Talons of Power

by Tui T. Sutherland

  Turtle blinked at her, confused. “I thought RainWings were all lazy,” he said. “I thought your lives were easy and you liked them that way.”

  “Not mine,” Tamarin said, gesturing to her eyes. “Not Kinkajou. Maybe we’re a little different from the others.” She shrugged. “Anyway, I can see why Anemone wants another animus to talk to about it.”

  “Right,” said Turtle. His thoughts had snagged on Kinkajou and how she wasn’t anything like the RainWings he’d read about in Mother’s stories. He hadn’t thought about that before, because he didn’t think RainWing when he saw her; he only thought Kinkajou.

  “I’m really fine from here,” said Tamarin, flicking her tail at one of the side tunnels. “You go find Clay or Tsunami with your news.” She strode off to the left, limping as fast as she could, as if she wanted to prove she didn’t need help.

  Turtle took the path all the way to the right, winding up through the mountain toward the Great Hall. Halfway there, he heard voices coming from one of the caves.

  Instinctively, he slowed down and snuck closer on quiet talons. He’d always been good at eavesdropping. It made his life easier, knowing what other dragons whispered about behind closed doors. He’d avoided several palace scandals and feuds that way.

  This might be the kind of thing Tamarin is talking about, he realized uncomfortably. A way I make my life easier that’s not exactly “good.”

  “Mother feels terrible,” said one of the voices quietly. “She can’t figure out how they escaped.”

  “Can she trust her guards?” asked another voice, which Turtle recognized as his sister Tsunami. “Maybe she needs to replace them all with Outclaws — everyone knows their undying loyalty to Thorn.”

  “But she needs her best Outclaws in other parts of the kingdom,” said the first voice. That must be Sunny, Turtle realized. “There was an explosion at one of our western oases a couple of days ago. Two dragons were killed, and we have no idea why.”

  “Was it one of those viper-licking cactus bombs like the one here?” asked Tsunami, growling.

  “Seems like it.” Sunny sighed. “But it makes no sense that a SkyWing would be out that far west or targeting these dragons. Anyway, Mother has enough problems, and now she’s worried that Glory will be mad at her. She won’t be, right? Glory knows how tough it is being a new queen.”

  “Of course,” said Tsunami. “On the other talon, Thorn did promise to hang on to those prisoners for her. And who knows what they’ll do now that they’ve escaped. I bet they’ll go try to kill Glory. Or you! They hate you, too, don’t they?”

  “See, this is why I come to you with my problems,” Sunny said. “Because you’re always so comforting.”

  “I can make a stab at comforting!” Tsunami joked. “Let me try … um … hey, it’s only two dragons, right? Ah, they won’t be able to do anything. Deathbringer will totally stop them if they go anywhere near her. I mean, that is his entire purpose in life, as far as I can tell. And if they kill him, Glory will take them down with her magical death spit. So don’t worry, pat pat pat.”

  “Hmmm,” said Sunny. “That was very … stabby comforting.”

  There was the scrape of claws against rock, and Turtle realized they were coming toward the cave entrance. He backed up to act as though he was walking along the corridor when the two dragons emerged.

  “Turtle!” Tsunami’s face lit up with such delight that he felt ashamed of spying on her. “By all the moons, Sunny, look — a student from the Jade Winglet is actually HERE! At SCHOOL, where they’re SUPPOSED to be! What a glorious honor. Is it my hatching day? Or am I hallucinating?”

  “All right, enough sarcasm,” Sunny said, elbowing her in the chest. “Turtle, we’ve been really worried! Is everyone else back, too?”

  “Well … they’re coming,” he said. “I’m here to warn you — they’re coming with someone else. Maybe a bad someone else. Have either of you ever heard of Darkstalker?”

  Sunny jumped and gave him a startled look. “I have! When I was chasing Fierceteeth and the others — I heard them talking about this ancient NightWing legend, a dragon called Darkstalker. They were crazy scared of him, like he might actually be hunting them right that minute even though he died, like, centuries ago.”

  “Um. So. That’s the thing,” said Turtle. “He didn’t so much … exactly die.”

  “What?” Tsunami demanded, lashing her tail.

  “He’s woken up,” Turtle said. “And he’s on his way here right now.”

  There was a gasp from farther up the tunnel. They all turned and found a NightWing dragonet standing there, staring at Turtle, with his face contorted in terror.

  “Mightyclaws,” Sunny said, holding out her talons. “Wait, don’t overreact. We don’t even know —”

  “I have to warn the others!” he cried. He bolted up the tunnel toward the main hall.

  “Oh, good,” said Tsunami. “School-wide panic. We haven’t had any of that in at least two days.”

  “Mightyclaws!” Sunny called, running after him. “Wait!”

  “Tell me everything,” Tsunami said to Turtle. He hurried to keep up with her as they strode along the winding stone tunnel. The violet and rose glass lights overhead reflected off her thoughtful expression.

  He didn’t tell her everything. He didn’t tell her about his own magic. He sort of skimmed over the part where he hid from Darkstalker, implying that tall bushes and fallen trees were involved. But he had to tell her about Moon’s powers, although he felt as though that should have been Moon’s secret to share. Still, there was no other way to explain the prophecy and how Moon had been communicating with Darkstalker.

  “Arrgh, no,” Tsunami said, sweeping her tail across the floor. “More powers and prophecies? Seriously? I thought we were all done with that!”

  Turtle had told Sunny about Moon’s prophecy before, after his winglet left, but he’d left it up to her to decide who else to tell. Apparently Tsunami hadn’t been on that list.

  “I hate prophecies,” Tsunami muttered darkly. “All cryptic and demanding. Most useless way to communicate in the history of the world. Is Darkstalker as terrifying as he sounds? That NightWing student looked like he’d just been bitten by a ghost shark.”

  “He scared me,” Turtle admitted. He felt a little better now, here in Tsunami’s shadow. The dragonets of destiny could deal with Darkstalker. He didn’t have to do anything. He could leave saving the world in their talons.

  “Let’s swing by the library and ask for a lecture,” Tsunami said, grinning at Turtle. “It’ll make Starflight’s day.”

  They took another branch of the tunnel and soon came to the wide, open cave lined with scrolls. One of the leaf windows had been torn apart when Icicle leaped out of it, and it still hadn’t been fixed, allowing a burst of bright sunbeams to cut across the otherwise cool green light. Starflight was behind his desk with Fatespeaker, nudging scrolls into three different piles. His forehead was creased with worry, as it often was.

  Turtle liked Starflight. He was quiet, and better yet, he let other dragons be quiet. After the rest of Jade Winglet left the school, Turtle would often sit in the library by himself, and Starflight never asked questions or made him talk.

  “Hey, Starflight.” Tsunami tapped the desk lightly so the blind librarian would know where she was. “Don’t explode with joy or anything, but I have a historical question for you.”

  “Really?” Starflight’s face lit up, turning toward the sound of her talons. “Which era?”

  “I have no idea,” Tsunami snorted. “Is there an Era of Sinister Bad Guys? What do you know about a dragon called Darkstalker?”

  Something clattered to the floor across the room, and Turtle realized there was a trio of IceWings studying over by the windows. They’d dropped their scroll when they heard Tsunami’s question, and now they were leaning toward Starflight with sharp, curious expressions.

  “He was a very powerful animus NightWing who disappeared over two thousa
nd years ago,” Starflight said cautiously. “The stories say he was betrayed by his friend, a SeaWing animus named Fathom, and perhaps also by his girlfriend, Clearsight. But nobody knows exactly what happened to him.”

  “He didn’t really disappear,” said one of the IceWings. “He spent years lurking in the shadows and killing IceWings.”

  “And you’re leaving out the part about him killing his own father,” said another IceWing, flicking her wings back. “Who was an IceWing prince, by the way.”

  “Whoa, really?” Tsunami said, giving Turtle a worried look.

  “That story has been highly oversimplified,” said Darkstalker, poking his head in through the broken window. “I mean, don’t any of the scrolls mention that he totally deserved it?”

  The IceWings shrieked in unison, loud enough to break glass. They scrambled over one another to get away from the oversized NightWing, knocking down an entire shelf of scrolls in the process. Paper unfurled across the cave in cascading fountains.

  Turtle froze, trying to sink into the floor. How had Darkstalker gotten here so fast? Was he already done hunting? Where were Turtle’s friends?

  “What’s happening?” Starflight cried. “Who was that?”

  “A really, really, really big NightWing,” Fatespeaker yelped, clutching his arm. “I haven’t had any visions about this! This seems seriously vision-worthy! Powers, help me out!” She closed her eyes. “Oh, no! I see … darkness ahead!”

  “That’s because you have your eyes closed, you ninny,” Darkstalker said pleasantly.

  “Who are you?” Tsunami demanded.

  “You already know,” he said, startled. “This is amazing. How in Pyrrhia did you know I was coming?” He paused. “I can’t even find the answer to that in your mind. What in the world? A fascinating mystery.”

  Don’t think about it too hard, Turtle prayed. Don’t figure out there’s a secret to uncover here.

  “So you are Darkstalker.” Tsunami lashed her tail. “You’d better not hurt any of my students.”

  “What?” Starflight sputtered. “Darkstalker? How?”

  “Why would I hurt any of your students?” Darkstalker protested. “There’s literally zero motivation for me to do that. Dragons today, so full of mistrust and hostility. Now, in my time — no, wait, we were exactly the same.” He poked at the ragged green edges of the leaf windowpane. “That’s one of the many problems I was going to fix.”

  “It’s the Darkstalker!” shouted one of the IceWings. “Die, you monster!” She leaped across the cave, blasting frostbreath in Darkstalker’s face, landed in a roll right in front of his snout, and slashed her serrated claws across his nose.

  All of which, of course, did nothing to him. The IceWing staggered back, shaking her arm as if she’d just smashed it into a rock.

  Darkstalker gave her a bored look, then reached one of his long talons through the window and casually pinned her to the floor.

  “All right,” he said. “Now I’m a little motivated to hurt somebody.”

  Tsunami started toward him and he chuckled. “Oh, I won’t,” he said. “I promise! No need to get all ferocious with me, Tsunami. But you might want to add a manners class to your curriculum. Or is it fine with you if your students attack innocent visitors?”

  “Let her go,” Tsunami growled.

  Darkstalker lifted his claws and the IceWing scrambled away. All three ice dragons bolted out of the cave as fast as they could run.

  “I don’t think I’ll fit through the tunnels to get in here,” Darkstalker said regretfully, glancing around the library. “But I love what you’ve done with the space, Starflight. Could you please bring any scrolls you have about Clearsight and meet me in the main entrance hall?”

  “Scrolls about Clearsight?” Starflight echoed. “Your, uh — the dragon you —”

  “Yes,” said Darkstalker. “The dragon I loved. Specifically about what happened to her after … well, after our … unfortunate misunderstanding.”

  “But nobody knows,” Starflight blurted. “She disappeared at the same time you did.”

  “Maybe there’s a clue somewhere,” Darkstalker said. “You’re a terrific librarian. If anyone can find it, you can.” His eyes narrowed. “Perhaps it would also be useful to bring any scrolls about what happened to Fathom.”

  “I — I —” Starflight stammered, moving his claws along the desk. Fatespeaker grabbed one of his talons and leaned in to him.

  “Thanks ever so much,” said Darkstalker. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, someone is trying to attack my tail.” He swung his head out the window and Turtle heard him say, “Seriously? You too? Does everyone believe everything they read these days?”

  Tsunami hurried over to the window. Turtle managed to breathe again, managed to move one foot slowly in front of the other to follow her.

  Outside, two small NightWings were dive-bombing Darkstalker, shooting trails of flame across his scales. Turtle saw his friends hovering in the sky not far away. Moon was trying to call to the NightWings, but they weren’t listening to her.

  Darkstalker lifted off from the mountainside and turned in a large, slow circle, watching the NightWings without fighting back. He looked faintly amused.

  “Tiny dragons,” he boomed. “Listen, I’m impressed, but this really isn’t necessary.”

  “We’re not going to let you hurt our tribe!” shouted one of the dragonets. It was hard to tell from a distance, but Turtle thought that was Mightyclaws.

  “By the shining moons, I’m not planning to hurt the tribe,” said Darkstalker. “It’s my tribe, too, isn’t it? I’m a loyal NightWing. Don’t the stories ever mention that? Come on now, NightWings are usually so clever; you must have noticed this isn’t working.” He caught Mightyclaws gently in his talons and set him on a ledge.

  The other NightWing darted in and wrapped herself around Darkstalker’s neck, trying to plunge her claws in between the scales of his underbelly.

  “I don’t mean the attack itself,” Darkstalker went on, as if he barely noticed his new violent scarf. “Although that’s not working either. I mean the distraction. It’s not actually possible to distract me, because, guess what, mind reading! Plus also visions of the future. But good try.” He whipped around, dove toward the forest, and emerged a moment later with a third NightWing dragonet struggling between his talons.

  “No, no.” Darkstalker shook his head at her. “Listen, I understand; if I were you, I’d want to sneak off and warn the rest of the tribe, too. But you know what they’ll do then? I do; I saw it in a vision. They’ll run away and try to hide from me again! Without even giving me a chance to introduce myself.”

  “We know all about you!” Mightyclaws yelled. “We know you’ve been trying to break free for two thousand years so you can get revenge on our tribe!”

  “That makes no sense,” Darkstalker said reasonably. “I did just escape a two-thousand-year trap, but the tribe didn’t deceive me and stick me underground. That was two foolish dragons, using magic — it was nothing to do with the other NightWings. I adore my tribe. I’m wildly excited to rejoin you and let everyone see the real me.”

  He set down the NightWing next to Mightyclaws and unwrapped the other one from his neck as though she were a harmless sloth. “So we’re not going to ruin the surprise, all right? We can all go together to tell the tribe I’m back. Trust me, it’ll be great! Much less bloody and horrifying than what you all have in your minds. More … feasting and rainbows! Hang on, where did that come from? Ah, I know.”

  Darkstalker turned toward the landing area that led to the main school entrance. Clay and Sunny stood there, both of them breathing heavily, as though they’d been running.

  “Feasting,” Darkstalker said, pointing at Clay. “And rainbows.” He pointed at Sunny and grinned.

  “Step. Away. From my students,” Sunny hissed.

  “Sunny!” Darkstalker cried with enormous delight. He swooped down to land facing her. “You’re so tiny for such a shaker of wo
rlds! Don’t you know who I am?”

  “I do. You’re the Darkstalker,” she said.

  “It’s just Darkstalker,” he corrected her. “Not sure where this ‘the’ came from. That makes me sound like some kind of lurking kraken-type monster.”

  Clay cleared his throat. “Isn’t that, um … kind of what you are?”

  “Not at all,” Darkstalker said with a laugh. “Sunny! Get this. I’m your great-great-great-great-great-okay-I’m-losing-count-many-greats-great-uncle!” He bowed. “Surprise! More funny-looking family for you.” He spread his wings and Turtle realized he had a line of silvery scales against the black, along the curve under his wings where they met his body. Those must be from his IceWing father.

  Sunny hesitated, glancing around at all the listening dragons lit by the pink-orange sunrise sky. The three NightWings stood close together on the ledge where Darkstalker had put them, shivering but unharmed. Overhead, the sunlight glinted off the scales of Turtle’s companions: Winter’s bright white, Qibli’s pale yellow, and Peril’s fiery copper.

  Moon landed beside Sunny, and they brushed wings for a moment, each reassuring the other silently.

  Turtle wished he could read minds like Moon did. What did Sunny think of Darkstalker? She’d obviously prepared to defend her students from a monster, only to find a charming relative instead. Beside him in the library window, Tsunami was lashing her tail as though she couldn’t decide whether to go out and attack him or not.

  “Uncle?” Sunny asked Darkstalker. “Really?”

  “Great-Uncle Darkstalker.” The huge NightWing shook his head, chuckling. “That sounds SO weird. Like I’m a thousand years old — I mean, I know I’m technically ancient, but I sure don’t feel that way. Did Whiteout end up marrying that glassblowing dragon with the spectacles? I’ll have to ask Starflight; I bet he knows. Sunny, you have my sister’s eyes. Hers were bluer, of course, not so green, but the same shape. You would have loved her.”