I am Dragon (Dragon Fires Rising Book 2) by Marc Secchia (famous ebook reader TXT) 📕

better, but he had not, as yet. The surgeon wanted to make plans to transport him to Zunityne in the morning, where he could receive further treatment. He delicately opened the cut upon the Princess’ right breast and drained an infeasible amount of nasty-smelling pus, before closing and bandaging it again, and dosing her up to the eyeballs with medicines.

She spent the entire night being violently ill.

Come morning, he had two patients to fly to Zunityne. Marvellous.

At least the prone patients balanced out atop his back. He flew with Chanize and the Sankir once more, taking up Azania’s habitual position on his neck, while the patently terrified surgeon travelled with the patients up top.

Better be terrified. Touch the Princess one more time or suggest any more of those foul concoctions, and this Dragon would dump him somewhere far from shore! Gnarr.

Aria had flown to Wave Dragonhome with her dam before dawn, seeking to deal with the draconic politics arising from those Dragonesses who had dared to help the four rebel Lords. She left with a kind word, however.

Fly true, Dragon. I’ve sent twenty Dragonesses ahead with the Princes, since none can possibly keep up with you in flight. We need someone close, especially someone trusted, near the King and Queen at this time. You are that someone. Keep the family safe. I would not have wished to deal with these duties now, but … needs must. I will come to Zunityne as soon as I can. I’ll miss you.

Likewise, he said, wondering if she meant it.

Did she need time to think over their relationship, such as it was?

Crooking his neck, he eyeballed the Sankir with a certain unmistakable intent.

“Right behind her,” he said at once.

“Make sure you keep it that way,” he growled balefully. “Chanize, you’ll tell me if he doesn’t hold you tight every second of the way?”

“I am your humble servant, Dragon,” she managed to splutter.

“No laughing, you two. I’m being deathly serious.”

They both straightened their lips at once, and snuggled with gratifying submission to the very letter of his command.

Feeling somehow better about life, since having a minor tyrannical tantrum was all it took to lighten his mood these days, Dragon stretched up and climbed onto the Lord’s battlements. The ease of a large Dragon walking up a twenty-foot height in one step always seemed to mesmerise these little Humans. Aye. Think about what might be done to such a fortress. Think long and hard, rebel Lord!

“Riders, cover your ears, please,” he ordered crisply.

I AM DRAGON!! he boomed, shaking the castle down to its roots.

Off like the wind!

Chasing downwind on a brisk Archipelago breeze, he set a spanking pace for the first leg over to the Human Island. No way were those Princes, with barely one and a half hours’ lead, getting to Zunityne before him. Plus, he needed to move the King as fast and with as little fuss as possible.

Fast air stretcher.

All part of the service he offered.

Do I really have to fly lying down? Azania grumbled.

Just don’t throw up on my nice white scales. I’ll never forgive you, he advised acidly.

The fresh air’s good for me, she whispered. Still so weak. Rough night, and then some. Azerim – could you touch him once more with your magic? I know you don’t feel it’s done any good …

I’ll do it.

Thank you, Dragon. Do you mind if I sleep?

Blergh. Thus was the mighty Dragon demoted from stretcher-bearer to being a flying royal crib.

She chuckled faintly.

Stretching his wings, he accelerated smoothly.

Within the hour, they were over Human territory once more. Dragon smoothed out and lengthened his wing stroke, trying to find the most efficient configuration. They raced into the heart of the Island, the suns at their backs and a bright green jungle before.

About three hours into the flight, Dragon had just spotted the Dragonwing carrying the four Princes in the distance, when Azania snuffled and woke abruptly, as if wrenched from a bad dream. The surgeon supplied her with water and was about to arrange shade for her face and head, when Azerim stirred too, and said distinctly:

“Why’s the sky moving?”

Everyone jumped, especially the one with the wings.

He peered back over his shoulder. Azerim gazed at the Princess with an expression of utter stupefaction pasted upon his face. Giving every village idiot who had ever lived a run for his money. She must be smiling, although from his angle, it was hard to tell and so he had to resort to sniffing out her emotions to be sure.

“A-Azerim?” she faltered at last. “It’s me, Azania.”

“I know you … Aza … where are we?”

“Flying to Zunityne upon a Dragon’s back.”

“Am I … dreaming? Must be … dead – so confused. I feel terr –”

His body went limp. The surgeon gave a low cry as he reached forward to check the royal, but after a minute, he said simply that King Azerim had passed out once more.

As far as reunions went, Dragon decided with a huff of vast annoyance, that was decidedly underwhelming. He would have to arrange a redo. Round two. Otherwise, a sneaky Dragon might seize his chance to knock a bit of sense into His Majesty’s indestructible cranium before anyone noticed. Fancying he must be dead. How incredibly rude and inconsiderate of him.

Landing to give his Riders a comfort break and his own wings a fifteen-minute rest, he was even more narked to discover that Azania was feeling perky enough to be released from her stretcher. Why, when he was playing captive Princesses and Kings, did she have to spoil the party?

Murgh-hurgh-harr! What a nasty Dragon he was. Time to vex someone.

He sniffed loudly at her breast. “Ah, much better.”

“Dragon!”

“I still detect a tang of infection, however.”

The surgeon said,