His hide was scorched, his lungs seared and his concealing magic deployed in full force.
The Orange Dragon bellied down the tunnel toward his position, his spine spikes scoring lines on the tunnel roof. The Dragon stopped when he spotted the charred skeleton. Ah, Princess, it ends here, he declared, visibly satisfied.
By the First Egg, please let his girl remain as silent as a hunting dragonet. How long could straw-head remain underwater? The Dragon backed up with excruciating deliberation, unable to turn in the tunnel due to his great bulk. Flicker damped his fury. He wanted nothing more than to scream, Murderer! Egg-stealer! Hatchling-killer! But if the Dragon detected his emotions, or heard his hearts-beat … his subterfuge seemed to have worked. How had the Ancient One known? Did he have the power of visions, similar to what Lia had described to him when she spoke of the Star Dragon, who must have taken refuge in this very cave? Could the Human girl have envisioned Istariela and Fra’anior?
Such power, vested in a frail Human body. Unprecedented, the Ancient One had professed.
Outside on the ledge, the Orange Dragon thundered a challenge of earth-shattering power, IT IS FINISHED! And straight afterward, so whisper-quiet that Flicker wondered if he had imagined the words, The prophecy is broken.
The swish of his huge wings, blasting dust back down the tunnel, confirmed the Dragon’s departure. After waiting as long as he could bear, Flicker darted back up the tunnel, squealing, Lia? Lia?
He wheeled on his wingtip into their cave. There, in the water, floating as if dead! The dragonet dropped on her stomach; Lia surfaced in an explosion of bubbles, coughing, laughing and exclaiming crossly at him.
Are you alive? Flicker worried.
Do I look that bad? Flicker, what was that? I … She thrust her fist against her mouth, her eyes wet with more than water. Lia’s shoulders began to shake. Why does everyone want to kill me? Why?
Hush, softly now, said Flicker, speaking as to a wounded hatchling.
He was just like Ra’aba–exactly the same eyes. I don’t understand. Her eyes rose in a mute appeal the dragonet knew he could never answer. In those smoky green depths, he saw what squeezed his chest–an awareness of mortality, fresh and raw, as if the Dragon had scored them both with bloody wounds. She seemed soul-haunted. I don’t understand, Flicker, Hualiama repeated. Can Humans and Dragons share the same spirit? How did he know I was here?
The dragonets of my warren must have tattled, he replied, as her words provoked a disturbance in his Dragon senses. Could this be true? A vengeful spirit of Ra’aba? Look, one thing is good in all–
“Good?” she shouted, making Flicker squeak and flare his wings in panic. “What could possibly be good about this? I’m being hunted by Dragons, Islands’ sakes, and I’ve no idea why! I’m stuck on this stupid Island–”
Hush. We need to be certain he’s gone.
Aye. Though her eyes still registered distress, Lia reached out to stroke his neck. Flicker, I’ve no words to thank you enough. You’re the best friend a girl could want.
You saved my hide, he muttered, rubbing his muzzle with his forepaws.
At least I’m clean, now. Lia rose from the water, standing hip-deep in the small pool as she clearly cast about for a way to put her fright behind her. Flicker would have done the same. Well, our food is all cooked, we’ll need a new bed, and I guess I’ll be weaving another sling after this. How did you misdirect that Dragon, Flicker? You’re so brave, so resourceful …
“Islands’ greetings, my name’s Lia,” said Flicker, affecting the dragonet version of a sultry pout.
Hualiama’s mouth dropped open. “You can imitate me that well?”
“Well, yes,” he smirked, emboldened by her reaction. “I am the Princess Straw-Head of Fra’anior, and my burned skeleton is lying just outside in the tunnel.”
By way of reply, Lia puffed out her chest, imitating one of Flicker’s favourite postures. “And I am an overgrown, brainless parakeet with a head stuffed full of feathers. Aren’t I the handsomest creature under the twin suns?”
His howl of laughter came accompanied by a plume of fire.
* * * *
Late that afternoon, the Yellow moon eclipsed the waning suns and the atmosphere grew dim, despite the day’s lingering warmth. The cliff-larks, lesser blue parakeets and swarming crimson-sparrows cheeped sleepily outside. Digging through the cavern sand with her toes as she worked on her fifth sling in several weeks, Lia sliced her left big toe open on what she