His lips curved just a touch. Because you’re my dearest girl. My straw-head.
Hualiama could not breathe. She stroked the dragonet’s muzzle tenderly, beneath the ruff of his spine spikes where he loved it best, and tried to imagine that if she only looked at the upper half of his body, he was still whole and perfect, and not dying.
After a time, Flicker’s well-loved eyes cracked open. You’re leaking. My soul is content, Hualiama. I see it now. You will live. The power of that fungus-faced man’s ruzal did not touch you.
Flicker–her lower lip trembled–I want to die, too.
He gasped, struggling for breath as Lia soothed him with the softest words of a shattered heart.
The dragonet rasped, Then, what of the starsong? To whom would the Islands bow? The prophecy …
My world is ended.
Yet he had touched her fear and named it. What of the prophecy? What of the invisible, unrealised third race of the Island-World? As if sensing the questions burdening her heart, the Tourmaline Dragon stirred, his paw flexing to cradle Lia more completely.
“Through his allies, Ra’aba had organised enough votes in the Council of Dragon Elders to block my shell-father’s desire for action,” Grandion said. “My presence wakened their fires. You can imagine the heat of an argument between Dragons; imagine a huge cave filled with shouting, quarrelling, fire-breathing hotheads! Then there was worse, an ambush during the back-cave negotiations. Dragons were killed. War erupted on Gi’ishior. The Greens and their allies under Gemugaz the Dragon Elder attacked, having tricked the men of Yorbik into joining their cause. Many fine and noble Dragons were killed, but we prevailed.”
“It was that simple?” Lia asked, waking for the first time to Grandion’s condition. Fire-blackened scales, more talon cuts than she could count, and a detectable twinge in the action of his wings.
“Easier than bolting down a haunch of ralti meat,” he said. “Many a battle-song could be sung, but there is more.”
“Tell me.”
“I promised my shell-father I would fly with him to campaign against the Greens of Merx, Lyrx and Syros, to bring them to heel.”
So, the die was cast; her future, bleaker than ever. “You will go away.” Hualiama felt faithless to Flicker, considering her response to this new loss. How could she think of herself at a time like this?
Grandion said, “I will fly with my kin. Hualiama …” I’m speechless. Bereft. Will my Rider watch the skies for a Tourmaline Dragon?
I will, my Dragon.
A storm raged over Ha’athior. A cap of dark, suns-fired clouds lay over the Island, as though the Ancient Dragon’s wrath at his kindred’s deeds had leached into the atmosphere. Around the holy Isle, rainbows shimmered with the endless intermingling of heat and moisture, making Lia conceive of elemental Dragons dancing upon the wings of storm winds. Only the wind soughing across Grandion’s wings reminded her that there was life, of a beating of hearts so ravaged by grief, it seemed even their gentle throbbing sullied the perfect dawn.
Flicker whispered, My soul takes wing upon its last flight.
Flicker, don’t say that, said Lia. We’ll get you to Amaryllion. He’ll heal you.
The dragonet snuffled against her hand. Such an incurable straw-head, Lia. His voice grew fainter, as though his soul already sought to fly. It’s been a grand adventure. Ever since you fell into my lap … didn’t I do well? Took you in paw … sewed your pretty hide … taught you to speak, didn’t I?
She sobbed, You did! The dragonets will sing your praises through the ages–o Flicker, friend of Humans, saviour of Fra’anior, a Dragon-soul whose fires burn brighter than the twin suns.
Silly, beautiful fire-eyes. Flicker tried to purr, but his lungs rasped appallingly, and a trickle of fresh, golden Dragon blood welled from his mouth. Stupid egg-head’s no good for you. Choose the Dragon. He’s a rascal, but a noble one–
I am listening. Grandion’s mental voice smiled at the dragonet.
You’d better take care of my best girl, Grandion. Consider yourself warned. Still, Flicker conversed with them. Incredible. Lia heard agony in every syllable, yet he struggled on, Would you sing for me, Lia? My favourite song: Alas … faraway something–
“I know it,” Lia said. How could she sing? Yet she must. Neither she nor Grandion had any healing powers. They must rush beneath the storm to Amaryllion. He alone could perform a miracle now.
Whisper-soft, singing for her Dragon friends’ ears alone, Lia battled her way into the verse: