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

white thunderbolt from the blue. Now, he considered a different approach.

Sneakily does it.

“There’s Aria! I see her! She’s right in that clump of Dragons that are just flitting over the rim, Highness.”

They watched the Isles Dragons disappear within.

“Going to be close,” she commented.

“I’m sure there will be oodles of draconic pomp and ceremony before any actual vows are exchanged.”

“Plan?”

“I plan to land on the far rim, against the setting suns. See what’s happening. That group behind us won’t arrive for another hour at least. Before then – whatever happens, happens.”

What might just happen beforehand was the final demise of his wings.

Ready to drop off.

His flight muscles burned like never before. His chest ached, the joints protested every movement, and the strain of exhaustion burned through both of their bodies. If any fighting was required, he would just have to request a recess until the morrow. This Dragon was done.

A mile off, they both startled and cried out as a knot of draconic bodies burst out over the rim, fighting as only fabulous martial artists could. The Dragonesses swirled into the air and around the cone, at least two dozen in hot pursuit of none other than an unmistakeable cobalt beauty, Ariamyrielle Seaspray. Even from this distance, they beheld her panic and fury. She knocked out four in a blur of action before the mass subdued her and wrestled her back toward the dormant caldera.

Azania let out a breath she had clearly been holding. “That looks familiar.”

It took him forever to work out what she meant – a reference to the day he had found her, chained to a bed in that high tower with Prince Floric fully prepared to violate her honour. What kind of nuptials were these if these Dragonesses had to subdue the victim?

Aria was not going quietly.

The Princess snarled, “What the hells are you waiting for, Dragon?”

“Right you are.”

Folding his wings, he plummeted from the sky.

No time to think anymore. No time for plans. All he knew was the whistling rush of the wind in his ears, and the incongruous sight of a flower-festooned flight of male Dragons turning stately loops inside the caldera. The Dragonesses appeared to be mesmerised by the performance. Not one looked up as the speed of his drop hit terminal velocity.

Azania clung to his neck like a limpet. I’m fine. Don’t slow down.

Death dive? No. This was a life dive.

There had to be five hundred Dragons packed inside that caldera, many more than he had expected. The females were small and razor-sharp, like Aria, and all were armed with the deadly kaniaxi blades Aria wielded to such incredible effect. The males were chunky and plump in the belly. Indeed, what he would have taken for Dragons being rather overweight must be a most desirable trait here in the Archipelago, to the point that their wings looked faintly ridiculous. Could they even fly far, or did they waddle?

The younger set stood around the fringes, intermingled with the hatchlings, fledglings and egg-heavy females.

In contrast to the green outer slopes, the interior of the caldera was black volcanic sand, with a murky, circular crater lake right in the centre. Beside this stood a male – he assumed – festooned in quite the most astonishing collection of jewellery Dragon had ever seen. He wore so much gold and silver and gemstone finery, the poor thing could barely stand, let alone could one tell his actual colour with any certainty. A king’s ransom had nothing upon what that chump wore – the lucky groom, to jump to his second conclusion.

Was it wrong to hate his guts at first sight?

Not far from the groom, a pile of bodies twitched and twisted as if possessed of a weird, alien form of life. Eventually, Ariamyrielle Seaspray emerged with three Dragonesses holding either wing, several clasping each paw and her tail, and two sitting upon her back to hold her down. Two more gripped her head and neck in what looked to be painful headlocks.

A larger copper female took a stance between the shy male and the spitting mad female.

Let me guess, Azania said heavily. Surprise wedding?

Oh! Finally, what he was seeing made sense. Aria must have been royally duped.

The Isle Dragons fairly filled the caldera from rim to rim, but they all stood upon the sands and a little ways up the sides. The centre looked awfully uninviting. Might as well hop onto a Dragon-sized gallows and pull the noose tight by himself. The copper female began to make a speech they could not hear. Her audience ruffled their wings in time with her statements and thundered their approval. Morons.

I heard that.

Gnarr!

Oh, I agree. Now I see why Aunt Ignita taught us that every culture has its dark secrets. Remember that lecture?

Aye, I do.

How bad – whatever that meant – must Aria have been to merit this treatment from Clan and kin? Certainly, she could not have told him the full story. Far from it. Nor did she know much of his history, he reminded himself, because he still found it difficult to share details about what he had been through.

So many scars.

Maybe they had more in common than he had imagined?

Whatever that speech was all about, the copper female held them in the palm of her paw. Not one Dragon noticed the white comet plunging from the skies. Annoying and an ego-crusher, but actually rather useful in the greater scheme of things, for he had never in his life enjoyed direct confrontation. It rubbed against the lay of his scales.

Flaring his wings, Dragon brought them to a hard landing just ten Dragon paces below the rim on the outside, and willed his numb knees to do something useful.

Gallop up there. Show himself. Invite instant death.

Perfect plan.

So, my daughter.