The Legend of Hooper's Dragons Box Set

by GARY DARBY

  Moreover, that just wouldn’t do as I doubt my likelihood of a second escape. And what of my chances of being reunited with my companions or of them finding me?

  At that notion, I can’t help but chortle in sadistic humor. “Well, I may not quite understand that ‘swamp of tormented souls’ part, but I think I definitely understand the ‘lost’ part.”

  My one encouraging thought is that from what I could see as I fell, the golden was in full flight away from the ogres, which meant that Phigby, Amil, Scamper, and the sprogs should be safe.

  I have full faith that somehow, Phigby will work out some solution to find Cara and the others in the dense fog.

  And maybe me.

  Abruptly, I realize that I can account for everyone in our company except the four sprites. I remember them in the thick of the battle, but I don’t recall seeing them after Glory and Song skyed away, nor were they with the golden after she managed to sky aloft.

  What happened to them?

  For an instant, my whole body shudders in dismay at the awful idea that the ogres might have somehow caught the little dragons and added them to their gory feast. Then I shake the thought from my mind as I refuse to accept that the brutes have captured the little ones. I just know that they are still alive.

  During the confusion and chaos of our escape, I must have missed them winging away, that’s all.

  I decide that the only way to prevent my circling back to the fiendish pack is to pick out a spot ahead that I can see in the fog, walk to that place, and then pick out another point.

  Just as long as I continue in a somewhat straight line, I should avoid going around in circles. Part of my dilemma, though, is just how far away from the monsters do I want, or better yet, need to get.

  My first inclination is to go as far and as fast as I can to get away from the beasts. However, there is just the chance that once Cara and the others rejoin they may try to wing low over the swamp, calling out my name in the hope that I might hear them and answer their hail.

  I touch the gemstones, trying to determine if there might be some way that I can use them. For an instant, I think about going back to the ogre camp and somehow using the crystals to slay them all.

  Gripping my soppy tunic where the gems press against my chest, I remember Phigby’s caution not to announce my presence, at least not yet. Frowning, I nod to myself as what I had in mind for the ogres would undeniably make my presence known.

  I tuck the tear-jewels away and begin my slow trek, picking out a mangled tree at the farthest point of my sight, walking to it, and then repeating the process. Several times, I have to wade across bogs, one deep enough that for a moment, I think that I might have to swim across to the other side.

  Each time I enter the water, I can’t help but worry that if there are ogres that target those that dwell on what little dry land there is, what lies in the water to prey upon those unlucky enough, or forced, like me, to have to swim through the foul-smelling sludge?

  Without a way to gauge the time, I have no idea how far or for how long I’ve stumbled through the swamp before I decide that I need to rest.

  My bad leg more than hurts, it’s like a piercing spear stabbing into my body each time I take a step. I find a stunted tree, put my back against its smooth bark and slide to the ground.

  Glancing at my soaked trousers and after seeing Alonya after she waded from the foul water, I shudder at what I’m sure to find underneath.

  However, I know what I must do, but it takes all the nerve and resolve that I have before loosening my pants and scabbard and letting them fall to the ground. Rolling up my pant legs, I blanch at what I see and my stomach churns in disgust.

  Leeches cover my legs past my knees and almost to my thighs. I bend over, and draw my tunic over my head and let the soggy overgarment drop to the ground.

  The slimy, blood-engorged things cling to my stomach and chest and I have no doubt that they’re on my back as well.

  Picking my knife up from the ground, I hold the handle between thumb and forefinger as I bring the point to the nearest leech on my stomach.

  I swallow hard at what I’m about to do but it’s the only thing I can think of to try and dislodge the bloodsuckers.

  Just as I touch the first sucker, I hear a faint fluttering coming from the swirling fog off to one side where more dark trees rise like dark columns.

  Jerking Galondraig out of its scabbard, I whirl around to face whatever new enemy is coming my way.

  I glance up at the tree that I’m standing next to, considering the likelihood of climbing to escape my unseen enemy.

  However, I can’t see anything to grab that would be strong enough to hold me long if I tried to shimmy up the tree. The only thing I can do is to put my back to the tree with Galondraig in one hand, and my knife in the other.

  The flapping, though faint, seems to be coming closer in the thick fog soup and seems to be moving in a zigzag path.

  Then I see something small and dark moving in the mist, straight at me. I hold Galondraig out, thinking that whatever it is that’s attacking me, it may be small, but in this place, small doesn’t mean less dangerous or formidable.

  The creature is now speeding toward me, moving faster and faster. I bring back my blade, preparing to strike at the first possible moment that the thing shows its face.

  My breathing quickens, my heart thuds in my chest and at the last possible instant, my blade slashes down in a vicious cut—only to stop in midair as I stare at my nemesis.

  Twinkle stops a few hand lengths away from me, flutters her little wings, and voices a little, screep?

  34

  “Twinkle?” I gasp. “What are you doing here?” Turning in a quick circle, I ask, “Where are the others? Aren’t they with you?”

  The little yellow dragon flutters right up to my face until we’re almost nose to nose.

  Screep? She asks again.

  “What?” I respond. “Oh, yes, I’m all right.”

  Pointing at the leeches, I grimace. “Except for these nasty things.”

  Excited, I peer around again and ask, “I don’t see Cara or the others, are they with you?”

  She backs off a little ways and I can tell from her expression that, like me, she’s not only alone, she doesn’t know where Cara is, or where the other sprites are, for that matter.

  In disappointment, I draw in a deep breath. “Well, that's a shame.”

  Reaching out, I scratch her under her chin. “Still, I’m glad to see you, Twinkle, I really am. It’s nice to find a friendly face in a place like this.”

  She screeps back at me and then lands on a nearby sodden log that’s jutting up from the muck. Tucking her wings, she waddles down the crumbling trunk until she’s found a suitable place to settle down and stare at me.

  Taking my knife, I twirl it in my fingers as I peer at the leeches, trying to decide what’s the best way to use my blade point to get the suckers off my skin. I can get at the ones on my front, but what about my back?

  In one of Phigby’s books was an illustration of a contortionist who could wrap his arms around his body and swivel his head like an owl and gaze backward. Well, I’m not like him, so getting to the leeches on my back is going to be a big problem.

  Twinkle waddles a little closer, watching me with an intent expression on her face. She ducks her head several times as if she’s trying to get a better view when, without warning, she flares into flames.

  Not a real hot, intense fire, nevertheless, she’s blazing. She springs off the soggy log and hovers close to my chest.

  I snap up a hand to ward her off as the last thing I need is both a bad burn and bloodsucking leeches in the same spot. “Whoa, Twinkle, I’m not cold so I don’t really need the heat, but thanks anyway.”

  She ignores me and before I can stop her, flits right up against a leech, where she reaches out with one talon and pushes it against the bloodsucker.

  The thing jerks and then drops off, falling to the ground, a hole i
n its side, which drains of blood, leaving it to curl up and die.

  “Well,” I whoosh, “that’s a pretty neat trick.”

  She flutters to the next leech, and with me holding still, does it again. After that, with me not moving at all, I let her move from one bloodsucking slug to the next until she’s cleansed my body of the hideous creatures.

  When the last leech falls to the ground and dies, she turns off her flames and hovers in midair. I reach out and this time, with one finger, scratch her between her eyes.

  “Thanks, Twinkle,” I smile, “you have no idea how much I appreciate what you just did. I feel a lot better, and not just from having those things off me.”

  She blinks several times, a satisfied expression on her face from my scratching at her brow scales.

  I turn my wet clothes inside out, careful to check for more leeches, but it would seem that the things prefer Drach blood to sheep wool.

  Once assured that my clothing is free of the bloodsuckers, I get dressed and survey my surroundings. I turn to Twinkle and screw my face to one side.

  “Twinkle, any chance you know where the others are? To tell you the truth, it’s not that I’m lost, it’s just that I have no idea where I am.”

  She doesn’t answer, just stares at me before I sigh, “All right, I take it that you don’t know where we are, either.”

  I point at a tree in the near distance, whose trunk seems to have wrapped around itself several times so that it looks like four trees in one. “I guess we’ll go back to what I was doing and hope that the others come searching for us.”

  Snugging down my tunic and scabbard, I slip my knife into my waistband and start to march off, but Twinkle doesn’t move.

  She just flutters and hovers in one place. I turn and gesture toward the tree. “We’re going this way. It’s as good a direction as any to leave the ogres behind.”

  She doesn’t move, just hovers there. “You do want to leave the ogres behind, right? You know, those warty-skinned, grayish-green, big-fanged meat-eaters with the bad hair that will devour both of us if they catch us?”

  With that, she dips her wings and starts fluttering off to our left. “Hey,” I call out, pointing over my shoulder at the malformed tree, “where are you going? We’re going this way, remember?”

  She doesn’t stop, so with raised eyebrows, I drop my hand, muttering, “Maybe she knows where the other dragons are, after all. Like some inner instinct or smell, or something.”

  Twinkle stops just long enough to make sure I’m following before she’s off again. I don’t really care in which direction we go, as long as she doesn’t lead us back toward the ogres. I’ve had enough of those monsters to last me a lifetime, or maybe two.

  Twinkle darts ahead, stopping ever so often to make sure I’m following before away she flits again.

  I’m not sure just how she manages it, but somehow, she avoids the larger bogs and ponds, leaving me to only have to wade across small, shallow, though still scummy, streams. Which suits me fine, as I’m confident that if I move through the water fast enough, no leech is going to be able to latch itself onto my skin.

  I’m not sure how long I slog through the muck and mud, following Twinkle, before I must call a halt. I place my back against a thin-trunked tree and slide to the ground, breathing hard and wiping at the sweat that’s running down my mud-crusted face.

  Twinkle zips up to me and asks, Screep?

  Waving a weak hand at her, I gasp out, “Sorry, but I’ve got to rest for a while. Pulling my feet out of this stinkin’ mud is sucking out all my strength.”

  I smile at her while trying to catch my breath. “Bout’ now I could use some wings myself. Would make getting through this swamp a lot easier.”

  She gazes at me for a long moment before she settles down on my bad leg, waddles around for a bit before she lays her body down and sort of stretches out. Very slowly, she builds her glow and I can feel a soothing warmth go through my leg.

  It’s wonderful.

  “Thank you,” I sigh, “that feels so good.”

  Laying my head back against the rough bark, I stare at the dense fog’s endless swirls and curls. I really should be up and moving, but between being close to exhaustion and Twinkle’s soothing warmth that seems to ease the throbbing pain in my leg, I just can’t seem to make myself move.

  I say to her, “We’ll rest for only a little while, then we’ve got to go. Especially since you might be leading us back to the company.”

  Licking my dry lips, I can feel my thirst as I glance over at the slimy water. Shaking my head, I whisper, “No way am I going to drink that slop. Not yet, anyway.”

  It’s a real temptation to close my eyes and take a good, long nap, and I have to shake my head hard to keep my eyelids from closing. “Not a good idea to fall asleep, Hooper,” I growl to myself. “Might wake up in who knows what's belly if you do.”

  After a bit of fighting the almost overpowering urge to sleep, I sigh, “Much as I’d like nothing better than to sit here and let the others find me, that's a bad idea. So, get moving, Hooper.”

  I reach down and push Twinkle aside as I force myself to stand up. “C’mon, Twinkle,” I urge, “lead on, I’m right behind you. Go find Cara and the others, please.”

  Twinkle spreads her wings, and moments later I’m again following her through the dense, featureless fog. We haven’t gone far when I realize that something is stalking us.

  First off to one side, and then the other, something slinks through the shadows, never stopping long enough or getting close enough for me to see who or what our swamp prowler might be.

  I know it’s not an ogre because if it were, it would have charged the instant it caught sight of me. It’s not a phantom for there’s still light. For a moment, I think it might be another green dragon trailing us, but something tells me that’s not right, either.

  No, whatever it is, it’s not our friend and worse, lethal as well.

  Several times, Twinkle stops, shoots to one side as if she too knows that we’re being hunted, and tries to light up the haze so that we can see what it is that we face.

  Each time, though, the thing is too fast and skirts away before it’s caught in Twinkle’s creamy light. I grip the hilt of Galondraig tightly and move slowly, trying to see into the thick haze and spot our lurker.

  Then, I hear a fluttering sound, unlike dragon wings, but similar, and it dawns on me that my foe may well be a sky creature. If so, that means that its attack could well come from the air, and with the haze hanging not far above my head, with little or no warning whatsoever.

  The one good thing, if there is one, is that from the fluttering, it’s all but certain that I face only one unseen and unknown adversary.

  I turn in a circle, cautious, trying to spot anything in the landscape that might give me an advantage, or at least help ward off the thing’s attack. But there’s not even a nearby tree whose branches I might be able to use as cover.

  Swinging around again, I hold Galondraig at the ready, listening, eyeing the swirling fog above my head, my heart pounding, my breathing coming faster with each passing moment, just waiting for the thing to strike.

  When it does, it’s so swift that the only thing that saves me is that Twinkle zips through the air and bursts into flames right in front of the creature, stopping it cold in its attack.

  For an instant, I can only stare wide-eyed at a living nightmare.

  Back in Draconstead, I’d sometimes find centipedes scurrying in or around the dung heaps, their dozen or more legs rippling through the slurry. Now I face what appears to be a centipede, only this beast has a double set of wings and is a hundred times bigger than any centipede I’ve ever seen.

  Its luminous black eyes center themselves on me while the two sets of antennae on its gray head wave back and forth toward me. The creature opens its ebony mouth for an instant and out springs a set of scimitar-shaped fangs. They clack together several times before the thing closes its scarlet-lined jaws. />
  On the end of each of the creature’s many legs is a cruel barbed hook that I can only imagine is used to hold its prey while the scimitar fangs do their gruesome work.

  The silvery beast hovers for an instant before it darts to one side, trying to get away from Twinkle’s firelight.

  The little dragon tries to follow, putting herself between me and the flying creature, but when it does, the creature whips its barbed tail around and slams it into Twinkle.

  The blow sends the tiny yellow dragon spinning through the air before it crashes into some hedgelike bushes and lies still.

  “Twinkle!” I yell and try to run to her, but the thing darts in between the two of us, cutting me off from my little rescuer.

  The beast hovers just to my front, never taking its hungry eyes off me. Its fangs spurt out again, clicking together before the fiend pulls its daggers back and closes its jaws with a loud snap!

  I bring my blade up, weaving it back and forth, gripping the hilt with two hands. I start to slip one hand into my tunic to bring out the gemstones but before I can, the creature dives straight at me.

  Falling backward against its ferocious onrush, I slash at the flying monster and slice through two of its legs where they fall to the ooze and muck with a plop.

  From its mouth comes a high-pitched squeal before, snakelike, it slithers away through the air and back into the fog.

  For a moment, the mist rises, revealing that the monster is circling, now wary and eyeing me and the emerald sword that I hold in front of my face. I have the feeling that my nemesis didn’t expect its prey to have such a sting.

  Keeping my eyes on the fluttering creature, I slide toward where I last saw Twinkle. I take a quick glance at the gray-leafed limp bushes, but I don’t see any movement.

  “Twinkle!” I yell, but the little dragon doesn’t come winging from the undergrowth.

  My anger builds as I realize that the winged monstrosity may have killed my little friend with that blow from its wicked, barbed tail.

  We circle each other, its hungry, piercing ebony eyes never leaving me. I again begin to reach into my tunic and again, just as I do, the thing darts at me.