Dragonfriend (54 page)

Flicker, why did you jump in front of me?

His lips curved just a touch.
Because you’re my dearest girl. My straw-head.

Hualiama could not breathe. She stroked the dragonet’s muzzle tenderly, beneath the ruff of his spine spikes where he loved it best, and tried to imagine that if she only looked at the upper half of his body, he was still whole and perfect, and not dying.

After a time, Flicker’s well-loved eyes cracked open.
You’re leaking. My soul is content, Hualiama. I see it now. You will live. The power of that fungus-faced man’s ruzal did not touch you.

Flicker–
her lower lip trembled–
I want to die, too.

He gasped, struggling for breath as Lia soothed him with the softest words of a shattered heart.

The dragonet rasped,
Then, what of the starsong? To whom would the Islands bow? The prophecy …

My world is ended.

Yet he had touched her fear and named it. What of the prophecy? What of the invisible, unrealised third race of the Island-World? As if sensing the questions burdening her heart, the Tourmaline Dragon stirred, his paw flexing to cradle Lia more completely.

“Through his allies, Ra’aba had organised enough votes in the Council of Dragon Elders to block my shell-father’s desire for action,” Grandion said. “My presence wakened their fires. You can imagine the heat of an argument between Dragons; imagine a huge cave filled with shouting, quarrelling, fire-breathing hotheads! Then there was worse, an ambush during the back-cave negotiations. Dragons were killed. War erupted on Gi’ishior. The Greens and their allies under Gemugaz the Dragon Elder attacked, having tricked the men of Yorbik into joining their cause. Many fine and noble Dragons were killed, but we prevailed.”

“It was that simple?” Lia asked, waking for the first time to Grandion’s condition. Fire-blackened scales, more talon cuts than she could count, and a detectable twinge in the action of his wings.

“Easier than bolting down a haunch of ralti meat,” he said. “Many a battle-song could be sung, but there is more.”

“Tell me.”

“I promised my shell-father I would fly with him to campaign against the Greens of Merx, Lyrx and Syros, to bring them to heel.”

So, the die was cast; her future, bleaker than ever. “You will go away.” Hualiama felt faithless to Flicker, considering her response to this new loss. How could she think of herself at a time like this?

Grandion said, “I will fly with my kin. Hualiama …”
I’m speechless. Bereft. Will my Rider watch the skies for a Tourmaline Dragon?

I will, my Dragon.

A storm raged over Ha’athior. A cap of dark, suns-fired clouds lay over the Island, as though the Ancient Dragon’s wrath at his kindred’s deeds had leached into the atmosphere. Around the holy Isle, rainbows shimmered with the endless intermingling of heat and moisture, making Lia conceive of elemental Dragons dancing upon the wings of storm winds. Only the wind soughing across Grandion’s wings reminded her that there was life, of a beating of hearts so ravaged by grief, it seemed even their gentle throbbing sullied the perfect dawn.

Flicker whispered,
My soul takes wing upon its last flight.

Flicker, don’t say that,
said Lia.
We’ll get you to Amaryllion. He’ll heal you.

The dragonet snuffled against her hand.
Such an incurable straw-head, Lia.
His voice grew fainter, as though his soul already sought to fly.
It’s been a grand adventure. Ever since you fell into my lap … didn’t I do well? Took you in paw … sewed your pretty hide … taught you to speak, didn’t I?

She sobbed,
You did! The dragonets will sing your praises through the ages–o Flicker, friend of Humans, saviour of Fra’anior, a Dragon-soul whose fires burn brighter than the twin suns.

Silly, beautiful fire-eyes.
Flicker tried to purr, but his lungs rasped appallingly, and a trickle of fresh, golden Dragon blood welled from his mouth.
Stupid egg-head’s no good for you. Choose the Dragon. He’s a rascal, but a noble one–

I am listening.
Grandion’s mental voice smiled at the dragonet.

You’d better take care of my best girl, Grandion. Consider yourself warned.
Still, Flicker conversed with them. Incredible. Lia heard agony in every syllable, yet he struggled on,
Would you sing for me, Lia? My favourite song: Alas … faraway something–

“I know it,” Lia said. How could she sing? Yet she must. Neither she nor Grandion had any healing powers. They must rush beneath the storm to Amaryllion. He alone could perform a miracle now.

Whisper-soft, singing for her Dragon friends’ ears alone, Lia battled her way into the verse:

Alas for the fair peaks, my love, my fierce love,

Alas for the scorching winds, which stole thee away …

Her voice kept cracking. “I’m a mess,” Lia apologised. “I’m sorry, Flicker.”

He said,
It isn’t looking good, is it?

“We’re close to Ha’athior, darling friend. Hold on just a little longer …”

I’m sorry I won’t get to see you fulfil the prophecy. Yet I will ask Amaryllion a boon. If even in death I can be with you, then I will be content.
Lia nodded, although she did not understand. The dragonet added,
‘Let my soul take wing upon dawn’s twin fires … and fly to thee.’
He breathed,
Fly far and free, my Hualiama.

After that, Flicker had no more strength. Lia sang them around the northern shore of Ha’athior, cradling him to her bosom as best she could to keep out the wind and the rain.

Alas for the far shores, my heart, my third heart,

Alas for the stars, illuming thy doom …

To the dragonet, she said,
Thou art my third heart.

Perhaps he smiled.

Grandion screamed across Ha’athior’s volcanic slopes and over the western shore without once stinting on pouring out his utmost power. They shot down the cliff so fast that the rain turned into stinging pellets. Then Hualiama realised that it was hail. The Tourmaline Dragon shielded her with his left forepaw. Still, she curled lower over Flicker and directed Grandion to the lower cave entrance, which lay closest to Amaryllion’s lair.

Into the mountain she raced, a Human girl bearing a precious bundle, down through ravines and crystalline geodes and glorious magical crystals to the Ancient Dragon’s resting place, crying, “Hold on, Flicker! Amaryllion, Amaryllion, Amaryllion!”

I am present, little mouse.

And Lia knew it was too late.

Her friend’s great orb opened, and Hualiama ducked away from him, unable to bear the destruction of her last hope. She moaned, “Please …”

“His spirit flies, little mouse,” Amaryllion rumbled. Infinitely mellifluous and compassionate, his voice enwrapped her like a mother’s hands gentle upon her babe. “Show me what transpired.”

Falling to her knees with a desolate groan, Hualiama summoned her memories. She could not still the shaking of her shoulders. Could Amaryllion hear through her sobbing?

Shortly, the Ancient Dragon responded, “Truly, this dragonet saved both thy life and thy kingdom, holding in abeyance by his courage the power of
ruzal
and Ra’aba’s dreadful revenge. Allow me to commune a moment with what remains of Flicker’s spirit-fire.”

Her grief rivalled the breadth and depth of the Cloudlands, ravaging her spirit, wounding her body by its force.

“There is something Flicker wished for thee, Hualiama. A name.”

“A name, mighty Dragon?” she sniffed, thinking of all the names he used to chirp at her. Straw-head and flat-face and slow slug …

None of those.
Amaryllion read her thoughts effortlessly. His mental voice deepened, rushing like vast rivers in her mind.
In recognition of thy noble deeds and the virtues of thy soul, in the most Dragonish tradition, Flicker proposed a new name for thee, Hualiama. I concur. Truly, this name did spring to my mind as I considered the flight of thy life. Even since I have known thee, thou hast grown mighty in spirit and deed.

Thou art a friend to Dragons, Hualiama of Fra’anior, from the smallest to the greatest, and not only in the making of friends, but in knowing and serving and devoting thyself to the Dragonkind. Therefore it is with great pride that I, Amaryllion Fireborn, last of the Ancient Dragons, name thee ‘Dragonfriend’. May the courage of this little dragonet live on in thee.

Oh my darling Flicker,
Lia smiled through her weeping.
Even at the last your spirit shines. How can I ever repay you?
A dragonet’s chuckle seemed to tinkle somewhere, unseen.

To Amaryllion, she whispered,
Thank you. Is he truly gone?

His body has perished. His soul flies forever with the fires of the Dragonkind, little mouse.

She wept harder.

W
hen HUALIAMA EMERGED
from the caverns, hours later, she had no need to speak. Grandion threw back his head and uttered a cry she had never heard from a Dragon. It began as an earthquake-low rumbling in his chest, rising into a descant of such piercing sweetness, it brought fresh tears to her eyes. Lia thought she would never cry again. Now the Dragon grieved, too.

“His spirit had already flown?” Grandion asked.

Lia pressed against his lowered muzzle, shivering. “Almost. Amaryllion said he spoke with Flicker’s fire-spirit. Is that even possible?”

“We Dragons should leave a few secrets unplumbed by the ever-inquisitive Humankind,” Grandion said. “Aye, it is possible, briefly. What else did the Ancient Dragon say?”

“I–I will return to him later, after I’ve honoured Flicker. I’m afraid I wasn’t very coherent. I just … ache.” Lia looked to the far horizon, visible now that the storm had blown over. Tiny jewelled rainbows hung over the vegetation nearby. “Grandion, will you fly me up to the White Dragoness’ cave? I wish to honour Flicker there.”

“Gladly, my Rider. We will honour him together.”

Hualiama slid into her customary position between Grandion’s spine spikes. Was this the last time? When he flew away, would the Tourmaline Dragon remember a Human girl? Better he found a sweet Dragoness to grace his roost. Better this friendship ended, for the good of all.

Grandion bore them aloft with stately majesty.

Lia clasped the dragonet’s body in her lap, unable and unwilling to give Flicker up as yet.

Long before they reached the cave, dragonets began to join them in their flight, first in ones and twos, and then in their dozens. Silently, they shadowed Grandion and Hualiama to their landing on the ledge. The Tourmaline Dragon’s eyes were alight, resplendent, awed.

Dragonets covered the ledge in a scintillating blanket of Dragonflesh. They hung on every boulder and bush and crevice on the cliff above and all around the cave. More dragonets, unable to find room to land, circled in the air just above the ledge.

Lia gasped, “They must number five thousand! Ten!”

Every dragonet of Ha’athior who is yet able to fly,
said a voice Hualiama remembered with a shudder.
Aye, Human creature, I am Lyrica, warren-mother of our dead kindred you hold in your arms.
The oldest and largest dragonet Lia had ever seen, Lyrica had to measure five feet across her wingtips, and her eyes appeared rheumy with age. Yet the power of her mental voice was unshakable. Mother Lyrica said,
Will you share your memories with us, that we might judge what has been?

Gravely, Hualiama bowed from her seat upon Grandion’s back.
Today,
I wish to honour a brave and noble spirit, a dragonet I was privileged to call my friend.

The red dragonet inclined her head ceremoniously.
As the Ancient One charged us, we join you in honouring our warren-mate. Never have the dragonets sung the fire-songs with one of the Humankind.

Her tone was mildly censorious. When a space miraculously cleared for landing, Grandion put down and helped Hualiama dismount. Kneeling, she placed Flicker’s body between her and Mother Lyrica. The dragonets fell silent. Even the tiniest fledglings quietened their habitual chattering and chirping. A sea of expectant eyes fixed upon her.

Drawing a deep breath to quell her nerves, Lia said,
The first touch I knew of this dragonet’s paw, was that which saved my life. As was the last. To this dragonet, I owe the very air I breathe. He named me Dragonfriend. But I confess, it was he who taught me the true meaning of friendship.

I will tell you what I knew of Flicker, may his soul fly as Dragon fire, forever.

* * * *

When, late that afternoon, the last of the sacred fire-songs had been sung, Hualiama interred Flicker in the White Dragoness’ cave, beside the pool where they had played and sung together. She built a cairn of the finest gemstones to cover his body. Grandion wafted his Dragon-fire and magic over the pile, melting the gemstones into a many-hued casement for the dragonet. A grave fit for royalty.

Then, Grandion took his leave.

Wings outspread, tilting forward off the precipice, the Tourmaline Dragon suddenly pulled up and turned to her. “One last thing, Lia. That day by the pool, when you were bitten by ants. And I acted … weird.”

Hualiama blushed. “Grandion, don’t.”

He said earnestly, “That was wrong–at least, how I felt at that moment, was wrong. The rest was real. When you stood in the water clad in just your hide and told me who you are, it was …” Grandion swallowed, while her mind shrieked, ‘Humiliating? Terrifying? Flattering yet acutely disturbing?’ “It was a revelation.”

Now Lia wished she could immolate herself in a curl of flame. “Grandion, please. You’re embarrassing me.”

“No, you don’t understand. I put that badly.” Uttering an affectionate growl, the formidable Dragon slipped a talon beneath her chin to raise her eyes to his. Lia resisted, futile a gesture as that was. “Hualiama, I saw you in that moment as a desirable object–as a Dragon might lust after a bauble or a fine jewel–and not as a living soul. For all my fine talk, that day I learned that my third heart still regarded you somewhat as a pet, or slave. I have much to learn about Humans. I would learn much more from you, given the chance.”