He may have smirked. Just a little.
Toward noon, Dragon took a walk with Inzashu-N’shula in the opposite direction from the brotherly boudoir. As they pressed along through the lush, fragrant leaves, she said, “You’re looking fierce, Dragon. Is this the part where I get roundly told off for failing Yarimda?”
“Actually, no. I was thinking about my brothers. We failed – don’t laugh like that. You were protecting Yarimda, right?”
“Supposedly.”
“Don’t sulk. Despite that I understand some males find it endearing, it is unbecoming in the Human female. The reason your magic failed was because of oxygen deprivation, not inattention. Put another way, we were so fixated on protecting Yarimda that we forgot about protecting you. People – and Dragons – react differently to altitude. There are records of Dragons flying no higher than we did and falling out of the sky. Lack of oxygen can scramble a brain like a Dragon’s talon scrambles brain in the skull, do you see?”
With a wan smile at his phrasing, the Princess said, “I feel a bit better, but not a whole lot.”
“Aye. We came within a scale’s width of killing her.”
“See why I fear magic so much? I know one can only do one’s best, but what if it isn’t enough?”
“Why is the wind?”
“Eh?” Her pensive frown deepened. “What does that mean?”
“Among Dragons, we say ‘why is the wind’ to refer to what cannot be explained, or predicted – a kind of shorthand for fate, I suppose. Wind blows where it pleases. You cannot see it except by its effects. Those effects might be fair or foul, without logic or reason. Why is the wind? It simply is.”
“Interesting idea, given how the wind lifts every Dragon.”
Just when he thought he had figured Humans out, something like that popped out and he realised how different, and how deep, the thoughts of another species could be.
Puzzling over this, he paused as a tiny voice cried, Dragon, Dragon, where’s my best Dragon?
Sapphira!
The blue hatchling came barrelling up the path, most likely outrunning her parents.
She had grown! The hatchling stood over chest-high to Inzashu. She had visibly put on muscle and sprouted in all directions. She’d be flying without any trouble now, he assumed, greeting her with a fond wingtip slap and a brotherly nudge – his knee against her shoulder.
See? My wing’s fine now – and I’m flying again. You look funny. Is this your Human? She smells strange. By my wings, my sire and dam said to say to you that I’m so happy that you saved my life and I am because I’m pretty; don’t you think I’m pretty? How did you live when they sent you away? Do I talk too much?
Blink, blink again, as he summarily failed to sort through that outburst in a hurry.
Sapphira, this is Inzashu-N’shula.
What kind of a funny name is that? A Human funny?
Call her Inzashu, he said. “Inzashu, this is my friend Sapphira, the hatchling I told you about.”
“Humans talk silly,” the hatchling chirruped, batting her eyelids at the Princess. “Are you pretty? Are you a dam or a sire?”
“I am a girl, like you. A youngling.”
“Ooh, we can be … friendly? Can we? Why have wings you not?”
“Because I’m a person and you’re a Dragoness. We’re different, see? But you are very pretty. Can I touch your scales?”
“I’ll bite you!” Dragon, she … hee hee hee. How I say – “Sorry? I’m a wild, bad Dragoness.”
The Princess smiled, “And I’m a wild, bad Princess from Skartun.”
Humans like to touch, he put in meantime, just in case either of them had more wild ideas. Their skins are very soft. Please don’t bite her. It won’t go well.
The hatchling cooed and practised making eyes again. “Dragon say no eat friends. Is okay? I some Human learn good, by my wings.”
“Not eating friends is very wise,” Inzashu agreed. “You’re cute.”
“I am so not. I am some mighty stuff!”
Talonfire! Gemira! He greeted the mated pair fondly. Judging by the crimson Dragon’s gait, Talonfire had fully recovered from the lightning strike he had taken. His attractive light blue mate’s smile of greeting faded as she took in his condition. Juggernaut says I might be moulting, he said defensively. Ugly, isn’t it?
Moulting? Well, that’s … rare, Gemira stammered. Are you well, Bl – Dragon? Sorry.
I’ve seen a few battles since last we met, but my fires – I found my fires, at last. This may be the reason I am changing, we think.
Talonfire said, Chalice the Grinder was just singing your praises. Said she’d never seen a Dragon fly like he had a hurricane behind his tail. She’s regarded as quick. What happened to you, brother?
He shrugged. I wish I knew. All theories accepted.
You breathe fire now? May I –
Carefully, he let a trickle of fire slip up his throat and lick around his fangs.
The colour! the Dragoness gasped.
Talonfire clasped his shoulder, choking out, Brother this is the best news I ever – it’s wonderful! You cannot let them see this. Under no circumstances –
What? Why ever not?
White fires belong to Sea Dragons. This tells absolutely everyone that either Blaze is not your sire, or Indigofire is not your dam. The dishonour would be unthinkable.
Throwing back his muzzle, Dragon growled an imprecation at the sky.
Why? Why him?
Talonfire was right. Curse it, why had he not made the connection himself? He had only to open his mouth to condemn his sire, to ensure that his station amongst Devastator Dragons would never be honoured again. Legends of Sea Dragons were told in every lair around the mountains. The white fire – perhaps a touch different to his multihued white, but he did not know this for a fact – was enshrined
