returned with that thought, however. Stumbling, Lia took a stab-wound to her right bicep.
Hallon grabbed her shoulder. “Easy, rajal!” He smashed a pirate’s jaw with his elbow. “Keep your focus. Channel the rage.”
“Got that out of our system?” rumbled Rallon, casually cleaning his blade on a fallen pirate’s tunic top.
“I … I …” Their enemies lay scattered around the small clearing, unmoving. Lia’s eyelashes dipped, but she was unable to keep from scanning the carnage all about her. Her gorge surged.
“Smell this.”
Something acrid exploded up her nose. “Hal–roaring rajals!”
However, the urge to retch had vanished. At Hallon’s solicitous touch upon her shoulder, Lia spluttered, “I’m fine now–great Islands! I know him! That man.”
“This one?” Hallon prodded a pirate with his toe.
“Aye. Except, he’s no pirate–he’s a member of the King’s personal guard.” Rallon and Hallon exchanged troubled glances. Scratching her false beard, Lia said, “He might have fled … which seems unlikely. No. Ra’aba’s men are attacking these villagers under the guise of being pirates!”
Rallon began, “Why would they–”
Hallon punched his brother affectionately on the shoulder–a punch which would have felled little Lia without a doubt. “Why do you think, pumice brain? They’re far too disciplined to be pirates. Just look at this shiny new armour, the way they fight in ranks …”
“We need to tell Master Jo’el,” said Rallon.
“After we drive them away from the village. Follow me!” cried Lia.
“Typical woman!” she heard floating from behind as they pounded down the trail to the next brace of houses. “Never content just to follow.”
“Hallon!” she snapped.
“I’m Rallon.”
“No, you’re not. Come on, they’re firing that house!”
* * * *
In the evening after the battle, a group of monks escorted their much slighter companion to a village on the eastern shore of Ya’arriol Island, which overlooked Fra’anior. The largest known volcano in the Island-World, Fra’anior dominated the eastern horizon, sixty miles wide and four miles tall–at least, that was the portion visible above the Cloudlands. The mountain’s roots had to be much deeper and wider still. It was Lia’s favourite view, and she paused to drink it in until Master Jo’el discreetly touched her arm.
Hualiama did not need to duck beneath the lintel of Ja’al’s parents’ house, but everyone else did. Master Jo’el bent almost double. The giant twins fared little better, while Ja’al courteously indicated that Hualiama should precede him.
She entered a low-beamed dining room, simply furnished with a carved wooden table and chairs. A delighted squeal announced Ja’al’s mother–clearly–flinging herself across the room at her son. He tucked her beneath his chin, reddening as he spied Lia’s smile. His father, an older, no less handsome version of Ja’al, rose from the kitchen table where he had been honing nicks out of his sword. The weapon looked as battered as he did. Ja’al’s father sported a fine black eye and limped as he moved to greet them.
“Master Jo’el,” he said, gathering the tall Master into a very un-Fra’aniorian hug. “You saved us from being slaughtered like sheep, today.”
“Master Ga’athar.” Over the shorter man’s shoulder, Jo’el’s eyes twinkled. “Sister.”
A wide grin ambushed Hualiama as the Master gathered Ja’al’s mother into his embrace. Beside Jo’el his sister looked tiny, but she had the same beak-like nose and piercing eyes, her expression quite at odds with the homely apron protecting her fine, sapphire-coloured traditional lace dress. The smell in the cottage made her mouth water. Yum! Mohili-wheat sweetbread a-bake, was it? Lia had seen her among the villagers helping set everything to rights after the battle. By evening, Ja’al’s mother must have found time to return to her housework.
They had worked all day. Hualiama exhaled. So many graves. Such wanton destruction.
Several younger faces peered shyly around a curtain at the back of the room, before ducking back with muffled giggles.
“It was the Great Dragon’s timing,” averred Ja’al, following his nose toward the oven.
Dusting her hands on her apron, his mother said, “Paws off the sweetbread, you thieving dragonet! Have you forgotten your manners, being surrounded by men all day long? Kindly introduce your companions, young man, before I introduce my rolling-pin to your left ear.”
Lia chuckled at Ja’al’s pained expression. Oh, what part of the Island-World would she not have given for a reprimand from her own mother …
Sweeping into an elaborate bow that showed everyone a trio of red-crusted cuts above his right ear, Ja’al said, “Followers of the Path of the Dragon Warrior, I am honoured to present my parents, Master Ga’athar and Mistress Yualiana. My father is the leader of this