“I DON’T BELIEVE IT,” were the first words out of Yaarah’s muzzle the following morning as they prepared to fly on to Durhelm Castle. He grimaced with a despondent air. “Not a word. It’s unbelievable, that’s what it is.”
“Unbelievable, but the description matches,” Allory sighed, scratching him beneath the chin. Perhaps a reckless move, but it matched the unfamiliar burbling in her sap.
“Don’t do that!” he bristled.
“What, this? Because it’ll make you purr like a kitten again?”
“You are … GNARRR!!”
“I see. No, Yaarah, I don’t understand either. You say there’s no such thing as a Felidragon with fur darker than the darkest night and I believe you. Nor are there other types of – excuse the word – furry Dragons.”
“Furry is a pejorative term,” he groused, right on cue.
“You explained. Ten times. And I explained that it can be neutral, merely referring to the fact that you do not have scales or skin like mine, for example, which you admitted was an accurate description. So, what’s the problem now? Spit it out! We haven’t got all day!”
“Whiskers alive, murrr-hurrr-harrr! You’re ever so cute when you’re angry.”
“I am not – oh, very funny.”
“So, no invisible nocturnal Felidragons,” he said, stroking his whiskers thoughtfully. Actually, pulling on them. “Yet, Fire Raptor eggs have clearly been stolen and these beasts, already of a quarrelsome disposition, are now roused for war. One minor issue. They have no idea who or what they are at war with because apparently the non-existent egg stealing outlaws don’t announce themselves in the same manner as a fine, gleaming bar of living gold might, say?”
He eyed her speculatively.
No. Enough of an ego without any extra help, Felidragon! Since he would not stop with the fiery eyeball, she growled, “What?”
“What happened to that I’m-so-tiny, I-wouldn’t-bother-a-dandelion-puff Allory?”
“Well, I – eh? Uh –”
“Frrr-ssst, some pollen come unstuck inside the cranium?” he smirked unkindly.
“She … she died back there!”
As her raw scream rang in the small cavern, his expression crumpled. “I am so, so sorry, Allory. I never meant …”
He stretched out a paw.
Allory flung herself against his chest, burying her face in that luxurious fur. After the longest time, she whispered, “She died that day, Yaarah. Something died. Something else was born, and I’ve no idea what and I’m scared, so very, very scared …”
The pads of his talons rubbed her back ever so gently. “That’s alright. So am I.”
“You are?”
“When I see my best friend face up to a Fire Raptor thinking only to save me, that’s when I get scared, hrrr-brrr. And when I think about who or what might be collecting Dragon eggs and Scintillant Fae, my thoughts turn to dark paths.”
Best friend? She wanted to weep. No-one had ever said that to her before. Oh, whatever, her eyes were already streaming. She hugged him back hard. So hard.
She wept.
Allory had wanted to tell Yaarah about her conversation with Monsteron Realm-Waster, about the possible connection between her visions of the Crimson Raptors and his missing eggs, but found the words stuck in her craw. The Golden Purrmaine had been clear as crystal waters last night. He believed in science, not her mystical weirdness of dreams and visions and haunting glimpses of the past. ‘Put your head right, Allory Fae,’ he had snarled. ‘This is reality. Right here. Not in some other imagined place. You won’t find your family if you carry on like this.’
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Biting, bitter accusations.
When had she ever felt littler or more inadequate? She did not need his help to feel worse.
Soon, despising herself with a trenchant loathing, she climbed unsteadily onto his back. “So, bring on the scented bouquets of Human habitation?”
“Indeed, such a savoury delight, I promise you it will be unforgettable.”
* * * *
For several hours on a cool, overcast morning, they flew along the slopes of the Giants’ Maze, not changing altitude much. Once, they spotted movement in the distance that Yaarah thought might be a Giant, but whatever it was vanished among the great stone columns and did not appear again.
At last, the steep slopes turned greener with clear evidence of fruitful cultivation. Low, winding stone walls appeared, cleverly built to trap and direct the rainfall along defined terrace level while keeping the topsoil from being washed away. Allory wondered how anything could grow in this cold a season. Her sapphire Fae eyes picked out small wood and stone huts dotted along the terraces and spied her first flesh-and-blood Humans in their native habitat. Intriguing. They walked far more upright than any monkey and lacked the agility and fur of the primate kind. Not a well-drawn comparison in her mind, she felt, since in appearance they resembled a far larger Faerie with two legs and two arms, lacking only for wings and a pretty body colouration or skin patterning. These simple creatures wore plain leather clothing and sturdy boots on their feet, nothing as delicate nor as well-crafted as her serami.
A few glanced up curiously at a passing Golden Purrmaine Felidragon but did not show any signs of alarm. Their farming and mining operations were well-organised, Yaarah noted, pointing out the entrances of several mines up ahead. She spied a stone quarry that appeared to require the attentions of a substantial horde of largely unhappy, filthy Human workers. Passing several hundred feet overhead, Allory watched the light brown faces fringed by black hair glancing up at the travellers. Did they see her? Were Human feelings similar to her own?
Certainly, their reaction was not as the Scintillant storytellers would have it. They oftentimes had had the Faelings in stitches with their renditions of how Humans ran around like panicked baby birds, wailing, ‘Dragons! The Dragons are coming!’
Allory wriggled uncomfortably. Plain they might be and sadly lacking for wings or attractive skin patterns, but her immediate assessment was that Humans were thinking, intelligent creatures like herself. Just … bigger. A whole lot bigger – indeed, they must tower head and shoulders above even the Pixies.
One misstep and a squished Scintillant would result.
A couple of miles farther along the canyon, they skirted a rocky promontory and immediately, upon a second square-cut outcropping ahead, spied the distinctive silhouette of a massive Human town and in its midst, the imposing dark grey battlements of the isolated fortress of Durhelm Castle. Ravens perched on the heights, while kites and vultures circled what must be a rubbish midden in a gulley below the city, judging by the foetid stench already carrying this far upon a light breeze. Gaping at the monstrosity in amazement, Allory imagined so much stone could only have been quarried to repel Giants. It was huge! A thousand times bigger than her colony at the very least. The location was fantastically defensible, a plateau surrounded by sheer mossy cliffs and also cut off from the upper slopes of the main canyon by a sharp ravine several hundred feet deep, which the Felidragon pointed out had been hewn deeper by Human labourers in search of good stone for building, plus its obvious defensive function. Great, solid walls enclosed the plateau on all sides, a monumental feat of engineering. He pointed out several other mini-fortresses that guarded its approaches.
“Let me guess, Durc Durhelm doesn’t like visitors?” she inquired wryly.
“On the contra-rrr-frrr-y, he loves them – as long as they bring oodles of gold and are registered in the right way. This is a major trading hub in the region. While it’s predominantly Human, there are many other races who dwell here – even Durhelm himself counts an Elf among his courtesans.”
“Courtesans?”
“A bit like wives, without the annoying binding oaths and sharing of resources.”
“He … uh, he uses females like yesterday’s nectar?”
She twined her arms across her chest, flushing at the belligerent tone in her accusation and Yaarah’s knowing chuckle in response.
“Thankfully, aye, it’s more nuanced than that,” the Felidragon noted. “These courtesans are five in number and run this city’s business and administrative functions. In terms of power and position, they therefore rank among the richest and most influential women throughout the Human kingdoms, realms and territories. To generalise, the Human cultures are primarily patriarchal in nature with several notable exceptions. Ah, a word to the wise, hrrr-shrrr. While Dragons tend to include the major Humanlike races under a single heading – Humans, Dwarves, Giants, Faroon, Sangalese, Elves, Geminids and so on – the Humans themselves really don’t fancy being lumped together with all the others. They prefer to think of themselves as unique.”
Allory made a face. “They certainly look powerful.”
Aye. Her Fae colony, which had seemed so big to a tiny Scintillant growing up, looked like an ant-heap in comparison to this staggering Human colony. Suggids!
“They are, grrr-prrr. Oh, that they are – and our paws shall accordingly, tread lightly in this place.”
He sounded confident enough. Either that, or he was faking it at a higher speed than even Henzaroseflash had achieved. Supersonic fakery. Hmm. Maybe that was the secret? Maybe if this pocket-sized Scintillant Faerie faked confidence long and hard enough, she’d discover she actually had some?