Wataru wondered if Jozo’s parents worried about him when he ventured far away. And here I am dragging him across Vision on my errands.
“We’re heading out over the open sea pretty soon. We’ll be in the Stinging Mist before long. Everybody, keep your heads low and stay between my wings. Don’t sit up, whatever you do. The mist will run you through like a thousand tiny swords.”
As he spoke, Jozo gave a powerful beat of his wings, and their speed increased.
The island looked like a dragon sleeping quietly in a corner of the mistshrouded sea. It was actually shaped like a dragon’s head and neck. It even had two horns. Its large eyes were closed. Two round nostrils—probably mountains—looked up toward the sky. It had a massive, protruding jaw, and sharp fangs where rugged fjords formed a small bay. This scene would’ve looked perfectly at home in a museum with a label like “Dragon Taking a Leisurely Bath,” if only it weren’t so cold, and the sea wasn’t the color of pale blue ice.
“Hardly needs introduction,” Kee Keema whispered, peering out from beneath Jozo’s wing. “But I’m guessing that’s the Isle of Dragon!”
“That’s right! Home!”
A thick mist veiled the sea from the air, but they could tell that around the island there was nothing but open water. No small outlying islands or even rocks were visible. In all things, the dragonkin stood alone.
“Whoa! Whoa! Stay down, you all!” Jozo called back frantically. “We’re still in the Stinging Mist!”
“You’re right,” Meena said, putting a hand to her face. “I felt a sting!” A small drop of blood formed below her right eye.
“Me too,” said Kutz, holding down her hair to keep it from blowing up in the wind. Two lines of blood trickled down her forehead.
Wataru shivered. Mitsuru passed through this. He must’ve used his magic to create a barrier to protect himself…
Seeing the mist firsthand, it now made sense that sailships had to plan their departures from the south carefully. Clear, too, was the value of the starseers’ ability to predict when the winds would blow just right so a ship might make the crossing while avoiding the mist. But what struck Wataru the most was the realization that powered ships—without sails or oars—could be easily piloted from inside a cockpit. The army that had those would rule Vision.
Jozo’s scales sure are tough.
“Don’t your eyes hurt, Jozo?”
“Not a bit. I’m just a little cold—but it will be warm when we reach the island.”
Jozo had told him that the dragon island was volcanic. Wataru craned his neck, looking for cones among the mountains on the island below. Just then, as though it had been planned, a puff of white steam from the two hills that were the dragon’s nose rose up into the air.
The closer they got, the more impressed they became with the sheer size of the island. It made sense, when you considered how large Jozo was, and that he was only a child. There would be a limit to how many adult dragons you could cram onto a smaller island.
The ground itself was barren, like a giant rock had been carved into the shape of the dragon’s head and left to steep in the water. Wataru couldn’t see a single blade of grass.
Jozo seemed to be heading for a spot between the dragon’s horns, where the various rocks and boulders had been cleared away to form a kind of landing strip.
Jozo descended in a slow spiral, making for the clearing. When the mist finally cleared around them, Wataru spotted two dragons sitting by the edge of the clearing, looking up at them. Compared to Jozo’s ruby-like coloring, these firewyrms were a more subdued, darker shade of red.
“My parents!” Jozo said. Then he called down to the dragons on the ground below them. “Father! Mother! I’ve brought Wataru!”
Wataru was half expecting to see a family scene with Jozo getting scolded for bringing people to the island. Jozo’s parents were at least twice his size—even their fangs were as thick as Wataru’s wrists.
Jozo touched down, and Wataru and the others hesitantly clambered down onto the rocky ground. Thankfully, Wataru’s fears were misplaced, for, while the gust of wind from Jozo’s parent’s nostrils was steamy, and their voices boomed, the words they greeted them with were as gentle as a spring day.
“Welcome home, Jozo. And welcome, Traveler. Has Jozo been an aid to you?”
It was first suggested that they warm their chilled bodies in the hot springs.
“You have hot springs?”
“The island is a volcano.”
Kee Keema, sluggish with the cold, and Meena were both ecstatic.
“I’ve never been in a hot spring!” Meena exclaimed. Kutz alone seemed impatient to get on with the mission. But it turned out that a wait was in order regardless.
“The wyrmking is resting, and it will take some time to arrange the Council of Fang and Wing. Go to the hot springs, and I believe we shall be ready when you are done,” Jozo’s mother told them.
“What is the Council of Fang and Wing?”
“This is what we call a meeting of all dragons,” Jozo’s father answered. “Our daily affairs are decided by the wyrmking and the seven pillars—one chief dragon from each clan—yet when important things are to be decided, all dragons on the isle come together to speak.”
The dragons on the island were all descendants of the great firewyrm, yet still, there were slight physical differences between them in the shape of their wings or the count of their fangs. They had been divided into seven types by these characteristics. Each of these types formed clans, and each of these clans had a chieftain, called the pillar. Thus, the seven pillars, Jozo’s father told them.
Apparently, the wyrmking—who was only slightly younger than Vision itself—spent the greater part of the day napping, and a bit of time was required to wake him. All things considered, even Kutz eventually agreed the hot springs was a good idea.
The interior of the dragon island was made up of a labyrinthine network of caverns. Several side passages led off of the twisting, splitting passageways, and here the dragons made their homes. It appeared they were roughly separated by clan, but the dragons were friendly, and many of the nests housed more than one family, making the network of caves crowded and lively.
While the exterior of the island was all rocks, the inside of the caverns was lush with greenery. There were even small forests here and there. Flowers grew from the walls, and there were fruit trees in small gardens created in nooks in the caves. Wataru had been told that the dragons subsisted mainly on fish caught from the sea, but he couldn’t detect any fishy smell in the caverns. On the contrary, the whole place smelled of fresh leaves, tinged by a hint of salty sea air.
The hot springs were open to the sky, being near the upper levels of the caverns. The hot water felt great in the cold air. Shrubs had grown up in the rugged rocks around the springs, and Wataru could see them swaying gently through the steam.