Dark Wyng

by Chris D'Lacey

  “Gabrial is guarding it?”

  “He’d better be.”

  “But I thought … ?”

  “You thought what?”

  “Nothing.” Ren gulped, shrinking back, for once grateful of Grynt’s intervening snarl. It had saved him from saying that he knew of the injury to Gabrial’s wing, which would have implicated Grendel (and even Gariffred) in his escape from the fhosforent mines. And what of Grendel? Until this moment Ren had assumed she’d been captured on that stormy night and hauled away for interrogation; Grynt’s reaction suggested the female dragon had gotten back to her eyrie undetected. “Are the wearlings with Gabrial?”

  “Yes. Does that concern you?” Garodor asked.

  “It concerns me that Grogan’s heart is kept near them. That Ty might go near the pupps.”

  And Pine, for that matter. Ren was still deeply suspicious of her motives. If Grystina was right, Onetooth would have seen Ty taken from the settlement. So where was she now? What was she up to? She and the mysteriously reborn Wind. If Pine and Ty rode together, maybe they also plotted together.

  The De:allus breathed in slowly. “You heard Prime Grynt; the heart cannot be opened.”

  “Yet Ty boasts that it can. What if he truly knows a way? Why would he put himself in this much danger just to trade words for a useless piece of rock?”

  “I grow tired of this,” said Grynt. “Have the heart brought here as well. Let’s see how this arrogant Ty performs when he’s under threat from my fire. I want Gallen, Grymric, and Elder Gossana in attendance. Go to her first. Call the blue as well, now he’s fit enough to fly.”

  Garodor bowed in acknowledgment.

  “And me?” asked Ren, when the dust of Garodor’s departure had settled.

  “You will stay where I can watch you,” Grynt said. “I have still to learn how you fled that pit and killed one of my Veng in the process. If anyone is a threat to the Wearle, it’s you.”

  “It was the spirit of Grogan,” Ren said bluntly. “It rose against the Veng and stopped its hearts.” And maybe it would stop his too, if he did not honor his promise to the wraith.

  “Then we are challenged on all sides,” Prime Grynt said. “So let this be the day we reckon with spirits and dark enchantments and call upon Godith to settle all threats. You’d better pray that you are ready for it, boy. This may be the last time you look upon the light.”

  Or the last time you do, Ren said to himself.

  And he sat, cross-legged, on the cave floor and stared thoughtfully into the pale blue sky.

  Gabrial and Grendel’s eyrie, that same morning

  Graark!

  Grendel raised her head and sighed.

  The wearmyss, Gayl, was awake again and bleating.

  Sometimes, being a mother was hard.

  It was a curious fact that throughout Gabrial’s enforced incarceration, the family slept whenever tiredness fell upon them. Often, that meant during the day. Even then Grendel was regularly woken by the timid wearmyss pawing at her neck and mewing for attention. It was usually the case that Gayl had been nudged beyond the curl of Grendel’s tail by the awkward spread of her brother during sleep. A rearrangement of limbs and a hurr of comfort typically calmed her. This time it was different. The myss was hovering on the threshold of the sleeping chamber, calling Grendel toward the cave proper.

  Mystified, Grendel rose up. Gabrial and Gariffred were fast asleep. The drake had his head tucked under his wing. Gabrial was snoring lightly and popping smoke with every exhalation. Grendel left them to it and padded over to stand by Gayl. She raked the wearling’s back with her isoscele.

  “Gayl, what is it?”

  Graaar, the myss replied. Neither wearling had many words yet. When they needed to communicate, much emphasis was placed on the timbre of their growls and the physical gestures they made.

  “The cave?” said Grendel, peering around. It all looked normal, if a little gloomy. Morning had struggled to make an impact. The semi-oval entrance to the cave was lit by a somewhat bland gray sky. To one side was the pillar bearing Grogan’s heart. And at the corner of the cave mouth sat a bored-looking Goodle. He straightened his neck when he heard Grendel’s voice.

  “Is there a problem, Matrial?”

  Like he would know. After Grendel’s attempt to go to Ren’s aid, Goodle had resumed his duties completely unaware he’d been glamored by her. Gabrial, whose wings were now at full strength, had muttered privately that Goodle was more of an ornament than a guard. But there was no animosity between the adults and the family had grown used to Goodle’s presence. The situation was relaxed enough that Goodle tolerated the wearlings running around him during play. And he was always polite; Grendel liked that.

  “Gayl is restless,” she replied. She yawned widely, smoke curling in tiny balls in her throat. She puffed them out in a series of diminishing rings. “She’s dragged me into the cave for some reason. Is something happening outside?”

  “Not that I know of,” Goodle answered. “A wyng of roamers flew over not long ago, led by Veng Commander Gallen. They were heading for Skytouch. De:allus Garodor might have been with them.”

  “A search wyng?” Grendel’s primary heart was suddenly stoked with a flood of anxiety. Every time a dragon flew by, she thought about Ren and what might have become of the boy. She shook herself fully awake. “Did they have captives? Hom prisoners? Did they have Ren?”

  “I don’t know. I wasn’t really concentrating.” Goodle flicked his tail as if he was genuinely sorry he couldn’t be of more help. He brought the subject back to Gayl. “She’s been up for a while. I heard her shuffling around.”

  “Doing what?”

  “I don’t know. She was in the shadows. I heard her crying, but—”

  “Crying?” A maternal snap crept into Grendel’s voice.

  “I assumed you would go to her,” Goodle said. He broadened his shoulders. “As you know, I’m not allowed to leave my post.”

  Gaa-raar.

  Gayl was mewing again. While the adults had been talking, she had moved into the light and picked up a small rock. It was a little bigger than she was comfortably capable of lifting, but not only did she lift it, she threw it almost vertically upward. The clatter when it landed made Goodle start.

  “Now, why has she done that?”

  Grendel looked around the cave again, her locatory stigs beginning to bristle. Was it her imagination, or could she smell the sweat of a warm-blooded animal being faintly tossed around whenever the wind eddied? She took in a deeper swatch of air and looked over her shoulder toward the tunnels. “Goodle, has anything entered the cave?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Are you sure? A bird? Anything?”

  “I’m fully alert,” he said, bristling a little. “Nothing has come past me.” Rarely, for him, he showed his fangs.

  Grendel moved into the open. She picked up the rock that Gayl had thrown. “Like this?” she said, lifting it.

  The wearmyss nodded.

  “Then down?” Grendel dropped the rock in front of her.

  Gayl looked at it, then swept it out of sight with her tail.

  Now Goodle was even more confused. “Is she playing a game?”

  “No,” said Grendel, quietly drumming her claws. “Gayl is sensitive. More observant than several Elders I can think of. She’s trying to tell us something.” She picked up a similarly sized rock and dropped that in front of the wearmyss as well. The youngster swept it into the open sky. Then she raised her tail and used the budding blob that would soon become an isoscele to point nervously across the cave.

  Grendel’s gaze came to rest upon the pillar that supported Grogan’s heart.

  A beat passed.

  Goodle blinked.

  Somewhere in the distance, a crow screeched.

  Then …

  “GABRIAL!” Grendel roared so loudly that grit showered down from cracks in the ceiling. In two pounding steps, she was by the pillar.

  “What? What is it
?” Goodle fussed. “Grendel, what’s the matter?”

  “A dark force has visited the cave,” she muttered.

  “That’s impossible. I was—”

  “GABRIAL!” Grendel roared again. “Look!” she said to Goodle, a growl in her voice. “What do you see on the pillar?”

  Goodle flustered his wings. “Well, it’s Grogan’s heart, of cour—”

  But it wasn’t Grogan’s heart. He could see that now. It was nothing but an ordinary rock, about the same size and shape as the heart but with none of its hardened veins and walls.

  “Gayl saw it,” muttered Grendel, looking out at the sky. “She saw it lifted and she saw it disappear. This stone has been put in its place to fool us.”

  “Saw what disappear?” said Gabrial, approaching.

  “Raise the Wearle,” Grendel said urgently to him. “We’re under attack by an invisible spirit.”

  He followed her gaze and looked at the bogus heart on the pillar.

  “Grogan’s heart has been stolen,” she said.

  Barely moments later, De:allus Garodor arrived at the cave. “Gabrial, I am to escort you to Prime Grynt’s eyrie.”

  “You’ll want to hear about this first,” Grendel said.

  She pointed to the stone and told the De:allus all she knew.

  “This is not a false strategy to free us,” she added, noting Garodor’s glint of suspicion. She had to concede that in his position it was easier to believe that one of the dragons inside the cave had arranged the swap, rather than accept that an unseen force had snuck past Goodle. She looked twice at Gariffred in that regard, for the drake was unusually fond of collecting stones and had lately found some odd-shaped ones in the tunnels. But after commingling briefly with Gayl, Garodor confirmed that something had indeed stolen the heart. He said, “Gabrial, come with me. Goodle, stay here and be on your guard. Look after Grendel and the wearlings.”

  “Look after us?” Grendel snorted, making Gayl cower. “Is that the best you can offer?”

  Garodor said, “You’re in no danger. If this force had meant to harm you, you’d be dead already.”

  “He’s right, Grendel,” Gabrial agreed. He stroked her neck, though for once she took little comfort from it.

  At that moment, Gariffred came forward and spilled three rocks in front of his guardian.

  “Thank you,” said Gabrial, touching the drake’s snout. “We’ll play with those later. You stay with Mama now.”

  “No, wait,” said Garodor, as Gabrial prepared for flight. He looked down at the rocks and studied them carefully. “Where did you find those?”

  Graark? said Gariffred. He dipped low to the ground, afraid he’d done wrong.

  “He picks them up in the tunnels,” said Grendel. “An odd quirk, nothing more. Healer Grymric is aware of it. Please don’t frighten him. He’s not used to the glare of your eyes.”

  Garodor shuttered his eyelids a little. Pointing at the rocks, he said to Gariffred, “May I show you something, little one?”

  Gariffred wiggled his snout—and nodded.

  The De:allus picked up all three rocks and turned them deftly in his claws, until …

  Gaaaaar! exclaimed the drake, his eyes as round as the pale Erth moon.

  His exclamation was echoed by Goodle, who said, “Is that … ?”

  “A memory stone, yes.” Garodor held it up for all to see. Gariffred’s pieces had fused together and transformed themselves into a glowing orb. The structure appeared opaque at first, but when Gabrial peered closely, he could see threads of movement at its turbulent center, like plant strands twisting in water.

  “Can you read it?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure,” said Garodor. “It’s been encrypted with the mark of an Elder.”

  “Givnay,” said Grendel, pulling back. She shuddered at the thought of what evils the stone might reveal.

  Garodor turned the orb left and right. “Givnay may have kept the pieces hidden, but I don’t believe he created this stone. It looks too old.”

  “Could he have found it here?” asked Gabrial. “Perhaps a dragon from the first Wearle created it?”

  “Perhaps,” the De:allus muttered, studying the moving memory threads. He focused his extraordinary eyes on the stone. For several moments, waves of yellow and purple light flickered back and forth as he scanned the contents.

  Gariffred, seeing this, became excited. He sat up and reached for the orb.

  “No!” said Grendel, with a mild growl, concerned he might break Garodor’s concentration.

  The drake grizzled and sat back on his tail. But by then the pretty lights had ended anyway.

  “I’m sorry, I must keep this,” the De:allus said to Grendel, holding the stone out of Gariffred’s reach. “If he finds any more, notify me.”

  Grendel nodded. She drew Gariffred under her wing.

  “He’s clever,” Garodor said, admiring the drake. He glanced at Gayl. “They both are. I’ll send you extra protection. Oh, and I have news. We found Ren.”

  Rrren, the drake echoed, widening his jaws.

  “Alive?” asked Gabrial. He put his tail across Grendel to stop her saying anything out of turn.

  “Yes,” said Garodor, noting Gariffred’s agitation. “He’s covered in flesh wounds, but he’s lively enough. He’s with Prime Grynt. We need him to help us interrogate a new Hom prisoner.”

  “Where was he? Where did you find him?” asked Grendel.

  Garodor turned and looked at her. “The Hom settlement. We had a roamer sweeping the area from the time Ren went missing. You seem surprised. Where did you think the boy might be?”

  Grendel tried not to let her neck scales flush. It was a well-known fact that all De:allus dragons had a keen eye for detecting guilt. “I want him brought back to us,” she said, proudly strengthening her hold on Gariffred.

  “You know that’s not possible,” Garodor replied. “But if the boy helps us, Grynt may be persuaded to look kindly upon him. That’s all I can promise you. Gabrial, come with me.”

  Rrren! Gariffred cried a second time.

  I’ll protect him, Gabrial said in his thoughts to Grendel. He looked at Goodle, who sat up smartly. “Defend the eyrie with your life,” he said, and departed at Garodor’s side.

  At Grynt’s cave, Gabrial’s ears were lashed again. “Stolen? You were supposed to be guarding the heart!”

  “I can’t fight what I cannot see,” snapped the blue.

  “You wouldn’t see your own tail if it poked you in the eye,” said Gossana.

  Not for the first time, she and Gabrial exchanged a venomous glance.

  “It was Pine,” said Ren, bravely coming between the dragons. He put a hand on Gabrial’s neck to calm him.

  Are you well? Gabrial asked, hoping Ren would receive the message. Although they had dabbled with the transfer of thoughts, Ren was no expert.

  But Ren heard it and replied, Been better.

  Gabrial nodded to say he understood. Who is Pine?

  A Hom girl. An enemy, perhaps. Ren turned to Grynt and Garodor again. “There is an enchantment on Wind that veils her. Pine must have used it to get into the cave.”

  “How?” said Grynt. “The cliff is too steep. No horse could scale those heights.”

  “Unless it phased,” said Garodor.

  “Phased?” Gossana twisted her snout as if something unsavory had landed upon it.

  “The gift of concealment may not be its only trick.”

  Gabrial was the first to respond. “But … how could a simple-minded creature like that gain such powers?” he asked. He had clearly missed a great deal during his confinement.

  “I fear this is the work of the goyles,” said Garodor, blowing a solemn wisp of smoke. Turning directly to Grynt, he said, “I stand by my earlier theory. We know from Ren that two goyles were in the cave. I believe their bodies have gone through a critical metamorphosis, one that involves the shedding of the dragon-goyle form. If I’m right, their auma might be able to travel be
tween hosts. If one of them entered the horse, for instance, it could alter the horse’s physical—and mental—composition. It would explore the material capabilities of the creature and attempt to make improvements. Some means of flight would be a natural progression. It’s one of the superior attributes that separate us from beings like the Hom, after all.”

  Ren jutted his chin as if to remind them he was not “inferior.” But before he could comment, Grynt was speaking again. “Why? What does it benefit these creatures to move into other, weaker, life-forms?”

  “It makes them harder to detect,” said Gabrial.

  “Precisely,” said Garodor. “We would flame a goyle without hesitation; horses or men we would not perceive as threats.”

  “But what is their purpose?” Gossana thundered. Her impressive ruffle of sawfin scales billowed behind her ears. “Why would anyone want a hardened heart?”

  “For the prize inside it,” Garodor replied. “The untamed spark of life.”

  “But you swore the heart could not be opened,” said Ren.

  “Perhaps I was wrong,” Garodor replied.

  None of this found much favor with Gossana. “This is ridiculous. We’re going around in circles!”

  “Could the memory stone give you an answer?” asked Gabrial, believing he was helping Garodor’s cause. The look on Garodor’s face suggested he would rather have kept that knowledge quiet.

  “Memory stone? What memory stone?” said Grynt.

  Garodor held it up to the light. “This was found in Givnay’s eyrie. We know that the Elder took a great deal of interest in the fhosforent mine and what effects the ore could have on our auma. This may turn out to be a record of his findings. I’m … close to unlocking the code that binds it.”

  “Givnay …” Gossana growled, in a manner that suggested she’d chew that dragon’s head off, were he still alive.

  “I never asked,” Grynt said, his voice a low rumble. “What did you find when you went to the mines?”

  Garodor shuttered his eyes a little. “Nothing I feel able to comment on yet. It will take time to establish the mechanism of the mutation. For now, we should concentrate our efforts on what’s in front of us.”