The Pygmy Dragon (23 page)

“No thank you, Duri. I ate well before I left.”

“An entire ralti sheep,” Casitha said, from where she was laying out Nak’s bedroll. “Rider Nak, I have placed you on the opposite side of the fire from all the women. Does that suit you?”

“No, it most certainly does–” But then Nak caught sight of Oyda’s twitching eyebrow. “That is fine, Casitha. I shall gallantly freeze on the far side of the fire away from all these
gorgeous
ladies.” He winked at Oyda. “How I suffer, being the only man–on two legs, of course, Kassik. And you, Duri.”

Next to Pip, Kassik’s rumble of amusement rose and faded like a low growl of thunder.

“Poor man,” Oyda agreed. But her green eyes flashed at him from beneath her eyelashes. “You can cuddle up to Durithion.”

Duri made a disgusted sound.

Pip’s hearing informed her that Nak was breathing rather faster than the situation warranted. She shook her head as though she had a flea in her ear. Too much information.

The last rays of the suns beat warmly on her back. Being black, she supposed she had no trouble absorbing heat. Pip drowsed beside the forest-fringed lake, and to her surprise, woke when the moons were high in the night sky.

Had she heard a stealthy footstep?

Her Dragon sight easily penetrated the darkness. Oyda, apparently returning from the bushes near the lake. Nak, adjusting the light blanket he slept beneath. The others, all sleeping–save for Emblazon, whose slit eye followed his Rider as she walked cat-footed down to her chosen place, right up against the crook of his neck. She snuggled up to her Dragon.

“Finished mating with Nak?” whispered Emblazon. Even that breath of a sound carried perfectly in the still night air to where Pip lay, right up against the mountain of Kassik’s flank. His tone was unpleasant.

Oyda said, “We only spoke.”

“Perhaps there might have been a kiss?”

“You promised not to listen. It was all very decent, Emblazon, which is more than I can say for you.”

“Huh, me?”

“You didn’t tell me you’re about to be a father.”

“Pip told you, didn’t she?”

Oyda laid her hand on his neck. “Bank up your fires, Dragon-heart. What has Pip done to rile you so? You were very hard on her today.”

“She’s forever sticking her muzzle where it’s not wanted. First in Nak’s roost, then she displayed herself for him–twice–and now you’re defending her?” He lowered his voice with an evident effort. “You’re too generous of spirit, Rider-heart. It makes you vulnerable.”

“She grew up in a
cage
, Emblazon. It’s not her fault.”

The Amber Dragon’s fires made a low, muffled crackling sound in his belly. He hissed, “She has too much power.”

“Islands’ sakes, Emblazon. I’m surprised sometimes you’re not a Green Dragon.” To his wordless snarl, she added, “Just remember, when you hurt her, you hurt me. All I wanted to do was to congratulate you on your eggs, and you’re picking a fight. I’m going to sleep.”

Pip fell asleep with the low sizzling of Emblazon’s belly-fires drilling through her eardrums and into her mind. Her dreams were chaotic, the Shadow Dragon so close that she could almost taste it.

In the morning, she found Kassik’s paw curled protectively around her body.

*  *  *  *

Over a breakfast of bread and cold meats, Kassik told the students what to expect at the graduation ceremony. There were some twenty-three fledglings graduating to full adult Dragon status. There would be other students there–Fra’anior Islanders and prospective Riders from further afield. “There’s no guarantee you’ll be chosen by a Dragon,” he said, his gaze flicking to Casitha as he spoke. Fourth year Casitha had attended five graduations and had never been chosen, despite everyone agreeing that she would make a fantastic Dragon Rider.

Pip wondered how a Dragon knew who their Rider should be. Would a Dragon choose her? Or would she choose a Rider?

But she was not so far drawn into her thoughts to miss the softness in Kassik’s gaze as he regarded Casitha. He truly felt her plight, she thought. There was far more to his Island than met the eye.

“If you are chosen, a Dragon will approach you and say, ‘I would be honoured if we could burn the heavens together, as Dragon and Rider.’ I don’t need to tell you what an enormous privilege it is to be chosen. You bow, of course.”

“And express your appreciation from the bottom of your heart,” Oyda added, patting Emblazon’s flank. If she had argued with him the previous night, she did not show it.

“The honour is mine,” Emblazon rumbled.

Nak wiped his eye. “I miss Shimmerith.”

“You have me,” said Maylin.

“Ah, you are a princess,” sighed Nak, affecting a dramatic swoon, “but Shimmerith is a goddess.”

Pip, sneaking up behind the Rider with the intent of teasing him, tripped over her own paws and bowled him over.

“Oh, Pip!” cried Kaiatha. She wore Nak’s breakfast on her shoulder.

All the teasing that followed ignited Pip’s fires; Nak’s comments about being attacked by a ‘toothsome jungle maiden’ making her burn with embarrassment. Only Emblazon did not seem amused. He glowered at her. Pip decided to make it her business to stay out of his way that day.

As the three Dragons powered upward into the overcast early morning, it became clear to Pip how Yaya Loop had earned its name. From above, the Island Cluster resembled a thirty-mile loop of string with two trailing ends dangling northeast and southeast. The endmost Islands were almost covered by the Cloudlands, and barren of vegetation, but most of the plethora of Islands in the loop itself–three hundred and forty-one in all, according to the entry in the first year Geography textbook–were taller, around a quarter-league above the poisonous atmosphere and capable of supporting life. Kassik pointed out several Human settlements to her before they entered the cloud layer above.

Emerging into a realm of brilliant sunshine above an ocean of brilliant white cloud-hills, Emblazon launched into his programme of instruction once more. This time, it was fireballs and fire-breathing. Pip sprayed and hiccoughed and controlled her fire using the flexible muscles lining her long gullet and learned to listen to what Emblazon called her ‘fire stomach’. She fired fireballs at the tip of Emblazon’s tail, which he would twitch out of the way at the last instant. Pip expectorated fire until her throat felt overcooked.

However, at noon Emblazon declared a rest for Pip, whose wings were drooping rather woefully. She could not match the stamina of the bigger Dragons. She landed carefully on Kassik’s back, mindful of his spine-spikes, and transformed.

“Shapeshifting is coming easier to you,” Kassik observed as she walked up to her saddle, the last of the four situated between the spine-spikes above his shoulders. “Yaethi, up with you and help Pip change.”

“M-Master,” Yaethi wailed.

“You need to learn to walk your Dragon,” he said. “Imagine a Dragon landed behind you, just as Pip did, and was clawing their way along my back. What would you do? You too, Maylin and Casitha. Up and about, Riders. Let’s see who can walk up to my nose.”

“I just don’t like heights,” said Yaethi, unbuckling her waist and thigh belts.

“I’ll catch anyone who might fall,” said Kassik.

Maylin quipped, “At least there’s a few miles of air beneath us, isn’t there, Master? Nothing like a nice relaxing drop into the abyss. How was your last fall, Pip? Comfortable?”

Emblazon called over, “Good idea, Kassik. Duri and Kaiatha. On your feet, little ones.”

“Is this part of normal Dragon Rider training, Master?” Pip asked, slipping into her tunic trousers and top. She held a spine-spike to steady herself. The Brown Dragon’s back was so broad that balance was easy, but the motion of flying did make her brain imagine the falling scenario all too easily, given her recent experience.

Yaethi said, “Don’t you need your armour, Pipsqueak?”

“Always the armour,” said Kassik. “Without it, you’re undressed. Pip, normally, we do this to allow fledglings and new Riders to get to know each other.”

“With an experienced Dragon patrolling below to prevent any unfortunate misses,” Nak called out, with a cackle that was pure evil. He pretended to make a grab for Duri, but Oyda slapped his hand down. “What? No baiting the students?” He sounded amazed.

“No.”

“Aren’t we going to toss one overboard to demonstrate how amazingly quick a Dragon’s reflexes are?”

Oyda grinned. “Emblazon, Nak’s volunteering to jump off your back.”

“I’m not sure he’s worth catching,” rumbled the Dragon.

Pip watched Casitha and Maylin creeping along Kassik’s neck. The old Dragon’s paw was not far beneath them, she saw. He said, “Now, Pip. Being a Shapeshifter has rules and limitations, as with many other things in life. Neither form can be neglected. Always remember to feed and care for both of your selves. As a young, growing Dragon, you will need to feed more often than Emblazon or I–on a journey like this, as much as several times a day.”

“I thought Dragons fed once a week or so?” said Pip.

“A Dragon’s energy output scales up massively in flight, and more especially, in combat,” said Kassik. As he spoke, he adjusted for the bounce of an air-pocket.

Maylin, who was already within reach of Kassik’s armoured head-spikes, shrieked as she caught herself by her fingertips on his scales. “No, don’t help me,” she gasped, dangling in space. “I need to learn.”

“That’s the spirit, little one.”

Pip was not sure about this training. Kassik and Emblazon seemed determined to toss their students off a cliff and see if they could fly. But she remembered Zardon’s parting words to her. ‘The Island-World as we know it is about to change, Pip. There will be upheaval. Mayhem. War, and much death. We need Pygmy warriors of no small courage to rise to the challenge.’

‘Small is no problem, Master,’ she had joked back.

Unexpectedly, he had laughed. ‘What does that mean, little one? Small but extremely dense? On my Island, Pip, we have a saying that even an ant can build mountains.’

Even an ant. Pip was not sure whether to be flattered or dismayed. She needed to stop comparing herself to other Dragons, who could shake the ground with their paws and breathe fireballs ten times the size of hers.

As Maylin pulled herself over Kassik’s ruff of head-spikes to relative safety, the Brown Dragon turned his attention to Pip again. He said, “A Dragon’s physique is not only far more efficient than the Human one, but it stores resources on a vast scale. You must learn to monitor your strength and stamina. I’ll teach you the techniques. But I do want to stress the most important rule. You must
not
transform too often. Most Shapeshifters will say that twice a day is too much. Three’s the absolute maximum. Shifting requires an enormous amount of magic. You don’t notice because it’s an internal process.”

Pip wanted to laugh because Maylin was dancing an impromptu jig on the Brown Dragon’s head, but Kassik’s sombre tone made her focus on their conversation.

“What happens if you try … too often?”

“If you force a transformation? The magic should warn you. There is pain and great resistance.” He sighed. “But if you compel yourself … a failed transformation can kill, Pip.”

Master … you grieve.

I do, little one. Allow me to speak when I am ready.
There was an Island-foundation’s worth of heaviness in his spirit, Pip sensed.
Trust me when I say this–I speak from experience.

E
Mblazon And KASSIK,
after seeing the students safely buckled in, climbed to a tremendous height, one and a half leagues above the Cloudlands. None of the friends had ever flown so high. Now Pip appreciated the fur-lined jackets which Nak had insisted they be fitted with before the trip. At that rarefied height they found a Dragons’ Highway, a high-speed airstream that swept them northward on a chill blast. The air was gaspingly thin and cold. No Island broke the ocean of Cloudlands the Dragons traversed with such consummate ease.

Pip huddled in her jacket, shivering, wishing for her comfortable, steamy jungle.

Night passed, a gloriously starry array traversed by the Blue and Jade moons in their stately courses. Despite the gale-force tailwind’s aid, it was early evening of the following day before they sighted the reddish glow of Fra’anior’s volcano on the horizon, the gigantic caldera around which the twenty-seven Islands of the Cluster perched on the rim like insects clinging to a shaky branch. Golden Cloudlands washed up against the volcano, glowing from beneath as lava poured steadily out of several breaches in the rim–at least, those Pip could see. Spectacular cliffs, pocked with gloomy caves that resembled the eyes of lurking animals from a distance, fell sheer into the Cloudlands. But the Islands were lush, fuzzy with vegetation that trailed improbably far down toward the caldera floor. The air rippled slightly from the volcano’s heat, Kaiatha was telling Durithion.

“Only crazy people live on top of a volcano,” he teased.

“You can do some more unarmed combat training with me,” offered Kaiatha.

Duri winced. “No, I’m still sore.”

“Say yes, Duri.” Nak could not resist. “You know all she really wants is to get her hands on your body.”

Blushing, he retorted, “Kissing isn’t so much fun when it comes with a stranglehold.”

Kaiatha pretended to experimentally wrap her fingers around his neck from behind. “Kiss me or die, thou piratical brute.” But her golden Fra’aniorian skin burned as rosily as the suns-set over her home Island.

“I perish but for thy sweet caresses,” said Duri, who had evidently been taking lessons from Nak in bad romantic poetry.

“This is the ancient home of Dragons,” Kassik told them. “Below the Island of Ha’athior, home of the dragonets, near the lava on the south-western aspect, is a Dragons’ graveyard. Many bones of our people lie there; it is a holy place.”

“Pip should see it,” said Emblazon.

“If she wants to,” returned Kassik.

“Oh, I’d love to.”

The Brown Dragon nodded. “Emblazon can take you.”

With a whoop of joy, Pip whizzed in a tight circle around Kassik’s neck.

“Very agile, Pip,” he complimented her, dryly. “I have decided that you should present yourself as a student. There’s a chance a Dragon will choose you for their Rider.”

“Will they know I’m a Dragon?”

Emblazon cut in, “You’re a Shapeshifter, not a Dragon!”

Kassik’s dark gaze measured the younger Dragon for a long, awkward moment. At length Emblazon bowed his head, but he made no apology.

“Straight on to Ya’arriol Island,” said Kassik. “We shall arrive as three Dragons. Then, if I am not mistaken, the gossip shall fly even faster than Dragon wings over the Cloudlands. And, as I speak, here comes a welcoming committee.”

“Very perceptive of you, Master,” Casitha said.

Teasing the Master? Pip blinked. She was a brave one. And, if she was not mistaken, Kassik’s belly-fires signalled his enjoyment of her comment on cue.

Following Kassik’s gaze, Pip spied Dragons rising from behind one of the Islands. To her low question, Kaiatha replied that her Island lay just behind Ha’athior, a separate volcanic cone abutting the rim of the main one. A ripple of excitement ran through the students as the two groups hurtled toward each other. A grizzled Blue female led the delegation, with a gaggle of fledglings, judging by their smaller size, a respectful distance behind her tail. Many curious stares were exchanged as Kassik made cordial introductions.

Every student and fledgling was thinking the same thing–could one of these be mine? My Rider, or my Dragon?

“Warm and sulphurous greetings in the name of the Great Dragon, Fra’anior Himself,” trilled the Blue, in a surprisingly soprano voice. “I am Turquielle, Leader of the Dragons of Ya’arriol. These are my inquisitive fledglings. You will excuse me for not naming them. Our tradition is that the Dragon names him or herself when they choose their Rider, and not before. You are most welcome to our Island.”

“Your Island-Cluster is surpassingly beautiful, mighty Dragoness,” said Yaethi.

“Ay, you didn’t describe the half of it,” Maylin accused Kaiatha.

“Thank you,” said Turquielle, inclining her head. “Do I detect one of our own among your number?”

“Student Kaiatha, upon my back,” said Emblazon. “Raise your hand, little one.”

Turquielle bowed a second time. Her eyes gleamed with magic. “I welcome you home with honour, Kaiatha. May you fly strong, and true.”

From the answering sparkle of Kaiatha’s deep blue eyes, Pip wondered suddenly if her friend was not concealing some ability in the magical arts. Her magnified Dragon sight brought her that detail unmistakeably. If so, her friend had never spoken of it–or said much about her past.

Pip collected many stares, some aggressive, some friendly. She was perversely pleased to see a very unusual Dragon among the fledglings, a female albino. She had the softest pink eyes and pale scales, not the pure white of the legendary Star Dragon Istariela, but a white tinged with pink and darker red highlights along her spine-spikes, wing struts, brow ridges and muzzle. She was striking. There were several young but powerful Reds, already seventy feet in length, a fine Copper Dragon of noble bearing, and a group of Greens who hung back a little from the rest. They were smaller than the others, but still measured at least forty-five feet in length.

Not one of them was less than three times her size.

With an inward sigh, Pip followed the group as they winged toward Ha’athior, which smoked from what she realised had to be a secondary volcanic cone. Yaethi, who had of course studied Fra’anior in detail in preparation for their trip, was telling Maylin that the central caldera was fifteen leagues across, and reciting the names of the different inhabited Islands on the rim. She saw several Dragonships coursing between the Islands. The smell of moist tropical foliage came to her nostrils, an infusion of her jungle home that bamboozled her brain.

Suddenly she remembered the village, the people she had grown up with, flames engulfing the trees every Pygmy knew by name … and dropped as though she had morphed into a flying pebble.

Pip!
Kassik dived after her, folding his wings to provide as little resistance as possible.

Before the Dragon could clutch her in his outstretched paws, Pip transformed a second time.
Snap!
Her wings caught the wind. For a moment she just rested on the wing, gliding, seeking balance in her chaotic thoughts. Mercy. A simple smell had shocked her into a transformation?

“Pip. What is it?”

Kassik’s muzzle touched her curled-up feet.

“The scent of the Islands reminded me of home,” she said. “Sorry, everyone.”

“You can rub my neck later,” said Maylin, rotating her head and groaning–rather theatrically, Pip decided. Silly Human.

“As a Dragon, she could screw it on backwards for you,” Casitha offered.

Pip shook her head. “Kassik, as I transformed, I felt something strange nearby.”

“You mean you’ve transformed too often,” he rumbled, immediately exhibiting that softening of his gaze she had begun to associate with grief in Dragons. “Pip–”

“No, Master. At first, I thought it was the shadow. But it was more like … like an echo of what I remember.” From the corner of her eye, she saw Emblazon slip into formation with them. “I know it sounds crazy, Kassik. But I felt something at the very instant I transformed. I fear we’re in grave danger here.”

Emblazon snorted mildly, but Oyda and Kassik both gave him quelling hisses.

“I’m not jumping at every leaf that rustles in the jungle,” Pip growled at Emblazon. “I don’t make up stories.”

“In the same way as you
weren’t
visiting the Oraial?” asked Yaethi.

“Or constantly seeking attention?” suggested Nak. She knew exactly what he was thinking.

For the first time, Pip understood what it was to be mad enough to want to kill–even a friend. Undermined! Cut short at the knees. The power of her Dragon emotions shook her to the core. She deliberately flew away from them, fighting to swallow down her Dragon fires before she burned someone with a fireball or said a word she might regret. Silent and lonely, Pip trailed the other two Dragons and the flotilla of fledglings around the edge of Ha’athior. Even the sight of Kaiatha’s home Island, a perfect volcanic cone silhouetted against the suns dying into the western horizon, gave her no cheer.

No Dragon would want a Pygmy for their Rider.

*  *  *  *

The fledglings spent the entire night in a secret, sacred cave, singing to the great Dragon Fra’anior, for whom the Island-Cluster was named. “Legends say that Fra’anior was an Onyx Dragon, like you but a hundred times bigger,” Yaethi whispered to Pip, earning herself a fierce glare from Kassik, looking on in his Human form.

They stood together with seventy other prospective Dragon Riders beneath the rocky surface of Ya’arriol Island, in the depths of a cavern so vast it seemed inconceivable that the Island yet had a foundation to stand upon. Above their heads, a narrow volcanic pipe pointed to the fiery skies above. Pip wondered if the blood-red clouds were a portent. She had slept so ill, worrying in a way she would never have worried back in her cage, tossing and turning until Maylin, who loved her pillow-roll more than was good for a person, threatened to toss her to the windrocs.

The Humans were dressed in all their finery, except for the group from Jeradia’s Academy. They wore their flying clothes and jackets, but Pip saw that Maylin had taken a moment to thread several of the abundant blossoms outside the cave into her hair. Pip, as usual, wore her ribbon daggers.

Now, her Human hearing detected the sound of Dragons approaching. Wings. She alone among the students did not flinch as the young Dragons rocketed up from a hole she had not previously spotted in the cavern floor and circled the cavern above their heads, carolling their joy. There was magic thick in the air. Her senses prickled so fiercely, she saw pinpricks of light appear on her vision.

Twenty-three, she counted rapidly. Twenty-three Dragons, for seventy prospective Riders. She should not be disappointed if none chose her.

Deliberately, she looked to her friends as the graduate fledglings landed in what had to be a pre-arranged circle around the students. Tall, elegant Fra’aniorians, several petite Southerners, a group of muscular, dark boys and girls who had to be from the Western Isles … they drew together as one, awed by the presence of Dragons.

Kassik said, “Students, will you welcome the graduating Dragons?”

There was whistling, stamping, knee-slapping and finger-clicking depending on where the students hailed from; a cacophony which quickly faded into silence. Dragon eyes scanned the Humans. The Humans waited for the Dragons. The silence in the cave could have been cut by a Dragon’s claw.

If she could wish for anything, Pip thought, it would be for a Dragon to choose Casitha. Her friend could not dare hope. Casitha studied her toes.

Suddenly, the silence was broken by a gasp from one of the Dragons. “I know!”

Turquielle had appeared from below too, and stood a little apart from her brood. She said, “Go ahead, then. Choose.”

The solid, seventy-foot Red stumbled forward. He whispered, “You. I choose you. The girl with the violet pansies in her hair.”

Everyone looked at everyone else.

Pip knew, too. She had never known Maylin to tremble as she did now. She gave her friend a nudge. “Bow to him, Maylin.”

“Me?” she squeaked.

Maylin–impetuous, fiery Maylin–took a half-step forward and did a commendable job of trying to land flat on her face. The Red Dragon moved swifter than thought, clutching her in his paw. He made to put her down, then changed his mind, patently as awkward as a man unaccustomed to holding babies, being handed a wriggling infant. His huge muzzle lowered toward her.

It seemed there were only the two of them in all the Island-World. The connection was so immediate and deep, Pip sensed, a complex bond she could hardly begin to fathom.

“I am Emmaraz the Red,” he rumbled, but his tone betrayed an astounding depth of vulnerability. He adjusted his paw, making sure he was not squeezing her too hard. “I would be honoured–so honoured … I–flying ralti sheep, I can’t even remember what I’m supposed to say. What’s your name, little one?”

“Maylin,” she said. Clearly, her nerves ruled as she babbled on, “I would be over all five of the moons, and any constellations you care to name, Emmaraz, for that matter, to burn the heavens together with you, as your Rider.”

Laughter accompanied their pronouncements, for it was clear that the pair were besotted with each other.