by Bryan Davis
“Take you? If I fly with you in my claws—”
“Not in your claws.” Marcelle ran to Magnar’s rear flank, leaped to the base of his tail, and climbed up toward his head, grabbing the protruding spines along the way to keep her balance. When she reached his neck, she sat down behind a spine and patted his scales. “I’m ready!” she called.
Magnar’s neck bent, swinging his head around. “Get off me immediately! I will not have a human riding on my back!”
“Stop arguing and get going! We have to hurry!”
A fierce growl burned in the air. “Beware, human. You are testing my limits. I can find a way to succeed without you.”
“No, you can’t. The fact that you came here proves it.” She nudged him with a heel. “Let’s go.”
“You are more annoying than a swarm of hornets.” His voice settled to a rumble. “Have you ever flown atop a dragon before?”
“Never. But I’ll bet you’re just a gentle, fire-breathing pony.”
Magnar’s growl returned, now a low simmer. “If you continue your insults, you will eventually regret your words.” He extended his wings and leaped into the air.
Marcelle gripped the spine and hung on. As he ascended, her backside pressed against his scales, and her entire body bent low. Extending a finger, she shouted. “The portal is that way!”
“I am aware of its location. My faithful brother made sure I was locked out.” He straightened and headed in that direction.
Below, the three scouts ran through the forest in Magnar’s shadow, glancing up every few seconds. When they arrived in the portal clearing, Magnar landed on the grass near the edge in a graceful slide. Marcelle dismounted, spun, and touched Magnar’s foreleg. “You’d better take to the sky again. We don’t want you to scare anyone on the other side of the portal. Come back in three minutes.”
“I advise you to pose future commands as requests. At least then you will not appear to be so arrogant.”
She offered a sly wink. “I will try to lower my arrogance level.”
As he took off again, she ran to the center of the clearing. While the three scouts waited at the forest edge, she pushed her head through the portal and looked around. Edison Masters knelt at the line of crystalline pegs with his hand wrapped around the central one. Orion stood to his right and farther back, shivering and pulling his cloak close to his body as he watched. Although snow covered the ground with a thick white blanket, a mixture of rain and snow fell from the sky.
Marcelle blinked at the icy precipitation. How strange! During her previous visit, it seemed far too cold for anything but snow. And why was Adrian’s father here? Where was Randall?
“Let’s go,” Edison said as he rose to his feet. “It won’t hurt to check once more.”
“For the twentieth time.” Orion again wrapped his cloak closer to his body and sauntered toward the portal. “At least it’s warmer over there.”
Marcelle pushed an arm through, but it was misty and semitransparent. When she pulled back, her vision fogged for a moment. A swirl of soil rose from the ground and filled in her arm. As her eyesight cleared, it seemed apparent that the soil refashioned her face as well.
Edison and Orion walked through the portal, nearly bumping into her as they passed.
“Welcome!” Marcelle said with a bow.
Edison extended his arms. “Wonderful to see you!”
After sharing a brief hug, Marcelle drew back. “Where’s Randall?”
“It’s a long story. You see—”
“Probably too long.” She gestured toward the scouts. “Listen, I don’t have much time. These three are going to the palace to lead our army here. I also have to go there to … well … do a bit more persuading, but I’ll be back.”
“How long until the soldiers arrive?” Edison asked.
“I have no way of knowing. Just stay ready to open the portal and assume it could be at any time.”
Orion took a step closer and bent his tall body toward her ear. “Does your persuading have anything to do with a certain Counselor from Tarkton?”
She raised an eyebrow. “You haven’t told anyone?”
“I cannot tell that which I do not know,” he replied in a monotone whisper. “Speculation is futile.”
She drew back and raised her voice. “I really don’t have time to explain what’s going on. We all have to hurry.”
“Very well.” Orion pulled his cloak’s hood over his head and looked at Edison. “I assume we should return with the news.”
“Definitely.” Edison clasped Marcelle’s shoulder. “By your appearance and your whispers with Orion, I get the impression that there is much you are hiding, but I trust you. I hope to see you again very soon.”
She grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand down into hers. “Have you seen Adrian lately?”
After flinching for a moment, he shook his head sadly. “I was going to ask you the same question, but since you’re in a hurry—”
“I am in a hurry. Just be watching for him. I think he’s heading north.”
“I will be sure to do so.” Edison turned and walked through the portal, disappearing as he passed the boundary.
Orion walked that way as well but paused. “Leo has a weakness.”
“I know. Dragon fire.”
“I am not aware of that one, but I have heard that his greatest weapon is his greatest fear. That riddle has puzzled me for quite some time, but if you can decipher it, perhaps it will help you.” Hugging himself tightly, he walked through the portal and vanished.
Seconds later, Magnar flew down and landed near the edge of the clearing. After sending the scouts away, Marcelle climbed on again, and the two lifted off. Soon, they were flying over the treetops, the palace’s dome in view. Instead of the hour or more it took to walk to the end of the pipeline, the return journey would take only minutes.
With a hefty breeze blowing her hair back, she hunkered lower. Maelstrom had better watch out. She and her fire-breathing pony were on their way.
* * *
NINETEEN
* * *
ADRIAN set the cart’s handles down. His arms ached. Sweat dampened his clothes. Ever since he took over the cart duty from Wallace, the drier ground seemed to get rougher and the wetter ground stickier. Pushing the wheel through all the obstacles was becoming too much to bear.
Behind him, Shellinda and Regina walked hand in hand, deep furrows in their brows as they shuffled along over roots and ridges. Wallace trailed them by several steps, the sword dragging at his feet, the empty scabbard beating his thigh, and his head hanging low. When they traded cart for sword a few hours earlier, he was tired, but now he seemed ready to collapse.
When they caught up, Adrian gathered them around. “Listen, I know I said we have to keep going, but I think it’s time we took a good, long rest.”
“But what about the …” Wallace nodded at the stream. “You know what.”
“The water?” Adrian winked. “Don’t worry. We won’t sleep close to the stream. The noise won’t wake us up.”
Wallace nodded, apparently figuring out the message. Since the wolves never strayed from the water’s edge, maybe sleeping out of smelling range would increase everyone’s safety.
“I’m all itchy,” Regina said as she scratched her arm. “But I didn’t feel any bugs biting me.”
Adrian took her hand and pushed her sleeve up to her elbow. A rash covered her skin. “Do you have poison ivy in this world? It’s a plant that causes a rash if you touch it.”
She shrugged. “We hardly had any plants at all in the camp.”
“I’ve never heard of it,” Wallace said. “I’m itchy, too. On my back and ankles.”
Shellinda raised her hand. “No itches for me. Maybe it’s just ’cause we’re so dirty.”
Adrian scanned each face, all looking up at him. Were they wondering about the disease Wallace talked about? Although the rash couldn’t be denied, there was no need speculating beyond Shellinda’s mo
re likely guess. They were all dirty, and Regina’s newly healed skin might be more sensitive to forest allergens. But what about Wallace? He seemed as healthy as a horse.
He pulled the flask strap from his shoulder. “Let’s all wash. We can fill our flasks and then get a nap.” He waded into the stream. The cool water felt wonderful as it passed across his aching feet. Since his own skin didn’t itch, there was no need to do more than splash his face and wash his hands.
As Shellinda and Regina joined him, smiles returned to their faces. “Oh!” Regina called. “It feels so good!”
Wallace waved from the cart. “I’ll stay with Marcelle until you get out. I can wash later.”
While the girls splashed around and scrubbed their exposed skin, Adrian waded to the far side of the stream and checked the bank for wolf prints. The grass grew thicker here, too thick to reveal any tracks even if a parade of wolves passed through. Yet, something unusual appeared, a wooden object lying in the midst of the tallest grass.
He trudged out of the water, up the bank, and into the hip-high blades. A raft lay nestled there, as if intentionally hidden. He grabbed a vine that held the saplings together and hauled the raft down to the shoreline. As he studied the construction, the girls stopped splashing.
“What is it?” Shellinda asked.
“A raft.”
“Too bad we can’t ride it north,” Wallace called from the opposite bank. “We could sleep while the water did all the work.”
Adrian touched a notch in the wood. This was the cut he had made with the hatchet when he was escaping the vog. This was his raft, the same one he had constructed during his southward journey, but after being captured by a dragon, he watched from above while it floated toward the waterfall. It had lodged on the bank just before going over the cliff, but it wasn’t there when they passed by that point earlier. Yet, here it was now. Why would anyone drag it this far upstream?
A growl rumbled from the high grass. Adrian scanned the area, sniffing the air, but with the wind blowing from behind, no scent reached his nose. Something lurked, probably close.
Waving a hand, he backed into the water. “Girls!” he hissed. “Get out of the water! Go to Wallace!”
As Adrian kept his stare on the grass, new splashes erupted behind him, then Wallace’s voice. “Want me to bring your sword?”
“Yes.” Still backing up, Adrian stretched out his arm and opened his hand. Within seconds, the sword’s hilt pressed against his palm. “Stay with Marcelle and the girls.”
Two eyes appeared, framed by a wolflike head with its ears pinned back. The wolf emerged slowly from the grass and stalked into the water, crouching low. As its lips curled, revealing rows of sharp teeth, a new growl emanated. As big as the smaller bears on Major Four, it was a formidable beast indeed.
Adrian backed up the sloping bank and out of the water. He swung his sword, hoping to frighten the wolf away, but it continued its slow prowl.
“He’s not scaring easy,” Wallace said.
“I know. That means he’s probably not alone.” Even as Adrian spoke the words, two more wolves appeared at the edge of the grass, then a fourth.
Adrian looked back. Gasping, Shellinda crouched behind the cart’s front wheel and pulled Regina down with her. Marcelle, still covered by the deerskin, lay in the cart, out of Adrian’s view.
Wallace stepped up to Adrian’s side, a hefty branch in his grip. “Just tell me what to do.”
“We protect the girls.” Adrian grasped Wallace’s shoulder. “Nothing else matters.”
“Should I wheel the cart into the woods?”
Adrian shook his head. “Wolf packs try to isolate the most vulnerable. Our only chance is to stay together.”
More wolves emerged from the grass, now ten in all. After crossing the stream, four circled around Adrian and the others, two to the left and two to the right, while six approached directly from the stream, all with their bodies low and their hackles raised.
“Guard the other side of the cart,” Adrian said, motioning with an arm. “Shout if you need help.”
“Don’t worry. I will.” Wallace scrambled around to the cart’s front wheel and stood within a step of the two shivering girls, his back to the cart. Gripping his branch with both hands, he called, “I’m ready.”
“Hold your ground. I’m going to strike first.” Adrian leaped toward the six and swung at the neck of the lead wolf. It ducked but not far enough to avoid the blade. Adrian cut into the wolf ’s skull and slammed its entire body to the ground.
The other wolves leaped at him as one. He whirled like a top, slashing the sword in every direction. Jaws clamped on his leg. Another set latched on to his left bicep. His blade sliced and hacked bones and flesh. Blood spewed across his face and chest. Pain tore across his body, every nerve screaming as his own flesh ripped in various gashes from his shoulders to his knees.
“Adrian!” Wallace shouted. “Help!”
Adrian crouched under the weight of two wolves, then heaved upward, his arms extended. The wolves flew away, the teeth of one ripping a sleeve. He leaped over a wolf carcass and stormed to the other side of the cart. Wallace hunched his body under two snapping wolves, two other wolves lying dead nearby with his branch on top, broken in half.
With a powerful jab, Adrian shoved the sword through both wolves at once and heaved them off Wallace. As he withdrew the blade, the two other wolves he had thrown off earlier leaped over the cart and attacked. He slashed at one, cutting into its ribs, but the second landed on Regina, latched its jaws around her upper arm, and dragged her toward the stream.
Thrashing wildly, she screamed, “Adrian!”
“No!” Adrian leaped for her but fell short. He looked back. A dead wolf ’s teeth were still snagged in his trousers cuff. With a wild swipe, he sliced the wolf ’s snout, dislodging the teeth. Just as he shot up to leap again, another wolf jumped into the cart and tipped it over, spilling Marcelle.
Adrian rammed the sword into the wolf ’s skull and pinned it to the ground. As he tried to dislodge the blade, the final living wolf continued dragging Regina away, now within a few steps of the water. Although she continued to thrash and wail, its jaws stayed tight around her arm.
Wallace lay unconscious on the other side of the cart. Shellinda vaulted from her crouch and dashed toward Regina. “I’ll help you!”
Adrian grabbed Shellinda and jerked her down. “No! Stay put!” Letting go of the sword, he climbed to his feet and lumbered toward the slowly fleeing wolf. Blood dripped in front of his eyes, and his knees threatened to buckle at every step. When he drew close, he lunged and grabbed the wolf ’s snout. Using all his remaining strength, he pulled the jaws apart, threw the wolf to the ground, and wrapped his fingers around its throat. Then, strangling it, he banged its head against the ground again and again until its eyes closed and its body fell limp.
He shifted to Regina. She lay still, her limbs splayed as blood spurted through a tear in her sleeve. He pressed a palm over the wound and felt for a fracture. The bone seemed to be intact. “Shellinda!” he shouted, looking back. “Is Wallace alive?”
Trembling violently, Shellinda crawled to Wallace and set her ear against his chest. “He’s alive!” she whimpered.
“Pour your flask over his face. If he’s able, help him up. We need to get on the raft. We’re heading south on the stream. I think the wolf severed an artery. Regina will bleed to death if we don’t find help soon.”
She untied the top of her flask. “Who will help us?”
“We have to go to the underground stream, and if the water there doesn’t work, we’ll beg the barrier wall dragons for something to stitch her cut.”
She began pouring water on Wallace’s face. “What about the healing trees?”
“They’re in the Northlands. I’d have to carry her, so it would take another day to get there. Our only hope is that water. We’ll get out at the falls and hike from there. It’s not far from that point.”
Wallace sa
t up, shaking his head. Droplets flew left and right as he struggled to his feet.
“Wallace!” Adrian yelled. “You and Shellinda get Marcelle to the raft. I’ll carry Regina.”
Reeling back and forth like a drunkard, Wallace staggered to Marcelle, knocking the sword loose from the wolf’s head. While he and Shellinda gathered her into the cart, Adrian scooped Regina into his arms and carried her to the river. With blood still dripping across his field of vision and down to her tunic, and pain still throttling his senses, the raft at the opposite side of the stream seemed veiled by a hazy, red-tinted curtain. The entire scene rocked from side to side as if teetering on a ledge.
When he reached the stream, he dragged his feet through the rushing, hip-deep current. Now the water felt like icy daggers knifing at his leg wounds, worse than the teeth that had ripped his flesh.
Trudging on, he made it to the other side and laid Regina on the raft. As he ripped away his torn sleeve to make a bandage, he looked back. While Shellinda carried Adrian’s sword, Wallace pushed the cart into the stream, but they stopped before reaching the middle of the bed. An aura of light washed across their faces, illuminating their wide-eyed stares.
From beyond the grass, a bright sphere floated their way, much like the one they saw the night before, but now its radiance stayed consistent, a miniature star that outshone Solarus. A female form within spread out her arms, displaying a blue cloak. Red hair streamed over her shoulders, and her green eyes sparkled. With her hands splayed, a missing finger on each was obvious.
“Cassabrie?” Adrian called. “Is that you?”
As the star hovered closer, she cried out, “Oh, Adrian! We need to get help right away!”
He pressed a patch of cloth over Regina’s wound and tied it in place. “Unless you have a needle and thread, we’re going to ride to the waterfall and walk to this healing spring I found, and if that doesn’t help, maybe the dragons at the barrier wall—”
“Those dragons won’t help you. There is only one dragon who will.”
