Flight 5: Flaxen Brown Livya
Written by: Efellai
Sirannon shook her head and looked imploringly at her bond. “Livya, it’s too soon, I’m too young…”
There was a long horrible scraping sound, which Sirannon deduced was the flaxen-brown
dragoness’s teeth grinding. <<It is not about you,>> she said
tightly, her eyes glittering. <<I have waited too long. I will be lucky
if I am not sick because of it. I have to fly now, Sirannon. I need to fly now.>>
Then, reluctantly, Livya bent down to whuffle her rider’s gold-shot white
hair. <<Do not worry. They will not hurt you.>>
What skin could be seen on Sirannon’s face flushed red. “I’m
not worried about that,” she mumbled. As tall and strong as she was, all
long sinewy muscle on bone, the half-Anuarhi had very little concern for any
human of normal abilities causing her harm without a weapon of some sort.
<<Then what is your worry?>> Livya snapped. She was pacing, stretching
out each limb like a runner about to set off.
“I wanted—“ Sirannon whispered, hugging her arms close to
her body, but there was suddenly a chorus of bellows and rumbles from the nearby
dragons, and what she said was lost.
<<It is too late. I am sorry, Sirannon.>>
There was no thunder of wings from Livya. Her long legs did her just fine as
she leaped the fence where the nearest animals were kept and casually tore out
a jugular vein. “Blood,” her rider murmured, and felt the fine hair
on her skin rise. The splashes of scarlet made her thirst too…
There was a brief, milling confusion while those who would chase caught on to
what the flaxen brown dragoness was doing, but they figured it out soon enough.
Szepth, a very small violet-blue, was quickest on his feet, but Livya flashed
him a scornful glance. <<Go ahead and eat, berry-dragon. It will give
you more substance.>> She was much larger than he, and had nothing but
scorn for him. <<I could crush him accidentally,>> she remarked
acerbically to her rider, who stood, shaking, watching her.
Bolton’s Clash was there next, brash and blundering, snapping more than
necks as he went. Livya looked at the two earrings in his ears with puzzlement.
But why?
Ariake, whose attentions had turned to her after Whiseralith so mysteriously
vanished, was swift to blood, moving more lightly on the wing than Livya would
have thought possible for such a dragon. He was so bright. If orange could be
a primary color, she was sure that the color on Ariake’s hide would be
it.
Jith seemed dull after him, but he was attractive to Livya, who could appreciate
the subtle beauty of his coloring and the equal attraction of his personality.
Lorevyceth, now, he was lovely, dark and sparkling. He had the polish that Clash
lacked, the elegance of civilization and the wildness of his bondlessness. She
knew he had won flights before, had children before. He moved with purpose,
with ease, as if he did this every day. She envied him his poise.
And then there was the last. Hurtmeth. He was a greenish glittery yellow, a
color that smote the flaxen-brown’s eyes. All that Livya really knew about
him was that he was very strange. He seemed to gather about half as much harm
to himself as he did to the beasts.
Long and lithe and swift, Livya leaped onto the back of the wind, and beat her
wings furiously, the hot blood running down her throat. Behind her, the mismatched
assortment of chasers followed, bleached by the rising moon into phantoms, dark
and light.
There were only four riders. Sirannon eyed them uneasily as she pressed back
against a wall, feeling Livya’s blood lust spark her own. She stared at
the youngest of them, Mallory, a human girl only fourteen years old. “You
are too young,” she said in something between a croak and a growl. “Get
out!” And Mallory, staring at the bristling fur of the tall humanoid and
the very sharp teeth in her mouth, ran out of the room without another word.
The others were men. Handsome men. Two were human, one pale, the other golden.
They were the same height, and shorter than she, but at least they were older.
Aristar was eyeing her warily; Akutama was too lost in his dragon’s sensations
to think much at all.
But Kei…Kei she felt an odd attraction to. /He has wings. Wings! Two pair!/
He was similar enough to an anuaerr to make her look again, but he was fur and
feathers and scales all at once. /Mixed up, like me…/ Perhaps he was normal
where he came from. But she loved the silver-blue of him. She even liked the
moonstone in his chest, as peculiar as it was. Sirannon sensed a magic about
him, a magic different from hers, and it drew her.
Livya, above, was not drawn. She was flying, wings whirring, falcon-fast as
she avoided her chasers. Smaller Clash and Szepth were near the front of the
pack, with the other four close behind. Lorevyceth made a lazy bid for the front,
his mass forcing Clash over and tangling the all-black dragon with the violet-blue.
They hissed and bugled at each other as they fell, but could not disentangle
themselves. One of Szepth’s small toes seemed to be caught in Clash’s
earrings…
Ariake slashed angrily at Hurtmeth as the glittery dragon barreled onto his
flight path. <<Clumsy!>>
Claw marks bled down Hurtmeth’s side, but all the yellow dragon did was
say absently, <<I like you too, Ariake. Don’t distract me.>>
The sunrise orange was so off-put as the other dragon didn’t so much as
flinch that it put him off his wingbeat. He lost precious time as he struggled
to regain his former place.
<<You wouldn’t hurt me, would you?>> a strong voice said in
Livya’s head, and before she knew it, Jith had embraced her. She let herself
fall for a moment, swearing and glorying in that long dizzy dive—but then
she pulled away and went skimming off over the treetops.
<<Watch out for the branches, dear,>> she said lightly, and then
she dove into a thicket at the edge of the woods. She was not done yet.
<<Livya!>> Lorevyceth bugled, his wings flared as he stopped himself
in mid-air. <<What are you doing, Livya!>>
<<Follow me, follow me!>> she sang back to the three on her tail.
Lorevyceth refused outright, hissing at the whipping branches and thorny undergrowth.
Ariake tried, but his low bulk and short legs were not in his favor.
But Hurtmeth did not mind the thorns or the running or much of anything. He
had thought that he was out of the race, and here she was continuing it…
Livya heard the jingling following close behind, and smiled. Whirling on her
haunches, she leaped to pounce…
“Livya!” Sirannon cried out, her body arching again as her dragon
tumbled on the earth. There was no one there to go to. Watching her bristle
larger and larger, the two human men had left… But… there was Kei.
Frantically, joyously, she threw herself at him.
For a little while at least, Sirannon had what she wanted.
***