by Marc Secchia
Quietly, he said, “I’m more the beast than you ever could be, sweet Nyahi, my hidden treasure. I beat you black and blue with the words of my flapping tongue. What a fool I can be. Yet I would do well by you. I am good at … well, some of this. We’ll work out ways for you to control the transformations. We’ll train together. Grow strong together. I’m no scholar, loremaster or magic user, but neither am I a complete helmet-head. We –”
“Yes, you are,” murmured the bracelet.
He chortled happily. “Had me fooled, you rascally scrap of talking treasure. Next time, I’m not blabbing all my secrets to you. What’s your name?”
“Nyahi,” she giggled.
“That’s the one I gave to you.”
“I’m a very submissive, docile, tractable girl … you can train me all you like, Big Boots.”
Heat exploded in his cheeks. “Nyahi! Honestly! Are you always this plainspoken? And before you cheek me again, the answer to that is –”
“Hopefully, yes?” She put on her Asturbar voice, “I will train you thoroughly, ma’am! I am a good soldier, ma’am!”
“In battle craft,” he protested, albeit weakly.
“If you say so, Commander Asturbar,” she said, so demurely he knew she meant exactly the subject to which his thoughts immediately strayed. “Don’t you start protesting. I’m sitting on your pulse. I know exactly what you’re thinking, you wicked, wicked man. And before you cheek me again, no, I can’t change out of this one. Not yet. I agree with you testing my different forms and all that, but first may I ask, what trouble exactly are you planning to get into out here? Battles with sunlocust plagues, I understand. You seem to be thinking more broadly.”
Frowning fiercely at his reflection in an impossibly enormous vein of gold, he replied seriously, “It’s just that I don’t feel we are fated to spend all of our lives in the Doldrums, Nyahi.”
“No? You also have a feeling?”
“YES, I HAVE FEELINGS!” he shouted. Shocked silence. “Uh … where did that … sewage come from? Sorry. ‘Better to shut your fangs, soldier! Yes sah!’ ”
Laughing, she said, “You can’t imagine how many times I’ve shouted at these walls when the changes come upon me, Boots. I know something of how you feel. We must grapple with those aspects of fate we can grapple with. If we can stabilise a Dragoness form long enough for us to fly out of here, that will be my goal as well. I understand the need to protect ourselves out there in the big, nasty old Island-World.”
“Azhukazi will work it out eventually.”
“Yes. Or Chanbar. He’s a smart one. Always calculating the odds. I worked out he must have been quietly angling to take over a mercenary House since before I was born. An interesting pastime for a scion and noble of Yazê-a-Kûz.” Nyahi sometimes sounded so much older than her twenty-two summers, Asturbar thought, nodding. Smart thinking. “He wanted power, just a different form of power to what anyone imagined. I wonder after that campaign you mentioned against the rogue Gladiator Pit, what he extorted from my father. Or whether that was when he stole the Jewels.”
Asturbar said, “You need to understand that your powers would be prized. What value upon a person who could change into any draconic form at will? You’d need to ally yourself with a powerful –”
“We.”
He cursed softly.
Nyahi rippled against his wrist. “Alright, soldier, you can stop looking so glum. I’m getting used to your talent for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. Just you try getting rid of me. I’ll secure this bracelet around your thick neck! Unless you’d rather be liberated from a Chaos –”
“THE HELLS NO!” he bellowed, and this time felt very good about it.
In a moment, the cavern rocked to the sound of their laughter, one silvery and tinkling, the other a great basso belly-laugh.
At length, Nyahi said, “I will need you to do something for me, however, Marshal Boots.”
“Marshal?” he snorted.
“If the shoe fits …”
“Oh, I see. The foot-size jokes are going to continue for how many years, my sparkly muse?”
She said, “Tonight, I need you to look to the horizons for me. You see, I’ve been dreaming and I don’t understand what it all means. I’ve never dreamed as vividly in all my life before, but somehow, as I’ve been … uh, sort of hiding from you in this cavern, since meeting you that is, I’ve been having some pretty crazy visions and … all that.”
“Sure, hit me with crazy. I’m getting used to it.” The claws dug in, but he said, “I like it, is what I meant. Mister boring and predictable meets the ultimate face of unpredictability, decides he could gladly grow old with said unpredictability.”
The bracelet grew noticeably warmer where it touched his skin. “Me too. But listen. Please don’t get huffy on me if this sounds like blasphemy, but I think I’ve been dreaming about a Star Dragoness up there in the skies, and I think she’s going to fall to Isle tonight. In Wyldaroon.”
Asturbar puffed out his cheeks. “Phew! Alright. I subscribed to the view that there was only one Star Dragoness until you said that.”
“There have been two, at the very least,” Nyahi argued, advancing the opposing view to the one he had been taught. “Hualiama, of course, and Istariela, the Fra’anior’s fabled beloved.”
“One and the same person. Deity.”
The bracelet chuckled. “Alright. Let me really trample your sensibilities, in that case.”
He sniffed, “I can very well do that for myself. It was clearly impossible for Fra’anior and Istariela to have progeny as we understand procreation or reproduction, despite their legendary love for each other. I also shiver to think of Hualiama being a real, spiritual, fire-life descendent of Fra’anior himself, and I acknowledge that her incredible powers argue that may well be true – but I just think the one-Star theory is more logical. It hurts my brain less, anyhow.”
Dreamily, Nyahi replied, “I dreamed that there were two beautiful stars talking to each other way out there, over the Rift beyond the Mesas. The name of one, at least, was revealed to me. Well, her identity. She’s an Amethyst Shapeshifter Dragoness.”
“Hold on. You expect me to look how far, exactly? That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
The bracelet pouted.
“Alright, you win. No arguments here.” Asturbar stroked her gently beneath her diamond chin, drawing an involuntary purr. The diamonds also appeared to turn slightly pink with embarrassment. Interesting. “I’m not quite such a thick-skulled soldier boy to understand that one can see stars from inconceivably immense distances. I shall gladly search out this mythical Star Dragoness of yours; I shall be your eyes and you shall come with me. We shall attempt to ascertain the mystery of an Amethyst Dragoness – a colour which also happens to be impossible amongst the Dragonkind, just by passing mention. I have studied Shapeshifter colours in detail. You say she shall fall to Island this very evening?”
The bracelet shimmered upon his arm. “Right now!”
And then, it was all Asturbar could do to hold on for dear life as his girlfriend turned into a neat little comet of her own. Complete with existentially misbehaving diamonds.
* * * *
Perhaps all of one minute later, in Asturbar’s estimation, he stood atop the topmost Island in the entire archipelago which they had made their home, with his companion, a metallic dragonet boasting some eighteen inches of draconic perfection, perched upon his left shoulder.
As he peered to the North, he reached up to soothe her with a gentle hand. Actually, he was the one who needed soothing! How much of this could a man’s nerves stand? He said, “If Amethyst is impossible, what Dragon colour are you? Exquisite silver-blue? You’re more like … not quite platinum. I can’t place your colour. Another element. Not meriatite, nor tungsten which is whiter. You are more silvery, and there’s that additional blue element which definitely hints at you possessing higher Dragon powers.”
“I’m not a Dragoness. I’m Chaos, re
member?”
“Fangs, talons and fiery attitude. Forgive me for mistaking you for a doormat.”
Forgive his head for whirling as though it wanted to spin off his shoulders. Her rides were not half a window into insanity. Although … “Say, Nyahi, when you accosted me at my place – how was it that your fireball bounced off my rump? Do you think the Jewels of Instashi are protecting me from the inside?”
“Boots. Focus. Sing me a song of silvery starlight …”
“Understood.”
He peered Northward intently.
“And, do please move your mouth when you think. Men.”
Alright, she had not been that sheltered.
“Oh. Well, as you know it is impossible to see four thousand leagues with Human eyesight, so basically, what I’m looking at is golden suns-fires rippling over an endless plain of white Cloudlands, which rather oddly, seems to have developed a wide vortex about two leagues East of here. The golden light playing off those flecks of cloud down there makes that clear. It might be as broad as five leagues in diameter.” Asturbar pointed. “Ten points above pure Northwest I think I can see a black dot which may or may not be another oasis like this one. Behind us is a glorious sweep of roseate mountain peaks –” dancing dragonets, now he was throwing linguistic daisies like ‘roseate’ into his speech “– whilst to the North and East the horizon fades seamlessly into the gathering night. Old gold, orange and crimson flame gives way to the darkness wherein ancient stars do roam, ablaze with the genesis of their fire-life. It is said, my dear flower, that the stars are the souls of Ancient Dragons gazing down upon the world, and if that were truth, then there are billions of Dragonkind watching us right this moment. Could you imagine such a draconic congregation?”
“Oh, Asturbar,” she sighed, nuzzling his cheek.
“Sorry. Got a bit carried away there.” More than that! Whatever was the matter with him?
“Please do get carried away more. It’s a glimpse into your soul.”
He rubbed his neck in embarrassment. “Ah … good. Anyways. The early stars are already twinkling in the East, but if I know my maps well enough, it is above your old homeland of Yazê-a-Kûz that you wish me to look. There.” He indicated twenty-five points East of due North. “I see many familiar constellations – the Wrangler, the Dragon’s Heel, the Seven Robes of Kings – and oh! Well now. I see what you meant.”
When he fell silent, the dragonet trapped his left earlobe between her fangs, albeit gently.
“Words, with haste!” he chuckled. “I see a star which is lower and brighter than many others, I would imagine right above where your father must be pining for his – yeow! Too much poetic license?”
“Way over the line, soldier.”
“I apologise. But, swiftly now. It’s lengthening. Moving. I mean, from this distance that star has to be moving incredibly fast – in fact, I think what you predicted is actually a shooting star. There’s a corona of white about the leading, blazing orb of light and a trailing streak of her glory which must be a thousand miles long. It’s easily over the Mesas already, I’d imagine, but … this is most unusual. I think I see her path curving. Yes.”
“Her colour?” Nyahi gasped.
Asturbar squinted. “It’s hard to tell,” he admitted eventually. “It’s like when you look at the stars and you imagine they are twinkling this colour or that, do you know what I mean? Sorry.”
“I remember from my childhood,” she replied.
“It must be awful to lose so much.”
“It’s close to being blind, but not the same,” Nyahi whispered. “All that is beauty around me I cannot see, save by putting my nose against it. You cannot imagine the fascination of a flower or an insect or even the facets and jewels of that cavern, for I can no longer enjoy the horizons. What else, Boots?”
He sighed heavily.
She chuckled, “When I look down your naked body, your toes are out of focus. But I can surely see a great deal in between.”
“Nyahi! That’s … possibly a deity up there, and you’re discussing my –”
“Abdominal muscles,” she said primly.
“Oh, ha ha! Very clever. The comet is curving over the mountains now, and entering Wyldaroon if I can be so bold as to make that estimate. It is low. I don’t know how it missed the peaks, but that smear of white is streaking toward Cloudlands level at an incredible speed. It is … I think you may be right. Every so often, I do believe I can detect a hint of amethyst in that colour, Nyahi. There’s a clearly denser, bigger part at the head, then this brilliant white tail … and, she’s gone.”
“Gone? What do you mean, gone?”
“From this distance the world curves, so the scientists would have us believe,” Asturbar said. “Given the Cloudlands’ curvature and the prevailing atmospheric conditions, Human eyesight is limited. Our comet or Star Dragoness just dipped beneath the – what the freaking freaks was that?”
Faster than the eye could follow, a disturbance of light ran away beneath them, passing across the Cloudlands like a great waveform ripple of tiny lights, until it washed up against those very distant peaks, he imagined. The night seemed to fall with a peculiar reverence. Pregnant with portent. Cognizant of the wonder it had spawned and released to grace the Island-World. Could he believe? Could he?
“I felt that,” Nyahi whispered beside his ear. “I saw it.”
“Saw what?” he croaked.
“A great disturbance of magic emanating from the direction you specified, Asturbar. It was like an enormous, ever-expanding shell of light that washed from the heavens above into the Cloudlands below. She has been born. The Amethyst is coming, this Star Dragoness. We must prepare ourselves.”
* * * *
From that day onward, Asturbar and Nyahi worked harder than they ever had in their lives. They knew it would take time, months or even years, perhaps, but the future seemed a different prospect now that her strange dream had been confirmed – at least in some detail. He would not have picked Nyahi for the mystical comet-strike-predication type of person. That information must have come from somewhere. He just did not want to think too hard upon what, exactly, its origin might be. Was this a taste of destiny? Or the will of mighty Fra’anior, the Onyx of yore whom some numbskull infantryman had the audacity to insult by comparing his limitless creative power to Nyahi’s Chaos magic?
“Forgive me,” he whispered to the stars. “I am not worthy.”
He had thought she was asleep, but a slim silvery-blue hand moved from his chest up to his cheek, and stroked his stubble. “Who among us is worthy, Boots?”
Turning onto his side, he drew the girl close. “Indeed, who?”
Sleepily, she murmured, “That’s how I feel about you. Did you know that?”
Headshake. How could she feel this way, when he was the one who knew that the proverbial Dragon of Providence had bit him in the rump when he considered all that Nyahi was, and might become? He said, “Likewise, o iridium-skinned beauty of my dreams.”
She tensed. There in the darkness of their bedchamber, he knew he had touched something. A nerve? A truth? Nyahi breathed evenly as if she were trying to get back to sleep, or to cover up her surprise, but her skin began to gleam with a faint, silvery radiance. He thought back to their brief conversation. Was this reaction about worthiness, or dreams, or … iridium? Where had that popped up from? He knew it only as a trace metal similar to platinum which was valued by many Dragons both for its gold-like density and weight, and for its commercial value as a Dragon armour alloy and an essential element of the draconic diet, especially mothers brooding over their clutches of eggs. Iridium was far rarer than platinum, and commanded by the pebble, or one-twelfth of a stone’s weight, ten thousand times the price.
Thankfully, Marshal Chanbar had not specified he seek iridium for his flooring needs!
He stirred.
“Go to sleep, Boots,” she murmured. “So much training …”
The training had been progressing –
not much or in directions that they necessarily enjoyed, but there were definitely signs of improvement. Nyahi had a handful of transformations she could control eighty percent of the time, now, but unfortunately none of those was her return to Human form, nor could she reliably sustain them for periods of longer than half an hour. His mental catalogue of her potential target forms seemed to be approximately as large as the scope of draconic life itself, which was to say, the exercise of mapping them appeared futile.
“Do you know much about iridium?” he asked.
“Boots. I’m so tired.”
“You’re glowing.”
“You’re as transparent as crysglass,” Nyahi whispered. Drawing his hand up from her bare hip to her lips, she kissed his fingers tenderly. “If you’re desperate, I’m amenable.”
Asturbar said, “Didn’t want to disturb. I’m also a bit wrung out by all we’ve been doing.”
“Rest day tomorrow, isn’t it?” Plaintively, she added, “It’s been five weeks, Asturbar. When will she come? Will our fate ever change? I’m not unhappy … oh my cherished man, I am a million billion trillion leagues from unhappy!” She wriggled about until she faced him, and Asturbar curved his arm about the small of her back now, connecting them. He was so big, his biceps were thicker than her trim waist. She gurgled with laughter. “I am glowing, too! I can see my reflection in your eyes. Happiness thus illuminated for all to see. Where are your thoughts, my lovely soldier? Spin me a tale.”
“My thoughts dwell upon the providence that gifted my exile with the companion of my dreams,” he said. And, on her ears. She habitually kept her unfeasibly pointy ears hidden in her sable tresses, but around him it seemed she grew bold enough to sweep her hair back the better to converse with him. He was no expert on auditory appendages, but such upswept adornment must surely have become the fodder of many balladeers’ tales, if they were common to her people. Just one more usual feature of his silver-blue girl.
“Oh-oh. Poetical doth he wax.”
Mawkish was probably a more accurate descriptor. He said, “You’re a delight. No more dreams?”