As if that were a signal, the Dragons began to approach the students, some sniffing about as though a scent would alert them to a potential Rider. One Red sat on her haunches and scratched her neck as if she were a hound.
Please let a Dragon approach Casitha. Pip wanted to beg them, but … she blinked. There was a Dragon for her friend, surely? She knew it in her marrow, as the Pygmies put it. She saw two Greens pairing up with Western Isles warriors. And here, another much lighter Green, approaching Yaethi with a transparently hopeful gleam in his golden eyes.
Pip took Yaethi by the hand. “Turn around. Don’t faint.”
“Since when do I–oh! Oh, Pip, what do I …”
“Shh.”
The Dragon struggled for words before saying, with a sweet lisp, “I’m called Arrabon. I’d be very surprised if you would–honoured,” he gulped hugely, “if you’d even think about being my Rider. Because you’re beautiful, and I’ve never thought that about a Human before. Respectfully so.”
Yaethi’s throat bobbed. “I’m Yaethi of Helyon Island. You’re beautiful yourself, Arrabon, if I may say so to a man.”
They stared raptly at each other.
“Dragon,” whispered Pip.
“To a Dragon, I mean.” Yaethi giggled as she had never known her serious-minded friend to giggle before. “Is that it?”
“Burn the heavens,” said Pip, quite enjoying the matchmaking now.
“Ah,” said Arrabon, seeming by some trick of illogic to shrink into his bow, “I would be indescribably honoured, fair Yaethi, were you to consider my proposal that we burn the heavens together, as Dragon and Rider.” And then he spoiled his gallant words by adding, “I’d understand if you refuse, I really would.”
“Arrabon!” She ran over to him before discovering how awkward it was to give a Dragon a hug. “I accept, of course, dear one. You’re perfect. So perfect.”
Yaethi held him, arms outstretched against his hide, sobbing.
But now Pip was distracted by two Dragons approaching at once–the striking Albino Dragon and the male Copper Dragon, who almost walked into each other as they homed in on Duri and Kaiatha.
The Copper said, “I’m Tazzaral.”
“I’m Jyoss,” said the other, at exactly the same time.
Attempting to speak to their respective choices, they bumped heads in the middle. The Dragons then jostled to switch places, which was nigh impossible in the chaos.
“Hold still,” Duri grinned. “Kaiatha, over here. I’m Durithion, or Duri for short. This is Kaiatha.”
As the Humans swapped places, Jyoss said, “I hope this isn’t an insensitive question, but are you two like a Dragon and a Dragoness roosting together?”
“Whatever that is in Human terms,” Tazzaral put in, in his regal, ringing tones.
Duri and Kaiatha exchanged embarrassed glances.
Jyoss nuzzled the Copper Dragon’s neck. “Because we are. Not
roosting
, roosting, but–”
“We hope to roost,” Tazzaral announced for half the cave to hear. Jyoss took a playful nip at his neck.
A little loud, thou my third heart?
he said.
Thou, my soul’s rest,
she smiled back. “Are we making any sense at all?”
To Pip’s astonishment, she saw Kaiatha’s back straighten. “We hope to roost together as well,” she said, crisply. Whatever had come over her shy friend? Duri coughed and spluttered and blushed a deep, wine-red colour. “Duri and I accept.”
“We accept,” Duri whispered, looking as though he had been slapped by a Dragon’s tail.
“We haven’t asked you yet,” said the Copper Dragon, rising on his forepaws to a towering twenty-five feet above the Humans. He ducked down again.
Jyoss, with a sly bunt of her shoulder, admonished Tazzaral, “Silly formalities, but you do love them so, don’t you, Tazz?”
“I do.” He stiffened even further until he resembled an improbably enormous, coppery boulder. “Durithion and Kaiatha,” he thundered.
“Tazz!”
“I always do that, don’t I?” He lowered his voice. “Duri and Kaiatha, what say you we burn the heavens together, as Dragons and Riders together?”
“We share Dragons?” Duri blurted out.
“No, you’re cute. You’re all mine,” said Jyoss, coyly slipping her foreclaws about his waist.
“You’ll have to fight me for him,” said Kaiatha, with a twin-suns-spectacular blush of her own.
Pip left them to their silliness, checking the cavern rapidly. There was one Green Dragon left–no, he had his eye on one of the Southern Islanders. Casitha wept. Silently, amidst the hubbub, the happy chatter and muddled exclamations of delight as Dragons and Riders poured their hearts out to each other, there she stood, tears coursing down her cheeks. She knew. She glanced up as if she felt the force of Pip’s sympathy.
“Again,” she said. “I can’t bear it … I know, Pip, I just
know
there’s one for me. I can’t live with this. I’ll kill myself …”
She turned and bolted.
After a moment’s shocked hesitation, Pip sprinted after her friend, but she ran headlong into Master Kassik, also intent on comforting Casitha. Being a hulking Jeradian, his weight bounced her a dozen feet sideways. Pip crashed into a Dragon’s armoured ankle.
She shook her head. “Roaring rajals. Casitha, stop. Casitha!”
Pip dashed after her, but she was fast losing ground as she kept having to dodge happy Dragons and un-chosen students, who milled about aimlessly. Pip yelled for her, but Casitha was deaf to her cries now. But she knew that there
was
someone, just as Casitha did.
“Stop! Casitha,
stop.
”
Every Dragon’s eye in the room leaped to a small Pygmy girl racing for the cave entrance and her immobile friend. That much magic was akin to setting off a bomb in the cave.
Pip skidded to a halt in front of her. “Casitha, please. This can’t continue. I need to speak to–oh. Be free. Now–”
Released, Casitha bowled her over. Pip grabbed hold of her leg with both arms.
“Let me go,” she yelled.
“Not until you stop and listen.” She lost the skin on one wrist, but clung on grimly.
“What? What on the Islands do you want, girl?”
Pip cried, “To beat into your thick skull that your Dragon’s here, Casitha. It’s not me. I don’t understand. Here. Close by. It has to be another–if the Dragon doesn’t feel it, or is hiding, Casitha, you have to make it happen, or you’ll never be happy.”
She shook her head. “I can’t, Pip. I just can’t. Please, I just want to die, let me go …”
Agony throbbed in her voice. And then it struck Pip like a volcano roaring to life. A dozen tiny signals. A look, a whisper, a way of talking about another. A long-buried secret. No wonder Casitha sought to hide the matter. She understood perfectly, now.
“Oh, Casitha,” said Master Kassik, arriving in a breathless rush. “I’m sorry it happened again.”
Pip said, “It didn’t, Master. Not yet.”
His brow drew down. “What do you mean, girl?”
The way he spoke, he knew exactly what she meant. Pip sighed. Why did she always have to do things the difficult way? From her not-quite four feet, she pinned Kassik with the full force of her gaze.
It has been long enough, Master. You need to put this injustice right.
In Island Standard, she said, “You have permission to leave the cage of sorrow, Master Kassik. Now. Today.”
Or Casitha might just throw herself off a cliff.
For a moment their positions were reversed, Master and student, man and girl, Dragon and Pygmy warrior. He held her gaze. She could not stand it. Pip ducked her head, pleading in her mind, ‘Please, please, please …’
She heard the Master’s footsteps retreat. Casitha did not move a muscle. No, Pip wailed inwardly … then, a sound of fabric ripping came to her ears. His Dragon form was so huge, the transformation created a slight breeze that made her curls tickle her nose. Before her stood Kassik the Brown Shapeshifter Dragon, wearing the shredded seat of his trousers on his nose. He crisped the cloth with a curl of fire.
There was a brittle, wonderful, expectant silence.
“Casitha of Yelegoy Island,” he said, formally.
“M-M-Master …” she stammered, hiding her face.
“Look at me, Casitha.”
Her green eyes rose to meet Kassik’s burning, soulful gaze. His voice wobbled as he said, “It would do me the greatest honour in the Island-World, dearest Casitha, if you would burn the heavens–”
She gulped, covering her mouth with both hands. Above her hands, her green eyes were pools of wonder and disbelief.
He struggled on, “With me … as my Rider.” The great Brown Dragon faced the slender woman, and his eyes glowed with more than magic. His throat worked, but a long, long silence ensued as the powerful feelings surging against Pip’s awareness robbed him of words. He whispered, “Because I love you.”
“Oh, Kassik!” Casitha hurtled forward and threw her arms around his neck, as far as she could reach.
Pip cried for the joy of their unmasked love.
P
IP HAD WONDERED
why Kaiatha never talked about her family. She had wondered why they were not invited to the graduation.
For their first training flight, Kaiatha chose to fly to her village on the other side of the small Island. Her voice sounded fragile as she said, “I’ll call you down to the house if it’s alright, Duri. I promise. It’s just that she … changes.”
No-one knew what to say.
Hiding her face in her hands, she said, “The last thing my father did was kill my two sisters in front of her. Then he leaped off the cliff. They think it was a poison called Rillba’an, from Herimor. He was a Shapeshifter. A Red Shapeshifter.”
“I’m so sorry.” Duri held her, gazing over her shoulder at the others.
Kaiatha rubbed her eyes furiously. “It drove her mad, Duri. She knows me some days, knows my name, others … they tie her inside the cottage, so she can’t jump … she thinks she can fly.”
Pip gulped back tears. She had always assumed Kaiatha–well, that everything was perfect for her. So tall, graceful and serene, yet look at this secret she hid.
“Ah,” Kaiatha sniffed, letting Tazzaral touch her shoulder gently. Pip sensed a swirl of magic pass from the Copper Dragon to his new Rider. “Thanks, Tazz … come. Let’s get this over with. I have to. Uh–Pip, will you fly with me?”
She was under strict instructions from Master Kassik not to transform again that day. Pip wondered if she could have. Even the climb up Tazzaral’s leg had taxed her. The Copper Dragon did not say anything, but discreetly boosted her up the last section with his paw.
“Who was your hatchling-mother?” Arrabon asked, lending Yaethi a helping paw, too.
“My Aunt Hathiala. She’s sweet. Like a sister to me.”
“Tighten the saddle straps like this,” said Pip, showing Kaiatha how tight to draw the thigh straps. Tazzaral nodded approvingly. “Tazz will take care of the flying. You take care of enjoying him.”
Kaiatha smiled wanly.
Ya’arriol Island’s abundant butterflies, so thick upon on the air that they fluttered around the Dragons like multi-coloured clouds, parted before the sweeping wing-strokes of Jyoss, Emmaraz, Arrabon and Tazzaral as the young Dragons flew in parade formation toward the edge of the Island. The vegetation was so dense, Pip thought, climbing the near-vertical volcanic slopes in profuse walls of flowers. The thicket teemed with long-tailed birds of every colour and description, irpis and tarragals, parakeets and peripols, and of course the famous flame-thrower birds, an extravagant riot of orange and yellow feathers from which a tiny black beak peeked as if it were an afterthought.
On the ever-present thermals generated by constant volcanic action in the depths, they drifted easily around the greenest of volcanoes to the far side of Ya’arriol, dogged by several flights of curious dragonets, dazzling the larger Dragons with exuberant exhibitions of aerial acrobatics. They touched down in a space cleared for trading Dragonships.
Alone, Kaiatha walked down into her village, a single row of eleven pretty stone cottages each fronted by neat, walled vegetable and flower gardens. A surprising number of barefoot children swarmed out of the cottages and bushes to goggle at the Dragons.
After speaking to a woman–clearly her aunt–outside one of the cottages, Kaiatha disappeared inside. Pip hunkered down to wait. Shortly, the beckon came for Duri. He vanished, too. Kaiatha’s aunt came to speak to them; a woman who could have been Kaiatha’s sister, young-looking to have six children, wearing an elegant Fra’aniorian lace gown with a ‘simple’ train only five feet long.
Yaethi made introductions. “You’re a Shapeshifter?” she asked Pip. “Which colour?”
“Onyx,” said Maylin.
Hathiala’s striking blue eyes measured her with more than just sight. Pip was about to gasp, when the tall woman reached out to trace a strange sign on the Pygmy girl’s forehead. “It’s a mighty omen,” she said. “This is the blessing of the Great Dragon. May it protect your very soul. May the spirit of the Great Onyx Dragon, Fra’anior, live anew in your life.”
Pip made a Pygmy bow of respect, clenching her right fist over her heart.
“That was magic,” said Yaethi, accusingly.
Hathiala smiled. “You’re on Fra’aniorian soil, girl. What do you expect? The first magic of the Island-World was born on this Isle. Do you know the legend?”
Yaethi made her formal Helyon bow, raising her arms behind her and bowing from the waist as if she were planning to dive into a pool of water. “Only from scrolls. My ears ache to hear from one who has lived it.”
The blue eyes danced with appreciation. “An answer full of Helyon’s famed wisdom. Very well, listen closely.”
A comet had crashed into the Island-World right where they stood, Hathiala told them, breaking through the rock to release the inexhaustible fires of the underworld. But that comet had contained a wondrous secret–the eggs of Dragons. The First Eggs, protected by their cocoon of magic, over millennia rose together with the volcanic peak of Fra’anior until the mountain grew out from beneath the Cloudlands. The magic protected but also changed the world around it. Then the volcano erupted, blowing the top off the Island and spreading magic–and, some believed–the first eggs of the Lesser Dragons, all over the Island-World.
But it was from Fra’anior, within the Natal Cave, that the Ancient Powers were born, some to crawl beneath the Cloudlands, some to fly, some to build the Islands of a new world. There the Ancient Dragon Fra’anior was born, he who became the greatest thinker and keeper of secrets in history, Hathiala told them. It was the Onyx Dragon who first codified the magical lore of Dragons and began to hand it down to his initiates, the Order of Onyx.
Yaethi gasped, “So there
is
an Order of Onyx.”
“That’s the legend,” Hathiala replied. “And, do you know what was the greatest secret of that most secretive Order?”
Pip blurted out, “The Word of Command.”
Hathiala tried to mask her reaction, but the shock rippled through her. “It is not to be spoken of lightly!”
“No,” replied the Pygmy girl, shuddering. “Never.”
“You have this power.” It was a statement. Unexpectedly, the woman knelt and clasped Pip to her bosom. “Poor girl.”
And then, down in the village, someone screamed.
Tazzaral was the closest, and the quickest. He thundered down the path, half flapping, half running; first whimpering, then thundering his challenge. Durithion and Kaiatha burst out of the door. Behind them came a wild-haired woman, shrieking and beating at them with what looked to be nothing more dangerous than a long loaf of bread. Durithion had streaks of blood on his face, however.
The huge Copper Dragon skidded to a halt, ripping down two walls as rock and soil showered about him. He sucked in a huge breath, his belly fires roaring at a deafening pitch as he gathered his Dragon fire in preparation for blasting out a massive fireball.
“No, no!” cried Kaiatha, waving frantically. “No, Tazz, darling … please.”
But the sight of the Dragon stopped the wild woman in her tracks. “Oh,” she said. Just that. She lowered the bread. “Islands’ greetings, Copper Dragon.”
Tazzaral bowed his head slightly, watching her with the suspicion of a Dragon primed to defend his Rider at the slightest provocation.
Kaiatha reached out, trembling of hand. “Mother?”
“I remember now,” she said. “You’re my daughter, that’s right. Kaiatha. I must give you your father’s diary. It’s buried over there, right beneath where the Dragon’s standing.”
* * * *
Emblazon flew with Pip down to the Dragon graveyard–or boneyard, as he called it–early that evening. After a day filled with every other Rider and Dragon enjoying their new best scaly or two-legged friend, she was more than ready to slip away, even with the taciturn Amber Dragon. Once again, the Pygmy was the one left out. Casitha must have suffered this. She had neither Dragon nor Rider. But today, she had found love at last.
As a Shapeshifter Pip could be either Dragon or Rider, or bond with either, but her secret hopes had been dashed. Nak and Oyda were both full of sympathy.
“Which right-minded creature in this entire Island-World would not want thee, my gorgeous black dagger of a Dragon?” Nak demanded to know.
Oyda’s offering was to tell Pip’s fortune in the Islands way, by reading the entrails of an imaginary windroc. “I see a handsome boy-Dragon in your future,” she proclaimed. “Wouldn’t it be fun if he was a Shapeshifter, like you? There are many Shapeshifters around Fra’anior, Pip. I’ll bet there’s one made of pure ruby, a gemstone of a Dragon, who lights up the sky like a comet wherever he flies.”
“Who, when he sees what I have seen of you–” Nak’s enthusiastic but inappropriate comment was cut short by Oyda planting a smacker of a kiss on his lips.
Nak was instantly distracted.
Emblazon and Pip spiralled down into the caldera’s intense heat, which kept the entire Island-Cluster at a tropical steam-bath temperature. Pip was intrigued by a couple of three-foot red dragonets who came to investigate her, but before they could cheep more than a few nonsensical words, Emblazon shooed them off.
“Pests,” he rasped.
“They probably just thought I was a big dragonet,” said Pip.
“Ha’athior’s overrun with them,” said Emblazon. His tone made her decide to drop the subject.
The caldera was a seething hotbed of lava flows and outgassing vents, giving the air a tang of rotten eggs that, perhaps unfairly, made her remember Zardon’s egg-eating feat on the way from Sylakia to Jeradia Island. She missed him. Was he meant to be her Dragon? How would he and the Dragonwing fare against the Dragon forces of that floating Island? She wanted to appreciate the colours of the suns-set, a stunning palette of oranges, crimson and gold, but instead found herself growing more and more agitated as they descended toward the Natal Cave.
Emblazon said, “In Dragon tradition, this cave held the First Eggs–or at least some of them. When they hatched, the Ancient Powers emerged to form and bend the world to their will. It is a place of great and strange powers, the place to which many Dragons feel compelled to return at the end of their natural lives.”
The Amber Dragon’s rendering of the lore repeated some of Hathiala’s story, but Pip learned new details. Emblazon described how the egg-carrying comet had smashed into the world, creating a huge crater surrounded by mountains twenty-five leagues high. The comet had released the fires of the world, the volcanoes which still shaped the Islands to the present day. But the primary task of Island-building had been carried out by the Ancient Dragons. They had built them for their empires, from which they ruled Humankind and subjugated them as slaves.
“How did the eggs survive that first explosion?” Pip asked.
“Dragons are born of fire. Their souls are fire. Should this surprise you?” he replied. “The First Eggs were the most magical and sacred objects of all. They held power beyond imagining. The eggs had magical wards, within and without. They carried the hope of the Dragon-kind through the unimaginable leagues of the void between the stars to this safe harbour.”
Safe harbour?
To her, the cave resembled a dark, jagged mouth which had vomited out a river of bleached skeletons. Oddly, not all of the bones were white, as she had expected. There were other colours scattered amongst the predominant white and black–deep purple, a grainy mahogany colour that resembled weathered wood, and the azure of perfect late afternoon sky. What silenced her, however, was the size of several of the partial skeletons. Even Emblazon seemed a little wild of eye as he surveyed the scene. Of one accord they drifted over the boneyard, a field perhaps half a league square, following a spine which was comfortably the width of Pip’s wingspan and seemed to have no end in sight. Several of the skulls were so large, the living creature would have been able to crush Emblazon with a single bite. In comparison, she felt more the size of a beetle than a Pygmy Dragon.
“Dragons were surely never this large?” she asked Emblazon.
“The legends claim it; the bones lie before us,” he said.
“The bones do not lie.”
His smile flashed briefly at her pun. “Ay. Let’s go up to the cave. Kassik recommended we enter and see the place where the First Eggs lay. It is said to be an unforgettable experience.”
Pip’s every scale itched as they flew up beneath the fungus-shaped rock overhang that shielded the true extent of the Natal Cave from Human view, from the inhabited levels of the Islands way, way above. Her belly fires grumbled. She did sense a strange, unfamiliar magic inside. But if Master Kassik had sanctioned the visit, she couldn’t disrespect his wishes, could she?
Pensively, Dragon-Pip shadowed Emblazon into the gloom.
The tunnel was wide enough to accommodate five of Emblazon flying side-by-side, and it grew lighter the further they penetrated beneath the stone roots of Ha’athior Island. A delicate filigree of diamond crystals thickened upon the walls. The crystals illuminated the gently winding pathway as though they flew through the entrance of an underground fairytale castle. The colours dazzled Pip’s newly awakened Dragon senses. She watched thousands of prisms of light dancing off Emblazon’s scales, winking and teasing, glittering as though he himself had transformed into a living jewel.