by Brandon Mull
“Happy birthday,” Tanu said. “You arrived just in time.”
“She was a tiny dragon,” Cyllia said. “Just difficult to reach.”
Kendra reconsidered Cyllia as a newborn. It made her realize there was so much she didn’t know about magical creatures. How many of them had no childhoods? She glanced at the fairy dragon. “Thanks for saving me, Raxtus,” she said. “Again.”
“We’re all trying to save one another,” the sparkly dragon said humbly.
“Did you see illusions?” Kendra asked.
“Cockatrices were attacking a nest of dragon eggs,” Raxtus said. “It was hard to resist lending aid, but I decided it had to be a trick.”
“I was at a grocery store,” Warren said. “First a cashier transformed into a werehyena. Then a minotaur confronted me in the produce section. Turned out it was Kendra.”
“I was the hyena,” Tanu said, patting his bandage. “I witnessed foul creatures rising from the sea. One of them bit my thigh, but the fang pierced me just like a sword. I watched them slaughter innocents, while resisting the impulse to intervene.”
“Mind magic doesn’t usually work on me,” Kendra said.
“This magic was attacking our senses,” Tanu said. “The impulses came from outside our minds. Very potent and believable.”
“Pioleen wanted us to kill one another,” Kendra said.
“Good restraint, everyone but me,” Warren said. “And way to finish the job, Cyllia.”
The hamadryad gave a small bow.
“One more guardian,” Warren said. “Let’s hope this last monster is asleep.”
Seth awoke looking up at a dome of rocks. The warm air was rich with the most pleasant woodsmoke he had ever smelled. Beyond the confines of his stony sanctuary, thunder boomed.
Seth sat up abruptly.
He had been struck by lightning!
Merek knelt nearby, his clothes and armor soiled. “Welcome back, Seth. You have friends in strange places.”
An older man sat on the far side of the modest fire, wrapped in a dark brown cloak. He was handsome, with silver hair and a steady gaze. Seth had never seen him before.
“Did you build a dome around us?” Seth asked.
“The credit for your shelter goes to the Wandering Stones,” the older man said. “I may have put in a good word.”
Seth reached out with his power to see if he could communicate with the rocks around him, but he could detect no identities. “Thank you. Not to be rude, but won’t this fire choke us soon?”
The man gave a nod. “Ordinarily, yes, without a vent, but the stones are allowing the smoke to filter out. And I have some skill with woodcraft.”
Seth turned to Merek. “Did the lightning knock you out, too?”
“I woke up only a few minutes ago,” Merek said.
“Calvin?” Seth asked. “Serena?”
“I’m here,” Calvin said from his pocket. “Serena too. We were both out cold.”
Seth looked at the stranger. “How did you find us? Were you out for a walk? Enjoying the fine weather?”
“He isn’t a dragon,” Merek said. “I can tell.”
Seth relaxed a little. Merek had anticipated his suspicion. “It’s still unusual,” Seth said.
“He is no ordinary man,” Merek said.
“I admit I was seeking you, Seth Sorenson,” the man said, pouring herbal tea from a kettle beside the fire into a cup. “Don’t let that alarm you. There is enough peril ahead without me adding to your worries.” He handed the cup to Seth. “You once did me a favor. It may have seemed small to you, but it was significant to me, and I have come to help you.”
“I lost my memories,” Seth said, grateful for the warmth of the cup between his hands.
“I understand,” the man said. “Your friend the Dragon Slayer told me you have a long way to go tonight.”
“It’s basically impossible,” Seth said. “Especially since you aren’t a dragon.”
The man poked the fire with a stick. “There are other powers besides dragons in the world. You are aware the Fairy Realm has fallen.”
“I heard,” Seth said, taking a careful sip from the cup. The tea was hot, but cool enough for sipping. It warmed and invigorated him.
“I managed to sneak a relic or two out during the commotion,” the man said.
“You’re from the Fairy Realm?” Seth asked.
“Once I was,” the man said. “It has been a great while since I truly belonged there. But I came from there recently. Have you heard of the astrids?”
“Flying men,” Seth said. “Sometimes they look like owls with human faces.”
“Wings are a specialty among the fairy folk,” the man said. “I suspect wings might help you and the Dragon Slayer tonight.”
“Maybe,” Seth said. “It might be too stormy.” Every sip of the flavorful tea helped Seth feel more alert.
“Much too stormy for most wings,” the man agreed. “But the wings of an astrid are extraordinary. They perform very well under duress and always respond to courage.”
“Are you an astrid?” Seth asked.
“I am not,” the man said. “Nor can I offer astrids to help you. But I can give you and your friend wings like an astrid, if you wish.”
“You can make us into astrids?” Seth asked.
“No, you’re a mortal,” the man said. “And the Dragon Slayer is mortal as well, though he possesses a lifespan that tests the limits. I can give you both temporary wings, of the same sort used by astrids.”
“Wings that could fly through the Perennial Storm?” Merek asked.
“Any storm,” the man said. “Including this one. Maintain your courage, and even thunderbirds will appear clumsy beside you.”
“Sounds like a wild ride,” Calvin said.
“Sadly, I don’t have tiny wings for the nipsies,” the man said.
“We’re used to being passengers,” Serena said.
“Wings like you’re describing could save us,” Seth said.
The man nodded. “These sets of wings are the most useful gift I could manage under these circumstances. They are resistant to lightning and freezing temperatures. If you can keep your courage against dragons, these wings will largely protect you from the magic behind their breath weapons.”
“That could be valuable if dragons show up,” Merek said.
“Dragons are quietly gathering here,” the man said. “Have you not felt it, Dragon Slayer? Titan Valley will soon be resisting the largest offensive dragons have launched since the sanctuaries were established.”
“I saw Celebrant, the Dragon King,” Seth said. “In his human form.”
“He has come to lead the assault,” the man said. “The giants have set themselves up for a disaster with the way this sanctuary has been run. I’m not sure Celebrant could have garnered the support he needed for this war without the ability to cite the conditions here.”
“With respect, how do you know so much?” Merek asked. “Who are you?”
“Perhaps I am wrong,” the man said. “You be the judge. I have filled many roles in my days. For now, you may call me the Traveler.”
“Thanks for your help, Traveler,” Seth said. “That lightning could have killed me.”
“Had you been left exposed to the storm, it might have,” the Traveler said.
“This tea really helped,” Seth said.
“It’s a specialty of mine,” the Traveler said. “I should not consume more time. You ran through this storm because you have places to be. Turn your backs to me if you want wings.”
Seth turned away from the Traveler. Merek did likewise.
Seth felt strong fingers examining his back; then the side of a hand pressed beside his shoulder blade, followed by similar pressure near the other one. For a painful moment, Seth felt something taking root in his back, twining with his muscles. Then, as easily as moving his hands, he flexed and stretched his wings. They spanned quite a bit broader than the reach of his outspread arms
and had golden feathers.
“This feels weirdly natural,” Seth said.
“Almost like you were born with them,” the Traveler said.
Merek flapped his wings harder than Seth had attempted, blowing air and campfire smoke around the stone enclosure. “This is unbelievable,” Merek said. “What a gift!”
Seth noticed the Unforgiving Blade on the ground and picked it up.
“That is quite a weapon,” the Traveler commented. “Take care where you keep it and how you use it.”
“I’ll do my best,” Seth said.
“Blades such as that one have a history of harming the wielder,” the Traveler said. “If you’ll take my advice, try not to carry it longer than necessary.”
“A wise sentiment,” Merek said. “At present the weapon is a necessity.”
“Remember, with those wings, courage is key,” the Traveler said. “Now, open so our guests may depart, my wandering friends.”
One side of the dome collapsed, and the rocks slid out of the way. The storm immediately clamored louder, rain pelting down amid harsh flashes of lightning and stunning bursts of thunder. The wind roared with a volume Seth had never imagined.
“Do you know where to go?” Seth asked Merek.
“Yes,” Merek replied. “Stay with me. Traveler, we are in your debt.”
“You are, perhaps, Dragon Slayer,” the Traveler said. “I will always owe Seth. Fly well.”
Merek stepped into the downpour and jumped, wings beating down to propel him up into the wild night. For a moment, Seth stared up at the dark fury of the Perennial Storm, watching jagged tangles of lightning backlight the rain and highlight the clouds. With a running start, he sprang from the relative warmth of the protective dome into the icy pandemonium of the tempest. His wings flapped hard as Seth ascended behind and beneath Merek, adapting to the punishing winds.
The wings did not feel like a contraption he was wearing. They sprouted out of his back as though part of him, and they functioned instinctively, as if he had flown in savage weather for years. Rising through the chilling rain, Seth and Merek promptly became soaked, but even with the wind stripping away his heat, Seth didn’t go numb. The exercise of flapping his wings generated a surprising amount of warmth.
Soon lightning blazed not just above them, but to the sides, and even beneath them. Most of the electric discharges were brilliant variations on yellow, white, and orange, but a startling amount also flared green or light blue, and a few deepened into vivid shades of red or purple. A cannonade of thunder accompanied the intense lightning, but Seth did not find the blasts as deafening as before he had his wings.
The lightning made it relatively easy for Seth to track Merek, and, between flashes, Merek’s wings shed enough light of their own that Seth could glimpse them through the deluge. Seth felt less buffeted than when he had flown in the talons of Basirus ahead of the storm. The wind currents were stronger and wilder here in the heart of the tempest, but Seth’s wings reacted magnificently—tucking, extending, angling, and folding into unique shapes to help him make swift progress in whatever direction he chose.
As the winged duo gained altitude, flying near the base of the storm clouds, Seth became aware of great birds of prey with wingspans the size of hang gliders. The dark raptors soared sedately through the turmoil, wings fully extended, three on one side of Seth and two beyond Merek.
Dazzling stabs of colorful lightning increased in both frequency and proximity after the birds arrived. Seth felt a charge in the air a moment before lightning shot through his wings, through Merek’s wings, and into one of the thunderbirds off to the side. Seth felt some of the heat from the brilliant flash and smelled ozone afterward, but he didn’t experience an electric shock.
The surprise of the brightness and the heat, coupled with the immediate detonation of thunder, startled Seth enough that his wings faltered. The sensation of his wings failing compounded his fear, and he went into a free fall.
“Courage, Seth!” Calvin called. “You can do it!”
Clenching his fists, Seth deliberately mustered his courage and swooped upward again. Merek had plunged to help Seth, but once they both flew evenly, he tried some evasive maneuvers. Though he spiraled and swerved, the thunderbirds stayed with them.
Seth held the Unforgiving Blade ready in case the huge raptors decided to attack. Another electric charge built up around Seth, and a second lightning bolt crackled through his wings. After a third blast of lightning caused no real harm, the thunderbirds seemed to lose interest, and they veered away.
Some flashes of lightning offered hints to the terrain below or granted flickering glimpses of the surrounding horizon, but otherwise Seth followed Merek with blind faith. The Dragon Slayer flew to one side of Seth and a little ahead of him, never seeming to doubt his course. Seth decided to stop hoping he would see the Dragon Temple up ahead, because the continued absence of their destination became too disheartening. Pummeled by blustery gales and stinging sleet, they resolutely pressed forward, wings flapping and adjusting endlessly, as the nightmare tempest raged on.
Kendra paused where the corridor ahead sloped ever steeper, almost becoming vertical before curving back to level at the bottom. She had cautiously edged to where she could see all the way down, but inching much farther would lead to a fall.
Warren crouched beside her. “The ground is smooth. It’ll be like riding a steep slide.”
“Getting back up will be tricky,” Kendra said.
“Not with me around,” Raxtus assured her.
“I can help too,” Cyllia said.
“Time is a factor,” Tanu reminded the group.
“Let me take the lead,” Cyllia offered, drawing her swords. “Who knows what lurks down there?”
“All right,” Kendra said.
With an adroit mix of bounding and sliding on her feet, the hamadryad raced down the slope. “It’s quiet down here,” she called up to the others.
“I can take you, Kendra,” Raxtus said.
“Thanks,” Kendra said. “It looks like jumping off a building.”
“I would accept some help as well,” Tanu said, craning forward to peer down the steep drop. “Big guys aren’t made for falling.”
“I’ll be right back,” Raxtus said, gripping Kendra’s shoulders with his forelegs. The dragon sprang forward, and Kendra felt the alarming rush of falling before he extended his wings fully, turning himself into her personal hang glider and dropping her gently at the bottom.
As Raxtus flew back to help Tanu, Kendra approached where Cyllia stood. A steepled archway at the end of the corridor granted access to a sizable chamber, partially masked by curtains of web.
“Spiders?” Kendra asked.
“Those don’t seem like spiderwebs to me,” Cyllia said.
Raxtus shuttled Tanu down, and then Warren as well. They all gathered by Kendra and the hamadryad.
“I’ve always hated the feeling of walking through a spiderweb,” Raxtus whispered, peering ahead.
“I will lead,” Cyllia said. “The edges of my blades are keen.”
The hamadryad preceded them to the steepled archway. She stepped around the curtains of web, and the others followed. Milky crystals recessed in the grimy walls dimly lit a huge cylindrical chamber that widened near the top, like a funnel. Gray draperies of web veiled much of the room from floor to ceiling. High above, thick strands crisscrossed in bizarre patterns. Holding her bow ready, Kendra scanned the gauzy, overlapping layers for a threat.
“It reeks of death in here,” Cyllia murmured.
“What could have died?” Kendra asked.
“Rats, cave beetles, earthworms—the giant kind,” Tanu said.
“I’m worried this could be Velrog,” Raxtus whispered, looking up.
“Who is that?” Warren asked.
Raxtus closed his eyes momentarily and gave a shudder. “A mutant dragon with the skills of a spider. Humans have the boogeyman. Dragons have Velrog. Our mothers tell us stories a
bout Velrog to motivate good behavior.”
“What can he do?” Tanu asked.
With a glance toward the webby chamber, Raxtus shrank down low. “I don’t know where myth ends and fact begins. The stories claim his webs are strong enough to ensnare dragons. They say breath weapons cannot harm him. He was the first of the demonic dragons—supposedly he came into being when a dark wizard worked unnatural magic on a dragon egg. He was incubated and hatched in the bowels of a crumbling castle and never learned to love the sky.”
“Great story, Raxtus,” Warren said. “So we’re down here with your childhood nightmare?”
Raxtus looked to Tanu. “Do you have any potions that make you slippery? So that nothing could stick to you?”
“It would be an interesting challenge,” Tanu said. “I haven’t tried to produce that effect, and I don’t have the ingredients to attempt it now.”
“Avoid the webs,” Raxtus said. “If this is Velrog, we have to kill him before he entraps us.”
A dry laugh drifted down from above. “What peculiar visitors,” a clinical voice observed from the upper reaches of the room. “Surface dwellers chaperoned by a dragon.”
Kendra searched the shadowed heights of the room, but web formations blocked her view. Some strands and sheets of web quivered, as if an unseen predator were in motion somewhere on the interconnected network.
“We have no quarrel with you, Velrog,” Raxtus said, his voice cracking at the end.
“If you know my name, then you understand what awaits,” Velrog replied. “Forgive me if I consume you slowly. I savor morsels from the sunlit realm.”
“Ten,” Kendra said, aiming her bow toward the sound of the voice and releasing the string. A burst of arrows streaked upward, but all got caught at various distances in the filmy layers of webbing before getting halfway to the highest pockets of shadow.
“The webs are stronger than they look,” Warren lamented quietly.
“The intruders brought toys,” Velrog said. “Clumsy tools that poke and prod. Poor substitutes for teeth and claws. Bring your toys, surface walkers, and teach me how to play.”
