She was clearly hallucinating, her brain addled by breathing in toxic gases. But the other Dragons had died so quickly …
Pip whimpered as she tried to put weight on her injured right leg. The pain pulsed that she was alive. Wait, the ground was not rock. It was slightly softer, a greyish-green platform still lofting her steadily toward the night. The Yellow moon burned through the last mists of the Cloudlands; the stars never so welcome, the air fresher and sweeter than she could comprehend.
She saw pillars ahead of her, ending in talons. Three before, two behind. A Dragon’s paw.
She had shrunk. She truly was a Pygmy Dragon.
Pip turning slowly, sensing monumental movement behind her. The creature holding her rose from the Cloudlands. Kassik, dwarfed into insignificance, back-winged frantically as a vast, hoary mouth opened beneath his wings, a cavern larger than the Natal Cave. Tendrils trailed from its jowls, barbed like the carp of the Jeradian lakes and rivers. Rock and dirt avalanched off a spatulate, reptilian body. Bugling with alarm, several other Dragons–bearing her friends and other Fra’aniorian Dragon Riders–swerved off in different directions as if a hawk had plunged into a flock of birds. The creature climbed the side of Ha’athior Island as though the rock were made of the softest soil. Any one of its claws could have skewered an adult Dragon for dinner.
Now it slowed, as if confused by the clear skies above it. A two hundred-foot tongue tasted the air. An Island-shaking roar emanated from the beast, shaking the Fra’anior Cluster to its very core. Fresh magma burst from the caldera. Rocks tumbled down cliffs. The ground shook as at an eruption.
The paw surged upward. Pip thought about fleeing, but a force beyond her understanding held her immobile. Perhaps it was the same force which had allowed her to breathe? That same breath rasped harshly in her throat as she considered what had captured her. She rose past the mouth. She passed nostrils she could have flown into with room to spare. A single, milky white eye opened in the creature’s forehead. The creature was blind, she realised–but a wash of magic against her senses, beautiful and complex and unique, convinced her that it had no need of ordinary eyesight.
YOU SUMMONED ME?
Pip tried to put her paws over her ears. The blast within her skull vanished as quickly as it had begun.
Who spoke the ancient tongue? Was it not you?
Much gentler this time, only a thunderclap inside her skull.
The milky eye was as wide as her wingspan, and taller than a Pygmy hut. Pip made a valiant attempt at grasping a few scattered thoughts.
I summoned … you?
Fear not.
Even softer, almost a normal speaking voice, for a Dragon.
I am Leandrial, as best my name translates into your tongue. Soothe your friends. They fear for you.
Why shouldn’t they? Pip gazed at her captor in speechless reverence. Should she wish–oddly, she sensed the creature was female–Leandrial could have grasped an Island in her claws and tossed it to its doom. Here, a thousand or more feet above the Cloudlands, the bulk of her body and hind legs were still hidden in the seething mists. She smelled of ancient things, of secrets hidden since the dawn of time, of the rank roots of the world and many mysteries besides. Perhaps she had hatched when the world was young.
Kassik?
Pip called.
I’m fine, I think.
He circled at a safe distance.
Pip? Don’t worry, we’re all here.
My gift of goodwill.
Leandrial breathed over her. No, not her breath, for her nostrils were somewhere beneath Pip’s position on her paw. Magic. A torrent of magic, bathing and soothing her wounds.
Now, tiny Lesser Dragon called Pip, who speaks the ancient magic, my time above the clouds is short, for this air has no goodness in it. Your questions are many. The evil arrayed against you is great.
The colours popping and fizzing inside her head faded. Pip flinched as a Dragon landed next to her, but she smiled with relief as she realised it was Maylin upon Emmaraz.
“Your kind call us Land Dragons,” said Leandrial, switching to fluent Island Standard.
“We are ancient, but not the first denizens of this land. I myself have lived a mere 267 circuits of this world about its suns. I know the doubts of your hearts. Hear me well. Within the floating Island lies one of the First Eggs, stolen from our realm by the traitor Shurgal, may his bones rot in the abyss for all eternity.”
Her gigantic voice vibrated through her paw into Pip’s body. “There is a nameless being of Herimor, a being of mighty dominion called the Marshal, who has corrupted the power of this First Egg. That power reached across the infinite vastness of time and space to summon one of those creatures from whom the Dragons first fled–a Shadow Dragon, the true Assassin. Those fools of Herimor dare style themselves after it! They know nothing. The Assassin is insatiable. It feeds upon Dragons and their magic. It exists to devour. Well fed, it grows mighty. It will strip this world bare. All Dragons will die.”
Pip gazed deep into the white eye as Leandrial spoke, reaching out with all of her senses to understand the essence of the creature. Her magic was profoundly beautiful, so intricate, it shimmered like a myriad jewels within jewels. She said, “Which is more powerful, the Marshal or the Shadow Dragon?”
“We do not know. Both.”
Perhaps that was the wrong question. “Can you help us, Leandrial?”
“Am I not?” But her magic darkened, as if with sorrow. “We feel safe, deep in our lairs. But should the Shadow Dragon find one of us and steal our power, that would truly be the end. We Land Dragons debate, as is our way, unhurriedly in comparison to the lives of those who flit by above the clouds.”
“But you came.”
“You, little one–you have the power of Command.”
What use, arguing with such a monster? Still, Pip persisted, “You were nearby.”
The talons clenched inward, a spasm that betrayed Leandrial’s anger. “And if I was?” she roared. Pip cringed in the palm of her paw. “You think too much of yourself.”
The blind gaze nevertheless pierced her soul with the ease of a blade. She did not flinch, this time. She knew she had done no wrong. Instead, she replied evenly, “I do not. I would not dare to Command you, Leandrial.” Yet, she had. “If I call, next time, will you come as a
friend?
”
Her question provoked a penetrating silence.
Disbelieving, delighted, multi-harmonic magical Dragon laughter rippled over her. Pip, in her earnestness, gave a growl of annoyance.
She watched and trembled as a talon appeared over the rim of her perch and touched her spine spikes. It was the Land Dragon’s other paw. Together, they could have squashed her, Maylin and Emmaraz like bugs. The mighty, metallic blade was three times as long as her, nose to tail, perhaps the greatest blade in history. Yet it slid past her until the skin of the Land Dragon’s digit touched the hide of her flank.
“You’re so small to hold this power,” said Leandrial, now with an almost motherly gentleness. “You will need much wisdom to defeat the Shadow Dragon. Its power is not of tooth and claw, but the potency of its mind to dominate, subjugate and enthral a Dragon’s mind. Protect yourself–all of you must learn how. Use your power well, Pip. As you Lesser Dragons would say, my third heart goes with you. Call, and I will come.”
Pip bowed deeply.
“Now, fly.” The paw launched her and Emmaraz irresistibly into the air.
Leandrial turned with astonishing grace for such a colossal creature. The only sound of her passing back into the Cloudlands was the steely scraping of her talons, piercing and leaving the basal rock.
Thank you for the rescue,
Pip whispered.
The Land Dragon was gone.
N
Ight passed and
a dawn of delirious, roseate magnificence spread over the Islands of the Fra’anior Cluster. Neither Rider nor Dragon had slept. Kassik and Turquielle had made the decision to move all the Dragons, Riders and hatchlings to the Academy on Jeradia Island. They would not be safe from the Silver Dragon otherwise.
“Our first priority is survival,” he said. “Too many have already perished. We can return for the knowledge we need.”
Emblazon cornered the Onyx Dragon in the burnt-out stone courtyard of the main school building. Four hundred years old, the stone buildings had been razed by the fires, which still smouldered in corners and beneath fallen wooden beams. Teams of men and women, faces blackened by soot, were working on extricating any supplies and records which could be salvaged.
“I’m so ashamed, I could die,” he said.
The note of anguish in the young Dragon’s voice seized her tongue; a shock coursed through her body. What terrible act did he intend? Emblazon lowered himself to one knee. “Noooo …” she breathed. He rolled ponderously onto his shoulder, then over onto his back, exposing his neck to her–the ultimate shame for a Dragon.
“Kill me. I am disgraced. My honour is no more.”
Her hearts squeezed within her. Molten-lead fire made her entire body flush, overheated, horrified. Pip eyed the place below his throat where thick, golden Dragon blood throbbed against the softest part of the throat. Although it was armoured by scales, even she could–if her jaws even fit around his neck–inflict a brutal and possibly fatal bite there.
Behind her, she heard Oyda’s cry, “Oh, Emblazon.”
And Kassik, low and troubled, “No, Oyda. He must do this.”
“I don’t want to kill you, Emblazon,” Pip said, fighting for calm. “You’re my friend. Oyda’s my friend. This would be akin to chopping off my own wings.”
The Amber Dragon moaned, a soft, keening sound bubbling from his chest. Suddenly, the cry escalated to a shrill scream, a sound which cut knifelike through the dawn. Pip had never heard a Dragon make such a sound. She flinched, all three of her hearts winging away, doves a-flutter.
Deliberately, he brought his claws up to his throat, talons angled to slash. “Say the word and I will rip my own hide open so that you may drink my blood. It is better than I deserve. I betrayed you. I betrayed everyone here.”
Pip jerked into motion, racing to his side. “Emblazon,
please!
There’s been enough bloodshed already. Please … Oyda, tell him. Talk to him.” She grasped his paws with her own, pathetic little paws, hating how helpless she felt. She could prevent him as well as she might have been able to prevent a Cloudlands-bound waterfall from dropping into the abyss. A roaring filled her ears. “Don’t. This isn’t necessary.”
Emblazon overpowered her. His talons began to pierce his hide. Runnels of gold blood oozed from the shallow wounds.
The Word of Command lurked in her mind, treacherously, as if she concealed a venomous cobra ready to strike. Yet she must not use it. Fury rose. This was wrong. What could she do? Silence enveloped her; within, all she could hear was the complex triple-drum of her heartbeat. She held his life in her paw. Emblazon had betrayed her, and by his actions, initiated the Night-Red Dragons’ attack on the school. Many had died. Should she judge him? Should he die?
Pip howled inwardly.
Then, in a rush, she released her anger to snarl, smoking and flaming from her mouth and nose, “Emblazon, I did
not
–Oyda did not–risk our lives to save your stupid, wretched hide for this. You … you prize ralti sheep! How many Dragons do you think have fallen under their sway? Dragons older, wiser and more cunning than you or I? The Silver Dragon has a terrifying ability to conquer hearts and minds. It is no dishonour to be beaten by a greater Dragon, as we all may have suffered at Leandrial’s paw.”
He blinked.
“Besides, you have Shimmerith and three beautiful eggs to live for. What are you thinking?”
There was an awful, unending silence.
With a spasm, his paws went limp. Pip suddenly became aware of a great number of Dragons and Dragon Riders surrounding them. They perched on the crumbled walls, covered a building in living hide, soared overhead, and even a couple of hatchlings peeked through a doorway.
Pip knew she had to speak.
“This is a war no strength of paw can win!” Her shout drew murmurs of approval and alarm. “My friends and Dragon-kin, all of you have seen how the Silver Dragon herded his minions like helpless sheep. He has great cunning and guile. The one he serves is greater still. Evil stalks our Island-World. Now is the time for all of us to join together to fight this Shadow Dragon and his creatures. If the Dragons die, our Human friends die. They will be enslaved, just as I once was.”
Inwardly, she was appalled at the raw passion and pain her words exposed.
Her ears buzzed as she turned to Emblazon. More quietly, she said, “Lives will be sacrificed. Already, many friends wing to the stars. But I, the smallest of Dragons, tell you this day, that to stand against this foe we need Dragons of great
heart
.”
She laid her muzzle against Emblazon’s neck.
Around her, the Humans cheered and shouted and Dragons thundered their defiance until the dawn rang to their ferocious chorus.
Pip murmured, “Rise, my friend. And if you ever do this to me again, I swear I will give you a smile to match Shimmerith’s.”
Emblazon convulsed with laughter.
* * * *
Throughout the morning, Dragonships arrived to evacuate the small Dragon Rider School at Ya’arriol Island. The monks of a warrior centre nearby chose to join the evacuation to Jeradia, along with several Dragonship loads of precious eggs and hatchlings too young to fly far. They moved out in the early afternoon, bound for Xinidia Island, twenty Dragonships accompanied by a heavy escort of Dragons. After Xinidia, a longer flight would lead to Erigar Island, before swinging almost directly south to join the ridge, often called Spine Island, which Zardon and Pip had followed down to Jeradia Island.
Directly after they left, Kassik called Pip over. “Our youngsters are anxious to fly, but we won’t be ready until evening. Why don’t you show them the Natal Cave?”
He had a delicate way of phrasing an order as a request, Pip thought. “Certainly, mighty Kassik.”
“What does that mean?” Smoke puffed out of his nostrils. His eyes filled with swirling orange fire-trails.
“I shall round them up at once.”
“Oh, is that how it is?” Kassik aimed a playful nip at her haunches. “Be off with you, troublemaker.”
“Hey,” complained Casitha, marching around to wag a finger up at the Brown Dragon. “No flirting with the students, Kassik.”
“Mmm, I’d rather flirt with you,” he rumbled.
To Pip’s interest, spots of colour blossomed in Casitha’s tan cheeks. “Rule-breaker,” she protested, rather weakly, pushing ineffectually at his muzzle, which was taller than her. “Get off, you’re embarrassing me.”
“Why don’t you fly with Pip?” said Kassik. “I need to start roaring at these stragglers. You’ll just whine at me for being too tough on them.” Casitha gave her Dragon an uncertain look. “You’re still mine,” he growled, snorting fire ten feet above her head. “Don’t think you can escape so easily from a Dragon, my pretty petal. I’ve devious and diverting plans for you.”
“Kassik!”
Pip nearly cried with laughter at her friend’s high-pitched squeal.
“Wretched Dragons,” muttered Casitha, turning her back on him. She stalked over to Pip and slapped her friend on the flank. “What’re you snickering at, Pipsqueak?”
Having rounded up her friends, apart from the injured Jyoss, who was having her wing treated, the Pygmy Dragon led them over the thickly forested cap of Ha’athior Island. She bore Casitha on her back. They both jumped as Duri and Kaiatha whizzed past them on Tazzaral, hotly pursued by Arrabon and Emmaraz.
“Slow-slugs,” Maylin called in passing.
If she were honest, Pip was not looking forward to re-entering the cave where she had been captured by the Silver Dragon. Silver–ha! He had not even dared utter his real name. She should pick up that collar. What had he called it? Some strange word … ‘Lavanias’. She shivered. Collared like an animal. It was not her worst nightmare any more, but it rated a close second.
“Pip? Something wrong?” Casitha touched her neck.
She explained about the collar and how it echoed her past. Even now, she remembered that first journey by Dragonship. She could not even look at a Dragonship without picturing cold metal bars closing around her.
“You’re stronger than you think,” her friend said, as they entered the cave.
She wished. She would rather be loved.
Did she think romantic love was all that mattered in the world? Pip sighed. So far, only the Silver Dragon and Nak had even looked remotely interested. Neither was exactly appropriate. She wished she were a little … more. Not just little.
“We can ask the scholars about that word–Lavanias,” said Casitha. “You might not know, but Master Kassik has every scholar in Fra’anior Cluster digging for Dragon lore on the First Eggs, floating Islands, the Shadow Dragon, Dragon mind powers–anything that could possibly help us. There’s not much so far, but they’ve only had half a day.”
“Did the scouts find anything?”
“Not a stray scale,” said Casitha. “You killed him.”
“We can hope,” said Pip.
But her heart was not in her comment. She sensed Casitha knew that, too.
The Dragons slowed in awe as they entered the main cavern. Pip wafted on down to where she had struggled with the Silver Shapeshifter beneath the central gem. There was something about this place. A glutinous sense of magic, thick in the air. A presence, or purpose, that pervaded the walls and floor and crystals all around them–aside from the dazzling beauty. Here, it was easy to believe the legends.
Casitha and the other Riders dismounted.
She scratched pensively at the bits of rope with her claws. Where was he, now? That bright, cruel young man? She could not ask the question hidden deep in her hearts–how did the other Dragons know who their Rider was meant to be? What did it feel like? Was it anything similar to how she had felt, that moment she first saw him? And what a cruel truth it might prove.
Casitha called, “Found the collar, Pip.”
Maylin looked from the ropes to her, and with a flip of her glossy black hair, asked, “What exactly happened in here with the Silver Dragon, Pip?”
“We need to know the details,” said Yaethi.
“Aha,” said Kaiatha. “I know. He’s a Shapeshifter. How else could he tie you up with rope?”
“Tie her up … naked,” Maylin put in, with a snigger that Pip would dearly have loved to slap into the Cloudlands. She shuffled her paws awkwardly.
Tazzaral managed to make his whisper boom in the cave. “What’s so special about that? Hide is hide.”
“Not for Humans,” explained Yaethi. “We wear clothing. What’s underneath is taboo.”
“Certain parts,” Duri clarified. He and Kaiatha both looked at their feet, blushing. “Anyway, Pip, why don’t you tell us–”
“Every last detail,” Maylin chortled. “This is going to be–hey! Pip. Put me down. Pip!”
Pip pretended to hold Maylin in one paw and spank her with the other, while Emmaraz looked on in faint alarm.
After that, she told her tale. At several points in the retelling, Durithion coughed and turned pink and purple. His girlfriend slapped him on the back.
“Soo …” drawled Maylin, at last. “He’s that cute, and you smashed the stuffing out of him?”
“He’s not so cute when he’s trying to mastermind the killing of my friends,” Pip blazed–literally. Maylin ducked her flame smartly.
Emmaraz thundered a challenge, springing at Pip. Gentle Arrabon stepped lithely in the way, forcing the larger Red Dragon to pull his blow. Pip apologised, while Emmaraz grumbled and his fires fulminated wrathfully.
“Calm down, everyone,” the Green Dragon said, mildly. “Pip showed where her loyalties lie, striking the Silver Dragon a mortal blow. I applaud her actions. Now, I ask myself, ‘What can we learn from this?’ One conclusion is that they know you are the key, Pip. This was a trap prepared specifically for a Pygmy Dragon, to remove the Word of Command from the equation.”
Yaethi nodded. “Good, my Dragon-heart. In other words, they fear our Pip. That gives me hope.”
“If this Shadow Dragon cannot feed, does it die?” asked Emmaraz.
Arrabon gulped, “Would that be when it’s finished off every Dragon in the Island-World?”
“Zardon’s vision of the floating Island suggested many hundreds of Dragons were being taken there to be sacrificed to the beast,” said Kaiatha, shivering visibly. “Do you think they’ve already destroyed all the Dragons in Herimor?”
Neither was a thought anyone wanted to hear spoken aloud.
Casitha added, “There’s one more thing. The Silver Dragon didn’t kill Pip. He wanted to capture her. That means they must want her alive.”
“This Marshal lacks something,” said Tazzaral. “Does he want to break into the First Egg? Or hatch it? What more could he need than the means and the ability to destroy the world? Which he already has. Needless to say, we must protect the Onyx Dragon.”