Chapter Two

True darkness rarely ever fell over the Ashfall Waste. Even at night from the ever-flowing magma pools reflected from the cloud-choked sky and cast the world in a fiendish yellow glow. It did not take long for Arco's sharp eyes to adjust to this eerie twilight as he stepped out of Koba's lair, forsaking Setta's forgiveness and following instead the insatiable need he had to discover who, and what, he truly was. Like the sleeping dragons in the cave behind him, the Waste rumbled softly as he trotted westward, back toward the Windswept Plateau.

This time, before he climbed up the wall, he rolled in the ash and soot that always covered the ground here in the Flamecaller's kingdom. It would coat his scales so that they would not reflect or catch the light, and would somewhat cloak the pervasive smell that seemed to accompany him wherever he went. When he climbed the steep cliffs this time, he did not look back.

Again, the breeze welcomed him when he reached the Plateau's edge. The grass rustled like the Inland Sea, and the sky here was a rich, inviting purple. Stars winked down at Arco, undisturbed by any Talonok patrols or protective dragon mothers. Bracing himself, the young dragon inhaled and then dove into the unknown.

He thanked all the ancestors he never knew for the endurance and speed that carried him far across the Plateau before the horizon began to brighten. But as soon as the sun peeked over the lip of the world, he felt exhaustion begin to creep up. Slowing to a walk, Arco raised his head over the tall grass to look for a cave, or a tree, or literally anything that might constitute a shelter. He had no idea how the denizens of the Plateau—of which he had seen none so far—survived without places to go to ground and hide. As the sun rose, he thought he could see the vague shape of a mountain in the distance. Where there were mountains, there were caves. He shifted his path, keeping a bleary eye on the sky in case the beastmen from the day before decided to reappear. But as the time and distance wore on, the mountains didn't seem to get any nearer, and Arco at last felt like he could run no more.

Tongue lolling and eyes refusing to remain open, he paused and laid himself down in the grass. Just for a minute! A brief respite, and then he would be on the move again, out to conquer the great wide somewhere. Arco the Adventurer, they would call him, passing his story down through the generations… And maybe along the way he'd figure out how to get rid of the stink…

"LOOK OUT!"

Arco had no idea what time it was when he was woken up by screaming. His eyes shot open and he leapt to his feet, looking around in terror for attacking Talonok. Or Setta. He wasn't sure which would be worse.

Something was careening out of the sky toward him, and by the time he realized it was another dragon, they smashed into him with a painful BAM! Dust and grass rose into the air as Arco and the ungainly flier tumbled head over heels for several meters before finally coming to a graceless stop. They lay stunned for a few moments before Arco tried to get up—but found himself pinned, his body wrapped several times by that of the spiral who had crashed into him. Untangling themselves turned out to be quite the ordeal, as the stranger kept twisting around and apologizing as loud as he could.

"WOAH! Sorry! That squall came outta nowhere! Nor'easters, I tell ya! What's that smell? Who're you? Get off my tail! Where'd my bag go? My bad, friend, the winds here can be a might unpredictable. Where ya headed? Need directions? Me too. My name's Werd. This is my first job, very important, kind of in a rush, so if you don't mind—"

Before Arco could object, the spiral pushed one clawed foot against his face and squeezed Arco free of his coiled length. They separated with a pop! sound not unlike that of a Reef Snail being pried out of its shell to be eaten. Rolling over to get a better look, Arco snapped, "Hey! Watch where you're going!"

Werd righted himself and shook his long, green striped body. Around his neck was a necklace with a gleaming silver pendant decorated by an unfamiliar rune. Like other spirals Arco had met, he was far too scatterbrained to focus on just one thing, and he began hopping around in the grass in a state of absolute distress. "My bag!" He cried. "Where's my bag!?" He began to twist himself into an uncomfortable knot. "It's very important! I need it!"

Arco's irritation gave way to sympathy. This hapless spiral hadn't crashed into him on purpose, after all. Avoiding Werd's erratic tantrum, he looked through the grass for this precious bag and found a dented scroll case laying not far from where they'd collided. Taking it up in his mouth, he returned to the stranger and asked, "Ith thith eh?"

As distraught as the spiral had been before, he was now absolutely elated. "Yes! Yes it is! Thank you!" He took it in his front claws and performed an impressive backflip as he began to hover in the air. "You're a real pal! What's your name? Where ya goin'? Where ya from?" He punctuated each question by shoving his face uncomfortably close to Arco's, who backed up cautiously and prepared for Werd to realize what everyone always did.

Then Werd's nostrils flared and his eyes finally focused on Arco's. Surprised, he shouted, "Plague dragon! Well, that explains the smell." But he didn't do anything else, just continued to hover and wait for a reply.

Arco, however, wasn't sure what to do with this indifferent reaction. "Um, yes," he finally mumbled. "That doesn't… that doesn't bother you?"

Werd grinned. "Friend, I shared my nest with fifteen brothers and sisters! Believe me, I've smelled it all."

That wasn't exactly reassuring. "My name's Arco. I'm not exactly sure where I'm going."

"No? Why not? You really shouldn't be wandering around out here if you don't know where you're going. It's dangerous! There's beast clans! And savage nor'easters! I just learned that. Be careful how you fly!"

Arco looked away, embarrassed. "I don't fly."

"You don't fly!" Werd was apparently so shocked that his whole body straightened out and went rigid. He fell to the ground with a thud. "What kind of self-respecting dragon doesn't fly?"

Arco felt his earlier annoyance return. "I don't know! That's why I'm here! I'm trying to find where my home is so maybe I can figure that out!"

"Your home?" Werd asked, his tone puzzled. "Well your home would be the Scarred Wasteland, wouldn't it?"

"The Scarred Wasteland?" Arco had never heard that name before, and he wasn't sure he liked it.

"That's where Plague dragons come from. The Plaguebringer's domain. Nasty place. Never been. Nobody has. But if you're looking for answers, that's probably where you'll find them."

Faith in his quest restored, Arco asked eagerly, "Where is it? How do I get there? Is it far?"

"Oh yes, absolutely, you'll never make it on foot. If the beastmen don't get you the Wandering Contagion surely will."

Arco deflated.

"But if you come with me to the Cloudsong I'm sure there's somebody there who can take you. There's sky ferries to all corners of the world up there. Windsinger's spines, I almost forgot!" Werd's wings began to buzz with how rapidly he flapped them. "I'm on an important mission! I have to go!" He caromed up into the air and began to zip northward.

Still earthbound, Arco chased after him. "Wait!" Bawled the younger dragon. "What's the Cloudsong? How do I get there!?"

Werd slowed and came to a stop. His ever-pumping wings stilled, and he fell a short distance back to the ground. When Arco reached him, he found the spiral curled up protectively around his scroll case… fast asleep.

If Arco hadn't ever met a spiral dragon before, this might have concerned him. But spirals were predictably unpredictable, and their frenetic fits of activity were always followed by blessedly peaceful naps. This was an issue for Arco, however, since Werd was the only one around who could tell him how to get to this Cloudsong place. And, as he had said, the Plateau was dangerous for dragons on the ground.

Arco lowered his head to give Werd a nudge. "Hey! Wake up! What happened to your mission?"

"Missin'? Who's missin'?" Werd replied groggily, not even opening his eyes.

"Nobody's missing! We're going to Cloudsong, remember?"

"Hmmm? Five more minutes, Ma." Werd's coils tightened and he buried his head under a wing.

Growling with frustration, Arco put his teeth on the scroll case and tried to wiggle it free. "C'mon!" He urged. "Leth go!"

Werd held it fast, surprisingly strong for someone so decidedly unconscious. With a final snort of outrage, Arco stepped back and considered his options. Then, cautiously, he shoved his head beneath Werd's thankfully light frame. The spiral didn't stir as Arco wiggled himself under and then lifted him onto his back, spreading his wings a little to keep Werd balanced. They'd just have to travel like this until he woke up. It wouldn't be so bad.

Checking the position of the sun in the sky, Arco reoriented himself and faced north, the direction Werd had been flying before he'd passed out. He could see that same mountain, wide and hulking on the horizon. In the opposite direction, a great expanse of clouds had begun to gather and the wind could not decide which direction it wanted to blow. All around him, the grass swayed erratically. Instead of thinking it ominous, Arco decided to believe this turn in the weather was a boon—it meant Talonok and the other beast clans wouldn't be out patrolling. Craning his neck around to make sure his new friend Werd was safely on board, Arco began to sprint. He only had thoughts for the Scarred Wasteland, or, as he supposed he should call it, home.

The storm stayed in the south though the wind grew no less restless on the Plateau. As Arco neared the great landmass in the distance, he saw it was not a mountain at all, but an array of tall steppes. Above it clouds gathered as if shielding it from something above—or hiding something else from prying eyes below. Dragons glided over his head in every direction, bolstering his confidence that they were going the right way.

As abruptly as he fell asleep, Werd rocketed awake, arching off of Arco's back to cartwheel into the grass in front of him. "Where are we? What's happened? What's going on?!" The spiral demanded, clutching the scroll case for dear life.

Arco stretched his wings and shook his whole body, glad to be able to move freely for the first time in hours. "We're going to Cloudsong, remember? Your mission. And here we are!"

He put his chin up proudly and nodded at the steppes. He could see, as the land rose high above them, the small groups of dragons as they moved between their lairs or glided out over the Plateau to hunt for their supper. His own stomach rumbled as Werd tapped his chin with a claw and said, "OHHHHHH." Then he snickered. "Silly Arco! This isn't Cloudsong." He pointed. "That's Cloudsong."

Worried for a minute that he'd gone the absolutely wrong direction, Arco followed Werd's line of sight to the clouds. As if on cue, they parted, revealing a swarm of shapes and colors. Bound to the ground by impossibly long lengths of rope were hundreds upon hundreds of wooden platforms, held aloft by kites and balloons in sheer defiance of all the laws of nature. The sight boggled Arco, who gaped at Cloudsong, then Werd and back again.

"Is that for real?"

"As real as you or me," Werd answered brightly.

"How do we get up there?"

"We fly." Werd hesitated. "Well, I fly. You, uh, well you're gonna have to hitch a ride."

"A ride? With who?"

Bobbing his head, Werd slung his precious scroll case under one arm and beckoned for Arco to follow. The pair climbed up the rise in the land until they reached a space crowded with dragons—and beastclan. Arco saw a handful of longnecks milling about, as well as a pair of serthis and a solitary centaur. He froze.

Werd noticed. "What is it? Them? Relax, Archie. Dragons aren't the only folks tryin' to make a living around here, y'know. Merchants of all kinds come to Cloudsong. Tourists, too. Those Longnecks aren't half bad, they can read the winds almost as good as we can. It's their sharp sniffers. I'd stay clear of the serthis, though. And definitely don't ever sit down to drinks with one. I wonder what that centaur's up to? You don't see many of those around here, they're not so great with heights."

As the spiral chattered, he wove through the crowd with expert ease. Arco struggled to follow, since it was difficult to push between the other dragons without feeling like he was being rude. Most of the other dragons were too old or too young to make the flight up to Cloudsong themselves, or were too laden down with parcels to even hope to make the journey. They were gathered around an outpost that had been built beside one of the huge ropes that anchored the city in the clouds. Arco could see a wooden gondola hanging from it, close to the ground, with a great expanse of cloth spread out before it. Perched on its roof were a pair of spiral dragons, napping. It was a curious device, one that he didn't get much time to study as the crowd suddenly surged forward. Towering over the gathered dragons and beastclan was a silver Guardian wearing a bright green tunic. "Tickets," she commanded. "Tickets, please. No pushing. Ma'am, I'm speaking to you."

Despite the order not to push, Werd squeezed his way to the front. "'Scuse me," he chirped. "My assistant and I are here on official Arcanist business!" He raised himself on his haunches so that his silver pendant was on eye level with the stern ticket-taker. "We need to get up to the city as quickly as possible!"

The guardian didn't seem particularly impressed, but rolled her head on her neck in a dismissive gesture. "Of course. The ambassadors of the Arcanist are always welcome to the Windsinger's city."

Werd zipped past her toward the gondola. Careful to keep his head down, Arco followed. The wooden floor creaked as still more dragons and then the centaur climbed aboard after them. When the gondola was full to bursting, the ticket taker swung the wooden gate of it shut. She peeked her head over the roof and squinted at the dozing spirals before roaring loudly in their faces, "READY TO GO?"

With identical terrified shrieks, the spirals snapped awake. "READY, CAPTAIN!" They snatched up two ropes that were tied to the great cloth in front of them. To Arco's untrained eyes, it resembled an enormous parachute.

The great guardian began to count down, "Three…"

The young plague dragon watched Werd loop around one of the gondola's supporting beam tightly. "You'd better hang onto something, Archie." The spiral warned.

"Two…"

"It's Arco," the other corrected.

"One!" The guardian roared. "Lift off!"