I am Dragon (Dragon Fires Rising Book 2) Marc Secchia (most read books .TXT) 📖

“Is that part of your intestine dangling in the breeze?”

“Seems so. Pretty good cut, right?”

She shouted at him. A lot. Apparently, flying about with a seven-foot rent in his soft new hide, with a fat coil of silvery intestine poking out of it, was rather far from a courageous show of male draculinity, in her worldview. Claiming she should not worry was a slap in the face of friendship, as it turned out.

Humans had the oddest ideas.

They also steamed up impressively when they were mad at someone they cared for. That, he understood – but what of wearing one’s wounds with pride? No. Far from it. Clean, stitch and hide was the Human way.

Accordingly, one narked Dragon and one fuming Dragon Rider burgled the lair of the most dangerous Dragons either of them knew. Death wish, plus.

It took them several tries before they found a narrow slash in the cliffs that led into a complex cave system inside, all lit by quartzite crystal inclusions that must conduct light from the surface deep into the dark igneous caverns. Or, were these ancient watercourses? Lava flows? Dragon puzzled over the phenomenon as they explored the lairs. Unnerving. Not a breath of a Dragon about, yet everything looked as if it had simply been left, abandoned, on a moment’s notice. Every sign and scent pointed to this fact.

In low tones, they discussed a way of life very different to what he was accustomed to. The workshops were amazing, producing fine pieces of skull, scale, paw, neck and tail jewellery for the adornment of Dragons. Another workshop appeared to be a perfumery. Glittering golden hoards stood unguarded. They found a whole area of tunnels where these Dragons appeared to grow vegetables in the semidarkness. Soon, they wandered through unattended forges of a design he had never seen before. Each furnace stood a hundred feet tall. Here, Dragon artisans must produce the mighty blades Aria had wielded, by a process that had to combine ores, Dragon fire and heat, and magic. Here was a mighty cavern clearly designated for combat training, carried out in a wide, clearly demarcated circle. Weapons racks and armour stood to the sides.

There were no eggs, no young, no old, no sign of life anywhere, yet recent paw prints on the sandy cavern floors abounded.

What could drive Dragons out of their lairs?

Might there be no natural predators or enemies, so everything could simply be left … he shook his muzzle.

“At last, this looks like a healer’s cavern,” Azania exclaimed.

“I wonder what they’ll make of Human boot prints all over their caverns when they return?” Dragon said glumly.

The Princess grinned. “I think we plan to be very far away by then, don’t we? I mean, if we can’t find a single Isles Dragoness up here, we’re going to have to hunt further. Maybe fly on to Zunityne and ask around there? Can’t imagine where they’ve all disappeared to.”

“Aye, good plan.”

“Found the needles.” Wicked grin.

“Here’s thread, and a nice little fountain for cleaning me up. Perfect. Naughty Princess, I hope you were paying attention in your needlework classes.”

“Not enough. Come over here, you big, bad Dragon, and stick out your tongue.”

She waved a needle as long as her hand.

“Very funny,” he groused.

Dragon taught her the basics of cleaning and stitching – first the intestine itself, cut in three places, and then the inner layer of abdominal hide and muscle, and finally the outer hide itself. The wound was large but not serious, unless infection set in, but this healer’s cavern was well stocked with antiseptic powders and even scale-cloth, a metallic weave which they glued over the rent. It should come off naturally in a couple of weeks. He chewed up and swallowed a couple of large mouthfuls of healing herbs.

Azania moved to the second cut on his tail.

By now, the light had faded noticeably. They decided to backtrack to an underground pond they had found, where Azania washed the crusted salt out of her clothing, and he warmed her brown hide by carefully blowing his fire nearby.

“What would Azerim make of this?” he gurgled, reaching out.

“Dragon! We do not prod a lady … there.”

“Your haunches? Why ever not?”

“I’m nude.”

“You are as you were born, which is perfect. Clothing is such a silly affectation anyways. Can’t imagine why your kind bother – oh, do you mean that if you were fully clothed, that gesture would be fine?”

“No!”

“Not even with Az –”

“Don’t you start with me, Dragon. Would you touch Aria’s haunches just like that? No! You’d lose a talon before you could blink with those kaniaxi blades of hers.”

“Very true,” he agreed judiciously.

“Same goes for Human females. So, keep your paws to yourself, you reptilian reprobate.”

“Pernickety Princess.”

“I am so not the pernickety one around here, mister he whose wings must be arranged in exactly the same way every night before he falls asleep.”

“And you wonder why I’m so tempted to swat you into shape. May your dreams soar, Princess.”

“And yours too, my adorable Dragon.”

“Clobber, pummel, flatten, roll out, twist into a lovely pretzel with strangely fuzzy bits hanging out of it?” he growled.

“What an eloquent master of debate you must be. Zzz. Already asleep.”

* * * *

The following morning, Azania woke him with a joke. “Say, which side of a Dragon has the most scales?”

He checked his wounds. “Definitely the right.”

“The outside!” she chortled.

“Oh, by my wings, what a groaner. It’s far too early for that.”

“Wakey wakey, Dragon.”

“Somebody’s excited to go find Azerim,” he growled balefully.

“Terrorcited,” she agreed.

“Quite. Well, the early Dragon makes the kill.”

“All things considered, I’d prefer not to kill my man right away, if that’s quite alright with you?”

“If he has another woman …” He punched his fist into his palm.