Chapter Fifteen

Sundancer Armani

Sundancer had been pacing back and forth for what felt like hours. In less than half an hour the leaders of all the tribes would be in the meeting room, waiting to hear what had happened. “You’re gonna run yourself out of the palace, Silky,” Sundancer’s girlfriend, Oren said with a flick of her wings, hooking her tail around Sundancer’s so that the queen had to stop her pacing and stand still for a moment. Sundancer turned and rested her snout on the edge of Oren’s wing.

“I just might do that. Have you seen the dragons coming to this meeting? I’m going to be the youngest dragon there, AND have you seen–

“Yep, I’ve seen how cute I look right now, especially compared to you, who is a royal mess and a pain in the tail whenever you start panicking. You’re fine. You are great and good and beautiful – not as beautiful as me, of course. But also I love you, so shut up,” Oren interrupted, bouncing the wing that Sundancer was slumping against. 

Sundancer twined her tail with Oren’s. “Watch it, or I’ll have you executed!” she said with a smile, tracing Oren’s ‘birthmark’– a few rows of scales that gleamed mossy green against her pear-colored scales.

The dozens of tribe leaders chose that particular moment to march into the meeting room, wings wide and bristling. Chief Eabar charged into the room first, earthy brown wings rustling in outrage.

Sundancer swallowed. She might have been the supreme ruler of dragons, but that didn’t mean that she was comfortable with it. Yes, she liked dragons and could put up with wizards, but that didn’t mean that in times like these Sundancer made the correct decisions.

“It is a pleasure to see you again, Chief Eabar, though I wish it was under different circumstances,” Sundancer said curtly, dipping her head. Eabar looked disgusted.

“You have called us here for what? Tell me this isn’t another ‘ooh, the lyobokens have risen again! I’ve summoned the entire council to help me because my pest control is now mind-controlled!’ case, Sundancer.”

A serpent-like dragon with four legs and bat wings called Beinthir spoke up in a very strong accent and rather bad Naglish (which was the common language on Mount Naga). “Chief Sundancher – dancer, I apologize, vye have you called us to your seat of power? Our tribes must be run as vell, you should know. Ve must be returning home soon if you cannot tell us vye you are needing us. Ve shall be leaving if this is not relevant,” he snapped, a green barb sliding in and out of his tail. Sundancer swallowed. Chief Beinthir was from the southeastern continent, and the dragons there were rumored to have painful poison in their tail barbs, teeth, and spines.

Oren wrapped her tail around Sundancer’s and muttered, “Just tell ‘em, they’re going to figure it out eventually, or else they’ll just leave and declare a minor war because you couldn’t call pest control again.”

Sundancer laughed softly. Oren always made her feel better. She squared her shoulders. “I’ve called you here because I have reason to believe Shadowwalker has kidnapped my daughter, Eridanus Réalta-”

“The EclipseWing,” Eabar interrupted derisively.

Sundancer’s eyes shone with venomous green light. “If you would like to keep your head on your shoulders, then I think you should help organize search parties to look for the future heir of this throne and establishment,” she spat. “This is a civilized meeting reserved for leaders of the thirteen clans, and if you will not act like a blood-born leader then I will ask you to leave the room, and preferably the kingdom.”

Sundancer heard Oren whistle. “You sound like your mother,” she said. Even though Sundancer knew Oren was just trying to cheer her up, the comment brought back painful memories of the sad, confusing week when her best friends and mother had disappeared.

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(20,000 years ago)

Sundancer watched her mother look around the room at all of the faces around her. She knew that her mother loved her friends Khoeli and Esmeray just as much as she loved her dragonets. With none of them even a full 1,000 years apart, they were constantly around each other. Esmeray was the oldest at 20,341 years old, followed by her mate Khoeli at 20,301. Shadowwalker and Sundancer were both 20,089 years old, although sometimes they acted far younger than that.

Everyone in the room knew what Shadowwalker had done was an act of war. The only way to prevent this would be to either scrape and bow to the wizards, leaving behind all dignity and trust in other kingdoms, or try and get other nations to help them get rid of all wizard races and connections to help improve mortal kingdoms.

The last option was the one nobody wanted to think about – disowning Shadowwalker, leaving him in the Scorched Plains to survive… and letting the wizards kill him.

After a long moment, Sundancer spoke up. “Well… if we are going to have an emergency meeting we had better be going before my- Shadowwalker comes back and realizes that Eli and Es are already here.”

She winced. She’d almost called Shadowwalker my brother, and although he was her brother, no claws crossed, it hurt to think of him like that.

“Right,” Esmeray said quickly, crossing to the door and pulling it open. One by one, Queen Ketu, Khoeli, a few advisors, and the Queen’s royal Guard exited the room. Sundancer started to follow. 

And stopped. Esmeray’s talons were shaking, claws clicking quietly against the pearl-inlaid door. Sundancer turned.

“Hey, calm down,” Sundancer told her friend, grabbing her talon and squeezing it.

“I know that, but I don’t want my hatchlings to have to grow up in a world that’s one big war.” Esmeray fretted. “And now one of my best friends, my children's godfather, has turned out to be the villain and mastermind behind an evil Kill-The-Wizard scheme. I don’t know what to do! The world now thinks that Shadowwalker is nothing but a mass murderer with a little bit of spoiled psycho thrown in!”

“Hey, hey, hey. Don’t go and open that can of lyobokens.” Sundancer interrupted as they caught up with the group.

“Seriously though,” Khoeli broke in, turning around and walking backward. “What is up with your obsession with lyobokens?”

Sundancer and Esmeray laughed.

 “When we do something to annoy you, you always come back at us by using lyobokens! What is up with that!” Khoeli continued.

Sundancer wished this walk through the castle would never end. Honestly, she thought her mother was taking the wrong turns on purpose, just to allow the three friends to keep talking.

They began chatting about their favorite memories of each other. Kitchen raids, enraged butlers, and terrified frogs replayed in their heads.

“Remember when you almost killed my cat when you had it in your head that you could make an emotion meter?” Esmeray laughed. Sundancer looked offended. 

“Well, it worked! When the smoke cleared, the needle was pointing at ‘scared’!”

“That was funny,” Sundancer’s mother recalled, almost wistfully. “If it was so hilarious, then why did you ground me for three months!” Sundancer challenged. “You locked me in my room with nothing to do!”

“Did you not sneak out every Evenday to go to parties?” Ketu countered. 

“That’s not the point!” Sundancer cried, exasperated and gleeful.

All her mother did to this was raise an eyebrow. Sundancer never knew how she did it. All she knew was that it was extremely annoying. 

“Now into the room,” Ketu said. “Also, calm down before you set something on fire, Sundancer. I prefer that my carpets stay unburnt, as they cost quite a fortune.”

Sundancer frowned. “This isn’t the meeting room,” she murmured.

“No, it’s the priest-hole. It’s a secret room, its foundations are unstable, and we shouldn’t be using it. Go inside right now.” 

“Why are we using it, then?” Khoeli butted in. Queen Ketu didn’t respond. An awkward silence hung over the room before another, unfamiliar voice broke it.

“Because, young one, this castle is infested with traitors.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Cheerful,” Sundancer commented without registering who had spoken. Esmeray gasped, an itty-bitty gasp that could have been a laugh, a hiccup, or a cough.

But when Sundancer turned to look at the speaker, she had to choke back a laugh-gasp. 

The speaker, first of all, was unlike any dragon Sundancer had ever seen before. It was a smallish, female dragon, first of all, which was odd because most of the dragons on the high council were large, being ancient. This dragon was no larger than Sundancer herself, although her wings were colossal. Another odd bit was her coloring.

No dragon, ever, no matter how clean and sparkly, had scales that could ever be described as similar in hue to this dragon’s. They were white, pure ice and moonlight poured over her body. In the center of each scale was a speck of starlight, glittering and gleaming. Her claws were thin and sharp, as were her teeth.

But the strangest feature was probably her spines. All along her back were crystals of starlight, sending tiny glimmers of light everywhere. And they weren’t attached to her back.

They were hovering. Each one bobbed individually, staying in the same spot even when the dragoness turned her head and switched her tail. Her horns were made of the same material, but at least they were attached to her head. Her tail ended with a graceful curve of long white feathers, each one tipped with a globe of beautiful bluish-white starlight.

“Hello,” the dragoness said. “You may call me Seren Iâ. I am here because your mother has called an emergency summons of the Souls of the Mount, and I think it would do you much good to listen.”

Sundancer gaped.

(A few days later)

“Es! Es, where are you?” Sundancer called playfully, peeking into the music room. No Esmeray, but Khoeli was playing a harp in the corner, slow and sad. “Have you seen Es?” she asked, hoping he would know. Khoeli looked up and shook his head.

“Maybe try the hatchery? She’s been hanging around there a lot,” he suggested, plucking a mournful note.

Sundancer frowned. “Okay,” she agreed, turning to leave. As she exited the room, Khoeli’s song sped up, turning into a sunrise of high, sharp notes. 

Esmeray was, indeed, in the hatchery. She was curled around her clutch of eggs, staring mournfully at them as if they would explode the second she glanced away.

“Hey, Es,” Sundancer called. Esmeray looked up. The eggs did not explode. Sundancer took that as a good sign.

“Hi,” Esmeray responded. Her eyes were sad and red like she hadn’t slept.

Sundancer sat down. “What’s up?” she asked, stroking one of the eggs with her tail tip. Esmeray opened her mouth, as if she was about to reply, but closed it again.

“I’m…” she started. Sundancer’s shoulders drooped. Esmeray’s least favorite word.

“Scared?” she supplied. Esmeray nodded minutely. “I know I said all this earlier, but… what’s going to happen? To us, or my dragonets? To you, even? I hate this feeling of not knowing anything!”

Sundancer wrapped one wing around her friend. “Es, I know it’s not much, but I swear I’ll always take care of your dragonets, no matter how dangerous it would be.”

Esmeray sniffled. “Thank you, Sundancer.”

That same night, Queen Ketu had disappeared and three of Esmeray’s four eggs were stolen. Esmeray had charged into the nursery, Khoeli behind her, and the egg-nappers had – well. No one knew whether the dragons had killed them or captured them, and maybe no one ever would. 

Sundancer had saved one egg. The smallest one. She had promised she would raise her like she would her daughter. 

And when it hatched into Eridanus Réalta, she did.

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(20,000 years later, Present day)

“Hey, Silky? Are you still there?” Oren asked, poking her. Sundancer jumped. Twin strands of bright gold fire silk spiraled out of her wrists in surprise.

“Yeah, thanks,” Sundancer muttered, regaining her train of thought. She exhaled and turned to the assembled chiefs. 

She placed a talon on the table. Memories cartwheeled through her head at the cold touch.

“As I was trying to say before you so rudely denoted my daughter to be an uncontrollable monster, Eabar, I think that the situation here is extreme enough to summon the Soul of the Mount for the third time in 50,000 years.”

“What?” Eabar asked, looking befuddled. Oh yeah. This is probably Eabar’s first visit to Mount Naga.

Sundancer chose her words carefully. “The Soul of the Mount is a group of four-star dragons, each older than Mount Naga itself. They are the true war advisors here and although my advisors and regents are kind and wonderful, they will never truly know the meaning of dragonspirit like the Souldragons do.”

Eabar looked stunned, as did most of the other dragons in the room.

Sundancer opened her jaws and repeated the words her mother had recited, twenty thousand years ago.

“Ho spirito de la Luma Stelo, gvidu mian peton, konsili min, helpu min, montru al mi tion, kion mi bezonas vidi, bonvolu.” she chanted. Oren stared in wonder as the words flowed out of her mouth in ribbons of a language long lost to time in silver, forming a four-pointed starlike shape.

A four-pointed star spun in the air, slowly, before growing and mutating into a white-scaled dragon.

“Hello, Seren Iâ,” Sundancer said with a smile. Seren Iâ ducked her head. “Your Majesty,” she said. “Why have you summoned me?”

“Shadowwalker has… made a bold move,” Sundancer said, almost sadly. “He has kidnapped three dragonets, my adoptive daughter and her friend, and her tarnaitė. She was at a ClestalWings house with her friend.. His mercenaries killed the dragon guarding Eridanus and attempted to murder a SkyWing juvenile from a wealthy family, who was accompanying the princess at the time.”

Seren Iâ frowned. “That little whelp did all that?” she asked. “Forgive me, I’ve been under a mountain for a few thousand years. I’m not exactly, ah, up to date on the common news.”

She closed her eyes for a moment. Her tail shuddered, and she shook out her wings in the manner of one who just suffered the indignity of a bunch of ice cubes dumped in her lap.

“Ah. I see,” Seren Iâ murmured. She raised one talon in the air and traced a circle. A glowing disc of light shimmered and hovered in her wake. She made the universal movement for ‘explosion’, and the disc expanded.

“A magic mirror,” Sundancer muttered. “Show us Shadowwalker Armani at this moment,” she asked. Seren Iâ nodded.

An image of Shadowwalker slid into her vision. He was sitting on a carved throne of black marble, talking intently, like he was giving somebody instructions, yet there was no one in the room but him. 

“Alright,” Sundancer said more to herself than to anybody else. “Who is Shadowwalker Armani trying to control at this moment?” 

As she spoke, the mirror began to clear. Half a second seemed like an eternity to Sundancer but finally, the screen was open and cloudless; but what Sundaner saw made her heart leap into her throat.

Eridanus was flapping clumsily across the screen. Her eyes were unfocused and blurry, and every few seconds her wings would stall, missing a beat. Lighting bloomed in the background, but she didn’t turn to look.

Sundancer rubbed at her eyes and turned to the leaders. “You’ve all seen it. This is a direct act of aggression by Shadowwalker. Please, choose to help me and bring your armies into my kingdom to end him and his – uh, antics. If you do not, please leave. I have nothing else to say.”

Seren Iâ nodded approvingly and smiled at Sundancer. Her magic mirror crashed to the floor, scattering shards that quickly evaporated, and Seren Iâ glittered away slowly.

The castle seemed to settle as if it were sighing. Whether in relief or worry, Sundancer couldn’t tell.