by GARY DARBY
His shoulders slump just a bit as he murmurs in a low, raspy voice, “If that’s what the company decides, I’ll go to Vosta.”
Silence greets his announcement before I shake my head. “No, after what you’ve told us about Vosta, it being a haven for the Sung Dar and all, it’s not a welcome harbor for us. Who knows what else we would meet there, perhaps something even worse than Sung Dar. I say we sky north and east.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” Amil snorts. “These winds grow stronger with each moment.”
“Each of us gets one swig of water,” Phigby orders, “the dragons get our remaining water and food.”
As we pass, Cara leans toward me and whispers, “Thank you, Hooper.”
I give her a brief smile and nod in answer and then head toward Golden Wind. I’m not confident that this is the right decision, but I am sure that it’s a better choice than Vosta for several reasons, and for for Helmar’s sake it is the best decision.
It doesn’t take long for us to dole out the water and food to our dragons. Out of everyone’s sight, I give Scamper my share of water, which the little tub guzzles down.
He chitters at me afterward and I give him my tiny share of cruller bread. “That’s all there is, Scamp, you’ll just have to tighten your belt like the rest of us.”
Errrrr? He spits and cocks his head to one side as if he can’t believe what I’m asking of him. “Yes,” I smile, “I know you don’t have a belt, so I guess you’ll just have to suck in your tummy. Now, up you go on Golden Wind.”
As he bounds up to the golden’s skull plate, I walk around to face her. “I’m sorry there’s not more. Hopefully, we won’t have to sky all that far and will find food and water soon enough.”
“It will just have to do, won’t it?” she replies.
“Yes.” I look around. Everyone is beginning to climb aboard their dragons. “Ready?”
“Yes, Hooper, I am ready.”
“All right, then,” I sigh, “let’s go ride another storm, only this one is not of my making.”
“Then it shall not be nearly as fun,” she replies.
Moments later, we’re aloft with the golden and Wave Rider in the lead. We turn so that the rising sun is a bit off our right shoulders. The buffeting winds push at us and my tunic whips and pops under the gusts.
As the day wears on the winds increase and the sky turns leaden with dark, dense clouds that seem to roil and boil overhead. There comes a point where a thin patch of clouds shines with a white-gray halo and from it I can tell that it’s just past midday.
Not long after, it begins to rain. Hard pellets of water that feel more like ice come in waves, one after another. I slow the golden down to let the company bunch up close so that we don’t lose anyone in the blinding rain.
Both the golden and I open our mouths to catch as much of the liquid as we can and glancing over my shoulder to where the sprites ride the golden’s back, I see that they’re doing the same.
At first, Scamper squalls from getting wet, but it doesn’t take him too long before he’s lapping up the water that pools on the golden’s carapace.
Without the sun to steer by, I call to the golden, “Are we still on the same course?”
“More or less,” she answers.
“Which is it? More or less?”
“I guess we’ll find out when the clouds clear, won’t we?”
“Right. Very comforting and helpful, you know.”
“You’re welcome.”
Between the swirling, overhanging clouds, the drenching rainfall, and the buffeting winds, I can barely make out Cara on Wind Song to my right, and Talia on Wave Rider to my left. Occasionally, I catch sight of Tavin on Blue Blood or Amil on Wind Glow behind them but it’s a guess if the rest of the company is following.
By the sky’s darkening, I assume it’s toward evening when the rain lightens and the winds begin to die. However, it’s grown colder, so I bring my tunic hood over my head to gain a little warmth. Scamper curls himself into a tight ball under the golden’s carapace with his tail over his nose to keep warm.
We sail on into the night and little by little, the clouds begin to break, the rain ceases, and the winds die down. Glancing ahead, I see nothing but darkness. Still, I ask, “Golden Wind, any idea if we’re close to the coastline?”
“We are indeed closer than when we started,” she answers, “but I hear and see nothing that tells me how far we have to go.”
“Always trying to stay on the positive side, aren’t you?”
“Isn’t it better than being the opposite?”
“I suppose so, but it doesn’t get me a straight answer.”
The golden sails on a bit farther before she says, “Look below, perhaps that is a positive answer.”
I glance over her side and at first, I don’t see anything but dark ocean. Then, I see a darker blob bouncing on the waves with a tiny light that rises and falls with the ocean’s motion. A ship!
Jerking up, I growl, “Are they Sung Dar?!”
“I don’t think so,” Golden Wind answers, “this ship is unlike the others we saw with the Sung Dar.”
Just then, Amil places Wind Glow alongside and points down. “That’s a coastal trader. We must be close to the mainland!”
“Good news!” I wave back and then lean over to whisper, “Now that’s being positive.”
The moons are close to their zenith when I see a dark, ragged line ahead and at its base what appears to be a wavy stripe of white. “Waves breaking on the shore!” I shout and gesture forward.
It’s not long before we pass over a jagged coastline where swells sweep in to pound a rocky beach. Just past is a dark forest whose trees are a canopy of stout limbs and tiny, needle-nosed leaves that sweep down from a sharp treetop and spread out at their base. “Let’s find a place to land, shall we?”
“We shall,” the golden replies.
She wings a bit farther and then in a gentle arc turns a bit northward in a long glide before settling into a large, almost oval clearing. As the golden plods toward the tree line, I glance over my shoulder, watching the others set their dragons down in the glade.
Regal Wind is the last and as he trudges into the trees there comes the usual splintering of limbs and tree trunks until he finally plops down. “Well,” I mutter to myself, “if anyone’s listening, they surely heard that.”
As the golden finds a suitable place to lie down, Scamper bounds down her leg and is off to explore. A second dark streak, Silky, joins him and I nod to myself. That the two feel comfortable enough to go out on their own is a good sign for the rest of us.
After the dragons settle in and quickly fall asleep, the company gathers. “Anyone know where we are?” Phigby asks, his eyes flicking between Amil and Talia.
Both shake their heads in response though Amil adds, “Not really, except to say that we’re most likely on the eastern fiefdoms’ coastline.”
“Never one to state the obvious, are we, Amil?” Tavin chortles.
“Just wanted to make sure we all knew exactly where we landed,” Amil retorts.
“I would add,” Talia says, “that the winds brought us much farther north than where I had intended us to go.”
“Well,” Phigby rumbles, “I’m not one to muck about in a strange forest in the dark. Besides, the dragons need their rest, so—”
“We’ll muck about come first light?” Cara quips.
“Indeed,” Phigby replies.
“I’ll take the first watch,” I offer.
“And I the second,” Pim states.
“Two watches should be sufficient,” Phigby states. “And by the way, Hooper, Pim, do not let the dragons graze on the ground vegetation. Dragon bane, you know.”
“You think this is dragon country?” Cara asks.
“What I think is that we don’t know where we are, or aren’t,” Phigby returns, “so it’s best to take precautions, don’t you think?”
“I think you’re right,” Cara agrees
.
“And I think,” Amil grumbles, rubbing at his rump, “that I’m going to sleep on my stomach as my backside is a bit sore.”
“What?” Alonya snorts. “After all this time, you still don’t have dragon-scale calluses where it counts the most?”
“No,” Amil sniffs. “And being the delicate type, I doubt if I ever shall.”
That brings a round of chortles from the company as all make their way over to their dragons. Helmar is the last to leave and he turns slowly to face me. “Hooper, I just wanted to say I appreciated what you—about Vosta, I mean. I’m not sure that I—”
“It’a all right, Helmar,” I interject, “it wasn’t just about you, there was the Sung Dar to consider and Duke Vosta as well. It would have made for a bad situation all around.”
“Yes,” Helmar sighs long, “a bad situation all around. Still, if I were part of your consideration, then I do thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” I reply and sweep an arm toward the surrounding forest. “Though it appears everything worked out for the best.”
In the wan moonlight, I see him nod just a little, his gaze on the ground. “Yes, this time it appears it worked out for the best.”
He walks away, hunched over, his steps more of a shuffle than the sturdy footsteps of the Helmar of old. “He hurts,” a soft voice at my ear murmurs, “and it’s not just his bruises that cause him pain. It runs deep enough that it’s sapping his strength.”
Cara stands close, her eyes following Helmar. The moonlight catches her short, auburn hair as if she wore a ginger-colored, burnished halo. “Yes,” I agree, “he hurts, both within and without, and I’m not sure what it will take to cause the pain to go away.”
“Time and friendship,” she murmurs. “Though even those never completely soothe the soul from some hurts.”
Her eyes are a bit misty in the moonlight and I know why. Helmar lost his sister, Cara lost her mother, father, and brother. Me, I lost my whole family. But she’s right—time tamps down the hurt, but it never entirely goes away. It only becomes a bit less with each passing season.
She lays a hand on my arm. “Good night, Hooper.”
“Good night, Cara.”
I watch her for a moment as she walks over to Wind Song. “That girl,” I whisper to myself, “must have more than one heart to care for so many at the same time.”
Soon, the camp is quiet with only the occasional stirrings from the dragons, and of course, Amil’s deep snoring to break the silence. I move quietly about, not wanting to disturb anyone but making sure that I circle the camp, my eyes both on those sleeping inside the ragged dragon ring and to the outside, where danger may lurk.
I’m on my sixth or so circuit and gauging from the moons’ positions I determine it’s time that I woke Pim to take over the watch. I walk toward where she sleeps next to Wind Sparkle when, of a sudden, there’s a flare of light and then a second flash off to one side.
I freeze in place and blink hard several times, unsure of what I just saw but then, all the dragons are on their feet. Their heads swing outward toward the dark forest. I spin around, Galondraig in hand, my own eyes staring into the darkness. Faint paws on the grass cause me to turn.
It’s Silky. The little fellow runs up and starts spinning in a frantic circle at my feet, his tail whipping at my legs. “What is it, Silky?”
At a snort, I lift my head to find Wind Sparkle staring at me. “Pim’s gone!” she growls.
“What?!” I reply and hurry over to where I last saw Pim sleeping. The grass is crumpled where she slept and lying off to one side is her lance. Just as I snatch it up, Cara and Helmar race up. “Wake the others!” I snap and hold up the lance. “Pim’s missing!”
As they hurry away, I turn back to Sparkle. “Did you hear or see anything?”
“No,” she growls, “only a sudden cold chill that woke me to find Pim gone.”
I glance over as I hear familiar talons plodding up to me. “What do we face, Golden Wind?”
“Evil,” is all she replies.
“Vay?” I spit out.
“No, she is not here though these would make suitable companions for her.”
At footsteps, I whirl around. “Phigby, Pim’s gone. Something took her, but I didn’t see what or who.”
Phigby takes a step forward, stares toward the darkness. As the rest of the company hurries up, he turns and orders, “Make a circle inside the dragon ring but do not leave its safety. If you see anything suspicious, yell.”
“Hold!” Alonya snaps, twisting her body and looking about. “Where’s Tavin?”
We whip our heads around, hurriedly peering in all directions, but anxious eyes and a quick nod from Blue Blood tell me all that I need to know. “He’s gone too!” I hiss.
“Quick!” Phigby commands. “Set yourselves before another of us goes missing!”
The others hurry away with swords, ax, and bows drawn and ready. Phigby pulls at his beard for a moment, his voice a low growl, “As I thought, it was an ill wind that blew us here.”
He snaps his head up, barking, “Hooper, did you see anything?”
“I’m not sure,” I answer, “it was very strange.”
“Strange? How so?”
Hesitating, I then answer, “I know this sounds crazy, but I thought I saw two flares of fire, but each seemed to have a dark edge to it, as if the darkness held the fire in some way. But that’s crazy, right?”
Phigby stares at me, his hand resting on his beard before he turns to study the darkness for a moment. “No lad, it may not be as crazy as you think.”
He jerks his head up and orders, “Get the sprites. We need light, now, and have them cover the whole camp!”
I call out, “Ember! Dazzle! Twinkle!”
In moments, the sprites flutter in front of my face. “Circle the dragons and glow bright. We need light over the entire camp.”
The little dragons speed away and moments later, flare into a brilliance that lights not only the dragons and the company, but a good portion of the forest that encloses us. Phigby and I stare into the shadows for a time before Phigby growls, “See anything, lad?”
“Nothing,” I answer, “whatever it was must have left taking Pim and Tavin with it.”
“Not it, Hooper,” Phigby growls, “they.”
“They?”
“Yes, now quick, gather the company, we need to talk.”
Moments later, I have the company assembled in the center of the sprites’ canopy of light. Phigby’s face is a hard mask of concern and anger, and his voice a raspy growl as he prowls just inside the line of light. His head is down, his gaze on the ground, hands clasped behind his back, pacing and mumbling to himself.
A lovely voice at my shoulder says, “I’m not sure I understand much of what he’s muttering to himself. Something about shadows that prowl the night—”
“That trap the unwary,” Amil interrupts Cara.
“And take them to a demon land,” Alonya adds and then turns to Snag. “No offense intended.”
“And none taken,” Snag returns, “for that is what I heard as well.”
“Shadows within shadows, but for sure and for certain they can’t still be among us,” Phigby again mutters as if to himself and this time I hear his words clearly. “Surely they would have vanished by now.”
The pit of my stomach turns cold as I’ve heard that expression before. “Shadows within shadows! Carrion Ghouls!” Loudly, I call, “Phigby, is that what we face here?”
At my mentioning the ghouls, everyone’s weapons come to the ready. I can hear Cara’s bow make a soft creaking noise as she pulls on the bowstring, an arrow notched.
“What?” he answers and shakes his head hard. “No lad, if only we were then we would be well armed but no, that is not the fight we face. Everyone, put down your weapons, they will not do any good against that which prowls this forest.”
Everyone slowly lowers their weapons, but I can see in their eyes that they are reluctant to do
so. “If not ghouls,” Alonya questions, “then what?”
Phigby straightens, draws in a breath, lets it out. “They go by any number of names but one that would describe what Hooper saw would be the Shadow Flames.”
“Shadow Flames?” Marce returns. “How can a shadow be a flame?”
“It would take too long to explain,” Phigby replies, “and time is not on our side. Suffice it to say that our friends are in grave danger.”
“And these things, they’re different from ghouls?” Cara asks.
Phigby nods. “Oh yes, my dear, very much so.”
“How different?” Amil questions.
“Enough,” Phigby responds, “that we don’t have to worry about poison balls flying through the night or mixing up an elixir to counter the poison.”
“Oh, so it’s a good different,” Amil replies.
“Would you say,” Phigby retorts, “that the difference between a Nahl and Bazyl’s dragon is a good difference?”
Amil works his mouth as if trying to answer before he grunts, “Not really.”
“Then you have your answer,” Phigby sniffs and raises a hand. “No more discussion, we must find Pim and Tavin soon or we may well lose them forever.”
Amil turns slowly, peering in all directions, “But where do we start? I see nothing that suggests a trail or where they went.”
Cara turns to me. “Hooper, did you see anything that will help?”
“No,” I reply, “one moment there were two flashes as if a fire suddenly flared up and then they were gone.”
“Fire?!” Alonya questions. “We didn’t have a campfire. How could—”
“It’s not the type of fire,” Phigby interrupts, “that’s made of warmth and light but rather a black flame made of darkness and the terrors that dwell there. Now, we need to find their trail and quickly.”
At a sudden snort from Sparkle, I turn in her direction and my eyebrows rise at what I see. It’s Silky. First, he spins in a circle and then trots a short distance away before stopping to whirl around again, his tail held high and whipping through the air before it stops to point over his head toward the dark tree line.
