by Marc Secchia
The terrain was rugged, not conducive to traversal or easy searching. Not only were the cliffs near-vertical in the main, there were also many overhangs and places where boulders had tumbled down from above, perhaps dislodged by the area’s general instability, and become wedged and ingrown amongst the thick covering of vines. Caves were few and deeply hidden. After a few fruitless hours Pip caught Emblazon displaying a fit of pique, tearing several great paws-full of vines off the cliff. Ay. She felt the same–the pressure as yet another Assassin Dragonwing passed over the Islands nine leagues distant. The frustration. The grief, so fresh and caustic.
At midday they gathered beneath the jungle boughs a mile higher up the Island for a drink of water, food and a chance to compare notes. Here, the vegetation flowed over the Island’s edge a mere four hundred feet past the cliffs, the massive boughs overhanging the area in a floral waterfall to a half-mile beneath their location, the vines a half-mile further yet.
Nak sketched out a new search plan; Hunagu gave the idea an unenthusiastic snort.
“Ape nose find,” the Oraial said in Island Standard.
Emblazon flexed his claws as though he would dearly have liked to test them on Hunagu’s flesh, but desisted for Pip’s sake.
“Let’s also work backward,” Arosia suggested. “Why not have Chymasion and I fly out to the volcano and–”
“Because we like you alive, that’s why!” snapped Nak.
“With Shimmerith and you for protection, Nak,” said Oyda, smiling at him.
Arosia drew herself up to her full height, almost a head taller than Nak. “With your permission, Rider Nak, my Dragon and I will do our duty. Stand aside, please.”
“Even the hatchlings have fangs,” Nak grumbled, appearing not in the least put out. “I hope that green lump of a Dragon-jewel knows what a treasure he’s found in you, o most slender of Sylakian sprites. So, we’re to check for an under-Cloudlands ridge, right?”
The teenager bowed in acceptance of Nak’s kiss upon her knuckles, murmuring, “Oh, Rider Nak, you always have the best ideas.”
With that, Oyda promptly applied her boot to Nak’s backside. “I’ll have less simpering over pretty girls who evidently know how to handle menfolk, and more application of the grey matter to the problem at hand, Rider Nak. How are you going to use Chymasion to see what cannot be seen beneath the clouds?”
He barely hesitated. “We’ll drop rocks and the Jade genius will hear or see the echoes.”
Pip shook her head in amazement. Good old Nak. Never short of a word, and ay, there was a sharp mind hidden somewhere beneath the parakeet-like layer of feathers. As Arosia turned to mount Chymasion, she heard Nak mutter, “But she does look amazing in Dragon Rider trousers. Mercy, those legs!”
Oyda booted him again. “Volcanoes have nothing on my wrath, Nak!”
Toward mid-afternoon, their efforts finally bore fruit. The foursome returned from the direction of the volcano, having rapidly plotted a zigzag under-Cloudlands course leading, unexpectedly, around to the westerly flank of the volcano. At one point they had even identified a boulder lying just beneath the drifting clouds. The area was certainly shallow enough. Pip still wondered how they were supposed to walk or travel beneath the Cloudlands and not turn purple before falling over dead–minor details. Deal with those later. Reversing their ridge-plotting back to the Island brought them to an unexpected site, approximately one-eighth of a mile along the easterly ‘finger’, close to the Island’s main body.
Quickly, the Dragons shuttled the hunters over the divide, Hunagu leading the charge. He pressed his nose in amongst boulders and vines. “Not here. Not here.”
“Lower,” Chymasion called. “There’s a looser area a hundred feet below your position.”
Emblazon immediately transferred the Oraial Ape, then snatched him away as his weight caused an entire section of loose shale to slip several feet.
Hunagu ordered, “On Dragon paw. Find place.”
Now an Ape was issuing orders to a Dragon? And the Island-World stood on its head. Pip did not trust herself to utter a word. Instead, she watched, heart in throat, as Emblazon hovered close to the cliff with remarkable skill, sweeping Hunagu about with steady movements of his paw. Fifty feet this way, fifty that. Lower. Lower again.
“Here.”
Leaping off the Amber Dragon’s paw in a welter of excitement, the Ape began to scrabble at the spot like a hound quarrying a patch of soil in search of a tasty bone. Emblazon again had to rescue him as dozens of boulders, some larger than the Ape himself, suddenly tumbled from above.
I’ll dig, growled Emblazon.
Cinti said, I’ve abilities in the Brown spectrum. Allow me, Emblazon. Please hold me; I’ll try to shore up the face as I dig.
Pip did not understand the issue until she observed how much power Cinti had to expend to force her way into the treacherous slope. Her magic allowed her to carve out rock as though it were soft Jeradian cheese, but the entire slope above was unstable. She worked on fashioning a foundation and bracing beams of fused rocks, slowly squeezing them together with her talons while Emblazon held her against the mountainside, his wings sweeping steadily to keep them both aloft.
An hour passed. Two. Cinti was head and shoulders inside the mountainside now, the work slowing as she depleted her stores of magic. She cried, Yes! Muffled, but exultant.
“What do we have?” asked Pip.
Cinti shuffled backward, fairly trembling with fatigue. A crack leading downward. Air flow. Steps.
Pip raised her muzzle. “Elder No’otha? Father?”
She landed neatly at the dark hole to allow her father to alight, resisting the urge to investigate first, and helped No’otha leap across from Emblazon’s paw. The two Pygmy men advanced briefly, before retreating again.
“Bad air,” said Pip’s father.
“Bad magic,” said No’otha.
The passage Cinti’s tunnel intersected was very narrow, barely a fit for a slender Pygmy. For once, Pip realised, she would be grateful for her tiny size. Oyda would also fit, but Kaiatha? They had planned for her to bring the diary and her magic.
The Pygmies organised themselves rapidly. With Dragons available to convey people between Islands, there was no delay in fetching the supplies No’otha ordered. While Fiò’tí built a neat fire from dry twigs and lengths of dead vine twenty feet inside the passage, the other warriors worked with the Dragons to disguise the cave entrance. Silver and Cinti returned with bundles of several types of herbs in paw, and the awed-looking young Seer.
Meantime, Pip talked softly with Hunagu. The time she dreaded had come, she realised, and her heart would rather bolt and hide in the jungle far, far away than face this reality. Pip embraced her friend, burying her face in his fur. His scent was so familiar. It spoke to her of icy Sylakian nights endured in their rude shelter, of play-wrestling and grubbing in the dirt for food, deep friendship, and much besides.
She said in Ape, “How Pip thank Hunagu enough?”
“Silly-silly girl,” he said, stroking her curls with his huge paw. “Pip Hunagu’s friend. Mighty-heart Ape, friend never forget. Pip take Hunagu to home. Her word good-good word. Always good.”
“Hunagu has mighty-mighty heart. Always go with Pip. Always.”
“Always,” he said, thumping his chest.
After that, Oyda and Emblazon flew away with Hunagu, a forlorn Chymasion trailing in their wake to help with shielding. Pip watched until the Dragons were only a speck in the distance.
No’otha and the Seer prepared cleansing smoke and magic, which the steady inrush of wind bore within the mountain. They spoke appeasements to the ancient spirits and wove their Pygmy magic, preparing the way. Quite the fuss, Pip decided, but with a queer journey across the vines fresh in her mind, she declined to comment. Instead, she spoke at length with Nak, Arosia, Kaiatha, Silver and Cinti about what her strange power might be that allowed her Human form to react and run faster than a Dragon, and the possible challenges th
ey might encounter down beneath the Cloudlands. Soon, the Pygmies declared their work done. The way was open.
Pip’s father gripped her shoulder firmly. “Pip will succeed. I feel it in my liver.”
She gripped his forearm equally firmly. “My father is my heart-stone.”
Could ever a million stars inhabit a smile, his was so.
* * * *
They filed down the stairs within the crack seemingly forever, first Oyda, then Silver, Pip and Kaiatha bringing up the rear. Arosia suffered from claustrophobia, so she was excluded from the party. Each person held a light prepared by Silver and Shimmerith, an ancient but well-understood trick by which Dragons bundled an electrical charge inside a special type of shield which only functioned in sizes smaller than a Human fist. The result was a neat, bright, not hot and usefully, rather sticky bulb imaginatively called a Dragon light. Pip stuck hers to Silver’s back. What a useful idea. Only, these Dragon-lights demanded an inordinate amount of magic to produce and lasted only eight hours or so.
According to No’otha and Hunagu, some Ape Steps ran above ground, and some were tunnels below ground, which cleared up Pip’s undeclared confusion. She had imagined having to wait days for the right moon before being able to make a crossing–that was certainly the way with most Ape Steps, but not this one. Her tiny size made her a perfect fit, whereas Silver kept having to cant his shoulders to squeeze through the tighter spots. Kaiatha kept up a steady stream of, ‘ouch,’ ‘Islands’ sakes’ and ‘build this roof lower, why don’t you?’ in her ear. No Oraial could have managed. Did that mean this tunnel was a Pygmy secret?
“Where’s Yaethi when you need her?” Pip commented.
“How many steps? Aren’t we under the Island already?” asked Silver.
“What about Yaethi, Pip?” asked Kaiatha. “She’s not the adventurous sort, unless you’re talking about adventuring through some exciting scroll-lore.”
The Pygmy said, “The airflow mechanism. Fascinating, isn’t it?”
“If you say so. I’d settle for a little engineering to ensure anyone taller than the average grasshopper could fit through here.”
At last, the tunnel broadened and flattened out. Kaiatha made certain to sigh with relief at least ten times as she stood upright for the first time in an hour. Pip eased her aching thighs and calves. Silver was right. How many steps? Were they beneath the Cloudlands already?
After a quick consultation of the diary, Silver led off, extending his Dragon magic ahead of them to check the passageway. Shortly, they paused at a cave-in that partially blocked the tunnel. There must have been another entrance, Kaiatha observed, as they scrambled through the gap. One large enough for Apes.
“Quick march,” said Oyda.
Silver said, “Why? I might miss something.”
Oyda hooked a thumb over her shoulder. “Or I’ll have the Pygmy twist your arm.”
“I submit already!”
Silver peeked over his shoulder; Pip stuck out her tongue. “I’d never treat my boyfriend like that.” Various rude noises greeted this fib. She added, “He’s such a delicate little Dragon. Wouldn’t want him to snap a toenail.”
Her boyfriend managed a spluttering, inhuman growl at this sally. Ah, Dragon emotions, Pip chortled inwardly. Volatile as the suns were bright, and about as safe as whistling up a Cloudlands storm.
Fresh air streamed steadily past the group as they made a small, advancing puddle of light in a passageway cut by some remarkable technology. Pip ran her fingers along the wall. Perfectly smooth. Square edges at floor and ceiling, so this was not an ancient watercourse. Besides, the substrata was granite. Water would not ordinarily cut through solid granite. A slight, dry-musty smell came to her nostrils, and a hint of cinnamon–
Stop!
Pip cried out fractionally before Silver pulled up abruptly, extending his left arm to stop Oyda in her tracks. “Wait. Magic ahead.”
“First entry spell,” Kaiatha muttered, thumbing rapidly through her father’s diary. “Ay. An easy one to warm us up. Arosia and I worked this one out weeks ago. Shall I take this one on to save you for the more exciting work later on, Silver?”
He made a slight bow. “Verily, o mighty Dragoness.”
Kaia spluttered, “Er …”
“That’s you, petal,” said Oyda. “Less catching flies and more action, please.”
As Kaiatha spoke a short incantation, a shimmering light briefly infused a band of stone in the floor just a step ahead of Silver’s feet. The light flared, then faded to nothingness. The Fra’aniorian said, “That’s it.”
“What was it?” Pip asked.
“It’s fondly called a knee-trapper,” said her friend. “The intruder falls in and the stone closes, crushing their knees and trapping them in stone forever. Charming idea, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Um,” Pip gulped.
“Never mind,” said Kaiatha, striding forward. “The next one is poisoned spikes. Then we have the ten-tonne ceiling dropper, then a bottomless pit followed by a trap called the spiked grasshopper, and after that things become really exciting.”
Mercy. She was grateful Kaia and Silver seemed confident about all this nasty Dragonish portal magic. Pip clenched and unclenched her fists. Thank the heavens for friends with skills other than getting into trouble. She watched with increasing appreciation as her companions dealt competently with the various barriers apparently devised by the Order of Onyx with expert draconic help, perhaps their own Shapeshifters. What had driven them to hide their secrets with such paranoia? Was the assassination of Kaiatha’s father connected to his knowledge of this location?
After two hours’ march, the foursome had reached the final barrier, the portal spell deliberately left incomplete in the diary. Here, the tunnel finally rose and widened, becoming a cave hidden behind two successive barriers–firstly, a silver curtain veiling an arched entryway, clearly of magical origin and function. The barrier shimmered slightly as though alive, and was transparent enough to allow a view of a chamber beyond, empty save for a plinth or altar in the precise centre of the floor space. A stone slab denied access to a second chamber, beyond the plinth. Above the doorway, Silver pointed out several runes, which could not be fully read from below.
Oyda mopped her forehead. “Phew. I’m boiling. We must be right beneath the volcano.”
Kaiatha raised her light on her palm, straining to read the runes. “Pip, I need your help. Climb on my shoulders.”
Shortly, Pip rose into the air, but she still could not see clearly. The original chiselling was time-worn, and slightly hidden above a protruding lip of stone where the archway rose toward the ceiling. Carefully, she balanced on her feet and reached up to steady herself against the arch. “Ouch! Islands’ sakes, this rock’s blisteringly hot.”
Silver touched the wall to his right and snatched his fingers away with a hiss. “You’re right.”
Pip said, “Listen to this, ‘Only Pygmies may enter here. Death awaits.’ That’s unambiguous, I’d say.”
Kaiatha put her down again. “Alright, team. Let’s work this out. We’ve a puzzle noted as ‘sliding door’ and we see a small plinth through the barrier in that chamber, which is thirty foot by six by thirteen high, exactly the dimensions noted in the diary. Only Pip can proceed beyond this point. Pip, you need to memorise this entry oath.”
Pip crossed her arms and pursed her lips.
Oyda clipped her fondly over the back of the head. “Stop smirking. It’s impertinent.”
Sipping her water gourd, Kaiatha conferred rapidly with her team. Shortly, she and Silver were probing the barrier with a variety of magical techniques. An hour passed. Two. Pip tried to sit down, but the rock burned her through the seat of her Dragon Rider trousers. At length, she grew impatient.
“Look, have you two tried touching the barrier?”
Kaia waved crossly at the diary. “Look, you need all of this … this part written in my father’s best obsessive double-speak. And left unfinished.”
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“Here? Or in there?” She jabbed with her forefinger.
Pip gasped as her finger stuck to the silvery substance. “I didn’t mean to …” She shook her hand. Nothing, save from hurting her cast-in-stone finger. “Oh, no …”
“Pip!” Silver grabbed her waist, Kaiatha her free hand. They heaved.
“Stop! You’re pulling my finger out–mercy, it’s … my hand!”
Kaia shrilled, “The oath!” Pip stared at the strange, silvery substance flowing over her knuckles. It had already reached her wrist. Cool, slick and perturbing.
Oyda slapped her shoulder. “Start talking, you stupid lump of soot!”
As if released to fly, Pip babbled the oath. No change. The silvery coating flowed up over her elbow as if partaking of a leisurely afternoon’s stroll. Still the magic held her fast, unyielding. Had she known a few more Words of Command, she might have been able to counteract this magic. Pip placed her foot against the archway and pulled with all of her might, but she might as well have been welded in place. Her heel touched the silvery surface. Instantly, she was stuck at two points.
Now they were all shouting, Pip rattling through the parts of the spells she had read and the oath, three times, but the cool magic expanded up to her knee and armpit. Oyda tried to push it back, but the stuff simply flowed around or under her hands, ignoring her with suspiciously animate intelligence. Silver attacked the doorway and was repulsed with a sizzle and a loud report, flung across the chamber where he sprawled, shaking his head unhappily. Kaiatha yelled at Pip not to transform. She tried to push at the peculiar magic with her mind, probe it, stop it, change its nature … nothing worked. In seconds, it was creeping up her neck and down beneath her tunic top. That was an Island too far.
Panic ripped through the Pygmy girl. This magic was attacking her! Covering everything, inexorably, sneaking up her chin and tickling her lips and dipping into her mouth and she was screaming and now it closed over her nostrils and reached the top of her thigh, encasing her hips … on the verge of blacking out, Pip gasped a huge breath. Another. She was fine. Not suffocating.