Both of their heads lifted as a Dragon’s roar sounded from near Juggernaut’s lair.
Time for his testimony.
How would his word be received?
* * * *
His sire Blaze addressed the congregation of adult Dragons assembled upon the famous sands of Juggernaut’s training ground.
I am Blaze the Devastator. I do not claim to speak for any Clan or Dragon. My aim is for all Dragons assembled here to hear the truth regarding the reported Skartunese invasion across the southern deserts. As every Dragon knows, the wickedness of Skartun represents a deep and terrible scar in our scent memory. We are Dragonkind, free creatures of the air, never enslaved. Our histories record that many were captured and carried off, but we did not understand how – nor did we cross the deserts to avenge our brothers and sisters.
Now, after thirty years, report has reached the Clans that the Skartun have returned, seeking fresh blood to swell their armies. We are fortunate to have a Dragon present who has just flown up from N’ginta Citadel in T’nagru. We will hear his word.
Who is this tattered beast? a voice called from the crowd.
Blaze said, This Dragon was once a Devastator and is known to us. He was cast out of our Clan for three years and three days by my judgement. He chooses to carry with him the Princess of his possession, Her Royal Highness Azania of T’nagru, the Black Rose of the Desert.
With him? another voice called. We all know what we saw, brothers!
Upon his back, his sire acknowledged. An ugly muttering rose from the Dragons. More than one spat beside their paws, or declared him accursed by the sign writ upon his very scales.
Turning, his sire said, Will you swear, upon your fires, to tell –
He has no fires!
Ah, the old laughter. Sizeable as he was – brawnier than any other Dragon here – he had never felt smaller, worth less, the talon point of every joke and the very definition of what it meant to be despised by all. All? Most, but not all. Juggernaut stood strong for him, and perhaps his sire too, although he had never worked out how to show it.
Blaze sighed, Let the one who has seen, speak.
May his tongue not be a plank, this day. Lifting his muzzle, he said, Dragons, I swear by the fires of Taramis and the quickening of my own draconic soul, to speak nothing but the truth before this congregation.
Silence.
The unusual oath seized their attention. In tones chosen to be measured, and not boastful or proud as most Dragons would be when telling such a tale, he began by confirming in stark outline how he had kidnapped the Princess Azania, and come to fly down to T’nagru in defence of her kingdom. Having attributed her becoming his Dragon Rider to his poor eyesight and lack of fires, it was only when he began to describe how the Dragon thralls had been enchained and forcefully subjugated by such pain that they could not even fly, that the muttering and disbelief gathered momentum. Such was the desolation of his hearts as he portrayed their fate, even his brothers suspended their sneering.
Next, he passed over to Princess Azania to relate her own father’s demise at the hand of Nahritu-N’shula. She revealed the secret of the magic which the Skartun armies had discovered which helped them to cross the desert, but not its origins, noting only that from her home citadel, they had flown up to Juggernaut’s lair on a mission to bring word and detail of the invasion to the Dragon Clans. Concluding, she appealed with passion and force to the wisdom of the Dragonkind, that the Clans should unite and fly in defence of their kind.
As ever, she spoke with eloquence he could only marvel at.
Thanking her and Dragon, Blaze declared several hours’ break for counsel among the Clans and reflection upon all they had heard. At suns-set, they would reconvene for the cross-examination, a classic draconic council technique by which, it was believed, all aspects of a story or issue would be examined and exposed by the heat of fire, as truth or lie.
Chapter 9: For Shame
WISPY CIRRUS CLOUDS DRIFTED high over the sinkhole, brush strokes painted upon the heavens by the lightest of paws. As Dragon, Azania and Yarimda joined the Dragons on the light grey sands of the combat training ground, he reflected upon Talonfire’s words. In one breath he could prove everything he had ever wanted – and wreck everything, too. Had he ever been in a tighter quandary?
His Princess agreed. He had already disrespected his dam. How could he do the same to his sire?
There had to be a better way.
An old saying ran through his mind: Burned if you do, burned if you don’t. What did honour mean to creatures to whom this value easily ranked highest of all, when there was no path to attain it?
He wanted to tell Azania how stunning she looked this evening. How her childhood friend, King Azerim, would gnash his fangs in helpless worship of her character, her integrity and aye, her physical beauty. Some people were born as royalty, born into a position. She was royalty. It fizzed in her blood and surfaced in the spark of her dark eyes and the tilt of her definite chin. The smallest being in the congregation was by no means the least.
Would these Dragons see her as he did?
As they took their positions, it immediately became clear that several of the Clans could not wait to tear into them. There must have been discussion already. Heated discussion.
This was no
