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

The Princess halted at once.

Blaze delivered a glare that perfectly matched his name. “That was … instructive.”

“My mother – my dam’s power is unusual,” the girl added in a wavering voice. “We had the coldstones checked by a Mage. He believed they might be traced to dark magic –”

“Human or Dragon?”

“Dragon.”

“Terror Clan magic,” Dragon clarified. “The traces –”

Even the Terrors would not stoop to this!

Working with the Skartun?

Unthinkable!

Again, the Dragons bellowed and argued with one another. Inzashu was made to explain her assertion five different ways, and then to demonstrate her powers on two other Dragons. Both gnashed their fangs almost at once, before the accusation zinged forth from none other than his brother, Brawl – could this all be a Terror Clan plot against the Dragonkind, and were these Princesses and this Dragon not complicit in it?

Cunning, his brother. Having started the bonfire with a small spark, he allowed other Dragons to pick up the accusations. How could they trust these black-hearted Humans – racial slur most certainly intended? Could Dragon prove that his so-called Rider had no influence over his thoughts right now? Was it not convenient that the T’nagrun Princess had arranged to be kidnapped by a weak-minded, isolated Dragon who had been such an ill credit to his Clan, he had been cast out?

Warpaw the Wrecker chipped in with, “How can we even be sure that he has met Ruthless the Obliterator?”

“Aye!” half of the congregation roared.

“This Dragon fancies himself an artist,” his brother Brand said slyly. “Can you draw this Dragon you supposedly rescued for us, fireless one?”

Blaze clicked his talons toward Yardi. “Scroll and charcoal!”

“I’ll help you fetch them from my stores,” Juggernaut put in. “Come with me.”

Meantime, Brutal the Smasher said, For our part, we Smashers cannot believe a single Dragon, however much help he might have had from that little two-legged creature, could demolish an entire Skartun army. How is this credible, brothers? How do you explain yourselves?

Strategy and good fortune, he replied directly. We have given all the details of the battle’s flow, as accurately as we remember.

Yet a discredited, Clanless Dragon comes out of this with the cleanest paws in history, does he not?

Aye, by my wings! many Dragons agreed.

Send some of your number south, if you cannot believe our sworn word, he responded robustly.

Brutal growled, Fair enough. Here’s your scroll. What do you have to show us, artist Dragon? I am Brutal the Smasher. Think your stature impresses me?

No, but then, neither did the Smasher’s jealousy.

With the help of Azania and Inzashu, he spread out the large piece of scrolleaf – two feet by six, the standard size for draconic messages. Selecting a stick of coal, he summoned up the picture he remembered, having to swiftly banish a vivid scent memory of a cobalt face he would far rather be painting, and set to work. Strong, stark lines. How exactly had the head cage been shaped and fitted? Hmm, around the jaw, and –

Azania pointed to the skull ruff. “Underneath here.”

“Thanks,” he murmured.

Meantime, Yarimda told Blaze what she knew of this itinerant Dragon – not touching the issues of his past or birth, but rather what she knew of him in the present. She confirmed the exact times and dates of both of their visits to Chakkix Camp, and described the purpose of her journey onward. Dragon wished to honour her, as she put it, by helping her return to her birthplace beside the ocean.

Shortly, Brutal turned to the green Obliterator Dragoness. Scythe, is this your kin?

Stepping up, she cocked her head to gaze at the partial bust of Ruthless, and gasped. Her reaction was enough. It is he. Roughly, she plucked up the piece of scroll and showed it to the other Dragons. This is my uncle – whom this Dragon could not possibly have met, otherwise. He was lost thirty years ago, long before the spark of this Dragon even entered the eggshell.

They gaped at the image. Many openly spat or dribbled fires in shock.

Dragon could only imagine how they felt. He had sketched the head cage as frankly as he could, including the clamps holding the ear inductors in place. The device was every bit as ghastly as they imagined.

Shifting forward, Azania reached up as she said, “These are the inductor rods. The cage is welded on – through the jaw, as you see. They remove two fangs either side to bridle the Dragon –”

Every creature present flinched.

“Aye, I am sorry, but this is a faithful representation of the Skartunese torture device.”

Brutal spat, “By my sire’s egg! If this is truth, Princess, then I will be the first Dragon to fly south. Who is with me?”

A thunder of approbation!

Still, he caught a glint in his brothers’ eyes as they looked on. Their work was far from done, was it not? What more could they be hiding behind their sober, attentive expressions?

For over an hour, into the fullness of a moonlit night, the talk majored upon political and practical issues. Who should lead a strike force of Dragons? Which Clan should take pre-eminence? What armour and equipment should be prepared in order to ensure that the dreadful lightning-bolt quarrels, as they called them, stood far less chance of bringing a Dragon down? The Princess’ later plan of seeking additional aid from the renowned warrior Dragons of the Vaylarn Archipelago met with quick approval once Juggernaut threw his weight behind the idea.

He could not rest. Brand and Brawl were up to something. He knew them too well.

At last it came; yet when it did, the surprise was still complete.

Brawl called the assembly to order one more time, asking if there was any aspect of the report which still required cross-examination.

“Aye, all of