hunting us?”
Pip shuddered. That apparition … “Zardon?”
“Eh? Who said that?” The Dragon shook himself as if he were a cat with a flea inside its ear. Pip very nearly lost her bundle. Only the rope around her waist kept her from taking an unexpected flying lesson, down into the depthless Cloudlands.
“On your back.”
Zardon’s neck twizzled about. Confusion reigned in his eyes. Fire licked around the edges of his nostrils as he stared at her, and murder lurked in the depths of his blazing yellow eyes. “Who’s this tiny insect clinging to my back?”
Pip clenched her teeth. “I’m Pip, remember? You’re taking me to Jeradia Island?”
“Pip? Islands’ sakes, yes. Pip. Now I remember. Pygmy. Strange powers.” His brow drew down as he snarled, “Is it you bothering me like this? Eh? Like a bird fluttering in my ear canal?”
Now Pip wished she could have leaped right out of her seat. The way his jaw muscles clenched, she was convinced she was about to lose a leg or be roasted for a Dragon’s lunch. She stammered, “I d-don’t know w-what you’re talking about. Zardon, you’re being weird.”
“Weird? Me? Well, I … something has been found. Something ancient. I sense it, just a hint of a hint, a coldness and a deep, brooding malice … and what should a Dragon fear? But I fear this.”
Just as suddenly as it had appeared, the madness cleared from his eyes and Zardon’s smile reappeared. He asked her what had happened. Summoning up the shreds of her courage, Pip told him what he had said, and then, feeling sillier and smaller by the moment, related her chilling dreams about the Dragon-like shadow.
“Ay,” growled Zardon. “I’m sorry if I frightened you, little one. My sense of foresight is a little unreliable. However, I’ve an itch along my spine–which you have just confirmed–that says something is amiss in our Island-World. I need to find out what it is. The quicker we reach Jeradia, the better. You’ll be safe there.”
Unreliable? Downright deadly! Pip said, “It’s not after me, is it?”
“Plenty of Dragons after you,” he roared, rather more cheerfully than Pip would have preferred. “Shapeshifters, too. But this is something different, I fear. It cares not for life of any kind. Pip, you should not worry. I am here.”
So much for not worrying, Pip fumed. She worried that her ride was about to eat her. She worried about Jeradia. Now she should be unconcerned about the ramblings of a confused old Dragon?
Four hours of swift gliding, dropping steadily toward the Cloudlands, brought them to an uninhabited line of Islands stretching south-west of Archion. Pip imagined a ridge beneath the gold-tinged, toxic Cloudlands, its green-capped mountain-tips peeking up into the world of living things above.
“See how the vegetation dies out on the lower slopes?” Zardon’s wingbeat paused as he pointed with his right wingtip. “The Cloudlands are acidic, besides being highly poisonous. That’s the line of safety for Humans, Pip. Only lichens grow lower down. If you ever find yourself that low, climb as quickly as you can.”
“But Dragons can fly through the Cloudlands, right?”
“Dragons can hold their breath for fifteen minutes or more,” said Zardon. “Some Dragons have perfected the use of a magical shield to protect them from the airborne poisons. But you’d be flying blind.”
“Don’t you wonder what lies beneath the Cloudlands, Zardon?”
“Always, little one.” His tone suggested that her questions were amusing, not in a belittling way, but rather as a welcome pastime between companions. “It’s one of the great mysteries of the Island-World. Some say there are enormous, flightless Land Dragons crawling about beneath the clouds, breathing out the toxins that make the Cloudlands.”
Pip wiped her forehead. “It’s like breathing hot water down here.”
“We’ve descended two thirds of a league from Sylakia Island, little one. Of course the
Pip shuddered. That apparition … “Zardon?”
“Eh? Who said that?” The Dragon shook himself as if he were a cat with a flea inside its ear. Pip very nearly lost her bundle. Only the rope around her waist kept her from taking an unexpected flying lesson, down into the depthless Cloudlands.
“On your back.”
Zardon’s neck twizzled about. Confusion reigned in his eyes. Fire licked around the edges of his nostrils as he stared at her, and murder lurked in the depths of his blazing yellow eyes. “Who’s this tiny insect clinging to my back?”
Pip clenched her teeth. “I’m Pip, remember? You’re taking me to Jeradia Island?”
“Pip? Islands’ sakes, yes. Pip. Now I remember. Pygmy. Strange powers.” His brow drew down as he snarled, “Is it you bothering me like this? Eh? Like a bird fluttering in my ear canal?”
Now Pip wished she could have leaped right out of her seat. The way his jaw muscles clenched, she was convinced she was about to lose a leg or be roasted for a Dragon’s lunch. She stammered, “I d-don’t know w-what you’re talking about. Zardon, you’re being weird.”
“Weird? Me? Well, I … something has been found. Something ancient. I sense it, just a hint of a hint, a coldness and a deep, brooding malice … and what should a Dragon fear? But I fear this.”
Just as suddenly as it had appeared, the madness cleared from his eyes and Zardon’s smile reappeared. He asked her what had happened. Summoning up the shreds of her courage, Pip told him what he had said, and then, feeling sillier and smaller by the moment, related her chilling dreams about the Dragon-like shadow.
“Ay,” growled Zardon. “I’m sorry if I frightened you, little one. My sense of foresight is a little unreliable. However, I’ve an itch along my spine–which you have just confirmed–that says something is amiss in our Island-World. I need to find out what it is. The quicker we reach Jeradia, the better. You’ll be safe there.”
Unreliable? Downright deadly! Pip said, “It’s not after me, is it?”
“Plenty of Dragons after you,” he roared, rather more cheerfully than Pip would have preferred. “Shapeshifters, too. But this is something different, I fear. It cares not for life of any kind. Pip, you should not worry. I am here.”
So much for not worrying, Pip fumed. She worried that her ride was about to eat her. She worried about Jeradia. Now she should be unconcerned about the ramblings of a confused old Dragon?
Four hours of swift gliding, dropping steadily toward the Cloudlands, brought them to an uninhabited line of Islands stretching south-west of Archion. Pip imagined a ridge beneath the gold-tinged, toxic Cloudlands, its green-capped mountain-tips peeking up into the world of living things above.
“See how the vegetation dies out on the lower slopes?” Zardon’s wingbeat paused as he pointed with his right wingtip. “The Cloudlands are acidic, besides being highly poisonous. That’s the line of safety for Humans, Pip. Only lichens grow lower down. If you ever find yourself that low, climb as quickly as you can.”
“But Dragons can fly through the Cloudlands, right?”
“Dragons can hold their breath for fifteen minutes or more,” said Zardon. “Some Dragons have perfected the use of a magical shield to protect them from the airborne poisons. But you’d be flying blind.”
“Don’t you wonder what lies beneath the Cloudlands, Zardon?”
“Always, little one.” His tone suggested that her questions were amusing, not in a belittling way, but rather as a welcome pastime between companions. “It’s one of the great mysteries of the Island-World. Some say there are enormous, flightless Land Dragons crawling about beneath the clouds, breathing out the toxins that make the Cloudlands.”
Pip wiped her forehead. “It’s like breathing hot water down here.”
“We’ve descended two thirds of a league from Sylakia Island, little one. Of course the
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