THEIR ANGLE OF ASCENT might serve to hide her presence from the Hyperdragon band, Allory realised. Scrambling down the Felidragon’s flank, she reached for the pack strapped to his hind leg and yanked at the buckles. No. Loosening those might give the game away. Due to the way that several of the longer rolled-up maps poked out, there might be space for a little one inside. No time. Wriggling in headfirst, she groaned as her wings caught fast and tweaked the injury badly – well, worse than her efforts at archery had achieved. Pretty sure she had torn something open yet again. Sticky warmth trickled down her back despite the bandaging. Allory bent double and kicked a few scrolls for good measure, furious at the throbbing pain. There. Upright once more, she wedged herself in between two maps and peered out from beneath the leather flap.
Mere seconds later, the shadowy pink forms of Hyperdragons surrounded Yaarah. So massive! He looked like a hairy tadpole wriggling next to a swarm of bullying toads. They jostled and roughed him up from all sides, several guffawing at his electrical shocks but also, she noticed, snatching their paws back quickly as if the sensation jangled more than they cared to admit.
“WWAAARRRRRMMMM greetings to you, traitor!”
“Where do you think you’re going, Felidragon?”
“Burn and blast the filth!”
“Foul spy! I’ll rip out your entrails and wrap them around your pretty neck!”
“Fall into formation with us! Now!” This command boomed from a huge female that hove into view off Yaarah’s left flank. “Don’t you even think about wriggling a wingtip in a way I don’t like, furry scum!”
Allory blinked. Phew. That was a lot of Dragoness and she clearly had a temper in keeping with the size of her.
“I was just visiting Inixipi the Healer Sage, mrrr-prrrt,” he replied steadily. “What’s wrong with –”
“Silence!” Yaarah’s body juddered at an unseen blow. “You will come with us.”
Another Hyperdragon called, “Which tribe does he hail from?”
“The Golden Purrmaine traitors,” snarled the great female. “Can you not see he’s in disguise? Filthy colour-shifter! His true colour is pure gold.”
Her companions raised a chorus of disgusted, furious and belligerent snarls at this accusation. Allory sensed Yaarah shaking slightly as he followed along, careful not to put so much as a whisker out of place as bidden. He began to mutter something about his kind being true and no traitors, only to receive a heavy cuff across the hindquarters that rattled her teeth. Suggids, those Hyperdragon speedsters were strong and huge, at least trebling his fifteen feet in length. Also, they were scaly and sleek, much more the kind of Dragons her Elders’ tales spoke of. Intriguing to observe the similarities and differences from close up, and even more unexpected to find curiosity outweighing her fears despite this awkward situation.
How could she best protect him? Stay silent and out of sight?
Wait for a chance to pop out of hiding and smile prettily at everyone? Surprise, I’m Allory … don’t murder us, please?
With much cuffing, snarling, snapping toward his wingtips and an unrelenting slew of insults, the Hyperdragons hustled the Felidragon inside the mountain. Landing on the sandy floor of what she took for a crack or crevasse, they escorted him deeper. ‘Walk faster, fleabag.’ ‘Should we bind his eyes?’ ‘Look at all these scrolls he’s carrying! Clearly a spy.’ Any peep he made to protest his innocence was met with a clout or a threat of having his head bitten off.
Poor Yaarah acted utterly flummoxed. He had clearly anticipated exactly the opposite reception, minus the Hyperdragons in addition.
The crevasse led deep into the mountain. Eventually, a chill curl of breeze drew a reflexive shiver and she peeked out over a pretty, iced-over caldera – was that a lake? Frozen solid? Allory had never seen such a thing, but she was deeply thankful for the warmth of her cosy hidey-hole, because the frigid wintry air stung her nostrils and caused her pointy ears to tingle. The pink ruffians directed Yaarah to toward another hole with a series of unnecessary kicks and slaps, this one leading to short, rocky tunnel. Unseen hands or paws opened a tall set of double doors perhaps three hundred feet within, beyond which lay a cave that took her breath away. Wow! Her antennae tingled with amazement. Incredible!
The Dragons padded within. Gleaming crystal plants stood, sprouted or dangled everywhere. So many colours! Some were translucent, some delicate, some as solid as boulders, but all were delightful and tended by what Allory took at first for iridescent insects the size of the top joints of her thumbs, but she soon realised were not. Her antennae began to itch vigorously. Some kind of magical Pixie life?
So much power here!
Her skin prickled pleasantly. The warmth and humidity inside this cavern were a welcome shock after the life-sapping chill of that caldera. Brr. No place for a Fae to stay. Give her the jungle’s warmth any day.
Allory noticed that the Hyperdragons took care not to bump against any of the delicate crystal formations but they did take frequent umbrage at Yaarah’s electrical sparking, which betrayed his rising anxiety. Her field of vision was severely restricted, but she guessed that the cavern ceiling must be around fifty feet tall, every inch covered in exquisite crystal formations. So, her kind preferred jungles while the Pixies preferred exotic crystalline caverns? What were Pixies like? Her nose scrunched up as she stifled a sneeze. So many exotic hints and subtle aromas! How could crystal have its own scent? Cenotes could often smell dank and brackish. This – she inhaled delicately through her nose – had a dry spiciness characterised by a peppery, piquant palette laced with notes of anise, saffron and even cayenne amongst many others unfamiliar to her.
Somewhere so deep within the mountain that the cold became but a memory, the Dragons paused. Allory restrained an urge to wriggle. All she could see was part of a ledge of teal crystal mostly obscured by the enormous Hyperdragon escorting Yaarah, but the echoes made the space around her sound substantial.
In far more respectful tones than before, the great pink Dragoness said, “Eminent Inixipi, we captured this traitor trying to raid your volcano.”
An outlandish voice, elderly yet vital with nuance and strength, said, “Well, young Yaarah-al-Allegorix Mazzurkar Tarime, I had thought you too proud to show your high-and-mighty muzzle around these parts ever again!”
Allory caught her breath. They knew one another? Yaarah had not mentioned this. Doubt attacked her from every conceivable angle. What else might he have neglected to share with her? Before she could dwell upon the matter, however, he said:
Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.
“Your Eminence, I came to beg –”
“What of your oath never again to step paw in our halls?” the Pixie cut in. “Has the honour of Felidragons come to this – dare I even mention the word honour in connection with your traitorous kind?”
“I spoke with the foolishness of youth, shrrr-trrrt!”
“That you did. You did indeed.” She imagined caustic dripping from the older Pixie’s words. Allory’s lower lip received a severe biting as she tried to force herself not to whimper in fear. These Pixies must be enemies! “Yet that was hardly the full measure of your intended betrayal, was it, Yaarah? I know now why the spirits forbade me to reveal our Pixie secrets to you at that time, a decision which triggered your rash and unfortunate departure.”
“I am sorry, Eminent Inixipi, but I have no idea –”
“Is that the lie of your soul’s dust? And now you come spying out and mapping the strength of our realms – tell me, how fares your unscrupulous mission to capture the Scintillant Fae and what have your treacherous, power-hungry, feckless Elders done with them?”
“I – I don’t understand what you mean,” he spluttered.
“You contemptible, lowborn, belly-creeping excuse for a Dragon!” she hissed viciously.
Her companion flinched as if he had been Dragon-slapped. “Mrrwll!”
“How dare you sully my halls with your odious presence? Do you claim ignorance of the devious designs of the Golden Purrmaine Dragons? Do you not serve them in every fire of your heart and soul? What do you have to say for yourself?”
Allory caught her breath. Had he played her false? How could she have trusted this Dragon when they said such things about him? Either Yaarah was the best actor she had ever met, or she was a naïve fool … and she knew which of those was the likelier.
“I – I didn’t come here for me, grrr-nrrr,” the Felidragon gasped. “I have a Faerie right here, you’ll see – I can explain –”
“Yapping mongrel!”
“WORM!”
“You’ve captured a Scintillant? SEIZE HIM!”
“No, please –” he jolted heavily as he came under attack “– you’ll crush her! No! Listen to me, you don’t under – unh!”
A massive pink fist slammed down atop his head. Yaarah’s jaw clacked together as it rebounded off the crystalline floor. Then his body collapsed in an ungainly, limp heap, squashing the bag between his leg and flank. Allory cried out at the sudden pressure. She could barely breathe in the space. By a miracle she was not crushed, somehow saved by the folds of the thick map scrolls she managed to squeeze between.
Another massive fisticuff swung past overhead. With a meaty smack somewhere to her left, a Hyperdragon fell over with a heavy crash.
“Flaming fool! Be careful!”
That Dragoness might not have a way with words, but her fists were as eloquent as any thunderclap.
“Here. See this bag?” said a new voice, grating with draconic anger. A talon sliced Yaarah’s flank as it slipped beneath the strap, tugging with care. The dreadful compression upon her upper body abruptly eased and she took a couple of quick, shallow breaths despite the pain in her ribs. “It’ll be imprisoned in here. I’ll bet he’s been experimenting on the poor creature … easy, Faeling. Easy.” Massive nostrils sniffed at the bag. “Aye, that’s the scent of Fae!”
Allory to emerge sparklier than ever. No other choice.
She called, “I’m inside! Please, wait … be careful, I’m only little.”
Well! One way to stun a whole thumping posse of Dragons into a silence that only grew the more humungous the longer it lingered. Had they forgotten how to breathe? Allory could not imagine what was so shocking about being a Faerie. Yaarah had reacted strangely, too.
Thrusting her hand out of the small gap, she gave them a wave, saying, “I’m fine. Here –”
“Chenixipi, open that bag at once,” the elderly Pixie voice ordered. “Poor creature, how she must have suffered at this turncoat’s paw. Chenixipi? Chenixipi! Where are you, child? Hustle your dust this instant.”
“Keep your hair on, great-grandpixie. I’m shaking all the dust I can.”
“Don’t you puff sass at me, o descendant of my dust.”
“Sassity-sass,” muttered a voice nearby. “Elders these days. Sassy, am I? I’ll show her who’s sassy around here, or dust must combust!”
A family argument, or I’m a luminous pink suggid.
Oddly calming.
Footsteps pattered up to the satchel. Adept fingers worked the buckle and then flipped the leather flap open. Allory blinked at the cavern’s brightness. Before she could quite take anything in, a strong green hand clutched her arm and hauled her straight out of hiding. The elderly voice screeched something about not pulling her arm off.
The Dragons sucked in a collective breath, sounding like a clump of treetops startled by a sudden gust of wind. Allory blinked at the unexpectedly bright light that reflected in unfamiliar ways off confusing sculptures, walls and hanging formations of crystals that varied from delicately complex branches and fractal patterns to broad, glistening sheets. She barely knew where to start looking for the wealth of beauty in this space.
“Bless my pixie dust, you are a Scintillant!” the younger voice exclaimed. “I’m Chenixipi.”
“At your service,” Allory smiled upward, quite in the wrong direction to start with as it turned out, sincerely hoping that the knocking of her knees was not too obvious. “I’m A-Allopop … eep … I mean, Allory. Allory Fae.”
She dearly wished she sounded less squeaky.
A sweet, round green face covered in fantastical swirling designs of silver tattoos peered down at her as if the Pixie could not quite believe any creature so diminutive could exist anywhere in Spheris. “I’m called Chenixpi,” she repeated. “Oh, dusterrific day … I said that already, didn’t I?”
“Er, could you put me down, please?”
Bump. Her feet settled upon the satchel. Allory windmilled her arms to regain her balance. Not having the use of two wing-clusters was a horrid adjustment to make.
As if afraid that too much volume might blow the tiny visitor right over, the Pixie whispered, “I’m Chenixipi. Welcome to Healers’ Reach.”
Chenixipi wore a knee-length silver dress cut to flatter her full figure. A whimsical silver coronet perched upon her wildly curly crop of grass-green hair. In fact, while the Pixie herself stood perhaps four feet tall, the ensemble of her hair had to add another vertical foot. The sheer profusion made her face appear half-swamped, oddly tiny amidst the mass. Allory had the impression that this young Pixie usually wore her self-confidence like armour, but just now, she did not appear to know what to say to the tiny sapphire one goggling up at her.
Blow me down with a handful of their mythical dust, she’s a real Pixie!
The Pixies evidently thought the same of a Scintillant.
Also, Allory realised that she had always assumed Pixies would be about her size. Not so much. Not by a large margin.
Just now, Chenixipi swept her plump hand in a grand gesture to signal the approach of another Pixie who could only be her relative, the Healer Sage Inixipi. She was even rounder of figure and wilder of hair, but her vast hairstyle was done up in such a wealth of diamond jewellery, Allory wondered that the weight did not make her fall over. She floated toward the visitor upon a sparkling multicoloured bed of tiny worker creatures, a wondrously wrinkled smile spreading upon her face as if ancient parchment stirred and came alive. Allory could not help but smile back. She looked like everyone’s favourite grandfae rolled into one, jovial and generous and sweet – ahem.
Apart from how she had addressed Yaarah with a bush full of verbal thorns. And allowed him to be Dragon-thumped into submission.
More than clear who ruled this volcano.
“Allory of the Scintillant Fae?” the ancient one smiled. “Would your ancestor be Emory Fae?”
“Uh … aye? Oh! How did you – well, that’s my great, uh, great-great-great –” she tried to count on her fingers “– sorry, one second …”
“You are most dustily welcome at Healers’ Reach!”
Allory genuflected deeply as was proper to honour one so much older than her, painfully aware of her injured wing cluster flopping sideways. The bandages must have come loose due to her archery efforts and subsequent battering. “Your … uh, Eminence, I’m sorry to meet – I mean, I am awfully honoured to meet you. By my truest sap, this is really not what it looks like. Please don’t kill Yaarah until I’ve had a chance to explain.”
“You would spare this wretch’s life?” she inquired dismissively.
“He saved mine.”
“Humph. By my dust, I can hardly imagine we’re speaking about the same creature – benighted wretch!” Her forceful snort in the Felidragon’s direction caused her hairstyle to rearrange itself into a fantastical horned sculpture, similar to a Greater Spiral-Horn Denzis Deer. “We shall see.”
Suggids! Whatever had Yaarah done here at Healers’ Reach, she had to wonder?