The Legend of Hooper's Dragons Box Set

by GARY DARBY

  She lets out a little sigh. “Hooper,” she begins, “Vay knows that the longer you and I are together, the stronger we become. Apart, we grow weaker. It is the same with our company.”

  She raises her head to look at our sleeping comrades. “If we can get past that which divides us, then we too will become stronger. I can assure you that it was not happenstance that this comradeship was brought together, nor the others who will become a part of us.”

  I blink in surprise. “You mean there will be more that join us?”

  “Oh yes, Hooper, and each will add exceptional gifts, just as those who are here now add their unique talents, knowledge, and strength. Vay knows this, and she also knows that there is great power in our unity and our single-mindedness to defeat her.

  “Each of us in this company is in danger, Hooper, and if we leave, they may well be in even greater danger.”

  I stare at her for a moment before saying, “You said if we leave. What you mean is that if I left, you would go too?”

  The golden raises her head to gaze at the pale light of the setting moons that slants through the woodland. “I would have to go, Hooper, for as you are tied to the gemstone, so am I.”

  She swings her head down so that we’re once again eye to eye. “So, would you have Cara and the others face Vay without us?”

  I’m not sure how to respond to her. I didn’t realize that Vay wanted to destroy the whole group. I assumed she was only after me, and I certainly didn’t understand that Vay had evil intentions toward Cara, or her father, or the rest of our little company.

  “I’m not so sure I see why the others are a threat to her,” I return. “But I do understand that she wants me dead and you her captive. Me, because I’m the Gem Guardian, and apparently the jewel has powers that for the moment can hold her back. But why does she want you? What do you have that she needs so badly?”

  The golden stares at me for a long moment, as if she’s considering just how to answer my question. “Let’s just say,” she slowly explains, “that for now, she does not have all the keys she needs to unlock the full measure of her vile powers.”

  She glances sideways at those that sleep. “As far as our companions are concerned, just remember that they are already in grave danger, Hooper, and not just from Vay.

  “Prince Aster and the Wilders know that both you and I are with Master Boren and the others. You see, even if we left them behind, the prince would hunt them down just to find out what they know, what they have seen regarding you and me.”

  Golden Wind pauses before saying, “He will use the Wilders to do his bidding. They will carry out the search, and they will destroy any and all that come between them and that which they seek.”

  I swallow, and a sense of dread comes over me. I understand precisely what it means for the Wilders to hunt someone down. Excruciating torture to extract the information they desire, followed by a slow, grisly death.

  The golden comes a little closer, so close that I can feel her warm breath against my face. “It was a noble sentiment on your part, Hooper and I thank you for caring enough for our comrades that you were willing to face the darkness alone. So, what is it to be, we both stay, or we both leave?”

  I ponder her question for some time before I turn and gaze over to where we left Cara. My intention was to protect Cara, not to place her in more danger.

  I stare down at the ground as I murmur, “I guess that I really didn’t understand, hadn’t really thought it through very clearly. I was only trying to—”

  “I know Hooper,” the golden murmurs. “And I understand. You were only trying to protect those that you care about and that is nothing to be ashamed about—ever.”

  I chew on my lower lip for a moment before I let my eyes meet her stare. “If we are stronger together than apart, then let’s use that strength against Vay. We stay.”

  The golden nods in an approving manner. “That is the right decision, Hooper, thank you.”

  The moment is broken when a low, hoarse voice rasps out, “Hooper, who are you talking to?”

  I whirl around to find Master Boren standing a short distance away. I heave a sigh of relief that it isn’t Cara. There’s no way I could talk my way out of it a second time.

  “I’m sorry,” I immediately answer in muted tones. “The golden seemed a bit agitated, and I was just trying to calm her down. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

  “Oh,” he grumbles. “Has she settled down now?”

  “Yes, sir, I think so,” I answer.

  “Good,” Master Boren replies, “then get some sleep, the dawn comes soon enough.”

  I lift my hand in a fleeting wave and watch as he walks away. I place my back against the golden’s foreleg and slide to the ground.

  My dark thoughts that led me out into the night have turned meditative and pensive. Now, as I lie with my hands clasped behind my head and both against the golden’s scales, I can’t help but feel that my destiny and the golden’s are somehow knotted together.

  I’m not so sure how I feel about that. I’ve hated dragons my whole life and now to find that my life is somehow tied to a dragon’s is discomforting and confusing.

  My mind is a blizzard of thoughts, but finally, I’m able to slow them down and sleep begins to take me. Just before I drop off in slumber, two final thoughts slip through my head.

  I still hate dragons.

  Don’t I?

  Thoughts of Golden Wind

  Hooper is deeply troubled but it is a good troubling.

  He is afraid not just for himself, or Cara, or Scamper, but for the others in our company too. Even those who have been unkind, even spiteful to him.

  His heart is growing, emptying itself of hatred and self-absorption.

  He is beginning to have vision. To look beyond just oneself and consider deeply the welfare of others, to put them ahead of his own wants.

  His inner world, the most important part of each of us, is starting to expand.

  Hooper is finally beginning to grow up, to look toward the future and not continually looking back into the past. The future he can affect by how he lives today, in the present.

  The past is gone and no matter how he yearns to change what transpired, he cannot undo the past.

  For Hooper, as it is with all of us, the past will always be what it is, a place of memories, many good, some unfortunately ugly, even painful to the point that they sear our minds, even our souls.

  We should always cherish the good memories that bring a smile, a warmth to our spirits. They are the ones that should fill our minds for they are treasures of the soul.

  Never dwell long on the cutting memories for they cannot be changed, ever.

  Hooper thought that leaving is the answer to that which troubles him. It is not.

  The company of the Gem Guardian begins to form and each member is necessary for that which they bring to the quest and the fight against Vay.

  Remember their valor, honor their name for some will not be standing at the end of our journey.

  11

  A hand roughly shakes my shoulder. “Hooper!” a voice demands. “Wake up, it’s first light. We’re leaving.” I barely open an eye and peer at Phigby’s wrinkled and bearded face.

  “And a good morning to you too, Phigby,” I grumble with a full yawn and thinking it was a very short night in terms of sleeping.

  I sit up, rub bleary eyes to get the crust off my eyelids and glance around. “Looking for breakfast?” Phigby inquires.

  “Would be nice,” I reply as I scratch at my empty belly.

  “Take a few deep breaths for me,” Phigby orders.

  Puzzled, I do so and then gaze at him with a questioning expression. “That was breakfast,” he dryly responds. “How did it taste? Would you like a second helping? Breathe even deeper, you’ll get a full measure of its delectable aroma.”

  Chuckling, he’s off while I make a face at his receding back.

  Since we have no tents or other equipment to gather a
nd pack away, breaking camp is little more than everyone rising, dusting dirt and leaves off clothing, and unlimbering stiff and sore muscles from sleeping on the hard ground.

  I stand and do another hasty look around. I can’t see or hear Scamper anywhere. No doubt, he’s out digging for those grubs or worms that he dreamed about last night.

  Alonya is up, but she walks stiffly, her lips set in a tense, straight line. She winces even when she takes a slight step as if even that light touch brings severe pain. From the crimson stains on her bandages, it’s evident that she’s lost more of her life fluid in the night.

  She’s way too big to ride one of our dragons and if she can barely move, I wonder how she can guide us to wherever it is we are going? From what she said yesterday, even with her great strides, it’s still at least a day or more away.

  And what if we are attacked—how will she be able to defend herself, or worse, if we are forced to flee, how will she keep up with the dragons’ galloping gait?

  Master Boren waves a hand, calling us all together. “Alonya assures me that there is water ahead. Once there, we will stop to allow ourselves and the dragons to drink, and to let them graze on whatever fodder they may find.”

  He holds up a hand as if to make a point. “We’ll forage for whatever we can, nuts, berries, perhaps a rabbit or two if we’re lucky. However, we cannot tarry long, for we must push on into the highlands. The sooner we put some mountains between the Wilders and us, the less likely it is that we’ll be seen.”

  Amil clears his throat and asks, “And where is it that we are going?” He motions in the direction of the towering heights. “Is there a particular mountain that we make for?”

  Alonya eyes him and curtly replies, “Do not worry, Traveler, I will let you know when we have arrived.”

  Her abrupt answer is sufficient to cut off any further questions regarding our destination. However, Phigby is bold enough to ask the obvious, “Alonya, it is clear that your wounds are severe, are you sure you can travel today?”

  “It does not matter if it is today,” she answers grimly, “or tomorrow or the day after. I do not intend to die in this place. I will go as far as my strength will take me, and if the fates are kind, it will be enough.”

  Master Boren and Phigby exchange knowing glances. I can see that they both have concern and respect for our giant companion.

  I understand their admiration—it’s clear that she has courage, but I have my doubts as to whether her body will answer her will.

  Master Boren steps forward to face her. “As I promised, we will not leave you. We will travel at your pace, whatever that may be.”

  He points toward the mountains; in what I assume is the general direction we’re headed. “I will follow Alonya, the rest of you stay close behind. Keep an eye out both to the sky and to the surrounding countryside.”

  He gives me a piercing look. “No wrong turns today, Hooper, we cannot afford even the slightest delay.”

  “Yes, sir,” I mumble and glance over at Cara to find her returning my look with a hard glare as she turns her back on me. She hasn’t gotten over her mad from last night, and most likely it will carry through the day. Perhaps beyond.

  Cara is not in any way a mean person, but I’ve learned she’s very stubborn, especially when she thinks she’s right. As they say, she’s one of those that believes she’s right, even when she’s wrong.

  The group disperses to their waiting dragons. I pinch my lips and whistle. From around a nearby boulder, Scamper comes bounding. He darts past me with something white and stringy in his mouth and scurries up the golden’s leg to her neck saddle.

  I clamber aboard and after settling in behind the golden’s skull plate, I lean over to see what Scamper is eating but I’m too late. He slurps the last little bit of white flesh down and then begins to groom himself, licking his paws and using them to wash his face.

  Popping up like baby birds in a nest, the sprogs screep at him from their saddlebags for not sharing, but he ignores them and continues with his grooming.

  “Well,” I say, “whatever it was, I hope you enjoyed it because it may well be that was first meal, most likely second meal, and very probably last meal, too.”

  He eyes me as if he doesn’t believe a word of what I’m saying. To Scamper, the world is one big meal plate, and there is always something new and delectable to chew on.

  With a grim, determined expression, Alonya clutches her bow, sets her vest and scabbard around her, and begins, slowly at first, to hobble past the boulders and into the forest.

  Single file, our caravan falls in behind her and Helmar makes sure that I’m not last in line but takes that position himself. Apparently, Master Boren thinks that I’m neither a leader nor am I to be trusted to be the last follower, either.

  After a bit, either Alonya’s pain lessens considerably, or somehow she’s ignoring it, for her strides become longer and swifter.

  The sun is well past midmorning before the forest begins to thin enough for us to see the foothills rising before us, and beyond, the Denalian Mountains’ jagged peaks.

  Alonya swings us so that we pace at the base of several rocky knolls and in the direction of a large stand of thick, tall trees whose leaves are golden-brown, and the trunks are a pinkish white.

  We enter the small forest and find that the trees ring a full, clear pool of water. It’s a natural spring, the bubbles in the middle marking where the water seeps up from the ground to feed the pond.

  The dragons amble over to drink deeply. After handing the sprogs down to Helmar and Cara so that they can slake their thirst, too, I take one of the water bags, fill it, and take it over to Alonya, who’s slumped against a tree trunk.

  Phigby is muttering darkly while he tends to her injuries, but even to my untrained eye, her ashen face and the blood-soaked bandages that Phigby pulls away from her leg tell the story.

  Our journey into the foothills is taking its toll on the giant maiden. If she continues, she will bleed to death. I hold the flask out for her, and she gives me a little nod in thanks as she grasps it and downs the contents in one long swig.

  “I’ll get more,” I murmur and hurry to the water’s edge.

  Helmar and Cara are cupping water to their mouths. As I kneel next to them, Helmar whispers while peering over his shoulder at the Golian, “Her wounds are too grievous; she cannot go on like this.”

  “Her bandages are blood-full,” I return. “Even in the short distance we’ve traveled, she’s lost too much.”

  I glance back to see Master Boren join Phigby and they engage in earnest discussion with Alonya. From her angry retort, I have no doubt that they are telling her that she can’t go any farther and still expect to live. She, in turn, is telling them that she will continue, no matter the cost.

  I take the flask back and hold it out to the Golian maiden. Phigby takes it instead and from his weathered haversack pulls out a tiny, lidded container. He holds the little jar in his hand and his eyes flick back and forth from it to Alonya several times as if he can’t make up his mind over something.

  Then he shrugs and pours the entire contents, a clear liquid, into the leather bag, shakes it and then hands the flask to her.

  She pushes it away, but Phigby holds the water skin closer and implores, “You must drink, Alonya, please. The elixir will help ease the pain.”

  With some reluctance, she takes the container, tilts it upright, and sucks out the entire contents. She leans her head back and closes her eyes.

  Phigby finishes putting salve on her wounds and then bandages them tightly. He motions to Master Boren and myself that we should leave.

  Out of earshot of Alonya, Phigby gathers us together. “She’s gone as far as she can,” he states. “And I’m stunned that she made it this far. She has a will as strong as that blade she carries.

  “But she cannot go on without her wounds opening wider and spilling out her life blood. If she rests and lets the healing balm work, then perhaps in another day or
two, she can travel.”

  “What do we do?” Cara asks. “We don’t know where we are or where she’s leading us.”

  Helmar glances around at the small stand of trees. “We certainly can’t stay here—even now, if a Wilder skys close by, it will not be all that hard to see us.”

  Phigby turns hopefully to Amil. “Perhaps our Traveler knows of something nearby that can hide us and provide some semblance of protection if we are attacked.”

  Amil shakes his head in answer. “I’ve never been in this country, sorry.”

  Master Boren lets out a rumbling breath. “It would seem to me that we have a few choices. We can all stay here and wait for Alonya to heal before traveling, or some of us stay, and the rest make for the mountains and hope we run across some of her fellow Golians.”

  “What if we sky?” I ask. “It would make our search that much faster.”

  “No,” Master Boren immediately snaps. “We’d be too easily seen in the air by any Wilders that might be lurking nearby, and I won’t take the chance that any Golians might mistake us for Wilders, either.”

  “Even if it were the golden?” I point out.

  “Especially if it were Golden Wind,” he rebuffs. “Did you not hear Alonya explain that this queen is not beholden to the Queen’s Vow?” he sharply demands. “To her, the golden is just another dragon, and that could well mean that she’s instructed her warriors to bring down any dragon that encroaches on Golian.”

  “But—”

  “Hooper,” Phigby grinds out, “you’ve made your point and so has the Dragon Master. We do not sky the dragons unless we absolutely have no other choice.”

  “Besides, Hooper, your point is moot,” Helmar adds. “Look.”

  We spin in the direction he’s pointing. Several red glints pass low on the distant horizon.

  “Wilders,” Amil hisses.

  The Wilder dragons are mere specks of red against the light blue sky. “I don’t think they’ve seen us,” Phigby murmurs. “They’ve not changed course, but I dare say that ends any thought of skying for the moment.”