In the wake of the explosion, the monster teetered, reeling on the thick base of roiling black which extended who knew how deep into the water to support it. It was shaken – but far from defeated. The battle raged on, and Dairo led the clan’s recruits against it. He did not fire as often as the others did, but when he did, his marks were sure and true. Again and again, he assaulted the glowing pink spots on the creature’s tentacles, and as before, each time one of them was hit, the damage seemed to go deep into the creature’s body, and soon its cries had an edge of pain and desperation to them, and not just primal, mindless rage.
In the end, however, it was an attack led by a huge battalion of Wind dragons which saved the day. On a battle-ravaged ship bobbing in the Bay, a pale Skydancer ordered dragons this way and that, her voice ragged from days of shouting to her comrades. “Aye, Captain Sabiya!” her charges shouted, and with a mixture of cunning tactics and breathtaking power, the Wind dragons beat and buffeted the beast, until it let out one final shriek and began to rock precariously, its form shuddering.
“Look out!” The cry was given out of scores of throats, and hundreds of dragons flew for their lives as the huge mass of the monster toppled like an immense tree. A wall of water rose up high on either side of it as it hit the surface. It floated there like a great, glistening black log of driftwood, tentacles splaying out all around it like spilled ink; and then, slowly, it sank beneath the waves, and rose no more.
All along the strand, voices rose in jubilation and hoarse relief. Clan-mates reunited, mercenary companies joked and jabbed each other and passed around flasks of liquor, and a few intrepid souls, most of them Arcane dragons, paddled or flew out to the site of the battle to attempt to salvage bits of tentacle here or there, to study the strange creature that had caused such chaos.
Into this din, Sigarni treaded wearily. Beside her strode Magnus, the bones on his war-kilt swaying and clattering softly together as he walked.
She looked out across the now-peaceful Bay, and her heart hurt again.
A cluster of Wind dragons drew near them, laughing and cheering. “Eyyyyy! Good fight, huh? We sure showed that critter who’s boss!” one of them chattered happily to Sigarni, and reached out to punch her on the shoulder. They stopped abruptly when she raised her head and simply glared at the lot of them, and backed away from the pale glowing green of her stare, and the rumbling black giant behind her.
Upon the waves, a glowing ball of pink floated, bobbing in the waves. Inside of it huddled two Tundra hatchlings. Atop it, a midnight-black Fae perched, rolling the ball carefully beneath all four feet as she balanced with her wings. “Encouragment,” Honour panted. “Keep walking. Little ones. One foot in front of the other. We are almost there.”
At last the shielding orb hit the sand, and tiny flecks of it stuck to the magic and began to absorb it, until the globe resembled a confection made of crunchy pink sugar, as it rolled up the beach and along the trail that led to Clan Guacamole’s rallying point.
Dairo fluttered down to land near the litter that housed Arao. The squadron of recruits coming after him was much smaller, now, but the dragons behind the Coatl held their heads high, and had a new air of pride to themselves that they had not possessed before. Only Dairo still seemed meek and timid, looking nothing like the tactician who had just led them into the most memorable fight of their lives.
He could feel the weight of Arao’s gaze. The Mirror was, no doubt, surveying the company of recruits, the condition they were in, their numbers compared to the ones who had been sent out. Only when he heard a sharp clearing of throat did Dairo look up to meet the Mirror’s glowing, pale green gaze.
“Well done, Battleleader,” Arao said. “An’ good eye. I didn’t know you was watchin’ me so close as I fought. I mus’ confess that were a lucky hit on my part, but you done went an’ made th’ most of it. G’on, now, hold your head up, for fook’s sake. Show a bit of pride in a good job for once.” Behind the Coatl, the younger dragons eyed Arao warily, then broke out into cheers as they heard his praise.
“Merit.” Arao turned, winced as pain ground in his hip like broken glass, then realized that the Fae was still -on- him, perched atop his head with his pale lavender tail wrapped about his neck like a thin scarf. “Ehm. We got ‘im summat, didn’t we? Did we bring it?”
“huh.” Merit’s crests angled sideways in confusion, then stood straight up as he remembered what Arao was talking about. “oh yes. wait here friend. i’ll go get them.”
The Fae fluttered off, and was gone quite some time, long enough for Arao to begin fidgeting, and growling a little. Some of the clan’s other healers approached him, thinking that perhaps the effects of Merit’s healing magics were wearing off, but the Mirror gave such a fierce snarl at them that they backed away. “Ain’t you heard that sayin’ about too many cooks? Too many cooks…screw things up. Or summat. Anyways, I don’t want a bunch o’ your dif’rent magickal things all on me. Merit’s is good ‘nough. Oooooohh, where -is- that little…There you are!” Arao dug his claws into the sawgrass padding of his makeshift bed, and straightened himself as best as he could, arching his neck. “Battleleader Dairo, step forward. We of the Clan would like t’ give you summat.”
Before Dairo’s wondering eyes, Merit came into view – in a fashion. The tiny Fae was covered in an ornately engraved cuisse, more or less animating the thing to fly from within, while its matching mate hovered in the air behind it. “oh. yes friend. we saved up our treasure and our gems to get you something lovely. to show our esteem for you. here. take it.” The Fae, and some of the Clan’s other Fae dragons, girded Dairo’s legs in boots of gleaming filigreed plate the color of alabaster.
“every good warrior needs a sword. we hope that this will make you feel very fancy friend.” Next, a delicate rapier, its handle filigreed to match the armor, floated into view, guided by Merit’s magic. The wee Fae flitted about Dairo, his wings tickling the Coatl’s middle a bit, as he buckled the white sword belt and harness around Dairo’s waist.
“Oh! Oh m-my. F-f-for m-m-m-me?” Dairo was beside himself, barely able to warble out the words. “W-w-why you all sh-sh-shouldn’t have…”
“nonsense friend. you do so much for the clan. and work so hard. you think that we don’t see it. but we do. we hope you will carry these things with you always so that you will know how much we admire you.”
One last item was brought out. Virtue carried a brilliant blue leather satchel to Dairo. Inside were a variety of items – small trinkets, collected by the Coatl’s clan-mates, for they had paid attention to what caught his eye. Small clusters of apatite, brilliant blue shards of malachite, polished bits of Rasa pottery in bright white and blue, stellaria petals carefully dried and pressed between pieces of parchment. There was even a ring carved by Sigarni, made to fit the Coatl’s small, chubby finger; it was carved out of pale white ash, and inlaid with tiny plates of oyster shell to catch the light in an opalescent sheen.
“Oh! Oh! Oh!!” Such was all that Dairo could say, as he beheld each new token of esteem from the Clan which had adopted him. At last he simply hugged the satchel to his chest, and warbled a tune of perfect, bewildered joy.
“Three cheers for the Battleleader! Hip hip! HOORAY!!!!” The young recruits lifted Dairo and carried him about on their shoulders, cheering wildly.
Disclaimer: Merit, Sigarni, and Magnus are not my creations. They are based on characters created elsewhere, and all credit goes to their respective creators. I hope that they will regard their appearances here as fan-fiction and tribute to their characters, nothing more.