AT EXCITABLE SPEED, HENZAROSEFLASH introduced the flight of pink Hyperdragons with whom she had spent the last week whizzing about in search of a highly elusive Scintillant Fae. Booms and crashes of salutation! Since they were in green Hyperdragon territory and the two tribes were not exactly best of friends just now, she added tactfully, they had been flying at a dangerously high altitude whilst they conducted their search. This morning, Chenixipi put in proudly, Garobixi had spied the shining sapphire butterfly’s ascent from a distance of over twenty miles using a fancy advanced sight magnification routine and snaffled her up with feathery gentleness as Henzaroseflash decelerated from her usual insane velocity.

Allory tried to look suitably impressed. This was quite the challenge given her new butterfly face, but Garobixi, despite all his blushes and protests, knew the exactly lay of the nectar and managed to murmur something suitably immodest about his astounding abilities.

Next, the Pixies attempted to encourage her back to her natural form. Not happening.

She worked on communicating the urgency of finding her companions. Seven Hyperdragons and two Pixies mistook her impassioned efforts for a cute but basically brainless butterfly dance.

Fluttering off and downward, she tried to beckon with her butterfly wings. Seriously? Nice spiral trick flying. Thoroughly embarrassing.

At last, Garobixi clapped his hand to his forehead and cried, “Dust it up, Pixies! And … uh, Dragons. I’ve got it. She’s trying to tell us to follow her!”

The Hyperdragons all boomed animatedly at his penetrating insight. Chenixipi kissed him breathless.

Meantime, Allory glowered prettily. Genius, aren’t you?

She peered back down at the storm, but the wispy white cloud had covered over that central area. Had it been night, a night which had vanished in her skewed perception of time, she sensed that eerie glow might have been visible from afar. What was clear to her was that the leading edge of the storm had now reached the city.

Something important … something about souls?

Off she went, bravely riding the winds! Not exactly tearing along. Oh! Unexpectedly, she sped up as her fellow flying-creature instincts did the job of working out how these large, attractive wings with their striking, swirly sapphire and azure patterns worked. Rather lovely. She beat back an unreasonable urge to admire herself in a mirror. Clearly, her butterfly brain was a vain and shallow thing altogether, because it was now suggesting that no matter which flower in all creation she landed upon, her undoubted loveliness would put it to shame.

Mid-flow in agreeing volubly with how marvellous he was, Garobixi screeched, “Allory? Follow that butterfly!”

They caught her in three seconds flat.

Not sore about that in the slightest. Allory perched upon Henzaroseflash’s cupped palm and tried to work out how to direct a speedy flight of Hyperdragons in the right direction. Antennae shaking? Touching the wingtips together above her body and using those to point appeared to be the approach they understood best.

The seven pink Dragons, four females and three males, screamed down from the atmospheric heights ahead of the swirling storm winds. Sudden gusts and squalls knocked them about like invisible fists hammering the Dragons in the belly or cuffing their muzzles; however, the native magic of Hyperdragons, attuned to the control of airstreams at supersonic speeds, kept them on course more efficiently than Allory would have credited. Their highly streamlined wings cut through the worst blasts. Magic directed ahead read the air currents and responded instinctually. With hyper-speed and hyper-aggression – what else did she expect – they navigated the ripping side-winds of a whirlwind’s spout before deciding to take a slingshot around it in order to race toward the beleaguered city at triple the speed.

Hyper-fun, too.

Allory wanted to cry out at the sight of the unnatural storm starting to chew through the city wall.

All the while, the sensation of fading away into her insect mind steadily abated. These creatures knew Allory. The awareness of this familiarity, in turn, recentred her being.

What she observed about three miles outside the city threw her into a tailspin, however. No need for guiding the Hyperdragons any farther.

“Yaarah’s in trouble!” Henzaroseflash bellowed, pointing rather unnecessarily at the spot of gleaming gold which stood out like a shiny bug stuck in a great blob of green nectar. “Full attack!”

Huh. When had she decided the Golden Purrmaine might be worth saving?

“Gather your dust! Create a dust-gust!” Chenixipi screeched excitably, her hairstyle changing to something resembling Dragons’ wings.

“Muster your fust!” Garobixi shrieked.

Those Pixies. She should have remembered what doughty and able warriors they were!

Flashback. For a terrible half-second, Allory relived that first moment when the huge pink Dragoness had ambushed her and Yaarah outside the Pixie caverns. Then, Henzaroseflash’s wings began to blur with ultra-rapid beats, much like a hummingbird. She and her team hurtled toward a knot of fighting just outside one of the massive village mushrooms.

Below, two groups of warriors clashed. Ashueli’s dark hair whipped about in a tight arc as she somersaulted over a squad of Marakusian soldiers, clad in heavy silver armour, brutalising them even while upside-down in the air. Apparently, some Elves needed actual wings less than others. Harzune slammed a dent into a helm with his favourite hammer; immediately, he backhanded another soldier with the spike end of the head, staving in his temple. Sabline hung back – strangely for her – breathing out sharp gasps of orange flame to keep the Men at bay, while Yaarah towered above her somehow, adding his shots to hers. Chameleons and green Fae skimmed through the air about their larger companions, combining in instinctive battle-dance. One Hazintwine stood framed in a window back in that tall mushroom, picking precise arrow shots that feathered in the slits of visors, necks and shoulder joints of the soldiers.

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There had to be two hundred or more Marakusians pressing Allory’s companions. Not even the Princess’s efforts could stem the slow-moving advance, but why under Middlesun would Sabline be standing back? Something wrong with the Dragoness? Xiximay threw herself over a tall Marakusian shield, bursting into flame as she fell and causing the tight defensive line to implode as soldiers fled the searing wave of heat and fire. Four men stood in frozen tableaux to one side where Zzuriel must have been deployed. Ice sculptures. Where was the white Fae?

What had gone wrong during their escape from the city?

The huge pink paw flicked Allory deftly into the air. “Stay out of the way, little Fae.”

Great. This butterfly nearly spat fire in outrage!

As Henzaroseflash raced toward the culmination of her attack, she unleashed a terrific bellow that was immediately picked up and amplified by her fellow Hyperdragons. Belatedly, Allory realised that the warning aimed both to alert their allies and to paralyse the Marakusians.

Maybe a touch of distance was best, after all – for, curling up in concert, the Hyperdragons presented their right shoulders to the impact. They struck like a landslide of angry pink boulders. Nothing cute about their assault. Men flew into the air or were crushed one atop the next. Many must have died instantly from the sheer momentum and tonnage of the Dragons’ bodyweight, for the seven mowed through their formation until Henzaroseflash came right up to Yaarah, squashing a few more of the enemy as she wriggled up onto her paws. He stood atop a dead lizard, his muzzle fixed in a dreadful, maniacal snarl.

“Flash greetings, scholar Yaarah!” the Dragoness bellowed with unreasonable cheer and whirled, unleashing a swingeing burst of fire upon those enemies who still dared to move. Not many.

“Henzaroseflash!” he roared in disbelief.

Garobixi hovered beside Allory on his seat of pixels, screaming in – well, he sounded chillingly joyous, if that were possible. “Crucius dustus, marchus instantus mustus!”

His podgy fingers wriggled and danced.

A squad of soldiers threatening Sabline’s left flank seized up and promptly marched off in stiff-legged parade formation, yelling and swearing as their misbehaving armour took them for a walk.

If only butterflies could laugh!

“Whooshus mushus, dustus snakus eruptus!” Chenixipi cried, whipping her arms out with a curiously loose-wristed, snakelike motion. Swords and maces absconded from frustrated hands.

Neat.

Not that Allory felt any less like a useless decorative element as her companions dealt with the threat. Nothing new about that.

The combination of these successive punches was too much for the Marakusian soldiers. Those who were still able to run promptly fled to all points of the compass, assisted by the incensed Hyperdragons blowing flame about their retreating rear ends. In the heat of the moment – snigger – the soldiers achieved impressive speeds despite their heavy armour.

Mayhem reigned around the village mushroom. Many Chameleons and green Fae had fallen. Sabline had a crossbow bolt deeply embedded in her chest. It must have missed her heart by a whisker. Another three conventional arrows stitched her left flank. Yaarah told her in a rush that Sabline had protected him with her body when the Marakusians had sprung their trap, for they had ignored the incoming storm to deal with the ‘invaders’ in their territory.

“No time for stories!” Harzune yelled past Yaarah. “Collect the wounded and our dead. If the Hyperdragons are willing to –”

“WE ARE!” Henzaroseflash thundered.

“– whisk us out of the storm’s path, we need to shift our sap like never before! Let’s move, everyone!”

Barking his orders left and right, and up and down where required, he organised everyone. Even the massive Hyperdragons obeyed him instantly, evidently accustomed to Harzune’s style of military command. Allory fluttered about generally getting in the way, unable to think, to focus, to decide where to start. So many injured. The storm appeared to have bent toward the city, but the main front was now a mere three hundred feet away. She could see grass, soil and whole mushrooms being torn up by what appeared to be millions of disembodied black talons – as best she could tell – and sucked away into a tremendous, churning maelstrom that boiled upward from the area of contact with a sound like all the Dragons of Spheris voicing their rage at once.

Henzaroseflash clapped Yaarah upon the shoulder. “I’ll take your Dragoness.”

“Thanks,” he rasped.

“Leave the lizards,” Harzune called. “You! Take those dead. Quick! Parents, count your Faelings!”

The green Fae translated amongst themselves. Family groups gathered, counting rapidly. Frantic searches and shouting back and forth ensued.

Ashueli checked in with Allory. The tall half Elf held Zzuriel in one hand against her upper left thigh, using her to cool and slow what could only be an arterial blood flow. The Diamond Fae must have expended most of her magic, for the Princess could still move adequately. Rapid sign language ascertained Allory’s lack of speech, but Harzune would allow no delays. He was right. No-one could hear themselves shout now. One Hazintwine carried the other. His left flank had been cleft open by a sword blow; the injured half of the psychic twins looked fearfully pale.

As they took off, Allory’s final scan of the area paused at a very light prickling sensation upon her left antenna. Her butterfly wings flipped her off Chenixipi’s knee.

“Allory!” Yaarah bawled, inadvertently turning a somersault as he tried to reverse direction.

She whirred down toward the wreckage of bodies. Somewhere … somewhere further back … she wanted to cry out. Yaarah caught her in his paw, but the instant he checked that he had not hurt her, she fluttered away again, following the elusive trace down to a burly Marakusian man lying in a pool of blood.

The Felidragon stopped scolding her and peered at the scene in shock. “You want me to – oh. Mrrr-frrr, oh!”

He levered the body over; beneath lay a green Faeling, unconscious. He was tiny, perhaps only a few months old. With a soft inhalation, Yaarah scooped him up very carefully and then smiled as Allory landed upon the same paw. “Still your awesome self, grrr-ssst, I see. Still my Sparkles.”

GRROAARRGGH!!

Green Hyperdragons! A trio of marauders sped toward them along the storm’s edge. Adversaries, their roars proclaimed. Too close to flee. Yaarah waited and waited, quivering, and then did something completely loopy. Dropping to the ground, he scooped up the dead man and, at the last instant, hurled him directly into the Hyperdragons’ attack vector. As they broke left, right and up, cutting off any possible escape path, the scholar stood stock-still and watched them pass by.

Not one struck their intended target.

How she wished she could have cheered or laughed mockingly. Their chagrin was too hilarious. Two Dragons glanced over their shoulders in shock – perhaps at his chutzpah or at their utter failure to land a single strike. For one, that was the end of his flying days because Henzaroseflash clobbered him with a brutal straight left to the neck. Boom! He dropped without a sound. The second, Garobixi blinded with an impromptu mauve dust cloud. The Dragon hurtled past the cluster of pink Hyperdragons, who dodged nimbly, and on into the storm front. One scream and he was gone. The third veered off at high speed, wisely opting not to take on seven enemy Dragons at once. He absconded for the skies in a tearing hurry. Allory’s eyes leaped. More green dots inbound? Aye. Their trajectory was respectful of the slowly swirling storm, however. That helped to give her companions vital seconds to get moving.

One of the pink Hyperdragons swung back above Yaarah and offered his paws. “LET’S FLY!”

Eep! Trapped in a powerful backdraft, Allory found herself fluttering helplessly toward the approaching storm front.

Opposite her, Chenixipi and Garobixi yelled something in tandem. Allory could not hear a word. Noise battered her senses. Pressure built against her butterfly antennae and then a minor dust whirlwind swatted her, Yaarah and their helper away from the storm as clods of dirt and pebbles sprayed about them. The disembodied flying claws hacked the air a foot from her wings before the Pixies’ intervention reversed the airflow and shovelled her back into Yaarah’s forepaw.

Safely in a Dragon’s clutches once more, they turned tail and fled ignominiously, one and all.

Not even a magical storm would catch them now.