Kassik told her how the last troop of one hundred soldiers had stood firm even against two dozen Dragons. They refused to lay down their weapons. Pip, watching the Master from the corner of her eye, thought long about the admiration and sorrow mingled in his voice.
“You should not speak too much,” Casitha admonished him. Her presence was akin to cool waters rippling around the Master of the Academy. She wore an attractive green dress, and judging by the way the Master’s eyes dwelled on her, Pip was not the only one who thought her friend looked beautiful, a bud finally gifted the love required to bring forth the blossom. Casitha said, “You’ve a sore throat and a beastly cold.”
“Huh,” he said. “Pip has honourable wounds. I boast this ralti-stupid head cold.”
“You’ve wounds, too, Master.” Casitha squeezed his shoulders. She smiled at Pip, seated on the couch opposite. “He just won’t admit them.”
“I’ve no wish for you to call me Master, any longer,” said he, laying his hand upon hers.
“Save on the pillow-roll?”
Casitha meant to whisper her words into his ear from behind, but Pip’s high-pitched giggle told her how badly she had failed to keep her comment private. Casitha blushed so furiously she did not know where to look.
“I’m not sure that’s entirely appropriate for student ears,” spluttered Kassik. It was the first time Pip had seen him so discomfited. Fascinating. “And you can just wipe the ‘you look so sweet together’ smirk off your lips, young lady,” he said to Pip. “I need to have words with you about that Silver Dragon. You mean to see him, don’t you?”
Her friends must have tattled. Pip stared out of his crysglass windows at the mist-shrouded volcanic peaks outside. “If I’m allowed …”
But Casitha dropped a kiss on the Master’s cheek. “As long as you remember how it is between us, Kassik, and give our Pipsqueak the grace she deserves.”
Judging from Kassik’s expression, he would dear
ly have loved to forbid whatever relationship or feelings he suspected between the two of them. Instead, he said, “We need you to interrogate him, Pip. This is a hard thing I ask of you. But for our sakes, for the sake of the Island-World, you must extract the truth from him.”
“Master, haven’t you interrogated Silver already?”
“Ay.”
Pip searched his eyes. “What did he say?”
Kassik said, “He’s an honourable young Shapeshifter, Pip, insofar as he understands the concept of honour. But I plan to deliberately keep you in the dark.”
“Oh. Oh. You’re … using me.”
“Exactly.”
He seemed unrepentant and determined; Casitha nodded her agreement just behind him. Pip modified what she had been about to say. “That’s very honest of you, Master.”
“Would you rather Kassik lie, Pip?” asked Casitha.
“Wear something pretty,” he added.
He could probably hear her teeth grinding together across the room. Dangerously soft, Pip said, “I plan to wear my razor ribbons. Is that what you had in mind, Master?”
His savage smile was far more his Dragon side than the Human sitting on the couch. “Indeed it is, Pip. Indeed.”
* * * *
Pip’s knee-length, Helyon silk turquoise dress concealed Oyda’s body armour on her torso. Her scalp still ached from her friends tugging at her curls for an hour. They would not be wrestled into submission–not with hot water, soap, oil or warm irons. Just like her personality, Maylin teased. Pip made sure Maylin saw her strapping her Immadian forked daggers to her belt with a purposeful mien. The razor ribbons adorned her hair. She wore a child’s tiny slippers, jewelled fit to grace royalty.
Lamp in hand, she descended a spiral staircase beneath the school, prepared to do battle with a Silver Dragon Shapeshifter.
There were many secrets beneath the Academy’s foundations, she had learned. A gruesome discovery for her was the Shapeshifter cells. Carved deep into the volcanic bedrock by the labour of Jeradian convicts and war prisoners, they were deliberately sized small to prevent a Shifter from transforming into their Dragon form. The ingress was so narrow that even a burly soldier would have to turn his shoulders sideways to fit through. She had to pass though several locked metal gates, and a section which could be collapsed remotely.