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Here is the 3rd instalment of my novel Flying South.
Sue
Chapter 3
The dragon, maybe realising I was awake or wanting me out of the way, flung me over his shoulder like a sack. By luck more than judgment, I grabbed two of his neck spikes and was able to haul myself upright so that I rode straddling the dragon's neck, over a gleaming, lightly tossing ocean in a sharp, brilliant sunlight that hurt my eyes. It didn’t seem to be the same sun which tried its best to filter through clouds at home, and defeat the frost which hardened the ground to iron.
Right now, as we flew towards it, it tried to burn me to a small black cinder that would shortly topple from its seat and fizzle to nothing in the great expanse of green water below us. I could have taken another form, but there were problems with that too. Listening to other people isn't one of my greatest strengths, but I did know from past experience that I might have trouble remembering I was human, if I spent too much time in bird form.
I also needed my energy. When the dragon seemed to tire, I did my best to feed energy to his wings. He gleamed like an opal, the light catching his red, green and blue scales and shimmering along his form. He was the swiftest thing which flew, more powerful than any bird. They'd wanted to kill him at home because they didn’t know how to deal with him. Now he'd rescued me from whatever I’d sensed tracking me, but wherever he was taking me, it wasn’t my intended destination. I tried thinking a request to be taken to Harp Island, but that didn't work. Nor did a shouted request or a hammering of fists on oblivious metallic scales.
Below us, flashing shapes leapt from the water and disappeared once more. The dragon twisted beneath me and dropped. I clutched his neck spikes, feeling nothing beneath me for a panicked moment. His neck seemed to extend, very fast, and he snapped up one, then another of the big grey fish. He swept his long, narrow wings several times, creating a mini whirlwind where I sat, and reached his former altitude in moments.
"Thanks. I don't suppose you'd share?" I projected grumpy images of myself munching on the fish - not that raw fish exactly appealed, but it looked better all the time. I could, I supposed, shift into some fish-catching bird and go get some, but that warning niggled at my thoughts. What if I ended my days screaming, shitting and flapping my wings on some seaside cliff?
The dragon sent an answering image of a rusty desert land, craggy cliffs overlooking a glass green ocean, whitetopped waves breaking on the rocks, then a brief, dizzying flash of land flattening out below me, trees like mushrooms. I rubbed my temples; his sending was so strong I couldn’t think through it. Was he telling me to be patient, the way an irate parent tells a child who's asked maybe six times too often, "Are we nearly there yet?"
There was only one problem with this. I did not want to be taken halfway around the world, but bailing out into the ocean didn't seem like a good plan either. All I could do was hang on and wait until the ride finished.
One night and one day. We could not possibly be near the dragons' land, else the ships of Albion and neighbouring lands would know of it. I tried to think about geography, wishing I'd paid more attention when my mother and later the sorceresses, tried to educate me. All right, I wish I'd paid any attention. Clare, who had lived at the Skarrel Order House before moving north to establish another House as Witch-mother there, had been my main instructor in the lore of dragons. She had said something about the dragons flying near Albion, from somewhere to somewhere else, which no one knew. That they followed ships. This dragon had crash-landed in the northern region of Korreg. Beyond Sir Ranald's Korreg lands were the mountains which marked the divide between Albion and Scarp. No help.
The dragon had flown straight out to sea, over the roofs of Cannock town, over the night forests and the moonlit coast with its ships at anchor in the port. If there were lands on the far side of that ocean, not even Witch-mother Audryn knew of them. She had said this was the first dragon she had heard of in our land since one which had been seen in the days of Queen Selina and her Royal Brother Rupert. That was 200 years ago and history was not my best subject. Even if it was, that story had contained no details of the dragon's origin.
I tried to see, squinting in the brilliant light, but could only see more ocean, with thousands of tiny white caps on the waves, far below us. My lips were so dry they had cracked, and my skin felt as though it would peel right off me. I was using all the energy I had to help the dragon, leaving none to protect myself. I hadn't thought I had to protect myself, until I felt the sun and wind burning me. I looked down at myself. The long flapping gown of an Aradian novice, bunched up, did make a fairly good cushion and protection for my legs, but my shoes had fallen off into the sea. I tried not to look at the blistered reddish things which had once been my feet.
"Dragon!" Words helped me to focus on the images I needed to speak with him, even if he didn't understand them. "I need to stop awhile. I have to eat and drink and get some sleep, or I can't help you any more. I need to lie down flat on some ground that isn't moving."
Again the image of the desert land, with big reddish boulders casting black shadows along the arid ground.
"No. I can't wait. Find somewhere now."
My head pounded and the back of my neck burned so much that an executioner's axe would have been a lovely relief. I even slapped the dragon's shoulder, then winced. He sent no answering image, but a short while later he canted to the left, wings performing an elegant dance about me, and began to fly south, it must be. He coasted for a little while, dropping lower above the ocean, so low that the salty spray flew into my face. At first it refreshed me, deliciously cool, but then I found my eyes burning and had to close them, clutching the dragon's spikes and blindly trusting that he knew what he was doing.
We flew like that for a long time. Around us the air grew chill. When I opened one eye to check my surroundings, I nearly jumped from the dragon's back in shock. His great wings beat against pure darkness. Below us, the sea was invisible. There could have been nothing there at all, if not for the beating spray.
Above us - I craned my neck to look - the stars blazed, but they were stars I didn't know. The dragon flew more slowly; it was not only for my sake I hoped we would find land soon.
I pitched forward as it dropped downwards, yelping as my face hit thorns. How in Aradia's name had I gone to sleep on the dragon? The dragon braked and landed on a dark beach. I could hear the sea rumbling and crashing against the shore close by. Hills were a more solid blackness against the sky. Past moonset; at least, I couldn't see it. I swung my right leg cautiously over, looked down the dragon's side to the sand, and jumped. I fell over at once, tangled in my gown, and got up more slowly, brushing damp sand from my face.
"Are we here?" Nothing. The dragon remained motionless. No pictures, no messages. He waited for me to do whatever I'd wanted to do on dry land. "Dragon, look, I need to find food and water. Maybe you can keep going without anything all the way to wherever - or at least you can if I keep passing energy into you - but I can't. A stream, all right? Drinkable water. Fish. That's a start."
The dragon swung his head around, surveyed me, then looked straight ahead like a hunting dog 'pointing' for his master. So I plodded up the beach, my neck prickling with nerves at being out in the open like this, no buildings, no trees, no nothing. Absolutely anything could drop on me and I'd be bait. Definitely I'd shapechanged into a mouse or hare once too often.
The stream or small river flowed into the sea not fifty yards ahead. Low, sharp-leafed bushes grew alongside it and even the occasional tree. I had to wade along its sandy bank for some time before the water lost its brackish taste. No horse could have drunk more. The trouble was, as soon as I lost my thirst, I realised my hunger. Bare-handed, in the dark, I had no chance of catching something to eat. Not in my present form.
I became an otter swift, as the poem had it. As my shape changed, the burning of my skin vanished and I plunged into the water, free and agile and fast. Though I didn't know this stream, I found fish easily, catching them and swallowing them as I turned on my back in the water. I ate live fish, slithering down my throat, until my stomach ached. The empty darkness out there wasn't appealing. Staying in the stream, swimming inland to find shelter under some riverbank trees, felt much better. Human again, I'd be chilled and exhausted, aching and feeble. Got to, I thought, trying to keep my mind on my work. Got to go back. Dragon's waiting. For me. Got to ride the dragon, to help the dragon fly. He was tired, and how did I know he was tired? Come to think of it, how did I know the dragon was a "he"?
The dragon couldn't get home without me, that was why I wandered out here in the breezy dark, without a comfortable bed and a fire where I could warm myself.
Too tired to call spellfire; my life would run out like water from a spilled glass. Then my shape twisted. I retched and pitched forward, paws trying to save myself. Wet, possessing hands now, yet burning skin. So weak. I lay on the riverbank, human, and looking up into a pair of huge, glowing eyes. "Didn't change myself back," I muttered. "You did it. I didn't know you could do that. Did you come back for me? Did you want me to come home with you? That time on the boat was the first time I went away from Skarrel, the first chance you could've had to grab me . . . but why?"
I must've been far gone. No other reason I'd have fallen asleep between the forepaws of a thirty-foot dragon. Daylight woke me, very bright and clear and warm. The dragon's bulk shaded me. I drank from the stream and stumbled back to lie down again. In the evening, I woke again to find fish, still flopping about, lying in front of me. Raw fish didn't taste quite so delightful now, but it seemed rude to refuse.
We spent another night there. I felt much stronger, but resisted the temptation to conjure spellfire. A large dragon is a wonderful hot-water bottle. He seemed better, I thought, he used his wings with more strength now.
In the morning, we breakfasted on more fish. I never did see the dragon hunt, but the fish were there when I awoke. This time I found some driftwood and called fire so that I could cook them. When I offered the dragon a fish skewered on a stick, that huge head loomed close beside me and the very long, sharp teeth delicately pulled the fish free and swallowed it.
After we'd eaten, I climbed aboard his neck and got a stranglehold. What would I do, after I got the dragon home? I'd not really thought about this before, but I did now, my eyes blinking with wind-tears as the dragon jumped into the sky. I gripped hard, willing strength through my hands into his body. We flew up through the brilliant morning sunlight, so high, as high as albatross glided. I expected him to resume his westerly course, but he continued south. Maybe he'd meant to come down on this island anyway, and hadn't really done so for my benefit at all.
The dragon winged strongly now, as he must have flown with the others before they'd wandered into the path of that autumn storm. Birds - migrating geese - fell behind us, unable to keep up. His head and neck provided a buffer against the windstream, but I crouched anyway. Albion fell ever further behind us, but I couldn't stop worrying. What, in all the world, would I do? The dragon wasn't going to take me to Harp Island even if I could get through to him that was where I wanted. If I went home to Skarrel, even if anyone was still there, Witch-mother Audryn was going to kill me, then throw fire at me, then jump on the burnt bits. After that, Geofrey would take a turn. Then it would get serious.
I peered nervously down over the dragon's bright shoulder, trying to take my mind off such thoughts. The sea stretched out, endless glassy-green billows. Surely we would be weeks out here until we reached the next land. I saw a tiny thing below, bobbing on the waves like a cork, and realised it was a ship, its white sails full, its blocky chestnut-brown wooden hull pitching up and down. Little black shapes ran around the deck and into the rigging like panicked ants. The dragon swooped down, close enough for me to see the faces of the terrified men and hear their yells. They hauled on ropes as though that could save them. One saw me and stood prey-frozen, mouth open, gaze meeting mine for a brief moment as the dragon levelled and soared lazily over the tallest mast. He rose again with a few flaps of his wings and headed on, to leave that ship's crew with stories enough to buy a tavern's worth of beer.
They could have shot the dragon, I thought, if they'd had bows, and gathered wits enough to fire them. His hide might be too tough for the arrows, but I wasn't sure.
For the sake of my blistering skin and general hurts, I did some spellcasting on my own behalf. The dragon didn't need so much of my help now. What I did was a very, very small shapeshift, altering my skin enough to withstand the sun's fire. Even that tiny magic wearied me, bleeding me hour by hour while we flew. The white-sailed ship was lost behind us, not even a speck in the green ocean.
As darkness gathered about us like a cloak, I again sent desperate images of landing, of rest, but the dragon ignored them, save for returning one arrow sharp image of that red desert land. I clung to his neck, so tired I couldn't feel scared. My magic frayed about me. I let the tiny shapeshift go, no longer needed and no longer possible. My mind fuzzed out. "Going to fall, dragon," I murmured into his scales. "Can't stay awake, going to fall."
Going to fall out of the sky.
The other sorceresses aren't here to call me back. Nicholas can't draw his sword and threaten anything that would harm me. My Goddess is a long way back in the treeless winter forests of home.
I didn't hurt any more.
Sue
Chapter 3
The dragon, maybe realising I was awake or wanting me out of the way, flung me over his shoulder like a sack. By luck more than judgment, I grabbed two of his neck spikes and was able to haul myself upright so that I rode straddling the dragon's neck, over a gleaming, lightly tossing ocean in a sharp, brilliant sunlight that hurt my eyes. It didn’t seem to be the same sun which tried its best to filter through clouds at home, and defeat the frost which hardened the ground to iron.
Right now, as we flew towards it, it tried to burn me to a small black cinder that would shortly topple from its seat and fizzle to nothing in the great expanse of green water below us. I could have taken another form, but there were problems with that too. Listening to other people isn't one of my greatest strengths, but I did know from past experience that I might have trouble remembering I was human, if I spent too much time in bird form.
I also needed my energy. When the dragon seemed to tire, I did my best to feed energy to his wings. He gleamed like an opal, the light catching his red, green and blue scales and shimmering along his form. He was the swiftest thing which flew, more powerful than any bird. They'd wanted to kill him at home because they didn’t know how to deal with him. Now he'd rescued me from whatever I’d sensed tracking me, but wherever he was taking me, it wasn’t my intended destination. I tried thinking a request to be taken to Harp Island, but that didn't work. Nor did a shouted request or a hammering of fists on oblivious metallic scales.
Below us, flashing shapes leapt from the water and disappeared once more. The dragon twisted beneath me and dropped. I clutched his neck spikes, feeling nothing beneath me for a panicked moment. His neck seemed to extend, very fast, and he snapped up one, then another of the big grey fish. He swept his long, narrow wings several times, creating a mini whirlwind where I sat, and reached his former altitude in moments.
"Thanks. I don't suppose you'd share?" I projected grumpy images of myself munching on the fish - not that raw fish exactly appealed, but it looked better all the time. I could, I supposed, shift into some fish-catching bird and go get some, but that warning niggled at my thoughts. What if I ended my days screaming, shitting and flapping my wings on some seaside cliff?
The dragon sent an answering image of a rusty desert land, craggy cliffs overlooking a glass green ocean, whitetopped waves breaking on the rocks, then a brief, dizzying flash of land flattening out below me, trees like mushrooms. I rubbed my temples; his sending was so strong I couldn’t think through it. Was he telling me to be patient, the way an irate parent tells a child who's asked maybe six times too often, "Are we nearly there yet?"
There was only one problem with this. I did not want to be taken halfway around the world, but bailing out into the ocean didn't seem like a good plan either. All I could do was hang on and wait until the ride finished.
One night and one day. We could not possibly be near the dragons' land, else the ships of Albion and neighbouring lands would know of it. I tried to think about geography, wishing I'd paid more attention when my mother and later the sorceresses, tried to educate me. All right, I wish I'd paid any attention. Clare, who had lived at the Skarrel Order House before moving north to establish another House as Witch-mother there, had been my main instructor in the lore of dragons. She had said something about the dragons flying near Albion, from somewhere to somewhere else, which no one knew. That they followed ships. This dragon had crash-landed in the northern region of Korreg. Beyond Sir Ranald's Korreg lands were the mountains which marked the divide between Albion and Scarp. No help.
The dragon had flown straight out to sea, over the roofs of Cannock town, over the night forests and the moonlit coast with its ships at anchor in the port. If there were lands on the far side of that ocean, not even Witch-mother Audryn knew of them. She had said this was the first dragon she had heard of in our land since one which had been seen in the days of Queen Selina and her Royal Brother Rupert. That was 200 years ago and history was not my best subject. Even if it was, that story had contained no details of the dragon's origin.
I tried to see, squinting in the brilliant light, but could only see more ocean, with thousands of tiny white caps on the waves, far below us. My lips were so dry they had cracked, and my skin felt as though it would peel right off me. I was using all the energy I had to help the dragon, leaving none to protect myself. I hadn't thought I had to protect myself, until I felt the sun and wind burning me. I looked down at myself. The long flapping gown of an Aradian novice, bunched up, did make a fairly good cushion and protection for my legs, but my shoes had fallen off into the sea. I tried not to look at the blistered reddish things which had once been my feet.
"Dragon!" Words helped me to focus on the images I needed to speak with him, even if he didn't understand them. "I need to stop awhile. I have to eat and drink and get some sleep, or I can't help you any more. I need to lie down flat on some ground that isn't moving."
Again the image of the desert land, with big reddish boulders casting black shadows along the arid ground.
"No. I can't wait. Find somewhere now."
My head pounded and the back of my neck burned so much that an executioner's axe would have been a lovely relief. I even slapped the dragon's shoulder, then winced. He sent no answering image, but a short while later he canted to the left, wings performing an elegant dance about me, and began to fly south, it must be. He coasted for a little while, dropping lower above the ocean, so low that the salty spray flew into my face. At first it refreshed me, deliciously cool, but then I found my eyes burning and had to close them, clutching the dragon's spikes and blindly trusting that he knew what he was doing.
We flew like that for a long time. Around us the air grew chill. When I opened one eye to check my surroundings, I nearly jumped from the dragon's back in shock. His great wings beat against pure darkness. Below us, the sea was invisible. There could have been nothing there at all, if not for the beating spray.
Above us - I craned my neck to look - the stars blazed, but they were stars I didn't know. The dragon flew more slowly; it was not only for my sake I hoped we would find land soon.
I pitched forward as it dropped downwards, yelping as my face hit thorns. How in Aradia's name had I gone to sleep on the dragon? The dragon braked and landed on a dark beach. I could hear the sea rumbling and crashing against the shore close by. Hills were a more solid blackness against the sky. Past moonset; at least, I couldn't see it. I swung my right leg cautiously over, looked down the dragon's side to the sand, and jumped. I fell over at once, tangled in my gown, and got up more slowly, brushing damp sand from my face.
"Are we here?" Nothing. The dragon remained motionless. No pictures, no messages. He waited for me to do whatever I'd wanted to do on dry land. "Dragon, look, I need to find food and water. Maybe you can keep going without anything all the way to wherever - or at least you can if I keep passing energy into you - but I can't. A stream, all right? Drinkable water. Fish. That's a start."
The dragon swung his head around, surveyed me, then looked straight ahead like a hunting dog 'pointing' for his master. So I plodded up the beach, my neck prickling with nerves at being out in the open like this, no buildings, no trees, no nothing. Absolutely anything could drop on me and I'd be bait. Definitely I'd shapechanged into a mouse or hare once too often.
The stream or small river flowed into the sea not fifty yards ahead. Low, sharp-leafed bushes grew alongside it and even the occasional tree. I had to wade along its sandy bank for some time before the water lost its brackish taste. No horse could have drunk more. The trouble was, as soon as I lost my thirst, I realised my hunger. Bare-handed, in the dark, I had no chance of catching something to eat. Not in my present form.
I became an otter swift, as the poem had it. As my shape changed, the burning of my skin vanished and I plunged into the water, free and agile and fast. Though I didn't know this stream, I found fish easily, catching them and swallowing them as I turned on my back in the water. I ate live fish, slithering down my throat, until my stomach ached. The empty darkness out there wasn't appealing. Staying in the stream, swimming inland to find shelter under some riverbank trees, felt much better. Human again, I'd be chilled and exhausted, aching and feeble. Got to, I thought, trying to keep my mind on my work. Got to go back. Dragon's waiting. For me. Got to ride the dragon, to help the dragon fly. He was tired, and how did I know he was tired? Come to think of it, how did I know the dragon was a "he"?
The dragon couldn't get home without me, that was why I wandered out here in the breezy dark, without a comfortable bed and a fire where I could warm myself.
Too tired to call spellfire; my life would run out like water from a spilled glass. Then my shape twisted. I retched and pitched forward, paws trying to save myself. Wet, possessing hands now, yet burning skin. So weak. I lay on the riverbank, human, and looking up into a pair of huge, glowing eyes. "Didn't change myself back," I muttered. "You did it. I didn't know you could do that. Did you come back for me? Did you want me to come home with you? That time on the boat was the first time I went away from Skarrel, the first chance you could've had to grab me . . . but why?"
I must've been far gone. No other reason I'd have fallen asleep between the forepaws of a thirty-foot dragon. Daylight woke me, very bright and clear and warm. The dragon's bulk shaded me. I drank from the stream and stumbled back to lie down again. In the evening, I woke again to find fish, still flopping about, lying in front of me. Raw fish didn't taste quite so delightful now, but it seemed rude to refuse.
We spent another night there. I felt much stronger, but resisted the temptation to conjure spellfire. A large dragon is a wonderful hot-water bottle. He seemed better, I thought, he used his wings with more strength now.
In the morning, we breakfasted on more fish. I never did see the dragon hunt, but the fish were there when I awoke. This time I found some driftwood and called fire so that I could cook them. When I offered the dragon a fish skewered on a stick, that huge head loomed close beside me and the very long, sharp teeth delicately pulled the fish free and swallowed it.
After we'd eaten, I climbed aboard his neck and got a stranglehold. What would I do, after I got the dragon home? I'd not really thought about this before, but I did now, my eyes blinking with wind-tears as the dragon jumped into the sky. I gripped hard, willing strength through my hands into his body. We flew up through the brilliant morning sunlight, so high, as high as albatross glided. I expected him to resume his westerly course, but he continued south. Maybe he'd meant to come down on this island anyway, and hadn't really done so for my benefit at all.
The dragon winged strongly now, as he must have flown with the others before they'd wandered into the path of that autumn storm. Birds - migrating geese - fell behind us, unable to keep up. His head and neck provided a buffer against the windstream, but I crouched anyway. Albion fell ever further behind us, but I couldn't stop worrying. What, in all the world, would I do? The dragon wasn't going to take me to Harp Island even if I could get through to him that was where I wanted. If I went home to Skarrel, even if anyone was still there, Witch-mother Audryn was going to kill me, then throw fire at me, then jump on the burnt bits. After that, Geofrey would take a turn. Then it would get serious.
I peered nervously down over the dragon's bright shoulder, trying to take my mind off such thoughts. The sea stretched out, endless glassy-green billows. Surely we would be weeks out here until we reached the next land. I saw a tiny thing below, bobbing on the waves like a cork, and realised it was a ship, its white sails full, its blocky chestnut-brown wooden hull pitching up and down. Little black shapes ran around the deck and into the rigging like panicked ants. The dragon swooped down, close enough for me to see the faces of the terrified men and hear their yells. They hauled on ropes as though that could save them. One saw me and stood prey-frozen, mouth open, gaze meeting mine for a brief moment as the dragon levelled and soared lazily over the tallest mast. He rose again with a few flaps of his wings and headed on, to leave that ship's crew with stories enough to buy a tavern's worth of beer.
They could have shot the dragon, I thought, if they'd had bows, and gathered wits enough to fire them. His hide might be too tough for the arrows, but I wasn't sure.
For the sake of my blistering skin and general hurts, I did some spellcasting on my own behalf. The dragon didn't need so much of my help now. What I did was a very, very small shapeshift, altering my skin enough to withstand the sun's fire. Even that tiny magic wearied me, bleeding me hour by hour while we flew. The white-sailed ship was lost behind us, not even a speck in the green ocean.
As darkness gathered about us like a cloak, I again sent desperate images of landing, of rest, but the dragon ignored them, save for returning one arrow sharp image of that red desert land. I clung to his neck, so tired I couldn't feel scared. My magic frayed about me. I let the tiny shapeshift go, no longer needed and no longer possible. My mind fuzzed out. "Going to fall, dragon," I murmured into his scales. "Can't stay awake, going to fall."
Going to fall out of the sky.
The other sorceresses aren't here to call me back. Nicholas can't draw his sword and threaten anything that would harm me. My Goddess is a long way back in the treeless winter forests of home.
I didn't hurt any more.
Wow!
(Anonymous) 2005-10-19 03:31 am (UTC)(link)Re: Wow!
Thanks
Sue
no subject
:-)
no subject
Have you considered publishing it online under the Creative Commons license and adding donation buttons to the page?
no subject
(Anonymous) 2005-10-21 09:33 am (UTC)(link)prk.