by GARY DARBY
“A form of the deepest, foulest magic that I know,” he answers. He stares off at the nearby trees as if his mind is far away. “And something I’ve not seen in a long, long time.”
He shakes his head as if to clear his thoughts, takes a piece of rough cloth, wets it from a water flask, hands it to Cara and motions toward me. “The coolness will do him good,” he instructs her.
After several dabs with the cloth, I hold up a hand to stop her. “You didn’t answer Cara’s question,” I say to Phigby, “and as the one who had that horrible thing inside me, I want to know, just what is a Wraith Worm?”
“Yes, Phigby,” Cara says, “I’d like to know, too.”
I can see that Phigby is hesitant to answer, but he reaches over and picks an arrow out of Cara’s quiver. He holds the plumed bolt up to the light. “When I took the Wilder’s arrow out of you, Hooper, I thought it was a simple shaft of wood, feathers, and iron point.”
He shakes his head in a forceful manner. “Fool that I was, I did not carefully inspect the tip.” He holds the point up. “A necromancer cast a spell on the arrow, and inside the tip placed the Wraith Worm.”
He again shook his head. “The arrow was not meant to kill. Instead, once it struck, the spell released the worm, in this case, into Hooper.
“The foul thing’s sole purpose was to take over his mind, his body, eventually turning him into a wraith under the necromancer’s influence who created the spell.”
Cara’s gasp is sharp. “That arrow was meant for Helmar, not Hooper.”
Phigby gives me a quick sideways glance and says, “So it was.”
I stare at Phigby with wide eyes and a thudding heart. I’m sorry now that I goaded Phigby into answering Cara’s question. Some things are best left unsaid. Nevertheless, I ask, “Phigby, I thought a wraith was like a ghost, a specter. How could that happen to me?”
Phigby shakes his head and explains. “There are many types of wraiths, lad. In this case, the intent wasn’t to turn you into an apparition but to keep you alive and under the evil one’s spell.
“To us, you would seem to be Hooper, but in actuality, that which makes you — your personality, your traits, and most importantly, your ability to make your own choices and decisions would be gone.
“In all appearances you would be Hooper, but your every act would be only to serve your master or mistress who controlled the spell. And there you would have stayed until the evil one had no more use for you and then you would have faded away into oblivion.”
Cara shudders at Phigby’s grim words. “For what purpose? What would this necromancer want with Hooper?”
He holds up the arrow to peer at it before he gives me another sideways glance. “That I can’t answer, but I can tell you that it takes a powerful wizard or sorceress, one who is steeped in the dark arts to do such a thing.”
He draws in a deep breath and grimly says, “Indeed, a formidable dark lord or lady of the shadows.”
For a moment, my head swirls and the thought comes unbidden in my mind, One Dark Queen upon her throne, seeds of evil she has sown.
I must have muttered something for Phigby leans close and asks, “Hooper, what is it? You suddenly look ill. Has the fever or pain returned?”
“What?” I mumble. “No, I was just, uh, thinking about what might have happened if you hadn’t gotten that thing out of me.”
Phigby gives me several gentle pats on my forearm. “Yes, we were fortunate. But, you fought a good fight, Hooper. Many have lost the battle against the likes of that. And the fool that I am, I might not have recognized it in time if you hadn’t warned me.”
“Yes,” Cara pipes up and leans down to stare at me. “I’d like to know where that came from. You keep making some very surprising statements.”
Cara cocks her head to one side, her eyebrows raised and waiting for me to answer. I rapidly think to myself that I’m caught between two awful choices. If I try to lie, they’ll catch me in it and demand to know what I’m hiding.
If I tell the truth — I’m not sure what they’ll think, maybe that I’ve gone insane?
Phigby clears his throat and says, “Let’s talk about that at another time, Hooper needs his rest, and so do I for that matter.”
Cara hesitates before saying, “You’re right. You two both look like you’ve been through a war. We’ll talk after you’ve had some sleep.”
I think to myself that Cara doesn’t realize how true her words are at the moment. It was a war, maybe not with swords or bows but a battle nevertheless in every sense of the word.
I meet her gaze, and I can see in her eyes that she’s willing to forgo my answer for now, but this conversation is not completely over.
She gives me a soft pat on my good shoulder. “You lie still, I’ll get more wood and water. Do you need anything else?”
“You wouldn’t happen to have a well-cooked, well-seasoned venison haunch or roast lying around would you?” I ask.
She dimples and her eyes gleam. “How I wish I did! I’d start eating at one end, and you could start at the other!”
We share a little laugh before Cara turns to Phigby, “When I get back, you can have your nap, sir, and I’ll stand guard.” With that, she bounces to her feet and heads toward the trees.
I watch her go, my eyes watching her every move. Phigby rumbles, “Quite a girl, that Cara Dracon.”
“Yes,” I sigh. “If ever there was a blessed man, it’s Helmar. I wonder if he knows just how fortunate he is.” I think to myself that if I were Helmar, I would never, ever, take her for granted.
As she disappears behind some thick bushes, Phigby turns from his small, smoldering fire and hands me a steaming cup. “Drink. All of it.”
I take a sip and immediately screw my face up. “Yech! That’s definitely not poison, it tastes awful.”
“Drink,” he commands.
Somehow, I manage to quaff the dark liquid down and from what I can taste it seems to be made of one tart lemon, a pint of brine, and green Bitter Berries. “Couldn’t you have at least used ripe berries instead of green?”
“Couldn’t find any,” he shrugs, “had to use what was on hand. Doesn’t matter, they work just as well, just leaves a little aftertaste in the mouth.”
“A little aftertaste,” I grump. “Is that what you call your tongue tasting like it’s rotting in your mouth?”
But I have to admit, within a few moments, my wounded shoulder feels amazingly good. I hardly notice what little pain there is, and I can actually flex my arm.
I start to hold it upright to show Phigby but at a sudden thought, I quickly put it back down and snuggle deeper into my leafy bed.
Can’t let Cara know just how well I actually am. After all, how often do I get pampered? Until today, the answer was never and the fact is, I really like it.
“Phigby?”
“Eh?” he mutters. “What is it, Hooper?”
“Who are you?”
He glances sharply at me. “What do you mean? I’m Professor Phigby — ”
“No, Phigby,” I answer, “I know your name, but you’re not just a mere shopkeeper who sells books and makes potions and medicines, by appointment only. You’re more than that, much more.”
I again turn my eyes to the golden. She has her head on her forelegs, apparently asleep. “In my dreams, I thought I saw — ”
“What you saw, Hooper,” he says tersely, “doesn’t matter.”
He pauses and then murmurs, “What is important is for you to rest and to heal. And as for me?” He gently squeezes my arm. “I am who I am, and nothing more.”
He turns away to place his pots and medicines back into his bag. On a hunch, I ease the gem out and take a quick look. It’s exactly what I expected to find. The little frond has opened even more. I hurriedly put it away, but my suspicions have been confirmed.
Cara was right. That arrow was meant for Helmar. Why? Because he must be the Gem Guardian. That could be the only answer. Vay was trying to put her Wraith Worm into Helmar
to control the Gem Guardian, but something went wrong and instead it ended up in my body.
But thanks to Phigby, I’m rid of the dirty thing and Vay’s plan was thwarted. This time.
I lay my head back and for the first time, a peaceful, calm feeling flows over me. I’ve done it, I’ve found the Gem Guardian. I don’t even have to ask the golden, there’s no doubt in my mind.
My work is finally finished, and I can rid myself of this burden. I let out a satisfied sigh and snuggle even deeper into my leaf bed.
“Hmm,” Phigby says, turning to eye me. “For someone who almost met a most unpleasant end, you sound quite content.”
I can’t help myself and laugh. To his bemused expression, I say, “You have no idea, Phigby. No sir, you have no idea at all of just how content I am.”
Chapter 22
I sleep so long after that, and without any dark nightmares that when I finally rouse, it’s night again and from the shafts of pale moonlight that break through the boughs overhead, the moons must be rising. No sooner do I open my eyes than Cara, who’s sitting cross-legged next to me, smiles and calls over her shoulder, “He’s awake.”
Two sets of heavy footsteps approach and I glance up to find Helmar and Amil standing next to Cara. Helmar has an odd expression on his face, but Amil’s grin matches his size.
“You had the Hooper warrior clan pretty worried there for a while,” Amil smiles. “But it’s good to see you with your eyes open, even if they are a little droopy.”
“Yes, Hooper,” Helmar murmurs, “it’s good to see you awake.” He shakes his head as if in disbelief. “How you held onto the golden all that while with that arrow stuck in you is beyond me.”
I shrug and immediately wince. Shrugging is not a good thing when you’ve just had an arrow dug out of your shoulder. “Too afraid of falling off,” I answer. I bite down hard on my lip. “Helmar, I’m sorry about skying the golden, but — ”
To my surprise, he quickly kneels next to my side and puts out a hand to stop me. Even more astonishing, he says, “Hooper, we’ll speak no more about you riding or skying the golden. You did what you had to do.”
His hand rests on my good shoulder, and he leans a little closer with a sober expression on his face. “If you hadn’t, then more than likely, not only would I be dead but perhaps all of us.”
“That’s right, Hooper,” Cara says softly, “you and the golden saved us. If you hadn’t shown up when you did, the Wilders would have caught us completely by surprise.”
In a gruff, raspy tone, Helmar says, “You took an arrow for me, Hooper, saved my life, and I’ll never forget that.”
Helmar’s hand, his words ease the pain more than Phigby’s potion. I don’t know what to say, and I’m a little embarrassed to have so much fuss made over me so I duck my head, just a little, careful not to move my shoulder.
I mutter, “How did you get away from the Wilders? There were a lot more of them than us.”
Just then, Phigby walks ups and Helmar gestures past Phigby to his nearby bag. “That old, scruffy-looking haversack holds more than just potions, medicines, and books. I still think we’re in the company of a powerful wizard or sorcerer.”
“Wizards and sorcerers,” Phigby splutters, “it was nothing.”
“Nothing?” I ask. “What was nothing?”
Helmar turns to me. “As you know, the Wilders ambushed us with a host of reds but the golden’s appearance seemed to throw their whole plan off. After you were hit, though, the golden tore out of there faster than any dragon I’ve ever seen.
“There was no chance that any Wilder crimson was going to catch her. As I said, how you hung on to her is beyond me. Anyway, seeing that they weren’t going to catch you or Golden Wind, the Wilders closed on us, trying to ring us in.
“Their leader, a big man, is shouting orders, and it’s clear we’re in trouble. Their arrows are like a scarlet hailstorm filling the sky but somehow our sapphires weave through their barrage of arrows, and none of us gets hit.
“But we’re still in trouble, so Phigby reaches into his bag, mutters something loudly into the air, and then throws what looks like a coal-hot spear, directly at the Wilders. It splits the air like a bolt of lightning. There’s a clap of thunder, and the whole sky lights up as if the noonday sun had suddenly appeared in our midst.
“Though my eyes are dazzled with colors I’ve never seen before, I can see plain enough that the Wilders’ reds are tumbling about as if some giant had belted them from the sky.
“I don’t know how many toppled out of their seats and fell to their death, but what I do know is that the rest of them turned tail and fled.”
I look at Phigby with wide eyes. “You brought sky lightning?”
Phigby waves a hand in dismissal. “Just the right combination of a few simple chemicals Hooper, that’s all there was, nothing more.”
“Alchemy, again. Just like the other night with the goblin?” I ask.
“More or less,” he mutters.
I glance over at Helmar, who shakes his head at me. “Uh huh,” he mumbles, implying that he doesn’t quite believe Phigby before he says, “I had Wind Glory swoop down, Amil climbed aboard, and we sped off.”
He glances at Amil and mutters, “Leaving behind a host of dead Wilders on the ground, thanks to his prowess with that ax of his.”
“Wilders,” Amil rumbles while looking at me with lively eyes and a smile, “only take one swing to bring down, not three or four as with trolls or goblins.”
“The golden led us here, Hooper,” Cara murmurs softly. “For some reason, she wanted us to hide ourselves in this stand of dragon heart trees.”
“Dragon heart trees?” I mumble as I glance around, not recognizing the giant trees beforehand.
“Yes,” Amil replies as he motions toward the looming trees. “A whole stand, in fact.” He motions toward the looming trees. “In all my travels, I’ve only seen a few of them, and always they grow singly, never together like this.”
A grove of dragon heart trees, I think to myself. My head is resting up against one of the giant trees, so I reach up with one hand to touch the bark. The tree’s outer covering is rough to the touch, and the bark seems to be split into pieces as big as dragon scales.
However, from what I understand, tear away the bark and underneath is wood that is incredibly strong yet in the hands of an expert craftsman is supple enough to be fashioned into powerful longbows.
I have to wonder, it seems that the golden does things for a particular reason, so what could be her purpose in leading us here?
A shaft of moonlight suddenly appears through a break in the trees and catches my eye. I turn my head slightly, and my breath almost catches. The moon’s glow falls directly on the golden. She gleams a burnished gold, an aura that seems to shine and wave in the night.
I follow the shaft up to the three moons. They look so close together as if they were one in the sky, shining brighter than I’ve ever seen. And then, just for an instant, three beautiful faces are in the moonlight, smiling. They give me a small nod as if to tell me it’s time and then disappear.
I glance back to Phigby. “Phigby,” I ask gruffly, “how close did I come to dying?”
“Well . . . ” he begins hesitantly, “you — ”
“Phigby, how close?”
Cara answers gently for Phigby. “Very close, Hooper. I helped Phigby dig that arrowhead out.”
She draws in a sharp breath. “I saw what he had to do. You’re lucky to be alive.” Her face takes on an odd expression. “I guess it sort of evened out, you saved ours and Phigby’s life, he saved yours.”
I let out a breath, give Phigby a small smile. “Thank you, Phigby.”
He waves a hand in acknowledgment but knowing how close I came to dying has made up my mind. That arrow was meant for Helmar with its Wraith Worm, the golden led us to a grove of dragon heart trees, there was that aura surrounding the golden and the Gaelian Fae appeared as if encouraging me to act.
> It’s time.
I must deliver Pengillstorr’s tear jewel to the guardian before it’s too late.
I try to rise, but Phigby puts a hand on my chest to push me down. I push his hand away, “No Phigby, I’ve got to get up. It’s important that I do, more important than any of you realize.”
He and Helmar exchange quick, surprised glances. “Is he — ” Helmar begins before Phigby quickly shakes his head and answers, “No, once he became fully awake, that meant the potion had worn off. He’s lucid, even though he’s not making any sense.”
“I am making sense,” I grumble, “now either help me or get out of my way.”
The two of them put a hand behind my back and ease me to a sitting position. “Now, help me to stand, please.” They push and pull me to my feet. The pain’s returned a bit, and I grimace, but I nod toward the small campfire. “Over there,” I whisper, “in the light.”
With Phigby on one side and Helmar on the other, I manage to shuffle over to a smooth fallen log that’s close to the fire. I ease myself down and look around to make sure everyone is close.
“All right, Hooper,” Phigby asks sternly, “what’s this all about? And by the way, if you start bleeding again, don’t blame me, you should be lying down.”
“I know, Phigby,” I answer soberly, “and believe me, if it weren’t so important, I wouldn’t leave that bed for a fortnight, or longer.”
I gesture with my hand toward his bag. “Phigby, the sealed book, would you bring it out, please?”
He gives me a sharp, questioning look before he opens the bag, reaches deep inside, and brings out the mysterious book. He hesitates for a moment before he begins to slide it onto my lap.
I shake my head. “Would you hold it, instead? I don’t think I can with this arm.”
He hesitates, then sits down, holding the book tightly. Cara quickly takes a seat next to him, no doubt anticipating that something is about to happen with the book, perhaps even, that we’ll be able to open the thick manuscript.
With Amil’s help, I stand, take a few steps forward before I turn and face my companions. I take a deep breath, reach into my tunic, fumble for a moment before I bring out the gemstone.
