by GARY DARBY
“I understand, Hooper,” he returns, “but I think what Twinkle is trying to tell you is that if you kill this dragon, then it won’t be just your flesh that will remain scarred, but perhaps your spirit and soul as well.”
He pauses before questioning, “Is that decision worth the price?”
My sword is at eye level, my eyes glaring down the length of my blade where Twinkle flutters at Galondraig’s sharp end. Then, she wings along the blade’s edge until she’s hovering just in front of my face.
She blinks her soft eyes at me and in their depths, I can see her pleading, imploring with me. I have no idea why this red dragon is so important to her, why she is fighting for its life. Why, in her own way, she is begging me not to kill the thing.
Then, all four sprites are in front of me, between the scarlet and my blade. Their warm light blends until it’s the color of a ripe, beautiful peach and pushes back the gray haze and gloom.
They begin to beat their wings and whip around in a streaking circle with Cara, Phigby, and me on the inside. As they do, my right hand is lifted away from my sword hilt, palm open and stretched out toward the sprites.
Twinkle appears out of the ring in front of me and wings forward before settling in my hand, her little yellow eyes turned up to mine. Then, she bows her head to me and slumps over.
Lifeless.
Both Cara and I draw in sharp, unbelieving gasps at the same time as Twinkle lies dead in my hand.
“Twinkle . . . ” Cara groans.
Then, a tiny, buttery-colored tear-jewel appears at the corner of Twinkle’s eye. It seems to float motionless and then lowers itself until it lies in the flat of my other palm.
I stare at the jewel for an instant before my mouth sags wide and I stare grief-stricken. Next to the gemstone lies a tiny, motionless yellow body, her eyes shut tight.
“Twinkle,” I moan, as I hold the little dragon in my palm, “no . . .”
Cara presses her hand over her mouth, her eyes glistening with tears. “Twinkle,” I whisper, my voice a hoarse rasp, “please, no. I don’t need your jewel, I need you. Please, please don’t go. I’ll do what you want, spare this dragon, only please don’t leave us.”
Cara sobs at my words and reaches out a hand to stroke Twinkle’s little body. At Cara’s touch, Twinkle stirs, opens her eyes, blinks a few times, and flutters her wings. Screep?
“Twinkle!” I yelp. I bring her closer and sputter, “Are you all right?”
She screeps again, shakes her little body a few times and then springs upward to hover just over my hands. I let a broad grin split my mud-splattered face while Cara claps her hands and laughs aloud.
I hold my hand out and Galondraig settles itself into my palm, the point outstretched at Balgamr again.
“Well, Hooper, Cara,” Phigby rumbles, “I think you’ve just been given your answer on whether you can receive a dragon tear-jewel only through the death of a dragon.”
He eyes Twinkle, tugs at his beard and muses, “Or, it seems that in this case, a sincere, willing offer of a sacrifice of the heart.”
“Or,” Cara murmurs, “perhaps the offer of one heart for another?”
“Indeed, Cara,” Phigby nods. “Indeed.”
“But,” I sputter, “Twinkle died.”
“Hmm,” Phigby muses, “perhaps the effort to pour her life-spirit into her tear-jewel put her into a deathlike trance until the jewel completely formed.”
He smiles wide. “She seems perfectly fine now as it does not appear that this was her time to release all of her spirit to death.”
Cara reaches out to scratch Twinkle between the eyes, which the little sprite answers with an exuberant flapping of her wings along with her tail swinging back and forth.
I feel a pawing at my legs and reach down and scoop up Scamper to nuzzle him nose to nose. I see the sprogs nosing around so I set Scamper down and point in their direction.
“Go make sure they stay out of trouble.” He bounds away and takes charge of the four sprogs.
Turning back to Twinkle, who eyes me and gives me a long screep? In answer, with exact slowness, I dip my blade until it no longer points at the crimson but at the ground.
“All right, Twinkle,” I nod. “I don’t know why this is so important to you, but you’ve saved my life more than once, and if I can repay the debt by honoring your wish not to kill this dragon, then so be it.”
With a hard glance at the crimson, I scabbard my blade and straighten, staring at Balgramr, unsure of what I should do at this point.
Glancing sideways at Golden Wind, I raise my eyebrows in a questioning expression. She answers by giving me a small nod as a satisfied look crosses her face.
Helmar, Amil, and Alonya stride up and I give each of them a grateful smile in greeting. Alonya peers at the centipede creature’s remains. “It appears you’ve been busy—and lucky.”
I shake my head and turn back to the crimson. “It wasn’t me,” I answer. “I can only claim a few sheared-off legs.”
Gesturing to the red, I explain, “He did the rest.”
I hesitate and then say, “He slew that thing just as it was about to kill me.”
Wiping away pieces of mud from my face, my eyes never leave Balgramr nor does his leave mine. In a harsh tone, I admit, “He is also the Wilder dragon that destroyed my family and my scars come from his dragon fire.”
At that, Amil and Alonya draw in sharp intakes of breath through clenched teeth. Alonya starts to yank her sword from her scabbard, but I stop her with a quick upheld hand.
“I promised Twinkle that he would not be killed. You see, on the night he destroyed my home, he lied to Vay, letting her believe that I was dead, when, in fact, though he could have killed me, he let me live.”
Gesturing toward his torn and decimated body, I go on. “When Vay discovered the truth, that’s what she did to him and then threw him into the swamp. I was going to slay him for what he did, but Twinkle offered up her life for his. Why she didn’t want him slain, I don’t know. But she saved me, and if this is the way I repay my debt to her, then so be it.”
“Hooper,” Helmar asks with furrowed brows that crevice his forehead, “just how do you know all this?” He looks around and then says, “There’s no one else here. Just us and the dragons.” I can’t help but notice the suspicious tone in his voice.
Uneasy, Cara shifts in her stance at my side as I cast a quick glance over to the golden. She shakes her head from side to side without anyone seeing.
Looking Helmar and the others in the eye, I say, “Someday, I’ll be able to tell you how I know, for now, you’re going to have to trust the Gem Guardian’s word in the matter.”
Helmar’s eyes are stony and his voice raspy as he replies, “Trust your word?”
“That’s right, Helmar,” I answer, “for now, you’ll have to trust my word.”
“Good enough for me,” Amil shrugs and then says, “I guess there’s more to those gemstones than we supposed.”
He gives me a smile that cracks the mud on his face. “It’s good to have you back, Hooper. For a while there we thought you were ogre meat.”
“For a while there,” I reply, “I almost was.”
I hold up Twinkle’s tear-jewel, the color of a yellow beryl gem. “Twinkle not only persuaded me not to slay the red, she gave me this, too.”
Cara and the others crowd around to peer at the crystal, which, though there is only dim daylight, nevertheless seems to shine with the moons’ glowing luminance on a clear summer night.
I turn to Phigby. “Phigby, there has to be a reason why Twinkle gave me her tear-jewel, any idea?”
Phigby strokes his beard and studies the crystal with narrowed eyes before he nods while motioning toward the glittering jewel and explains, “Another name for a yellow moonstone gem is the Helsestein, which means, ‘the stone of health or healing’.”
He gives me a sideways glance before he gestures toward the maltreated red dragon, and asks, “Does that give you an
y ideas?”
When Twinkle deposited the gem in my hand, it seemed no bigger than the end of my smallest fingertip, but in the few short moments that I’ve held it, it appears to have grown and now is similar in size to the emerald and sapphire jewels.
I stare at the crimson dragon, who has kept his head low and his gaze on the ground this whole time. “The swamp of tormented souls, indeed,” I murmur to myself and glance over at the golden who has remained apart this whole time.
Her eyes and face are expressionless as if it doesn’t matter to her one way or the other what decision I make.
But her voice is clear in my mind, now you are free to do what you think is right Hooper Menvoran. Nonetheless, remember even in darkness and misery—
“Sincere repentance can change hearts and minds—and for the better, no matter their crime,” I whisper.
Knowing what I must do, still I wrestle with the thought. My insides churn as if I’ve drank an entire mug of sour milk and my mind whirls as if I’ve spun myself around a hundred times.
How can I think of helping this dragon who destroyed so much of me, so much of my life, so much of what I loved?
Doesn’t he deserve what Fate handed him? Doesn’t he deserve to remain here with the rest of these noxious, foul creatures? Isn’t he the same as them?
My mind and my heart are at war, battling over the fate of this one dragon who has hurt me so much. I feel as if I’m being stretched first one way, then the other.
I glance at Cara who’s never left my side. Perhaps she sees my torment, the pain in my eyes for she leans close and whispers, “Hooper, I don’t think being the Gem Guardian always means you have to wield the gems as if in battle with Vay.”
She squeezes my arm as if to encourage me. “Perhaps they were intended to be used in other, just as powerful ways as well.”
Giving her a tiny smile, I nod as a sense of peace settles over my anguished mind. I’m hesitant, but at the same time, I now know what I must do.
Turning, I say to the others. “I need for all of you to step back. In fact, I need for you to go and stand close to the other dragons. There’s something that I need to do, and I must do this alone.”
With puzzled nods, Helmar, Amil, Alonya, and Phigby troop back to stand next to Wind Song and Glory.
Cara hesitates before letting her eyes meet mine with a gentle gaze. “Whatever you are going to do, Hooper, I have faith that you’ll do the right thing.”
With that, she spins away and joins the others while the sprites flutter over their heads. A thick, gray cloud sweeps between me and my companions so that they can’t see me or I them.
It’s just I, Golden Wind, and Balgramr as I step to the crimson and place myself just in front of the big scarlet. “Balgramr,” I command in a low voice, “raise your head and look at me.”
He brings his head up and turns his one good eye on me. I can’t keep the harshness out of my voice. “You killed my family.”
“Yes,” he acknowledges.
“You obeyed Vay’s vile wishes and destroyed all that I held dear.”
He again nods and whispers, “Yes.”
“Can you give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you for what you did?”
His head scarcely moves from side to side. “I cannot,” he answers.
Sucking in a breath through clenched teeth, I mutter, “Balgramr, at this very moment, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive you for what you did to the ones that I loved most in the world and to me.
“However, I do know that I could never forgive myself if I showed the same wanton cruelty and brutality to you that you displayed that night. Moreover, I choose not to drink of Vay’s poison nor do I wish to follow in her foul footsteps in any manner.”
I pause to take in a deep breath to calm my feelings before I go on. “Nevertheless, you saved my life twice. Once today, and once in the past. And for whatever reason, you not only let me live back then, but you hid the fact that I still lived from Vay and for that, you paid a terrible price.”
Taking the few steps between us, I place my hand on his muzzle. “Twice you’ve kept death from taking me, given me back my life and for that, I thank you, and in return, I give you yours back.”
I look him straight in the eye. “Balgramr, do you swear that from this moment forward to forsake the vile ways of Vay and to never repeat the heinous acts of your past?”
He raises his head and returns my gaze. His face holds a bewildered expression and he doesn’t reply, so I repeat again, “Balgramr, do you swear from this moment forward to forsake the vile ways of Vay and to never repeat the heinous acts of your past?”
He stares at me for a long moment, before he answers in a deep, raspy, growl, “I swear.”
“Do you swear allegiance to this company and do I have your solemn oath that you will do all that you can in your power to aid us in our quest to protect the golden dragon from Vay and her evil underlings?”
“I so swear,” he proclaims.
“And do you swear that from this moment on, your life will be one of honor, honesty, and loyalty?”
He takes a deep breath. “I so swear,” he rumbles, “to live in such an honorable manner and furthermore, that I will give my life if need be, to protect Golden Wind.”
I nod in satisfaction, and holding Twinkle's moonstone, the Helsestein aloft, I cry aloud, Vald Hitta Sasi Ein! Power to this One!
From the gemstone comes a swirling, dazzling luminance, as bright as the most brilliant of moonlit nights. A shimmering orb envelops both the red dragon and myself.
I raise the gem higher and as I do, the crystal’s power lifts Balgramr into the air. The sphere is dazzling, with beams of light that pierce the fog in all directions. The radiance grows until its an aura that wraps itself around Balgramr.
The crimson dragon begins to twist and turn in the air as if he were a piece of clay that some Titan was molding in his enormous hands. After several moments, the sphere’s light begins to dim and gently, Balgramr is lowered to the ground.
The radiance melts away, the glow from the moonstone fades to nothingness, and I stand gazing eye to eye at a fully healed crimson dragon.
For a moment, Balgramr stands motionless, his eyes wide in incredulity. Then he spreads his mighty wings and beats them several times sending the fog swirling in all directions.
He swings his sinewy tail back and forth and lifts his formidable front talons to stare in disbelief at sturdy legs that once were mere stumps.
Molded together are his red scales, without a single one missing and his carapace horns rise in sweeping arcs from his skull.
He turns both eyes on me, and where once there was a scarred and blinded eye, now there are two healed red cat’s eyes that meet mine in awe.
Instead of a decrepit, broken, tormented crimson dragon, there stands Balgramr, once the Scarlet King of the Wilder Red Dragon Horde, and now friend, companion, and protector of Golden Wind and her tiny company.
36
Balgramr takes a step forward and, I admit, I take a step back. After all, this is not some broken-down dragon now, but an enormous, fearsome scarlet. The mighty warrior dragon and the fiercest, most dangerous of all dragons, not to mention he’s the former Scarlet King of all Wilder dragons.
He stops, gazes at me for a moment before he kneels on both front legs and bows his head low to me.
“Thank you, Hooper Menvoran, for giving me back my life, but even more for giving me some measure of peace to mind and spirit. I am yours to command from this moment forward.”
Gazing toward Golden Wind, our eyes meet. Hers are full of approval, whereas the lingering memories of the night my family died, intermixed with a lot of confusion, haunt mine.
I’m not sure why I let Balgramr live and why I used the Helsestein to heal him but I admit, it feels right and it feels just.
However, in some ways, it is still confusing to me. I’m not used to being both High and Low Justice and standing in judgment over a
nyone, much less a dragon.
Taking a few steps forward, I reach out and place my hand on his muzzle. At first, he withdraws a little from my touch, but then, he moves forward a bit so that my hand slides across his scales.
“Rise, Balgramr,” I order, “I’m not too sure about that command part, but I do need for you to remember one thing. Except for Cara, the others in the company don’t know that I can speak with dragons, and Golden Wind wants to keep it that way for now.”
Rising to his feet, but keeping his muzzle under my hand, he affirms, “I understand, and, of course, I shall honor your and Golden Wind’s wishes.”
“Good,” I answer, take a deep breath, and let it out while withdrawing my hand. “Well, c’mon, time for introductions, I guess.”
Hesitating, I ask, “Uh, what do you wish to be called, Balgramr, or Wind Raider?”
He blinks several times at me before asking, “How are the other dragons in your company named?”
I rattle off the dragon’s names and wait. He hesitates a moment before saying, “Wind Raider would be the most apt in the company, I suppose, only . . .”
“Only what?”
“Wind Raider is a Wilder name and one that I truly loathe.”
“Hmm,” I ponder, “we wouldn’t want that, I suppose. Other than this swamp, the only thing we loathe are Vay and her vile underlings.”
I think aloud for a moment, “Let’s see, you’ve been given a second chance, we could call you Wind Chance.”
One look at his face and I hastily mumble, “No, no, that wouldn’t do.”
I scratch at my head, thinking. “You have sworn to protect and defend Golden Wind so we could call you Wind Protector, or Wind Defender.”
None of those feels quite right, so I study his face for a moment. “You know, you were very courageous and bold for telling Vay that I had died. What would you think of Bold Wind?”
His eyes grow wide and take on a gleam. “Bold Wind,” he growls.
Rustling his wings, he declares, “I would be honored to be called by that name.”
