“That is how I feel about Grandion. It feels right. My whole life I have dreamed of Dragons, learned about Dragons, even been brought up by Dragons on Gi’ishior, it seems. Now I have the chance to right a monstrous wrong. I see only one path, although it is difficult and dangerous and probably profane. Ja’al, if this is the path the Black Dragon has set before my feet–”
“–then may you tread it with the courage of a Dragon,” he finished the ancient saying for her.
“Thank you.”
“But you’d go without my blessing.”
Lia paused in tying a pouch of supplies onto her belt. Consumed by dread, did he not see how he wounded her with his words? “Won’t you wish me well, Ja’al?”
His sigh deflated his chest like a punctured Dragonship balloon. “I wish you less moons-madness and several Islands’ worth of good sense in exchange, but I see you will not be dissuaded. Frankly, I’d rather argue with that feral Dragon than a woman whose mind is clearly made up! Therefore, I will say this: Go burn the heavens with your Dragon, Hualiama of Fra’anior.”
Distantly, the mighty Black Dragon’s thundering quaked the Island-World’s roots–a sound felt more in the spirit than in a physical sense. Lia’s spine crawled with the awareness of momentous magic. She gaped open-mouthed at the monk, who appeared as nonplussed as she.
“What was that, if not a blessing?” she objected.
“Heavens above and Islands below, I haven’t a clue, Lia,” he whispered. “Strange events are afoot, and stranger days will be dawning, should the Great Dragon place his beneficent paw upon this wool-brained venture.”
They shook their heads in tandem.
“Very well,” said Ja’al. “I shall attest to Master Jo’el what you have done and trust he does not summarily shorten me by a head.” Unexpectedly, the monk enfolded Lia into his strong arms, and hugged her until her ribs creaked. “Hurry back, moons-mad girl. We need to end Ra’aba’s reign.”
She hugged him back as hard as she could. “Silly monk. You couldn’t stop me if you tried.”
* * * *
Running lightly along the trail up above the crater lake, which faithfully reflected every star in the skies above, Hualiama tried to shake Ja’al’s words, but they clung to her mind like a clammy mist. Was she perverted? Was it profane to maintain a high regard for Dragons? How could she characterise what had passed between her and Grandion, if not by using the very words Ja’al had seared on her mind? Forbidden. Unthinkable. Against the law. There was still time to backtrack. It could be explained. Only a few taboos had been tossed off the Island of sanity so far.
No. She had sworn an oath.
Despite Grandion’s accusations, Lia thought, she was not a disrespectful person. The law was good and just. It had great value. What if her oath was profane – or did the Black Dragon’s response rebut her qualms? What was there to fear if a Human should ride with a Dragon?
Ride with a Dragon? Hysterical laughter burbled upon her lips. Where would she even ride? In Grandion’s paw? Just consider the power of his grasp, and be reminded of the sensation of stalwart talons encircling her torso! One tiny squeeze and Hualiama’s insides would pour out of her ears. The only time Humans rode in Dragons’ paws, the histories suggested, was when they were condemned to ‘a short ride to a long drop’–a cheerless phrase referring to execution by being tossed into the Cloudlands or an active volcano.
Lia rubbed her arms. How could she trust a Dragon who planned to openly flout a rule regarded as inviolable for over a thousand years? People who played with Dragons risked being burned, the Isles saying went. On the other hand, why should Grandion trust a Human who spoke Dragonish and danced with impunity upon the holy Dragon Isle?
What a merry pickle!
From the rim wall above the monastery, Hualiama turned to see Grandion breaching the crater lake’s dark surface. Water sheeted from his muscular body. Mercy, what a monster! As a juvenile Dragon he was slimmer through the torso than an adult male, but what he lacked in physical size, he compensated for in strength. This Dragon had fought off two fully-grown males. She liked that his muzzle was a little slimmer than some. The skull spikes that adorned the back of his huge head and jaws were a spectacular thicket, four feet long and wickedly pointed, giving