Shadow

by Mark Robson

  Pell could see another blue marker on the ground ahead. The colour stood out clearly against the white of the snow. The valley forked in front of them and the blue line of cloth indicated a right turn. He looked around for the watching griffin and soon located it. The creature was perched on a rock, high up on the dividing wall between the two valleys.

  A glance over his shoulder and Pell could see that Knifetail was slowly falling further behind. They took the valley to the right; the great mountains on either side towering up into the sky like monstrous pointed teeth. A chill wind began to gust and swirl. High in the sky above, white wispy horsetails of cirrus gave warning that the long spell of good weather was finally coming to an end. It would be some hours yet before Pell needed to worry about lower cloud bringing trouble. Even so, it was not a good sign. He would rather not be in the mountains come nightfall, as conditions could become dangerous very quickly.

  The valley curved gently to the right. Ahead was another marker – black this time – indicating a sharp turn to the right. At first Pell could not see the opening, but then the narrow crack in the cliff-face became apparent.

  ‘Gods alive!’ he breathed aloud. ‘Can we fit through there?’

  ‘I think so,’ Shadow replied. ‘But it’s going to be tight.’

  She took a slightly wider line into the cut so they could see into the canyon before they entered. It looked treacherously narrow, barely wide enough for a dragon with Shadow’s wingspan. It was slightly wider higher up, but if they climbed, they would inevitably lose speed. There were wickedly jagged rocks protruding from the walls on either side, poised to catch on a wingtip and there was no clear path through to the far side.

  ‘Hold on tight. This is going to get interesting.’

  Pell was so focused on the treacherous path ahead that it did not cross his mind to look for the watching griffin until it was too late. As they entered the canyon he flicked a quick look over his shoulder and was just in time to see Knifetail fly past the entrance without so much as twitching towards it. In that instant, he knew they had been fooled.

  ‘It’s a trap, Shadow!’ he gasped. ‘Dirk and Knifetail carried straight on. Somehow we’ve been set up.’

  He could feel Shadow’s anger through the link like a brewing storm, but she was concentrating so hard on not hitting the canyon walls that she could not release her feelings. They could not descend, for the crevasse beneath them continued to narrow to a fine wedge shape. Shadow was likely to break her wings if she tried. If they climbed, there was no room to turn until they reached the open sky many spans above.

  Dipping and weaving through the perilous crack in the mountainside, Shadow fought to keep them in the air. A sudden, horrible revelation struck Pell as they wormed deeper into the canyon. ’Ware ye the knife. This was the knife! The crack they had entered was so narrow it looked almost as if a knife blade had sliced a jagged path into the mountainside. A moment later the horror got worse. They were facing a dead-end. There was nowhere to go. One way or another they were going to crash into a rock-face and fall.

  ‘We’re not done yet, Pell,’ Shadow said suddenly, her voice fierce with determination. ‘I once saw a mad young dragon do a manoeuvre that might just save us. I’ve never tried this before, so let’s hope I get it right. Hold on as tight as you can. We’re going vertical.’

  ‘Vertical?’ Pell exclaimed.

  There was no time for Shadow to explain. The next Pell knew, he was being crushed into the saddle. It felt as if they had entered a steeply banked turn, but instead of turning sideways, Shadow angled both wings at once into the airflow, tipping them upwards from level flight into a vertical climb.

  Up, up, up they soared, losing energy all the way. No sooner were they climbing vertically than Shadow moved them a quarter turn to the right, so that her legs and back were climbing parallel to the walls of the canyon. The wind of their passage died away quickly to an eerie silence as they ran out of speed, and Pell felt his bottom gently detach from the saddle as all motive force ceased. Hanging onto the pommel grips for all he was worth, he found his legs were also losing their grip on Shadow’s sides.

  In the last moments of upward flight, Shadow eased towards the rock-face until her feet were running up the rock wall. She then stuck her tail out as far to the left as she could, using it like the rudder of a boat. Her upper body started to tilt to the left, and as it did so, she scrabbled at the cliff with her talons, helping her body around the turn until she was running vertically down again.

  Pell began to fall sideways from Shadow’s back. Only his grip on the pommel handles and his boots twisted firmly into the stirrups saved him. As she plummeted back downwards into the narrowing crack, Pell’s panic grew. His only points of contact with Shadow were his hands and feet. She rolled gently to the right through another quarter turn, and he turned his body in sympathy, using his hands and feet as levers. Terrifying though this was, Pell was even more ill-prepared for the final part of Shadow’s manoeuvre.

  The instant she began to pitch out of the dive, Pell reconnected with the saddle – hard. The impact brought tears to his eyes as pain exploded in his groin from the crunching collision. Fortunately, he landed square into the saddle, or he would not have been able to hold on. The familiar force crushing him against Shadow’s back increased the pain still further as she pitched them out of the dive, accelerating all the time. The wind tore through his hair as they hurtled back along the cut, whipping away his tears and blinding him with its force as he clung with a death-grip to the pommel handles.

  Agony blinded Pell as Shadow weaved her way back out of the knife at a tremendous speed. They burst out into the open valley like a rock flung from a catapult.

  ‘Look!’ Shadow’s voice roared in his mind. The single word rode on a wave of fury through the bond.

  A black dragon was launching from the valley basin beneath them. It was carrying the marker in its talons.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The Second Orb

  ‘Leave it, Shadow!’ Pell groaned. ‘It’s not Knifetail. I don’t know how Segun set this up, but there’s no time for vengeance. We have to catch up with Knifetail and Dirk before they beat us to the orb.’

  Shadow roared aloud this time, venting her anger with such passion that the black dragon below veered away instinctively. There were no griffins in sight – no witnesses to what had happened, aside from the perpetrators.

  For a moment Pell thought Shadow might ignore him and dive on the fleeing night dragon, but she turned hard to the right to follow Knifetail and Dirk along the valley. Their opponents were already out of sight around the next bend, so catching them would not be easy. Fuelled by her anger at the lethal trap that had been laid, Shadow drove forwards at a pace Pell would never have believed possible. The ferocity with which she pounded the air with her wings was phenomenal and Pell knew they must be catching up with Dirk and Knifetail at a tremendous rate.

  The valley ahead curved gently around to the right. At the far end was another marker – blue again. A griffin was watching over the turn point. They should have realised the last marker was a different colour, Pell thought. He cursed himself for the inattention that had nearly cost them their lives.

  They cut the corner tight, flashing past the rock-face at the side of the valley and rolling out into the next to resume the frenetic, pounding rhythm. Knifetail was visible ahead now. She and Dirk had a good lead, but it was not insurmountable if Shadow kept up her current pace. Knifetail was flying with a comparatively sedate rhythm and Pell could see that she and her rider were not yet aware of Shadow.

  ‘Shadow, can you use your silent flying ability at this speed?’ Pell asked her.

  ‘It won’t be perfect, but I see what you are thinking,’ she answered. ‘They look like they’re out for a pleasure flight. As we get closer, I’ll slow a little to see if we can take them completely by surprise.’

  The noise generated by Shadow’s great wingbeats suddenly dropped to a whisper an
d Pell’s ears popped with the sudden change in the air around him. He had experienced Shadow’s ability several times, but the transition always felt strange. The bubble of masked sound deadened the air, though his hair still streamed behind him as they raced along the snowy valleys.

  Another blue marker was visible ahead. It was another right turn. They closed the distance to around twenty dragon-lengths as Knifetail dipped her wing and banked around the corner. Pell saw Dirk look over his shoulder. The big man started at the sight of them closing from behind.

  ‘Dirk’s seen us!’ Pell yelled aloud. ‘Forget stealth. We’re back in a straight race again.’

  Pell’s ears popped a second time as Shadow unmasked her sound signature and the wind-rush amplified back to full volume. He felt her straining through the bond. Fatigue burned through her body with a hungry, consuming fire. She was giving her all and Pell could feel the cost in every fibre of his body.

  ‘Come on, Shadow!’ he urged her again. ‘You can do it. Not far to go now.’

  It was true. The valley they had entered was the one that concealed the entrance to the griffins’ vale. They had flown full circle. Looking ahead, Pell could just make out the marker outside the cunningly disguised tunnel.

  From somewhere way beyond her normal reserves of strength, Pell felt Shadow draw on a deep source of energy that even she did not realise was there. Despite Knifetail’s best efforts to accelerate away, every stroke of Shadow’s wings closed the gap between the dragons. From directly behind the lashing tail of their adversary, Shadow eased to the right, edging into a position to overtake. Knifetail responded immediately, sliding across to block her. Shadow reversed to the left, but Knifetail was too quick. She was there, blocking the way and keeping them at bay with her lethal tail. The deadly swishing as it whipped back and forth warned of the power with which Knifetail was wielding her natural weapon.

  Dipping and weaving, Shadow fought for position, but as they reached the markers for the tunnel, Knifetail was still successfully blocking their path. Pell could just make out the opening as they hurtled towards it. His heart leaped with instinctive fear as they entered. The thumping of the dragons’ wing-beats echoed from the walls as they raced towards the tight turn into the secret vale. Their only chance now was to pass Knifetail in the final sprint for the plinth.

  Both dragons took the corner at speed, rolling hard until they were turning on their wingtips to avoid crashing into the wall of rock at the far end of the tunnel. The force of the turn pressed Pell hard against Shadow’s back, leaving him breathless and with swarms of dancing gold spots before his eyes as they rolled out.

  Shadow began to weave from side to side in the narrow canyon, flying so close to the rock walls at times that Pell was convinced she would catch a wingtip. Then the valley widened ahead of them. Shadow feinted to the left and Knifetail began to respond. Even as she did so, Shadow reversed to the right and dived to convert every bit of energy she possessed into one last burst of speed.

  Pell was at one with her through the bond. He instinctively leaned into the diving turn and focused ahead to the two parties waiting by the plinth. The explosion of pain in his shoulder took him completely by surprise. He screamed as the agony of the wound took his mind to the brink of unconsciousness and Shadow roared in unison. For that brief instant, darkness and oblivion loomed, but his cry of agony turned to one of rage as he realised what had happened. The pain was not his, but Shadow’s. Knifetail’s weapon had finally found its mark. In that moment of complete focus, he had been so closely linked to her mind that he had mistaken the deep slicing wound Knifetail had dealt to Shadow’s shoulder as his own.

  Blood streamed down Shadow’s side, but worse, Knifetail had gained an unbeatable position. Shadow did her best to recover, but it was no good and moments later Knifetail landed next to the plinth just a length or two ahead of them. Dirk punched the air in triumph and Pell’s heart sank. He could not believe it. They had lost and the orb would now be claimed and destroyed by Segun. The Oracle would die, and its death would be his fault.

  Claiming that Dirk and Knifetail had cheated would do no good. How could he prove it? The evidence was long gone.

  He could see the looks on his companions’ faces. They were devastated. The quest had failed. He had failed them. What could he say? He wanted to explain, but he felt so choked he could not find the words.

  ‘I’m sorry, Pell,’ Shadow said softly, her disappointment as profound as his own. ‘I wasn’t strong enough.’

  ‘Don’t be silly. You were magnificent,’ he replied. ‘No rider could have asked more of his dragon. It’s incredible that we’re still alive, given the trap they set for us. We’d better ask Firestorm if he’ll heal that wound of yours. It looks really nasty.’

  ‘He can’t.’

  ‘Of course he can. You saw him heal me earlier.’

  ‘Yes, but you’re not a night dragon,’ she said, her soft tones full of regret. ‘A day dragon’s healing power does not work on night dragons.’

  ‘That’s ridiculous! Why in blazes not?’ he asked.

  ‘Day and night dragons have always been diametrically opposed,’ Shadow said sadly. ‘Perhaps it is a part of our fundamental incompatibility.’

  ‘Whatever that means!’ Pell replied. ‘Let’s ask him and see, shall we?’

  He dismounted, but he had hardly taken a handful of steps across the short distance to where Nolita and the others were standing, when Karrok spoke. The griffin’s voice was powerful, demanding attention.

  ‘Dirk and Knifetail, you have won the final challenge,’ he began. ‘Dirk, please join your companions. Knifetail, please remain where you are, for you have won the right to reveal the dark orb.’

  Pell looked up at the sound of many sets of wings overhead. A pride of griffins were descending in a circle above them. He wondered what would happen now. A strange chill caused his flesh to rise into bumps. Whatever it was, the circling griffins were giving off a menacing aura that set him hurrying across to join his companions.

  ‘What happened?’ Elian asked. ‘I thought you and Shadow would thrash Dirk and Knifetail in a race.’

  ‘They cheated,’ Pell replied. ‘Somehow they got a message out to that group of riders we met a few days ago. They set us a nasty trap that we didn’t see coming.’

  ‘Why don’t you say something, then?’ Elian asked, his voice sounding desperate.

  Kira stepped in immediately. ‘Yield unto justice: truth will succeed,’ she quoted. ‘Let’s wait and see what happens before we say anything we might regret.’

  Dirk had reached the other night dragonriders. The group were celebrating with him, shaking his hand and clapping him on the back – all except Segun. The leader of the night dragon enclave was standing quietly to one side of the group watching Knifetail and the spiralling cluster of griffins.

  Without warning, the griffins all folded their wings and dived at Knifetail, their razor sharp talons extended to attack. The dragon stood no chance. Disappearing under a mass of tearing talons, she thrashed and slashed with her tail to no avail. She was tired after her long flight and even with the strength born from her fear and desperation, she could not shake off the ferocious griffins.

  Dirk cried out as he realised what was happening, and it took all four of his fellow lieutenants to hold him from running headlong into the flurry of feathers, talons and beaks. Segun watched impassively.

  Knifetail gave a scream of pain that tugged at Pell’s sense of pity. The griffins, however, showed no mercy. Another scream, weaker this time, tailed off to silence. It was over. She was dead, but still the griffins ripped and tore at her with ferocious intent.

  In a daze, Dirk turned to Segun and suddenly it was as if a light had been turned on in his mind. Pell could see the change in the man’s features as his friends found themselves straining to hold him back again, this time from assaulting their leader.

  ‘You knew!’ he yelled, his face puce with anger. ‘You knew all along and y
ou didn’t tell me! You killed my dragon! You!’

  Segun turned to face Dirk, his face still emotionless.

  ‘Yes, I knew,’ he admitted. ‘That was why I did not take up the challenge myself. The tale of the previous quests was written in the journals of past enclave leaders. It was not appropriate for me to sacrifice Widewing. The enclave needs me to lead them in the coming days. You, on the other hand, should be glad. Your dragon has been martyred for the sake of all dragonkind. Her name will go down in history as the dragon that died to free her kind from slavery, and yours will be right alongside it.’

  Dirk gave an angry roar and, despite there being four strong men holding him, somehow managed to wrench free from their grasp. Pell and his companions gasped as the big man made to attack Segun, but their flash of hope was dashed as the taller man rammed a blade into Dirk’s chest before he managed to land a single blow. Dirk stood for a moment, his face a mask of pain and shock.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Segun said calmly. ‘But you left me no choice.’

  Dirk collapsed first to his knees, and then face down on the ground, his hands clutching the knife buried in his chest. The snow slowly turned red around his body.

  There was a flurry of wings and the griffins began to disperse from Knifetail’s carcass, blood-spattered yet clearly untouched by the brutal nature of what they had just done. One of the griffins emerged from the crowd walking, rather than flying. It held a large, dripping lump of raw flesh dangling from its beak. It took a moment for Pell to identify the nature of the grisly prize that the griffin carried forwards so delicately. It was Knifetail’s heart.

  He heard Nolita retch behind him, but he did not turn. The griffin was walking towards the plinth. What was it going to do? Karrok bowed his head to the griffin that carried the heart in its beak and the creature gently settled the great lump of bloody meat on the top of the metal stand. For a moment nothing happened. Pell wanted to turn away, but he could not take his eyes from the plinth. It was like some gruesome sacrificial rite that savages performed to appease their pagan idols. It was both horrifying and yet darkly fascinating.