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

“Are you certain?”

“Between two horrible options, it’s the one I have more confidence in – thoughts?”

“I’m with you. One thousand percent.”

Annoyed at himself that he found it so countercultural to be asking a female, and a Human at that, for her opinion – was he truly such an old bag of draconic stodge – Dragon waited for the Princess to make the necessary adjustments to their navigator.

Gruffly, he said, “Don’t lose that thing, alright? Tie it on to yourself, or something. I mean only to say that it’s bound to be a rough run.”

“Good idea.”

Why was she being so agreeable? He was not accustomed to this misbehaviour.

Blinking saltwater out of his eyes, Dragon prepared himself mentally for the launch. It needed to be hard and high before the gale force winds knocked him down again, or deformed his wing strokes enough that he crashed immediately into the water. Despite that his kind were masters of the air, few sensible Dragons would care to fly through a tempest as wild as this. Nor would most try to fly across the open ocean, for that matter.

Rough was one word. Insane, another.

“Ready to fly,” Azania said.

Spreading his wings, he launched upward into the teeth of the blast, spreading his wings to control his ascent and use the wind to gain altitude. Balance was key. Up, up again. When he began to approach the low, scudding grey clouds, he wheeled with control and rode the blast away to the West.

Immediately, he knew this would be the most challenging flight of his life. The wind was a live animal, like wrestling that Sea Serpent all over again. The gale winds howled their intended direction of travel from a few compass points east of pure northerly, always pushing them away from true west. Go for the slow curve while he still had strength enough?

On and on he struggled, through a dark, lightning-shot world of rain, heaving waves and shrieking winds. His strength began to fade. Every time his wings wanted to collapse, he took a deep breath and told himself, just one more beat. And one more after that. Azania clung to his neck, calling encouragement every few minutes, and trying to help him maintain the right heading. Despite their best efforts, his fear was beginning to be realised, that they might be swept in to the south of that first talon, and therefore be faced with a longer flight to the first of the three major Archipelago islands.

He had never flown in winds like this. Winds that shrieked and bullied, threatening to crumple his wings. Could it be a hurricane? The waves were being pounded flat now, the sleet flying in sideways.

Dragon turned to face the wind. He had to.

Despite his flapping, they were being blown backward.

He called, “Princess, I can’t carry on. Are you willing to try swimming beneath everything?”

“How? In your mouth – oh no! Please –”

“It’s the only way.”

She peered around at his eye, shaking her head. Azania was more than soaked. She might as well be already swimming. His Rider was also wan, quite possibly as exhausted as he felt, Dragon realised. Swiping water out of her eyes, she clearly came to a decision.

“How would it work?”

“I can stay submerged for up to fifteen minutes at a time, maybe only ten if I’m working hard. So I’d come up every so often for breath, but otherwise, stay beneath the surface. You call directions from inside.”

“You – you heard me, last time?”

“Clearly.” His voice cracked. “Every word.”

“It’s alright, Dragon. I trust you. I’ll … maybe I’ll try to tie myself to your fangs, or something. And I promise you, if I go down that gullet again – ugh – I will cut my way out from the inside, do you hear me?”

“Loud and clear.”

She growled, “No swallowing!”

“Princess, you taste terrible, I’ll have you know.”

“Great, thanks.”

“I prefer red meat to black.”

“That is a tasteless joke and you know it.”

Since they no longer had a Dragon bow or quarrels to concern themselves about, Azania took her small travel pack in hand, and then unstrapped herself gingerly from her saddle mount. It took some fiddling with buckles stiffened by prolonged exposure to the seawater to loosen herself, then she climbed down into his paw, and from there investigated the lay of his jaw.

“This is a peculiar form of madness, I’ll have you know,” she muttered.

“Our relationship always has been.”

“I wonder if I can braid your tongue around your fangs?”

“Sounds suitably terminal.”

Stepping gingerly over a row of fangs he happened to be rather proud of, the Princess investigated the situation inside. Sheltered. Warm. Could become extremely toasty.

Pushing his tongue over with what felt like a foot, she said, “At least your mouth is dry. Right, I’ll tuck in here beneath your tongue. Space enough for a small package. Okay with me tying on?”

“Sure, my little scrap of fang floss.”

Definitely a kick for that. “I have been called many things in a short time, Dragon, but that is easily the most insulting of an impressive range of nonsense! Shut your gob and let’s get to shore. You’ve work to do and you’re wasting good breath.”

Feisty and furious.

“Shutting the pet in her royal cage …”

“Drag – mmm!”

Ah, he loved winding her around his smallest talon. Muffled shrieks inside his mouth. Really, this was far too much fun, apart from the part where they might both die if he didn’t do exactly as she said. What surprised him most was how his bodily instincts took over, trying to convince him that something tasty wriggling upon his tongue simply had to be tossed down the hatch. His stomach rumbled hugely.

Shut up, no, don’t do it, Dragon!

Do what?

Sigh. Time to explain how the apex