Dragon Thief (37 page)

There it was again. Many hands!

“What’re you doing?” Tazithiel murmured.

He read across to the seventh rune. “Tazi, what does this rune here mean? This starburst with wavy lines above and below?”

“Silly man, can’t you sleep?”

Kal kissed her forehead. “One little favour. Please. I can’t stop thinking.”

Cracking open one gleaming indigo pool of magic, Tazithiel focussed on the scroll. “It’s a mystic symbol, Kal, called
cipher
in ancient Dragonish. The rune of mystery.”

“Mystery and shadow …”

“Sleep. Before I kick you right up your solstice.”

What if he touched the scroll with his Shadow power? Kal froze. “Squeaky little rajals! Tazithiel!”

“Hold it still, genius.”

Now she was fully awake. Tazithiel slapped her restless hair down. The White moonlight seemed to waver as it passed through the translucent scroll, touching a few scattered runes which it picked out in silver. Metallic ink which did not respond to his Shadow power? Kal shadow-scratched his invisible beard.

Tazithiel read slowly:

A passage ne’er trod by Dragon’s paw,

A mark above an ancient door,

A thief to steal its secret lore.

A power of many hands, eighty-four,

Shall she not sing, o Dragoness of yore?

Raise the Island-bridge! Make way for the suns!

Her voice shook as much as Kal’s hands as she read the runes again, pausing in fearful contemplation at the words ‘thief’ and ‘Dragoness’.

“L-Look,” Kal stammered, “The rune for ‘Dragoness’ has its own special colour, apart from all the others. It’s very old, but I’d swear there’s a hint of indigo pigment mixed into the ink.”

“Aye.”

For a long moment they lay still, so shocked, the only sound or movement between them was the identical pounding of heartbeats, for the night had grown stifling and Kal felt as though he could not draw enough breath into his lungs.

“Kal, this is a joke. Someone who knows us, it has to be … doesn’t it? This must be Aranya’s handiwork. The indigo couldn’t possibly refer to me.”

Clasping her hands, Kal grated, “You are special, Tazithiel, and worthy. That’s no accident of birth, I assure you. It is who you are. Do not let Endurion’s legacy speak beyond the grave. You are so much more than that.”

“Harsh.”

“I’m sorry. I spoke ill.”

Suddenly, her distant expression cleared and she bit his shoulder with mock-playfulness. “You should learn never to apologise to a Dragoness, Kal, especially when you’re right. So, genius, where’s this door to the West?”

“I haven’t the foggiest notion,” he admitted. “I thought we’d ask directions from the Dragonkind who live here.”

“From
dragonets?
”

Kal found a tiny green dragonet who repeated the stock lines about superior beings. Clearly, these creatures were very set on defining their place in the world. While Kal inquired about their Dragonish wisdom, Tazithiel threatened to turn the mite into jewellery. That sparked a squeak of terror and an instant dive into the foliage from their little helper.

Wow, you’re a help,
Kal groused.

Superior flying monkeys!
snorted Tazithiel.
You’ll have no help from their kind. Come on. I’ll transform and we’ll take another look.

Two minutes later, as Dragon and Rider prepared to depart, a flight of dragonets came bursting out of the foliage beneath a fallen tree-trunk that hung thousands of feet down the near-vertical cliff.
Pests! Insulters! Low-lives!
they chattered angrily.
Inferior nonsensical intruders.

I’ll nonsensical you, you cloud of buzzing mosquitoes,
snarled Dragoness-Tazi.

Suddenly, the whirling ranks opened and a large green dragonet faced them. She was at least five feet from muzzle-tip to tail, and seven feet in wingspan. Her muzzle was whitened with age, but her flame-eyes seemed shrewd and alive with intelligence. She looked Kal over disdainfully, and Tazithiel with evident animosity.

The dragonet said,
I am Tenzor, warren-mother of the hatchling you threatened. What is this beast, a jumbo dragonet?

Tazithiel hissed,
I am a mighty Dragon!

Evidently, great size does not imply great intelligence,
the warren-mother hissed back.
You’re one of the legendary Lesser Dragons? Why indeed are you called ‘lesser’, if we are not superior?

The Indigo Dragoness choked with rage.

Oh, I see a contraption upon your back. You’re nothing more than this two-legged creature’s beast of burden.

Kal leaped! With a desperate waft of his hand, he turned his Dragoness into Shadow a split second before her fireball incinerated them all.
Beast of burden, aye,
he panted. A hundred pairs of angry dragonet eyes burned at him.
And you are all incredibly … superior. Of course. We–that is, my feckless companion and I–have travelled many thousands of leagues from the lands of the East to seek the unequalled wisdom of the great oracle Tenzor. We humbly beg your aid.

At that moment, Tazithiel discovered that her shadow-form could drift away from his hand. Re-appearing, she growled,
I am so going to bite your head off, Kal …

Dodging her unamused snap, Kal wrapped the Dragoness once more in his Shadow power, securing her in place this time.
I will handle this mighty dray beast,
he declared. And, taking a deep breath, the thief turned his skills at verbal embroidery to the business of stitching them a way out of the mess Tazithiel had created.

After half an hour of non-stop gabbling, he had the dragonets convinced that the stars shone merely for the chance to gleam off their inexpressibly superior hides, that their mission was vital to the continued existence of all Dragonkind and that nothing in creation could possibly compare to the superb wisdom of the celebrated Tenzor, who he reduced to a purring lump of draconic putty in his very clever, manipulative hands. Meantime, he wondered when Tazithiel made Kallion-soup of his discourteous person, what exact flavour of dead she might aim for.

At last, Tenzor drew herself up with a flick of her wings and a haughty twitch of her tail.
Certainly, we dragonets know precisely what you lesser ones seek,
she declared.
Our communal mind-histories speak of an area of mountains the Ancient Ones marked with the sweep of their mighty talons. It lies two moons’ travel south of here.

Beyond the Rift–uh, the place of unending storms?

No.
Kal heaved a sigh of relief. Tenzor added,
We call it the place where Dragons slumber.

* * * *

With twenty yapping dragonets and an insufferably patronising warren-mother in tow, Dragon and Rider flew southward. The green dragonets were slow, garrulous and wont to linger at every other warren to exchange pleasantries. By dawn they had covered little more than twenty leagues. Kal had reached a sizzling level of exasperation; Tazithiel was evidently happily engaged in building her list of ways to cook Dragon Rider potage.

O mighty warren-mother,
he inquired,
how far have we travelled?

One day of one moon,
she cooed back.
I have asked many times, but the place you seek always lies beyond.

Kal stiffened. Aha. So she knew less than she claimed? Time for a brainwave.
Mighty warren mother, my companion and I wish to propose a way in which you and your warren-mates might travel in extreme comfort while we undertake our quest. Are you prepared to travel far?

Of course. You cannot possibly succeed without our aid.

Kal rolled his eyes at Tazithiel, who made a flicking motion of one talon against another. Bah. That was probably the Indigo Dragoness dismissing a Human several leagues from her presence with a swat of her mighty forepaw.

My beast of burden shall convey us all.
Privately, he said to Tazithiel,
Fifty leagues minimum, then stop to check. Alright? They don’t seem to understand the concepts of today, or leagues, or urgency …

Tazithiel showed him a fireball roiling ready on her tongue.
I’m thinking that an aeon or two of your miserable servitude might placate me, Kal. However, if only to attain our goal, I shall bear the indignity.
To the dragonets, she said,
Take positions between my spine spikes, noble kin.

Truly, a beast of burden.

B
Y NOON, EVEN
the incorrigible dragonets had wilted like flowers in Fra’anior’s dry season. They had travelled an estimated three hundred leagues southward in the blazing suns-shine, stopping seven times to make inquiries. Beyond, always beyond.

At their eighth stop Kal accompanied Tenzor to her meeting with a yellow warren-mother, who was evidently as much enamoured with Tenzor’s great age as she was with creatively insulting the first Human she had ever met. Eventually, after interminable pleasantries and inquiries after the health of one’s internecine web of relatives using a plethora of Dragonish terms Kal could not even pretend to understand, there came the inevitable pronouncement. Beyond.

Kal breathed stertorously. He privately listed the advantages and disadvantages of six different ways of strangulating dragonets, before saying,
My means of transportation grows weary. Pray tell, what are the signs of the place where the Dragons slumber?

Why the cliffs of golden black, of course,
replied the yellow warren-mother.

Golden black! Golden … flying ralti sheep!

Fumbling with the scroll, Kal ignored the two warren-mothers casually discussing what form of insanity inhabited this slug-brained wingless monkey-creature. Wasn’t there a reference … aye! Aloud, he declaimed:

Beneath the solstice suns,

Upon cliffs of golden black,

It shall be found thusly written,

‘Fra’anior’s Way.’

How far is it?
he yelled.
Er, that is–

The yellow warren-mother’s eye-fires whirled with apparent pleasure.
See? It became excited upon plumbing the matchless communal wisdom of the yellow dragonet-kind, my kin-sister. We are the superior colour.

The greens looked as though they had been collectively force-fed toxic slugs.

With studied calm, Kal inquired,
How far to these cliffs of golden black, o highborn warren-mother?

Half a moon,
came the reply, barely comprehensible amidst a surfeit of preening and puffed-up aerial acrobatics by all the yellows.

Right, greens!
Kal called.
Let’s make haste.

Cue one almighty squabble. Yellow clashed with green. Dragonets dived and clawed and shrilled their little challenges. The Human folded his arms. Great. More time lost.

Kal,
Tazithiel called.
I fear we must leave the mighty dragonets to discuss which is the superior colour.

Snatching her Rider off the cliff’s edge with an invisible whiplash of Kinetic power, Tazithiel performed a spectacular backflip into space. He wailed,
Tazitheeeee … yell!

Bah. Draconian show-off. Kal folded his arms and tried to act casual about flying two hundred feet behind his Dragoness over a three-mile drop into the khaki green Cloudlands. The Indigo turned and spotted his smirk. Her brow drew down. Ten seconds later, Kal found himself bridging the gap between her fangs with his hands and feet, hanging upside-down just above her forked tongue.

Now was no time for courage. He cried, “Aye, you are the superior beast!”

“I didn’t hear that.”

Sulphurous smoke billowed around him. “You’re the superior beast! Tazithiel!”

“Oh, you think so? Thanks, Kal.” The Dragoness deposited him in the Dragon Rider saddle with solicitous care. “So what’s the plan, o superior man? I can easily call you the superior man, because there isn’t another within two thousand leagues.”

Kal tightened his straps. “Southward ho!”

“I know that. But doesn’t the line ‘beneath the solstice suns’ mean that we need to arrive before the suns disappear behind those mountains? As in, we’ve less than an hour?”

He mouthed a terse expression of fury.

“Let’s go supersonic.”

“Faster than ever?” Kal waved his hands, snapping, “We’ve been foolish. Angle away from the Rim-Wall, Tazithiel. Keep a balance between seeing as far as possible and staying parallel. If you see cliffs of golden black, sing out like you’ve never sung before.”

“Right. Slap me with your power, Rider.”

TAZITHIEL!
Her Dragon-challenge bellowed over the Cloudlands.

Kal slapped her with his utmost strength. Oh, he had been meaning to do so since before he could remember. He slapped her so hard in the withers, Tazi’s tail struck her stomach between her legs. For that, he paid with acceleration so powerful that he blacked out for a few seconds.

Kal came to. Tazithiel’s wings were invisible save for the parts nearest her body where the motion was minimised. Air howled over their shield, but the shape had perfect aerodynamic integrity. Reaching out with his Shadow power, he began to experiment with turning the air touching their shield, into Shadow. The power of the Indigo Dragoness’ flight seemed to crack the noon skies asunder.

Tazithiel laughed softly, deep in her throat.
Clearly, we are the superior creatures. Look, Kal. You can already spy a change.

Kal looked ahead, for he could not otherwise make sense of the racing images. To look sideways was to see a blur. Soon, he observed that what he had taken for a shadow was indeed a darkening of the Cloudlands. Fifty leagues later, the clouds had turned a sooty black. Kal realised there was no more greenery or any other plant life on the cliffs. On and on they raced, making a speed he did not dare to calculate.

Here it comes,
called Tazithiel, adjusting their flight path. They soared upward, gathering height and a little more distance. The character of the mighty Rim-Wall cliffs changed completely, as if a gigantic paw had painted the rocks with an almighty black brush.
It’s the cliffs of golden black, Kal. Look. Look!

I see,
he laughed.

The dragonets had landed on the Isle of truth. The cliffs were a strange colour; his mind could not ascertain what shade exactly, a metallic black that gleamed like gold? The colour defied classification, glimmering evasively through a thousand median shades. This had to the largest deposit of metal ore in the world, only he had no idea what type. Meriatonium, perhaps?

Tazithiel, it’s not dangerous, is it? As in, radioactive dangerous?

I don’t detect anything–save magic. More magic than I’ve ever felt before.

Kal craned his neck. Some five or six leagues above the Cloudlands, the golden black wall appeared to blend back into ordinary grey rock. Below, the sheer metal surface continued straight down into the black clouds. Only the Ancient Dragons could have constructed an edifice like this. It had to be hundreds of leagues wide. But where was it ‘thusly written’?

Tazi … slow down. Where are the suns? How many minutes?

Ten, perhaps.

Do you see writing anywhere?

Kal, I think the golden black section ends near the limit of my sight.
Suddenly, she braked hard, slewing violently in the air, crying,
There! That’s it!

Kinetic power alone kept Kal upright as the Dragoness made a royal mess of her turn, tumbling head-over-heels before executing a desperate wriggle to right them. Kal peered behind as they overshot the mark by several leagues.

Hold on!
Tazithiel screamed into a turn and suddenly they were racing back the way they came like a falcon screaming down on a hare.
Still with us, Kal?

The important bits, anyway.
Kal touched his ears. The extreme pressure fluctuations must have popped his eardrums.
Please speak telepathically. I’ve damaged my ears. Oh my … that’s the cipher, right?

Dragon and Rider gasped as a vast rune flared into being in the dark cliff right ahead. Flames licked across its length, somehow burnished or reflected by the suns, Kal could not tell which. The upper wavy line solidified, then the suns-beams glyph, and below that, a second wavy line. Now, the tops of new runes flashed to life.

Fra’anior’s Way.
Tazithiel turned her muzzle as she read, for despite their five miles or so distance from the cliffs, each separate rune was at least a mile across.

Kal realised what was happening. The first of the twin suns had begun to pass over the peaks. In that moment, the scant minutes that marked the suns’ passing over at the time of solstice, this writing appeared upon the cliffs. This was mighty Ancient Dragon magic at work.

Look below the runes,
the Dragoness cried.
Those are–yes, they are! Paw-prints!

Eighty-four paws, I reckon,
said Kal, rubbing his eyes.

Paws the size of Islands. Ridiculous. Humbling. As the suns’ last light washed down the cliff, he startled.
Great Islands, Tazi, the top’s fading already. Go!

Go what?
Nonetheless, the Indigo Dragoness took off again.

I don’t know–hit the paw-prints! Do something. Use your Kinetic power. Roaring rajals, they’re disappearing so fast. What stupid magic is this anyways? Sorry if that offends you, Fra’anior! But you don’t make this easy.

Can’t … I’m trying …

It was too vast. Too much even for a Star Dragoness. Tazithiel slumped, gasping for breath.

Listen, Indigo-eyes, if that prophecy really knew about the two of us, and eighty-four is a product of twelve sevens … what is the Dragon power that sings?

Starsong. But I’ve never …

Tried?
Kal laughed.
Alright, Tazi. Put this in your mind. Prepare to unleash your Kinetic, Storm and Star Dragoness powers on every seventh paw-print. Can you do that? I will boost you just like I do when we’re doing our clever supersonic malarkey. Quickly!

Roaring a challenge that set the strange metallic mountains ringing, Tazithiel charged toward the sheer cliff at a speed rooted in madness.

The suns sailed onward. Already the cipher was in shadow, and the words ‘Fra’anior’s Way’ were almost unreadable. Kal wondered inanely how many paws Fra’anior might have. Four? Twelve? Or did that number represent three Ancient Dragons–Fra’anior, Amaryllion and Numistar? Worse, Dramagon?

If they succeeded, the Island-World might be changed forever.

Wait, my beauty. Wait for it …

Their minds joined, drinking deep of each other’s powers. Kal sensed within his mind an inferno of draconic joy, the knowledge that she was uniquely made for this; that together, they boasted powers that unique amongst the Dragon-Rider teams of history. Tazithiel’s concentration narrowed. There. That one. The pattern, completed. Every seventh paw-print blazed in her perception.

Such a surfeit of power drew together in his breast, Kal felt as though he had swallowed half of the world. Perhaps it was the innate magic of this place. Convulsively, he blasted his own shadowy fires into the hallways of Tazithiel’s being. She allowed the Shadow to infuse her own offerings at the speed of thought, before unleashing it all in a simultaneous twelvefold blast.

They expected an explosion.

The tempest flashed across the miles and struck truly, shaking the Rim-Wall Mountains as though Fra’anior himself had struck a powerful note upon a gong a hundred leagues wide and ten leagues tall. The sound seemed unending. No amount of holding one’s ears or squeezing the muscles of one’s ear-canals made any difference. The sound ripped through them. The Indigo Dragoness shuddered with the force that slowed her charge; when Kal opened his eyes, the Dragoness hovered but a nose-length from the sheer wall of otherworldly golden black. The magical forces were palpable, skewing and confusing their senses.

Then, silence reigned supreme.

Stretching out a trembling foreclaw, Tazithiel touched the mountain.
Aren’t you supposed to do something?

KAARRAAABOOOOMM!
A concussive force beat and bruised their ears.

Earthquake? Away, Tazi, away …

She flicked her wings, but despite a groaning rumble that perturbed the mountain from the skies above to the Cloudlands below, no boulders fell, no lightning frazzled Dragon and Rider for their temerity and no mysterious power swatted them like an Ancient Dragon might swat a mosquito. Neither did anything remotely beneficial appear to occur. The Island-World did not end–a decent result, in a thief’s respectful opinion.

Kal looked at Tazithiel, who considered him with equal perplexity.

I suppose we could lay claim to the biggest anti-climax in history,
Kal said doubtfully.
Though, I’m not convinced the balladeers would make a queen’s jewellery from this result.

We failed, Kal. We did everything we could.

Everything? Well, we didn’t understand half of what we’ve done … it isn’t something irrational, is it? Such as, OPEN!

Superior being or not, Kal’s mouth hung open in perfectly idiotic amazement as his shout caused a low rumble to emanate from within the mountain. The golden magic rippled outward from a point opposite his dangling jaw. And with a
KERRAAACK!
that shook him like a toddler shaking a gourd-rattle, the Rim-Wall split along a hitherto unseen seam.