Aranya Treasury - The Complete Shapeshifter Dragons Series, page 187
He mouthed, “Petal …”
“Can we see Oyda? Is she –” He nodded at once. “But, what’s wrong with her?”
An elderly draconic voice rasped, “She has an incurable condition, noble Star Dragoness. Pyrosanguinox consumption, it is called. Some claim it is the curse of Dragon Riders.”
“Nay, it is the ultimate honour for venerable Dragon Riders; Fra’anior’s holy seal upon their lives,” argued another Dragon, but Aranya barely heard the bickering that quickly consumed the Dragonkind. Rallying her little group, forgetting all else, she rushed to the infirmary where Oyda had been resting almost since Aranya had departed Fra’anior, Nak informed her. He did not complain about being carried this time.
They found Oyda propped up abed on a treble-thick pillow-roll in a bay sized to receive visitors of both the two-legged and the four-pawed kind. By the bright lamplight, her smile was serenity itself as she regarded the hubbub which briefly snarled up her doorway. Then, her eyes ignited. “Pip? Oh, Pip!”
“Aye, it is I.”
Elation shivered in both voices.
Aranya deposited the Pygmy girl at Oyda’s beside, shocked by the change in her friend. She looked wasted away; burning up from within. Her sunken cheeks were far too flushed. So hot was she, the sheets smouldered gently around her body. Yet her smooth, shining face belied her age. Although she appeared diminished, her skin displayed not a single wrinkle despite her pure white hair and emaciated limbs. Consumption. A pyretic fire of the blood? She had never heard of such an illness, perhaps because so few Dragon Riders reached Oyda and Nak’s grand age. Interestingly, Sapphire and her dragonets tucked in at the foot of the bed beneath a mound of extra blankets. Seven pairs of fire eyes looked on with alert interest.
“This is what I tarried for,” Oyda whispered, blinking back tears. Even her eyelids appeared too thin, rendered almost translucent by the magical flames lambent within her flesh. “For you, Pip, and Aranya; my two petals.”
Pip wailed, “What is this? She’s so … Aranya, you have the power – cure her, please! Oh please …”
“Don’t touch me! Not like that.” Oyda’s dry croak arrested them. “Any breath of magic would send me … beyond. I must … I want to hold you … both. A moment. Please, everyone … just … Pip … and my petal … Nak? Just my girls … understand?”
Her request was as good as a command. Shortly, with Nak having herded everyone out of the room and with the door slid to behind them, Aranya transformed, dislodging Nyahi without so much of a squeak of compliant, and then she, Pip and Sapphire climbed up onto the bed and lay beside their friend as Oyda, in broken sentences, spoke to them and over them. She assured them of her love and her peace at departing the Island-World. Her sickness was related to the magical bond between Dragons and their Riders, she said, as best Nak had been able to discover in the Dragon Library. She had unknowingly been affected by it for several decades as the magic burned brighter and her body slowly ran hotter and hotter.
“It doesn’t hurt at all, petal,” Oyda said, caressing Aranya’s cheek. “It’s like you used to tell me about how the fires rose inside of you, do you remember? These are Fra’anior’s own fires. I believe I’ll be called beyond to the place of Dragons – to the eternal fires – a belief which riles up some of those sticky-pawed philosophers out there like you would not believe. They say no Human should thus be honoured.” To Pip, she said, “I waited. I knew in my spirit that you would come to me at last, my precious Pip, and I wanted to say, I’m sorry for all the times I believed you never would. You two are my ultimate gift, the two faces I could not bear to depart without seeing one last time. I raised you both, my Shapeshifter daughters. And you, Sapphire, are the truest of friends. Fra’anior will reward you richly.”
Aranya feared to wet Oyda with her tears, but Pip had no such compunction. She was in floods. The old Dragon Rider shut her eyes again, breathing shallowly. Her pulse flickered urgently in her throat.
At length, Aranya whispered, “Could you stand one more gift, Oyda? A small surprise? I don’t mean to cause any anxiety.”
Nyahi breathed, Noooo, Aranya …
Oyda’s ever-bright eyes flicked open at once. “Who’s that?” Who spoke? Who are you, stranger?
Not … so much a stranger, the Chaos Shifter whispered bravely, trying to shift back into her Human form and failing.
Still, a grin briefly creased Oyda’s white-rimmed lips as she eyed the tall posy of dracofloral finery bending over her bed. Intriguing.
Nyahi sighed in irritation. Pop. Dragonet. Fizz! A beam of sparkling motes rebounded off the ceiling and landed in a glowing, mushroom-shaped heap on the far side of the bed. Honestly, can I not … in a flash, she was Human.
Iridiana regarded the Dragon Rider shyly askance. Oyda’s eyes danced upon her, before her throat bobbed with a sharp inhale. “Fra’anior’s holy beard hairs!” Then, a trill of pure joy escaped her lips. “Petal, who is this?”
Aranya could not resist. “A dusty old relic I dug up in Herimor.”
“Love you too,” Nyahi chuckled.
“She’s …” Oyda made an imperious gesture with her chin, clearly inviting the comparison between the two girls. “She’s … isn’t she?”
“Oyda, I’d like you to meet Iridiana, my twin sister.”
Never had she seen contentment to rival Oyda’s expression. A delighted frisson tingled up and down Arnya’s spine. Gift, accepted.
Chapter 27: Departing, We Ascend
ZUZIANA HAD IMAGINED that going walkabout inside the First Egg would cure her of all boredom. Not so. She was unimaginably fed up of nothingness. Even her sleep did not seem like real sleep. Closing her eyes, she watched endless cloudscapes until she slumbered, but woke again not feeling fully rested. She could not feel her babies.
She drifted forever, feeling nothing beneath her feet.
Aranya would have thought her way out of this, but Zip was having trouble coming up with something clever. She was struggling to think at all. Was this what it must have been like for the Pygmy Dragon – for one hundred and fifty years, a slow erosion of self-awareness and cognitive function? Frankly, the prospect terrified her.
Zip tried to push down the welling sense of panic, but she was just too concerned about her babies to think rationally. Hey! Hey, somebody – I need to see something in here! I’m going to go mad otherwise.
She turned slowly, looking in every direction, even up and down. Nothing.
I’m lonely and frightened, and I don’t want to die here.
Oppressive worlds of silence.
Look, if you are an Ancient Dragon – if you are alive inside this eggshell in some sense that I truly cannot understand – then you are a baby like these three babies in my womb. Aye! They are egglings, like you, as yet unformed and …
Zip caught her breath. Something had changed. Indefinably ineffably, she felt a presence coalescing about her – well, she could not rightly say how she knew. The sensation was neither physical, nor magical, nor psychic, as far as she could tell. It was akin to that inexplicable realisation which flashed across a chamber when one knew one was being watched. Aranya had her oath knowledge connection with Ardan which transcended ordinary, known laws. The best the lore scrolls could manage by way of description of oath magic was ‘magic more unfathomable than all other identified types.’ In other words, they had no clue.
She said softly, I am a Dragoness mother and I care deeply for my egglings, as your shell mother must have once cared for you. She – could she even assume that much of the Ancient Dragons? – cared so deeply about you, she launched you across time and space to a place of safety. This place is now threatened.
Stillness brooded about her, immeasurably profound.
Did they understand each other? Or did the creature sense something in her tone?
Swallowing hard, Zip ventured, If I could be in any measure a surrogate shell mother to thee, Great One – the mists quivered! Her words jumbled and knotted into a hopeless mess as an almighty presence burned briefly against her mind, but the fire was not consuming, but overpowering and feminine and fiery sweet in a curiously infantile yet fearsome way. Only before Fra’anior himself had Zuziana felt smaller; yet it did not seem menacing. Curious, perhaps. Certainly intelligent.
Before she could think upon it, the awareness of a presence vanished. Zip saw the mists shiver again, before they began to dissolve around her. High in the dissipating whiteness but dead ahead, she saw the unmistakable conical silhouette of a large volcano; before it, the hazy impression of a barren plain dotted with boulders. Boulders? Surely too spiky … as the scene resolved before her eyes, a choked-off sob ripped from her throat.
Zuziana slumped to her knees. No!
* * * *
Ardan addressed his impromptu council of war. “Alright. So we have six Cognates welded to the Rift path –”
“Double vacuum-sealed, sah, with additional magical binding elements,” Asturbar noted briskly.
“– right, vacuum sealed so that they cannot move an inch, with all the rest of us nicely hunkered down inside, taking shelter from Fra’anior knows how many Storm Elementals out there, and you’re telling me our strategy is to sit tight and hope they lose interest?”
His glare dared anyone to reply.
Gang snorted, “They are Elementals which feed on their own fury. Their very beings are fury. Who wants to wait a hundred years?”
“We are less than halfway across,” Ri’arion hissed.
The small chamber inside of Shin’tuy’tuy the Alabaster Cognate was a strange affair, a natural grotto inside the Land Dragon, which was shaped like a flat ovoid half a mile long by a quarter-mile wide. Three concentric, lower fringes protected its forty parallel rows of feet and provided structural integrity for the ultra-powerful vacuum seals. Locked down, nothing short of an earthquake could move a Cognate. All six sheltered the smaller Runner allies beneath their fringes, including the Thunderous Thirty, who had vanquished four Storm Elementals before the semi-intelligent creatures had struck back as a vengeful mob, ripping away dozens of allies and carrying them off into the Rift Storm, tossing them higher and higher with playful, cruel and ultimately lethal abandon.
Despite the cladding of Dragonhide within the chamber and the three hundred-foot thickness of armour without, the shrieking and bellowing chorus of the Elementals carried clearly to every ear. Wind and fire poured over the Cognates, but their allies – selected for precisely this purpose – stood firm.
Gritting his teeth, the Shadow said, “How do we escape this mess, people?”
Huari said, “Until they depart, we have to remain in lockdown. Otherwise, they could overturn even one of the Cognates.”
Not easily given our low, sleek body forms, fluted Shin’tuy’tuy, but the scenario is conceivable. Nay, o Shadow Dragon, our analysis points to one shining possibility. An opportunity. We must strike a bargain with the creatures that Infurion abandoned, the so-called Foam Riders.
“Ah, interesting,” Ardan replied.
The Cognate said, By my hive-brain and their subordinates, it is so. They must have experience with these Elementals, and moreover, we posit that his desertion leaves them vulnerable. Shadow, you are the only one who can depart our shells in our locked-down state. We understand that you can take some limited numbers with you?
“Aye.”
Our secondary strategy suggests, according to the data formerly calculated relating to your Shadow-abilities, that we might be able to formulate an offensive Shadow shield about a Cognate and thereby move one of our brethren at a time to the end of the Rift path.
“Earthen Fires disrupt my ability to Shadow,” Ardan noted.
Not if we Shadow the Elementals first, the Cognate suggested slyly.
“Clever!” Ardan said feelingly, a sentiment echoed by everyone within the chamber. “But, how do we propose to negate the disruptive elements?”
By disrupting the disruptors, naturally. Now, the mental prodigy just sounded smug. Ardan scowled. He also could not get used to calling it an ‘it,’ but since Cognates were genderless, that was the best way to refer to them. We have used this period to extensively analyse the structural magic behind both the Rift Storm and the beings of these Elementals. All magic, even that inimical to our kind, obeys certain laws, harmonies and interactions at the atomic level when interacting with matter –
Save the Star Dragoness’ inimitable fires, another Cognate put in deftly.
The other continued smoothly, Excellent point. All save Star Fires, obey these laws in order that magic, fire, storm or other physical vectors may even operate upon the fabric of our existence. By isolating the cause and effect factors, we have arrived at this analysis – it presented a simplified dataset to their minds, pausing for the Humans, Shapeshifters and Land Dragons to grasp its import – and while the underlying science is unproven, we believe the technique features great promise.
Huari said, “Can you imagine the implications for cross-Rift commerce? This is wonderful!”
“To the Pit middens with talk of commerce at this time,” Gang growled. “Dearly as I regard your fires, noble Huaricithe, unworthy speech itches my scales – my hide, whatever you call this Human … softness!”
She laughed gruffly. “Is that so, Gangurtharr?”
“Yes!”
Apparently his roar did little more than make her eyes sparkle. “Then, I accede.”
Tenting his fingers beneath his chin, Ri’arion said, “I say we do both, noble Shin’tuy’tuy. Synthesize this approach: we do not approach the metalloids out of pity, but out of desire to ally ourselves with their cause. We offer this new technique – a way of combating their mortal enemies forever after – as the cost of their protection now and in the future. It’s an elegant solution, I do believe.”
Unbelievable! hooted Shin’tuy’tuy.
The Cognates clamoured, How did we not synthesize this possibility? How did a mere Human outthink us? It is impossible! We are chastened. Aghast. We abase our fires, noble allies. We are unworthy.
Ri’arion shot back, “Now that is a faulty analysis, noble Dragons! I would never have arrived at your conclusions regarding this Earthen Fires magic. I merely extrapolated from your invaluable groundwork, without which I would have had nothing. This is a skill in which I had much training as the Nameless Man of Fra’anior.”
We … respectfully accept this reproof, the Cognates chorused.
Ardan clapped his hands together sharply. “Excellent! Sounds like we have the beginnings of a plan. Let’s flesh this out and get ourselves moving again. The Star needs us!”
* * * *
They spoke for as long as Oyda had strength, deep into the evening, with only the briefest of messages relayed without to palliate the curiosity of Gi’ishior’s denizens. The moment Nak poked his head in to see how ‘his girls’ were doing, Iridiana snapped into a dragonet form. Then King Beran pushed his way inside too, demanding a hug or three more from his girl, which had Nak grumbling about the youth of today who thought having a beard accorded them wisdom.
Pip softly bade them pull the door to again. Aranya agreed. These moments were far too precious to allow disturbance. Oyda, however, commanded that they show Beran his surprise; Aranya had him send for two of her outfits, much to her father’s vocal bemusement. They chatted and laughed like the old friends they were, and new, but she noticed how very soon Nak tired and made himself comfortable at Oyda’s side. He found her hand automatically. The aged Dragon Riders lay upon the heaped-up, soft pillow-rolls with their shoulders touching, heads nodding in unison as they reminisced despite their faulty memories and told hilarious stories about Aranya and Pip in equal measure – these seemed all too accurate, making both girls squirm.
Aranya’s heart felt full yet empty at the same time. Could it be? She knew what must come.
Pip was a delight, feisty and funny and deeply thoughtful all at once. She certainly had Nak’s measure! She had a habit of shaking her curls and the benefit of a pointy little Zuziana-chin that just made her look incredibly cute, given as she was barely a whisker shy of four feet tall as compared to Aranya’s six-foot-plus height, and she had to keep reminding herself that this Shapeshifter was not only no child, but a powerful Dragoness and a heroine.
With the arrival of the necessary clothing, Oyda flicked her head imperiously. “There’s the screen, youngling. Use it.”
“Yes, Oyda,” Aranya said meekly, and winked at Pip. “Hasn’t changed a bit, has she?”
“Rascal! Be off with you,” Oyda snorted.
“What’s she doing behind there with that dragonet?” Beran inquired as Aranya picked Nyahi up and slipped behind a dark jalkwood privacy screen at the end of the room.
Pip said, “Do you want to sit down, o King?”
“I don’t believe we’ve met formally, my lady,” said Beran, with a rustle of clothing that signalled a bow. “King Beran of Immadia. Longsuffering father of a Star Dragoness.”
“Dad!” Aranya smiled at Iridiana, who had finally managed to find her Human form again. She was so nervous! Do you like him?
Like him? Her sister wrinkled her nose humorously, but her pulse was flickering so fast in her throat, she was reminded of the flutter of a hummingbird’s wings. Our father seems amazing and funny and I do love his smile, but, uh … will he –
Die? Hopefully not.
Iridiana burst into peals of laughter, making Beran call, “What’s so funny back there, Sparky?”
He doesn’t even know it’s you laughing, Nyahi.
Meantime, the Pygmy girl said, “I am Pip’úrth’l-iòlall-Yò’oótha of the Crescent Isles. Just call me Pip, o King. It’s easier. I’m an Onyx Shapeshifter, and Aranya tells me I’ve lived inside the First Egg for one hundred and fifty years. I am honoured to meet you.”
Beran said, “By the mountains of Immadia, is everyone around here older than me?” Over Nak’s hooting, he added, “The honour is mine. My daughter crossed the Island-World for you and those you love, but I understand there is unfinished business. We will overcome these tyrants, Pip. For you and for your Academy, you have this King’s word that we will move the heavens and this Island-World, and all five moons if necessary, to rescue those you and Nak and Oyda loved.”
“Can we see Oyda? Is she –” He nodded at once. “But, what’s wrong with her?”
An elderly draconic voice rasped, “She has an incurable condition, noble Star Dragoness. Pyrosanguinox consumption, it is called. Some claim it is the curse of Dragon Riders.”
“Nay, it is the ultimate honour for venerable Dragon Riders; Fra’anior’s holy seal upon their lives,” argued another Dragon, but Aranya barely heard the bickering that quickly consumed the Dragonkind. Rallying her little group, forgetting all else, she rushed to the infirmary where Oyda had been resting almost since Aranya had departed Fra’anior, Nak informed her. He did not complain about being carried this time.
They found Oyda propped up abed on a treble-thick pillow-roll in a bay sized to receive visitors of both the two-legged and the four-pawed kind. By the bright lamplight, her smile was serenity itself as she regarded the hubbub which briefly snarled up her doorway. Then, her eyes ignited. “Pip? Oh, Pip!”
“Aye, it is I.”
Elation shivered in both voices.
Aranya deposited the Pygmy girl at Oyda’s beside, shocked by the change in her friend. She looked wasted away; burning up from within. Her sunken cheeks were far too flushed. So hot was she, the sheets smouldered gently around her body. Yet her smooth, shining face belied her age. Although she appeared diminished, her skin displayed not a single wrinkle despite her pure white hair and emaciated limbs. Consumption. A pyretic fire of the blood? She had never heard of such an illness, perhaps because so few Dragon Riders reached Oyda and Nak’s grand age. Interestingly, Sapphire and her dragonets tucked in at the foot of the bed beneath a mound of extra blankets. Seven pairs of fire eyes looked on with alert interest.
“This is what I tarried for,” Oyda whispered, blinking back tears. Even her eyelids appeared too thin, rendered almost translucent by the magical flames lambent within her flesh. “For you, Pip, and Aranya; my two petals.”
Pip wailed, “What is this? She’s so … Aranya, you have the power – cure her, please! Oh please …”
“Don’t touch me! Not like that.” Oyda’s dry croak arrested them. “Any breath of magic would send me … beyond. I must … I want to hold you … both. A moment. Please, everyone … just … Pip … and my petal … Nak? Just my girls … understand?”
Her request was as good as a command. Shortly, with Nak having herded everyone out of the room and with the door slid to behind them, Aranya transformed, dislodging Nyahi without so much of a squeak of compliant, and then she, Pip and Sapphire climbed up onto the bed and lay beside their friend as Oyda, in broken sentences, spoke to them and over them. She assured them of her love and her peace at departing the Island-World. Her sickness was related to the magical bond between Dragons and their Riders, she said, as best Nak had been able to discover in the Dragon Library. She had unknowingly been affected by it for several decades as the magic burned brighter and her body slowly ran hotter and hotter.
“It doesn’t hurt at all, petal,” Oyda said, caressing Aranya’s cheek. “It’s like you used to tell me about how the fires rose inside of you, do you remember? These are Fra’anior’s own fires. I believe I’ll be called beyond to the place of Dragons – to the eternal fires – a belief which riles up some of those sticky-pawed philosophers out there like you would not believe. They say no Human should thus be honoured.” To Pip, she said, “I waited. I knew in my spirit that you would come to me at last, my precious Pip, and I wanted to say, I’m sorry for all the times I believed you never would. You two are my ultimate gift, the two faces I could not bear to depart without seeing one last time. I raised you both, my Shapeshifter daughters. And you, Sapphire, are the truest of friends. Fra’anior will reward you richly.”
Aranya feared to wet Oyda with her tears, but Pip had no such compunction. She was in floods. The old Dragon Rider shut her eyes again, breathing shallowly. Her pulse flickered urgently in her throat.
At length, Aranya whispered, “Could you stand one more gift, Oyda? A small surprise? I don’t mean to cause any anxiety.”
Nyahi breathed, Noooo, Aranya …
Oyda’s ever-bright eyes flicked open at once. “Who’s that?” Who spoke? Who are you, stranger?
Not … so much a stranger, the Chaos Shifter whispered bravely, trying to shift back into her Human form and failing.
Still, a grin briefly creased Oyda’s white-rimmed lips as she eyed the tall posy of dracofloral finery bending over her bed. Intriguing.
Nyahi sighed in irritation. Pop. Dragonet. Fizz! A beam of sparkling motes rebounded off the ceiling and landed in a glowing, mushroom-shaped heap on the far side of the bed. Honestly, can I not … in a flash, she was Human.
Iridiana regarded the Dragon Rider shyly askance. Oyda’s eyes danced upon her, before her throat bobbed with a sharp inhale. “Fra’anior’s holy beard hairs!” Then, a trill of pure joy escaped her lips. “Petal, who is this?”
Aranya could not resist. “A dusty old relic I dug up in Herimor.”
“Love you too,” Nyahi chuckled.
“She’s …” Oyda made an imperious gesture with her chin, clearly inviting the comparison between the two girls. “She’s … isn’t she?”
“Oyda, I’d like you to meet Iridiana, my twin sister.”
Never had she seen contentment to rival Oyda’s expression. A delighted frisson tingled up and down Arnya’s spine. Gift, accepted.
Chapter 27: Departing, We Ascend
ZUZIANA HAD IMAGINED that going walkabout inside the First Egg would cure her of all boredom. Not so. She was unimaginably fed up of nothingness. Even her sleep did not seem like real sleep. Closing her eyes, she watched endless cloudscapes until she slumbered, but woke again not feeling fully rested. She could not feel her babies.
She drifted forever, feeling nothing beneath her feet.
Aranya would have thought her way out of this, but Zip was having trouble coming up with something clever. She was struggling to think at all. Was this what it must have been like for the Pygmy Dragon – for one hundred and fifty years, a slow erosion of self-awareness and cognitive function? Frankly, the prospect terrified her.
Zip tried to push down the welling sense of panic, but she was just too concerned about her babies to think rationally. Hey! Hey, somebody – I need to see something in here! I’m going to go mad otherwise.
She turned slowly, looking in every direction, even up and down. Nothing.
I’m lonely and frightened, and I don’t want to die here.
Oppressive worlds of silence.
Look, if you are an Ancient Dragon – if you are alive inside this eggshell in some sense that I truly cannot understand – then you are a baby like these three babies in my womb. Aye! They are egglings, like you, as yet unformed and …
Zip caught her breath. Something had changed. Indefinably ineffably, she felt a presence coalescing about her – well, she could not rightly say how she knew. The sensation was neither physical, nor magical, nor psychic, as far as she could tell. It was akin to that inexplicable realisation which flashed across a chamber when one knew one was being watched. Aranya had her oath knowledge connection with Ardan which transcended ordinary, known laws. The best the lore scrolls could manage by way of description of oath magic was ‘magic more unfathomable than all other identified types.’ In other words, they had no clue.
She said softly, I am a Dragoness mother and I care deeply for my egglings, as your shell mother must have once cared for you. She – could she even assume that much of the Ancient Dragons? – cared so deeply about you, she launched you across time and space to a place of safety. This place is now threatened.
Stillness brooded about her, immeasurably profound.
Did they understand each other? Or did the creature sense something in her tone?
Swallowing hard, Zip ventured, If I could be in any measure a surrogate shell mother to thee, Great One – the mists quivered! Her words jumbled and knotted into a hopeless mess as an almighty presence burned briefly against her mind, but the fire was not consuming, but overpowering and feminine and fiery sweet in a curiously infantile yet fearsome way. Only before Fra’anior himself had Zuziana felt smaller; yet it did not seem menacing. Curious, perhaps. Certainly intelligent.
Before she could think upon it, the awareness of a presence vanished. Zip saw the mists shiver again, before they began to dissolve around her. High in the dissipating whiteness but dead ahead, she saw the unmistakable conical silhouette of a large volcano; before it, the hazy impression of a barren plain dotted with boulders. Boulders? Surely too spiky … as the scene resolved before her eyes, a choked-off sob ripped from her throat.
Zuziana slumped to her knees. No!
* * * *
Ardan addressed his impromptu council of war. “Alright. So we have six Cognates welded to the Rift path –”
“Double vacuum-sealed, sah, with additional magical binding elements,” Asturbar noted briskly.
“– right, vacuum sealed so that they cannot move an inch, with all the rest of us nicely hunkered down inside, taking shelter from Fra’anior knows how many Storm Elementals out there, and you’re telling me our strategy is to sit tight and hope they lose interest?”
His glare dared anyone to reply.
Gang snorted, “They are Elementals which feed on their own fury. Their very beings are fury. Who wants to wait a hundred years?”
“We are less than halfway across,” Ri’arion hissed.
The small chamber inside of Shin’tuy’tuy the Alabaster Cognate was a strange affair, a natural grotto inside the Land Dragon, which was shaped like a flat ovoid half a mile long by a quarter-mile wide. Three concentric, lower fringes protected its forty parallel rows of feet and provided structural integrity for the ultra-powerful vacuum seals. Locked down, nothing short of an earthquake could move a Cognate. All six sheltered the smaller Runner allies beneath their fringes, including the Thunderous Thirty, who had vanquished four Storm Elementals before the semi-intelligent creatures had struck back as a vengeful mob, ripping away dozens of allies and carrying them off into the Rift Storm, tossing them higher and higher with playful, cruel and ultimately lethal abandon.
Despite the cladding of Dragonhide within the chamber and the three hundred-foot thickness of armour without, the shrieking and bellowing chorus of the Elementals carried clearly to every ear. Wind and fire poured over the Cognates, but their allies – selected for precisely this purpose – stood firm.
Gritting his teeth, the Shadow said, “How do we escape this mess, people?”
Huari said, “Until they depart, we have to remain in lockdown. Otherwise, they could overturn even one of the Cognates.”
Not easily given our low, sleek body forms, fluted Shin’tuy’tuy, but the scenario is conceivable. Nay, o Shadow Dragon, our analysis points to one shining possibility. An opportunity. We must strike a bargain with the creatures that Infurion abandoned, the so-called Foam Riders.
“Ah, interesting,” Ardan replied.
The Cognate said, By my hive-brain and their subordinates, it is so. They must have experience with these Elementals, and moreover, we posit that his desertion leaves them vulnerable. Shadow, you are the only one who can depart our shells in our locked-down state. We understand that you can take some limited numbers with you?
“Aye.”
Our secondary strategy suggests, according to the data formerly calculated relating to your Shadow-abilities, that we might be able to formulate an offensive Shadow shield about a Cognate and thereby move one of our brethren at a time to the end of the Rift path.
“Earthen Fires disrupt my ability to Shadow,” Ardan noted.
Not if we Shadow the Elementals first, the Cognate suggested slyly.
“Clever!” Ardan said feelingly, a sentiment echoed by everyone within the chamber. “But, how do we propose to negate the disruptive elements?”
By disrupting the disruptors, naturally. Now, the mental prodigy just sounded smug. Ardan scowled. He also could not get used to calling it an ‘it,’ but since Cognates were genderless, that was the best way to refer to them. We have used this period to extensively analyse the structural magic behind both the Rift Storm and the beings of these Elementals. All magic, even that inimical to our kind, obeys certain laws, harmonies and interactions at the atomic level when interacting with matter –
Save the Star Dragoness’ inimitable fires, another Cognate put in deftly.
The other continued smoothly, Excellent point. All save Star Fires, obey these laws in order that magic, fire, storm or other physical vectors may even operate upon the fabric of our existence. By isolating the cause and effect factors, we have arrived at this analysis – it presented a simplified dataset to their minds, pausing for the Humans, Shapeshifters and Land Dragons to grasp its import – and while the underlying science is unproven, we believe the technique features great promise.
Huari said, “Can you imagine the implications for cross-Rift commerce? This is wonderful!”
“To the Pit middens with talk of commerce at this time,” Gang growled. “Dearly as I regard your fires, noble Huaricithe, unworthy speech itches my scales – my hide, whatever you call this Human … softness!”
She laughed gruffly. “Is that so, Gangurtharr?”
“Yes!”
Apparently his roar did little more than make her eyes sparkle. “Then, I accede.”
Tenting his fingers beneath his chin, Ri’arion said, “I say we do both, noble Shin’tuy’tuy. Synthesize this approach: we do not approach the metalloids out of pity, but out of desire to ally ourselves with their cause. We offer this new technique – a way of combating their mortal enemies forever after – as the cost of their protection now and in the future. It’s an elegant solution, I do believe.”
Unbelievable! hooted Shin’tuy’tuy.
The Cognates clamoured, How did we not synthesize this possibility? How did a mere Human outthink us? It is impossible! We are chastened. Aghast. We abase our fires, noble allies. We are unworthy.
Ri’arion shot back, “Now that is a faulty analysis, noble Dragons! I would never have arrived at your conclusions regarding this Earthen Fires magic. I merely extrapolated from your invaluable groundwork, without which I would have had nothing. This is a skill in which I had much training as the Nameless Man of Fra’anior.”
We … respectfully accept this reproof, the Cognates chorused.
Ardan clapped his hands together sharply. “Excellent! Sounds like we have the beginnings of a plan. Let’s flesh this out and get ourselves moving again. The Star needs us!”
* * * *
They spoke for as long as Oyda had strength, deep into the evening, with only the briefest of messages relayed without to palliate the curiosity of Gi’ishior’s denizens. The moment Nak poked his head in to see how ‘his girls’ were doing, Iridiana snapped into a dragonet form. Then King Beran pushed his way inside too, demanding a hug or three more from his girl, which had Nak grumbling about the youth of today who thought having a beard accorded them wisdom.
Pip softly bade them pull the door to again. Aranya agreed. These moments were far too precious to allow disturbance. Oyda, however, commanded that they show Beran his surprise; Aranya had him send for two of her outfits, much to her father’s vocal bemusement. They chatted and laughed like the old friends they were, and new, but she noticed how very soon Nak tired and made himself comfortable at Oyda’s side. He found her hand automatically. The aged Dragon Riders lay upon the heaped-up, soft pillow-rolls with their shoulders touching, heads nodding in unison as they reminisced despite their faulty memories and told hilarious stories about Aranya and Pip in equal measure – these seemed all too accurate, making both girls squirm.
Aranya’s heart felt full yet empty at the same time. Could it be? She knew what must come.
Pip was a delight, feisty and funny and deeply thoughtful all at once. She certainly had Nak’s measure! She had a habit of shaking her curls and the benefit of a pointy little Zuziana-chin that just made her look incredibly cute, given as she was barely a whisker shy of four feet tall as compared to Aranya’s six-foot-plus height, and she had to keep reminding herself that this Shapeshifter was not only no child, but a powerful Dragoness and a heroine.
With the arrival of the necessary clothing, Oyda flicked her head imperiously. “There’s the screen, youngling. Use it.”
“Yes, Oyda,” Aranya said meekly, and winked at Pip. “Hasn’t changed a bit, has she?”
“Rascal! Be off with you,” Oyda snorted.
“What’s she doing behind there with that dragonet?” Beran inquired as Aranya picked Nyahi up and slipped behind a dark jalkwood privacy screen at the end of the room.
Pip said, “Do you want to sit down, o King?”
“I don’t believe we’ve met formally, my lady,” said Beran, with a rustle of clothing that signalled a bow. “King Beran of Immadia. Longsuffering father of a Star Dragoness.”
“Dad!” Aranya smiled at Iridiana, who had finally managed to find her Human form again. She was so nervous! Do you like him?
Like him? Her sister wrinkled her nose humorously, but her pulse was flickering so fast in her throat, she was reminded of the flutter of a hummingbird’s wings. Our father seems amazing and funny and I do love his smile, but, uh … will he –
Die? Hopefully not.
Iridiana burst into peals of laughter, making Beran call, “What’s so funny back there, Sparky?”
He doesn’t even know it’s you laughing, Nyahi.
Meantime, the Pygmy girl said, “I am Pip’úrth’l-iòlall-Yò’oótha of the Crescent Isles. Just call me Pip, o King. It’s easier. I’m an Onyx Shapeshifter, and Aranya tells me I’ve lived inside the First Egg for one hundred and fifty years. I am honoured to meet you.”
Beran said, “By the mountains of Immadia, is everyone around here older than me?” Over Nak’s hooting, he added, “The honour is mine. My daughter crossed the Island-World for you and those you love, but I understand there is unfinished business. We will overcome these tyrants, Pip. For you and for your Academy, you have this King’s word that we will move the heavens and this Island-World, and all five moons if necessary, to rescue those you and Nak and Oyda loved.”
