Dragonfriend (7 page)

You were–
Hualiama stumbled, struggling with her limited Dragonish. Switching to Island Standard, she said, “Awesome! So brave.”

Can’t leave you to wander around these cliffs on your own, Human-Lia. Now, why don’t we get away from these nasty windrocs and I’ll show you the best cave in the world.
He mock-snapped at her.
Don’t you dare pick up a dragonet by his tail. It’s demeaning.

As they emerged from the far side of the thicket, Hualiama gave him one of those looks which stirred his belly-fires. “I don’t understand what I did to annoy you, Flicker, but I’m sorry. Very sorry. Sorry with your favourite intestines slathered on top?”

She giggled in that lilting way that never failed to amaze him. Lia had the best laugh. Carefree, bubbling, even a little wild. She reminded him of a storm in motion, he decided. Flicker’s seventh sense told him that she was the kind of creature who could shake the world. He purred to himself, knowing that she’d be changing nothing without his help. Straw-head would have been rotting in the Cloudlands …

“O mighty Flicker,” said Lia, bowing toward him with an elaborate Fra’aniorian hand-twirl, “slayer of the dreadful windroc, saviour and protector most gallant of maidens trapped down league-tall cliffs, will you ever forgive me?”

Well,
said Flicker, strutting and puffing up his chest fit to burst,
I’d do the same for anyone in trouble, Lia.
But he knew he would slay ten windrocs for her smile.

The girl stopped in her tracks. “Mercy … my soul …”

She must realise what he already knew, that this ledge jutted out two hundred feet or so from the Island’s main body, offering unparalleled, panoramic views. To the north and south, the Island-massif curved away into the distance, a vertical mountain-slope as far as the eye could see. To the west, Flicker saw a few Islets–just mountain peaks, really, apart from one inhabited Island which the Humans called Ya’arriol–sticking up out of the Cloudlands. Even the Ancient One would not tell him what lay beneath that ever-shifting, ever opaque realm. Four or five miles to the southwest, a slender volcanic cone abutted the main Island, lush and green, wreathed in multi-coloured flights of dragonets, making the sharp, perfect cone seem to shimmer with living lights.

That was the place of the Great Dragon, a place of worship.

Hualiama stood motionless, as though wishing to devote her entire being to drinking in that beauty, eyes and mouth and pores all striving to know it, taste it, inscribe what she perceived on her heart. “W-What a-are those?” she stammered, pointing at the volcano.

“Dragonets,” said Flicker.

“So many?”

He coiled, intending to leap up onto her shoulder to comfort her, when he realised he was seeing the strange Human phenomenon called happy-tears. Flicker settled for rubbing against her legs like a cat.

“Oh, my poor darling, you’re hurt,” said Lia, scooping him up.

He pointed with his foreclaw. “Look. Dragons.”

Lia narrowed her eyes. Could she see that far? He was beginning to wonder how good her eyesight was, because she did not appear to see details which were instantly clear to him. He felt a distinct jolt in her body as she spotted the Dragonwing of six huge Reds. Her heart pounded against his flank. Was she afraid? It was men who had done this to her, not the Dragonkind.

Inside,
said Flicker.
Why are you afraid of Dragons, Lia?

She scuttled across the rock, making for a round cave-entrance he pointed out for her.
Me afraid die,
she said. “Forbidden.”
No Human-Island.

Oh. So that was what the Ancient One had meant! Flicker tasted the strange word. It was similar to the idea that Dragons did not want dragonets invading their roosts, but carried deeper, darker undertones that he neither understood nor enjoyed.

Flicker bared his fangs at her.

* * * *

Lia angled rapidly for the cave. “Forbidden. It’s bad, not allowed … you don’t go to a forbidden place. If you do, they throw you off a Dragonship.”

When the dragonet did not appear to comprehend, Lia imitated the cry she had made before.
Aaaah!
She mimed a person falling into the Cloudlands.

By the Great Dragon’s breath!
Every one of Flicker’s talons unsheathed as his paws contracted, making Hualiama gasp in pain. He said,
Oh, shards take it. I’m sorry. Please …

She held him tighter. “What’s a few more cuts, little one?”

Sorry.
The dragonet’s flexible neck extended. He rubbed cheeks with her. Hualiama flinched slightly in surprise, but quickly covered her mistake by imitating him, making a contented noise.

She said, “Umm, you smell … what is that smell?”

Flicker’s nostrils flared as they stood before the round cave entrance, wide enough for any Dragon to slip inside, enjoying the warm breeze issuing from the depths of the mountain.

Lia wondered if she was not imagining something, but it was the strangest cave-smell. Not damp. No, nor musty. Just a hint of moisture, yet this was … she could not say. It reminded her oddly of Dragon fire billowing before an attacking Dragon, only this smell was sweet and not acrid like smoke, suggesting dizzying mysteries and hints of long-forgotten magic. She imagined the Island’s roots were steeped in wonders beyond Human comprehension.

Flicker sprang lithely down from her arms.
Come, straw-head.

Within, just off the main tunnel which plunged unknowably far into the mountainside, Lia found a cosy round chamber, lit from above by daylight filtering through a clear, star-shaped crystal. Toward the back of the cave she saw two small pools, one bubbling and the other mirror-still.

A Dragon’s roost,
said Flicker.

Wow!

The dragonet showed her a depression in the centre of the cave. “Eggs, here.”

Soft, warm sand greeted her toes. Lia gazed around in delight. What colour might the mother Dragon have been? Then, a frisson cased her spine in flame.

White. A hunted Dragoness, frantic, laying her eggs in the cavern while she checked the entrance a hundred times, wondering if she should block it to prevent
him
from finding her, brooding over her clutch of three Dragon eggs, each easily three feet in length, then knowing a searching presence, the great, many-headed Black Dragon seeking her with all the powers of his magic and cunning … concealing the eggs deep underground, summoning one to care for them, sheltering her unborn young with her own pearlescent power, and then departing the cave to submit to the Black Dragon’s chastisement …

Lia’s legs folded beneath her. Her head struck the sand. She heard Flicker’s shriek as though it came from a great distance, and when she dreamed, it was about Dragons fighting.

* * * *

Her right arm took a further three weeks to heal to the point where she could grip light objects without gritting her teeth, and raise her hand above the height of her shoulder. In that time Lia eased back into her daily exercise and dance routines, much to Flicker’s bemusement. They set up a home of sorts in the cave. Even the worst of her bruises and lesions healed up, thanks to the dragonet’s medications, and she worked diligently on learning to speak Dragonish.

Flicker taught her how to mend a rent in a dragonet’s wing. The thin, supple wing membrane was also extraordinarily sensitive, so he first had her find the right combination of herbs–numb wort, tergaroot and pungent wandering monk’s-flower–which Lia helped to prepare two ways, firstly for eating and secondly, for smearing on the wound to numb it. Then, having readied thorn needles and thread, she was equipped for the task. Fra’aniorian lace embroidery, regarded as the finest in the Island-World, was an art form of which Hualiama had only ever scratched the surface. Flicker made her demonstrate her sewing skills on leaves before he allowed her near his wing. This triggered a hissing-contest between Human and dragonet.

She drew together the ragged edges of his wing membrane and set her nimble fingers to the task, starting by gluing together two severed wing struts, which to her resembled cartilage but were clearly much stronger, and then working on the surface itself.

Lia muttered, “Your wing surface is amazing. Are these all tiny muscles along here? Get your muzzle out of the way, silly.”

Shards take it, straw-head, I’ll bite you if you make a single mistake with that needle.

“Will you pack the fangs away?”

A Dragon’s wing has three joints,
Flicker began in his pompous lecturing tone, pointing at them with his tongue.

Hold still,
she replied in Dragonish.

He sniffed,
Listen to your teacher, you ignorant talking ape.

Shall I sew your lips together?
Lia replied, with her sweetest smile.

How’s about I chew your flapping ears into an actually pretty shape?
The dragonet seemed pleased by her rippling laughter.
Now, the shoulder joint is also the primary wing joint, anchoring the major flight muscles to the keel bone of the chest. The secondary wing joint is akin to your elbow, but it bends forward through one hundred and ten degrees or more, and can be fixed in place by the action of the muscles. And the tertiary joint here, toward the end, is like your wrist, but much more useful, of course.

Oh, of course,
Hualiama put in, biting her lip as she concentrated.

Each joint adjusts individually. The arteries which feed the muscles and wing membranes run along a groove in the inner side of the wing bones, where they are best protected.
Flicker flared his wing struts at the end of his wing.
Ancillary muscles work the wing struts, allowing the entire surface an unparalleled adaptability of movement during flight. Do you understand so far?

Enough.
Lia was pleased. Her Dragonish was starting to come much more naturally now, although he still used words she did not understand.
How’s this?

Adequate, I suppose, as far as Human work goes.

Lia bared her teeth at the wall. For a creature who had saved her life, Flicker could rile her like stinging-nettle rash.

During this healing time, Lia’s thoughts turned to the outside world. She observed the Fra’aniorian Dragonships flying by overhead on a regular patrol schedule, and reasoned that Ra’aba now exerted absolute control over the Island-Cluster. Her situation was hopeless. Marooned, she was powerless to leave the Island unless she could grow wings of her own. Should she leave, she had no allies. Should the Dragons find her living on their holy Island … Hualiama sighed. Yet, she was daily gaining proficiency in Dragonish. Surely that gave her an edge, even a tiny one?

When a Dragon wished to crush her beneath its impossibly enormous paw, she could plead for her life in fluent Dragonish. Bravo!

Flicker was a strange one. Lia grew accustomed to him flying away to be with his warren, but sometimes at night, she missed the warmth of a curled-up dragonet. Where did he sneak off to for hours on end? And how, by the fires of Fra’anior itself, did he know so much about Humans?

One night, Lia pretended to be asleep so that she could watch for his departure. He flew deeper into the caves, not up-Island to meet his family. Odd. Should she confront him about it? Or just keep her impertinent nose where it belonged? Flicker could be touchy about the most unexpected subjects, such as his habit of slurping up intestines, or the way he cracked the knuckles of his paws, which invariably made her wince. Perhaps she could try to follow him?

The following day, Lia was bathing in the warm pool, singing to herself as she rubbed a natural soapstone on her legs, when a flight of dragonets swooped into the cave, all a-chatter with excitement–perhaps a dozen in number, mostly reds, but she also saw yellow and two light-green, almost identical dragonets among them. Lia had not realised how much dragonets’ shades could vary, but seeing all the reds together, she immediately picked out a range of colours from coppery red through to a deep burgundy. Several dragonets had underparts which were definitely more orange than pale cream.

A pretty yellow dragonet sang out,
Found you, Flicker!

Another dragonet gasped,
A naked ape! Look, every dragonet!

A chorus of alarm rang out.
Leaping eggshells … by my mother’s paws … disgusting … it stinks … careful, it might be dangerous!

At the top of his lungs, Flicker shouted,
Quiet, you troop of chattering monkeys! She’s friendly. Don’t scare her and she won’t harm you.

Flicker, what’re you doing with this creature?
the yellow dragonet demanded.

Flicker flickering flick flick,
chattered one of the reds.

Is this your pet, Flicker? Are you keeping a pet?

In seconds, a dozen curious pairs of eyes ringed Lia. Half of the dragonets perched on the edges of the warm pool or clung to the walls, while the others zoomed around her at high speed, enjoying a game of aerial acrobatics. Hualiama wished she could follow their rapid-fire chirping. Clearly, she was an object of great wonder and speculation. She began to cover her breasts with her hands before halting the movement with a chuckle. Dragonets cared nothing for nudity–all they had was Dragon hide, and that suited them perfectly well. Could this be Flicker’s family? Hualiama observed them curiously, trying to separate the slender, quicksilver females from the slightly more thickset males, noting the differences in musculature and facial features and scale-patterns.

Flicker was clearly vexed, breathing out sharp gasps of fire and flaring his wings at his fellows.
Go away,
he snarled, baring his fangs.
She’s my pet. Leave us alone.

To Lia’s surprise, the chattering died away as the dragonets appeared to communicate as a group, without need for speech. She sank down in the water in order to present a less threatening posture. The scrolls said to do this in the event of a rajal attack. Presumably, whoever wrote that scroll had been eaten immediately, or should have been for offering such advice, for a rajal was a coal-black feline common to the Islands of Fra’anior which stood taller than Lia at the shoulder. Rajals were not known for their delicate table manners.