“By wiping out her enemies in billows of gorgeous white flame?”
“Aye, and then he said, ‘Fangs you very much.’ ”
“Aargh.”
“Could not have expressed it better myself. So, who’s keen on a long, long night flight?”
Considering what the Princesses had been through, actual keenness was far from the mark, but after slathering themselves liberally in tart aloe juice and drinking a little more, they made ready to fly north once more.
As the largest male Dragon he knew of in the Tamarine Mountains, Dragon had always been able to fly with great stamina. This night, he pushed on steadily, filled with thoughts about how air and water were not all that different, after all, and if he could learn to keep a pace that combined efficiency and conservation of energy with speed, he might be able to sustain flight far enough to risk the crossing to the Vaylarn Archipelago. Aria’s notes warned that the weather could be unpredictable and for part of the year, the winds were likely to be strongly opposed to a northerly crossing. Right now was the worst possible time.
Perfect planning.
Therefore, when he came down for a landing an hour before dawn, having sustained no less than ten hours in the air, it was with a sense of quiet satisfaction. Good flight. They had turned more easterly, headed directly for the ‘foot’ of the Tamarine Mountains. They might spy those from a height on the morrow.
Azania patted his neck. “Nice moves, Dragon. Fire check?”
Worried, Princess? Narked and grateful at the same time, he concentrated. Nothing … sss! He jumped in surprise. “Alright, that snuck up on me.”
Rubbing her eyes, Inzashu unbuckled. “You’re such a bright spark, Dragon.”
“No, don’t tell me you’re starting with the terrible puns, too?” he groaned, prodding her ribs with a talon.
“Oh – unintentional.”
“A flare of inspiration, perhaps?” he purred.
“Another day, another boulder,” said Azania. “More storytelling to pass the day, Dragon?”
“Of course. Dragons love a good, long tail.”
“Oh dear,” the Princess chortled, “I don’t know which is worse, poison itch or your jokes.”
On that note, they dozed another day away in the brilliant sunshine, and in the evening, repeated the night flight. It was early morning when Dragon realised he had dozed on the wing once more, and not only were the familiar white-capped peaks of the Tamarine Range spreading across the farthest horizon, but the landscape had changed once more. Cactus forests. This should have been Prince Floric’s landing place, he chortled nastily to himself. All shapes and sizes of spiky cacti predominated in this region, from beds of tiny barrel cacti no bigger than the ball of a Human thumb, to multi-branched monsters standing sixty feet tall.
Wing-weary, he landed in an open area yet again, scenting the air. Changing to the badlands, if he was not mistaken, and soon, that clean zing of the mountains would greet his swelling lungs. They must not only purchase armour and clothing for his Riders, but warm clothing as well.
Chakkix Camp awaited.
Chapter 4: Ocean Always Rises
“TARANGIS LIONBAITER!” AZANIA CALLED fondly.
“Princess Azania!” said he, wheeling into Yardi the Armourer’s cavern with a delighted smile. His eyebrows shot up immediately. “And in another development, Princesses hunt in packs? Who is this?”
“You’ve been warned,” Dragon agreed.
Azania shot him her patented glare.
One and a half days’ further travel had brought them up to Chakkix Camp. Old friends, old haunts and the same old smells. Delightful place. It remained the unimproved version of a Human cesspit of vice, iniquity and thriving business, at the shadier end of every imaginable spectrum.
“This is my sister, Inzashu-N’shula. Inzashu, this is our friend Tarangis Lionbaiter, a long-time business partner of our father’s.”
The younger princess smiled bashfully. “Azania told me how much you helped them.”
“Helped? Making me decent money, they are,” he guffawed. “Of course, it’s all about the money – but Princess, please put me out of my curiosity here. King N’gala has but one daughter that I knew of, the famous Black Rose of the Desert, unless by some hitherto unknown process, beauty has duplicated itself?”
As he spoke, he wheeled forward on the hard floor to first kiss Azania’s hand, then Inzashu’s. Dragon eyed him with a malevolent glare that suggested should any kisses be ventured in his vicinity, volcanoes would erupt. Sensitive soul that he was, Tarangis picked up on the vibe immediately. As the Princess filled him in on recent events, however, his jovial mood evaporated and he expressed his condolences to both girls and sober congratulations to Dragon on his feat of fire breathing.
At this point, Yarimda tottered through into the cavern, saying that her old ears thrilled to the voices of friends. Everything had to be repeated in greater detail than before. She insisted.
Dragon breathed fire into Yardi’s forge by way of demonstration.
Had they not all expressed their undying wonder, he would have been severely ticked off. Slice of the old ego there, Dragon?
How quickly one winged from despair at no fires to annoyance if one’s fires did not provoke an awed reaction. Was he truly this shallow a beast? Or more straightforwardly, one beset by fears and weaknesses common to any intelligent creature?
Once the need for suitable clothing surfaced, Yarimda took Inzashu under her wing. “Used to be an excellent seamstress back in the day, my dear child!” she opined. “Needle and thread defeat me due to advancing years, but I can design clothing suitable for the most delightful of Dragon-riding Princesses.”
Gnrrr – Dragon began.
Yarimda sent a zinger of a scowl his way. “Now, don’t you misbehave in my cavern, young Dragon. Go warm yourself by the forge. Go on!”
Yardi gave an exasperated gasp at her grandmother’s tone. Her eyes pleaded for understanding.
He made a token shuffle toward the forge. Not a great deal of space in
