Dragonlove (16 page)

Fascinating indeed. Which, in Dragonish double-speak, possibly meant that Mizuki knew of Grandion’s shameful conduct with a Human Dragon Rider, and did not entirely disapprove?

Lia said, “By oath made before the Dragon Elders, I have joined his honour-quest. Was the shell-son of Sapphurion made welcome among the Dragons of the East?”

“Ah,” purred the Dragoness. “You do the Tourmaline Dragon great honour. Aye, he came to Tsugai. I was but a forty-foot fledgling and beneath his notice, but well I remember such a–how do you say it in Island Standard? Every Dragoness swooned at his beautiful scales, and can I speak of the indescribable fires of his noble eye? Such power; such wing-shivering glory, as though the stars themselves descended to dwell among us! All of the Dragonesses wanted him.”

Hualiama’s opened her mouth to voice a shout of pure fury, when Elki stepped on her foot. Hard. “Ouch! You–”

“Noble Dragoness,” he interrupted loudly, venturing a smile more queasy than confident, “may we entreat you for news of Grandion? Where might we find the towering–um, blue beast …”

The Copper Dragoness nodded gravely, returned from her romantic reverie. If ever Lia had imagined hurling herself at a Dragoness to throttle her, this was the moment. Green was the colour of her fire. Bright, sparkling, irrepressible jealousy.

Mizuki said, “Would that I knew more. One rumour holds that he travelled to the Lost Islands of the far north, and there succumbed to the Dragon-Haters’ magic. In the second, Grandion was betrayed by a Dragoness and caged somewhere in the southern reaches of our Eastern Archipelago, down south past Haozi Island.”

Lia shivered, recognising a parallel with her dream. Oh, Grandion!

“Now, I must depart,” said Mizuki. “May you soar over the Islands of your life, and enjoy favourable winds, Dragonfriend and Prince Elka’anor.”

“We thank you, noble–” Elki began, but with a snap of her wings, the Dragoness sped off toward the east.

Hualiama could not help but imagine that something in their conversation had frightened the Copper Dragoness away. Weirder than ten dancing Islands, were that the truth! And the wind had changed. The breeze blew steadily from astern–a coincidence, surely?

She elbowed Elki slyly. “So, rule number one of dealing with Dragons. No fainting.”

“Shut your prattling beak, short shrift.”

S
Ylakia Town welcomed
travellers, or, more accurately, their coin. Having secured a berth at the Dragonship port east of the town proper, Lia set about ordering materials for repairs, while Elki sauntered into town to procure supplies. Barbarians, the Sylakians were called, and Hualiama could see why. They were brawny, bluff men with huge, bristling beards and a habit of wearing mounds of stinking animal furs even in the most sweltering temperatures. Eschewing the elegant blades of Fra’anior, the Sylakians brandished two-handed war-hammers, which she had already seen settle three disputes in the course of as many hours aground.

However, there was coin aplenty. Sylakia’s advantageous geographical location made the Island the hub of five major trading routes, to the north and Immadia Island, to the Eastern Archipelago, west to Fra’anior Cluster and the Western Isles, and southeast and southwest, to the vast reaches of the Southern Isles, all the way to the Rift. Lia counted over seventy Dragonships moored in port, and more arriving and leaving in a constant stream. The air had a tingle of bustle and excitement. New buildings were springing up to replace the old, square-cut wooden cabins that characterised the town. There was nothing pretty about Sylakia Town. No gardens, flowers, or even a green, growing thing.

There came Elki now, his long-legged stride eating up the ground. Carrying no supplies. Of course. Grr! She finished reefing on a new sail. Once the glue on the hot air sack dried in approximately six hours’ time, they’d be all set.

“Found us accommodation and a hot bath,” he called up to Lia, earning himself instant redemption.

“Great. Down in a wing-flip.” Rope in hand, she let herself down from the ‘wing’ of the Dragonship and alighted at Elki’s side. “What? What’s that look for?”

“Glue on your chin,” he averred, rubbing it with his thumb. “Mind you, a little fur and I could affix a nice beard.”

“No accounting for what you fancy in women,” she retorted.

Brother and sister walked up into town, taking their few valuables with them. Up the main street, boarded sidewalks provided relief from the stinking mud through which the pony-carts dragged their loads, and slave-carried litters transported the well-to-do. The inn was clean and not overrun with raffish patrons–a good choice, Lia approved. An hour later, bathed and refreshed, she decided she might even smell somewhat like a Princess of Fra’anior again. They ate a solid if unexceptional meal of ralti stew, not spiced nearly as much as the Fra’aniorian version, before retiring early.

An egg-dream stole Hualiama away. This one was stranger than most. Often she dreamed of a White or a dark Blue Dragoness brooding over her clutch, but this time, she dreamed she was inside an egg, submerged in a soft, yolky warmth.

You will fly to the moons, my little eggling,
came her mother’s voice.

Mamafire? Mamafire?
The Dragoness was gone, and the egg was cold and alone. Another had come, but it was not the same.
Mamafire, don’t leave me! Mama …

Her third heart broke. The tiny Dragoness yearned for that comforting maternal voice, never seen but always loved, always reassuringly present. She was gone. Mamafire! Her baby presence floated on the world’s winds. Her eggling-wings were not yet strong enough for flight, rubbing against the smooth inside of her egg as she dreamed, yet her fire-spirit roamed free and far. Danger! Instinctively, she hid from a great, tyrannical presence, cowering inside the egg. The dark one passed over, his many-fold power seeking, always seeking.

No, she must protect her egg-brother and egg-sister, those other infantile presences which she had known since before her first lucid thought. Her magic reached out. She sang:

Hush thee, hide thee, be not afraid,

I am thy sheltering wings.

Countless moon-cycles after she had sensed the dark one, the little Dragoness peered out again with eyes which reached beyond her body, beyond the shell. No, she must not break out. That time would come. Yet she sensed an impending tragedy. What was this? The anguish called her, a summons more imperative than the needs of a Dragoness’ body when the birthing-pangs came upon her. She must protect. She must nurture. There was a little one crying out to her, just a spark of a sweet, alien soul, and it sang to the Dragoness’ fire-soul with the beauteous melody of her mother’s fire, as pure as starlight.

Egg-sister, the Dragoness whispered. Soul-sister. Obeying instincts so deep they transcended words, the unborn hatchling sang again:

Silver-fire, be mine. Steal me away,

Let her pain be mine, is my vow,

May we be one.

Drawing a cloak of silver-fire about her according to the magic she had perceived in her mother’s mind, the unborn Dragoness transformed.

The shell stood empty. Never cracked, never born, lying between two others which also remained whole but filled with Dragon-life. An ethereal draconic presence winged away over the Island-World, questing.

Lia awoke weeping for Grandion. As Flicker would have said, shards take it! She dashed her tears away. Control. Why was she always behaving like a mawkish teenager when it came to that Tourmaline troublemaker? No wonder people thought her cute and frivolous … but thoughts of the Dragon paled as Lia became aware of a portentous heaviness upon her spirit, not linked to Grandion, but to the melancholy dream–a dream of immedicable loss and hurt, a mother’s abandonment of her precious clutch.

The room was too still. Where was Elki?

Before she knew it, Hualiama flung aside the covers and rose smoothly to her feet, blade in hand. Shoes. Daggers. She corralled her wild hair with a headscarf.

She cast about the inn, calling her brother names in Dragonish she had learned from Flicker and his fascination with all things vile and disgusting. No sign of him, even in the busy downstairs. Pensively, she approached the innkeeper, a portly fellow who looked as though he and a tankard of golden Sylakian ale were the best of friends.

“Have you seen my brother?” she asked. “Tall, thin fellow. Pointy ears.”

“Aye, him?” The innkeeper’s three chins wobbled together. “Left ‘bout an hour ago, lady. Two women with him.”

“Where’d they go?”

Lowering his voice and hiding his mouth with his hand, the man whispered, “Try the Luscious Sow. Two roads over, north side of the city. Them women have a business preying on strangers.”

Fire crackled in her voice. “You allow their kind in here?”

“Can’t keep watch on every customer, lady,” said the man, drawing back in alarm.

She exited the inn at a healthy clip. Quick, bearings. Hualiama set off at a run, her feet pounding the boards up to the first crossroads. Carousing, drunken laughter, shouts and curses rent the night air. How had she slept through this? Stupid brother! When had he started seeing strumpets?

Lia knew Elki was in trouble. She felt it like cold oil sliding along her bones.

Two roads later, she stopped a couple singing at a street corner. “The Luscious Sow. Where can I find it?”

“Sweet lady like you don’t want that place,” slurred the man.

His companion slapped him, and screeched, “Keep yer eyes to yerself, husband! That way, lady. And leave my man alone.”

Well, she’d take whatever help she could get. Hualiama sprinted away.

A fire blazing brightly in a metal bowl advertised the delightful premises of the Luscious Sow. Men and women danced in the mud around the fire to the tuneless wail of the Sylakian triple pipes and a hand-drum. Putting a hand to her dagger, Lia slipped past them and into the building. The din inside was incredible. No sign of Elki. She pushed through the crowds, yelping as a vulgar hand pinched her behind. Upstairs? Had to be. Lia forced her way to the stairs, ruing her diminutive stature as not being much use in boorish, ale-soaked crowds. At the top of the stairs, a man lurked in the shadows.

“Have you seen a Fra’aniorian-looking man come up here with two women?” she asked.

The man looked her up and down as though she was a sweetbread he intended to sample. “What’s it to you, lady?”

“He’s my brother,” she said.

“Been naughty, your brother?” drawled the man. “Through there. Last door at the end.”

Hualiama had an inkling of what he intended. Three breaths later, a squeaky floorboard alerted her to the fact that she was being followed–even above the tavern’s roar, she picked up his tread. Lia focussed her senses. Muffled voices. A groan–Elki’s? She heard the breathing of at least five or six people in that room as she made her light-footed approach. Now, the thud of fist against flesh.

That sparked her fire. Lia kicked the door open with her foot, as it was already ajar. Her eyes leaped to Elki, tied to a chair, lolling as blood dribbled from his mouth. Two women huddled in a corner, scared … she somersaulted up and over a hammer arcing toward her stomach. The Nuyallith blades whispered free of their sheaths, striking a half-breath after she landed, left and right simultaneously. Lia cartwheeled to her left. Two miniature crossbow bolts whispered past her flailing limbs to bury themselves in the torso of the man who had been torturing Elki. He doubled over, losing interest in the battle.

She whirled. Her glance took in two more men lurking in the shadows, besides the one out in the corridor.

Lia knew she should not cross the space in front of the door, but Elki was vulnerable. Dive! Lia rolled awkwardly into the space behind her trussed brother. Seizing the solid wooden chair-back, she yanked Elki toward her. Another quarrel plunked into the wood beneath his right thigh.

She reached into her bodice.

Mister Crossbow out there was still winding up his weapon when a dart found his exposed bicep. He convulsed as the powerful poison took effect. Lia stalked the last two men. One fled past her strike. She hacked into the door-frame as he dived through. The second man was not as fortunate. Lia expended her rage on him with a swooping dragon technique, and yanked her blades out of the lifeless body before it struck the floor.

“Elki, dear one–”

“Crummy brother, aren’t I?” Blood dribbled out of his mouth. “Got drunk, stupid …”

Drawing her dagger, Hualiama severed the ropes lashing his hands and torso to the chair. “Easy, Elki. What did they want? Jewels?”

“Information,” he gasped. “Do you know a person called … Raz … Razzal?”

“Razzior?”

Even ahead of her brother’s confirming nod, Lia’s breath whooshed out of her lungs in a pained wheeze. No! The Orange Dragon had found them! Should she be surprised that some beast among the Dragon Elders did not want to see the Tourmaline Dragon return? Stupid, naïve Dragonfriend! Pray Razzior was only casting his net, and that an invisible hook was not already reeling them in.

They had to flee. Now.

* * * *

Mizuki’s wish held true for Hualiama and Elki as they fled Sylakia Island four hours before dawn. A stiff following breeze filled the spinnaker. Sylakia’s massive cliffs raced by on their starboard flank. Thankfully, dark clouds crowded overhead, reducing the visibility to what should have been a dangerous minimum. Patched by his sister’s hand, Elki resembled one of her early engineering experiments, Lia decided with a bleak chuckle.

“So, you don’t see that promontory up there?” Lia pointed.

“How many days are there in a week?”

“Nine, why?”

“For the tenth time, no.” Elki winced. “Ouch. Mustn’t smile. I do not see what you see. You’re definitively and irrevocably weird.”

Lia grimaced in return. “Before I definitively do irrevocable things to the position of your head on your shoulders … Elki, please. What’s happening to me?”

His hand moved to find hers in the dark. “Scared? Aye, I’d be. You swallow down an Ancient Dragon’s fire thinking nothing of the effects?” Lia bit her lip so hard, she tasted blood. “Amaryllion admitted he couldn’t separate his fire from Flicker’s gift. The true weirdness is what he said afterward, that whatever you’re born to be is even more important than the fire he gave you. Besides, what’s wrong with seeing in the dark? It’s a splendid gift, which merely enhances your all-round awesomeness.”

“What do you want, brother?”

“Ooh, don’t make me laugh. Hurts …”

“Teach you not to listen to your big sister.” But she squeezed his fingers sympathetically. “We’re flying into the proverbial Dragon’s maw–Merx.”

Elki chuckled hollowly. “Let’s hope your prediction is less accurate than mine about wanting a Dragoness.”

Fair winds hustled them across the wild northern reaches of Sylakia Island, so that by dawn, the black granite cliffs were drawing aside to allow the rising suns to strike them full abeam. “Syros.” Hualiama pointed far to the northeast. “That must be it.”

Elki squinted and offered a grunt of negation.

Lia groaned, “No …”

“Aye. Either my eyes have grown weak in my old age, or … shall I pilot while you sleep, sister?”

“You’re injured. Rest.”

“The last thing I need is you mothering me on this voyage!” He mussed her hair fondly. “Sorry. Why don’t you set our course and catch a few winks yourself?”

Lia could not sleep. She fiddled with the sails while Elki, who could apparently sleep for the both of them, snored like a purring dragonet. She must not think of Grandion. If she experienced another waking dream, she might end up flying them straight into the side of an Island. Instead, one of her and Flicker’s favourite songs, albeit a melancholy one, came to mind. She sang quietly: