by GARY DARBY
“Like when I was at Draconstead,” I answer, “all I could see was how bad my life was, and it was in so many ways—still, I had Scamper, a place to sleep with a roof over my head, food, and . . .” I sigh deeply, “if I hadn’t been so consumed by anger and hatred, I would have had friends—in you and the other dragons.”
“And now?”
“Now?” I once again glance around at the company. “Now I have friends, lots of friends, and as Phigby said, in all shapes and sizes.”
“And one very special friend, yes?”
I smile because I know she’s speaking of Cara. “Yes, but actually, I think they’re all special, especially you and Scamper. I just wish we were friends in more . . . peaceful times.”
“Thank you, Hooper Menvoran, it is an honor that you would consider me a special friend of the Northern Kingdom’s Ambassador-at-large, brother of Alonya, Queen of the Golian Domain, once betrothed to Talia—”
“All right, all right,” I grumble, “now you’re just making fun of me.”
“No, Hooper, I wasn’t. It truly is a privilege to be a friend to one who’s come so far, having started out with so little and achieved so much.”
I feel a warmth creep up my neck, warming my face. “All because of you, Golden Wind,” I whisper, “all because of you.”
Just then, Marce holds her hand up high and points off to the right. “That’s the signal,” I say, “to turn toward the coast. Keep a sharp eye out, Golden Wind.”
“I will, Hooper, of that you can be sure.”
I nudge her with my knees, she makes the turn and speeds up to draw close to Wind Walker. “How far to the shoreline?” I call over to Borm.
“Not far!” he shouts back.
With that, I draw Galondraig and hold it high, a signal to the company to prepare themselves. I glance over to see Cara and Helmar, riding side by side, notch arrows and give me firm nods that they’re ready.
To my other side, I can see both Alonya and Snag with bows at the ready. Just behind, Pim holds her lance out, while Talia has her Wave Master at her side.
Over my shoulder, I call, “Twinkle, Ember, Dazzle! Go to the pixies, it’s time!” The little dragons launch themselves off the golden’s back and swiftly wing toward Regal Wind.
“All right, Golden Wind, let’s go.”
The golden speeds up to take the lead and it’s not long before we sweep over the rocky shoreline. We’re low enough that I can hear the booming waves as they crash onto the dark, jagged rocks and splash foamy spray high into the air.
I lead us a bit farther out to sea before I turn Golden Wind northward and with the company following, lift us higher so that hopefully we can sight the Sung Dar fleet from afar.
I lean forward, my eyes flicking back and forth over the horizon, trying to spot the telltale black blobs that will mark the Sung Dar fleet. We wing on and on, but no black ships appear. With each passing moment and no sighting of the vessels, my anxiety grows.
The night is dark, I think, but not so dark that we’d sky right over them and miss them against the ocean’s grayness. I hear wingbeats nearby and turn to find Wind Song just off the golden’s right wing. Cara lifts her shoulders in a shrug, an expression of “Where are they?” on her face.
I return her unspoken question with my own shrug and lean over to ask, “Golden Wind, did we miss them? Did we not go far enough southward and they’re behind us?”
The golden’s ears flick every which way before she says, slowly and deliberately, “Neither of those, Hooper. They are not here.”
“Then where are they?”
She turns her head, peers out to the dark, rolling ocean’s horizon. “They’ve put back out to sea.”
“What?!”
“I’m sorry, Hooper, but we misjudged our timing and missed them.” She turns her head toward the coastline. “And that would mean the drogs and Wilders close in on the valley.”
I bring Golden Wind to a slamming halt and hover while the company gathers around me. “We’ve missed them!” I bawl and point toward the open water. “They must have put out to sea.”
“Do we go after them?” Alonya calls.
“No,” Phigby hastens to answer, “that would take too much time—time that we don’t have. It’s obvious that the Sung Dar unloaded the drogs sooner and more speedily than we realized and have been on the march far longer than we supposed.”
Borm snaps his head toward the shoreline. “The drogs and Wilders—”
“Are nearing your valley!” I bark. “We waited too long, misjudged how fast they could move.”
“What now!?” Cara demands.
“We have no choice,” Alonya returns. “We fight both armies.”
“Yes,” I answer, “and we have no time to waste, let’s go!”
Golden Wind spins in the air and darts toward the foaming shoreline, gaining speed with each wingbeat. I hunker down as the wind blasts my face and body. “Can you tell if they’ve reached the cliff yet?” I call out.
“They’re not there yet,” the golden returns, “but very soon.”
“Will we get there before they attack?”
“I’m afraid not.”
I glance behind. My companions hunker down on their dragons, urging them onward with greater and greater speed to keep up with the golden.
My thoughts turn grim as in my mind I can picture the drogs and Wilders attacking. The brave Uhlan will hold them off for a space but eventually they will break and the Wilders, like a scarlet flood will roar into the valley, burning and savaging everything.
The amazing, magnificent tree, the Whisperer, will explode in fire, an enormous blazing pillar that will light up the entire valley until it is consumed entirely with nothing left but a giant mound of ash and embers.
“We can’t let that happen,” I snarl to myself.
“What was that, Hooper?” the golden asks.
“I said we can’t let the Wilders get into the valley, we have to stop them somehow.”
I lean over, stroke her neck. “Golden Wind, I believe this is one time when we need to be faster than the wind.”
“And leave our companions behind?”
“I’m afraid so. We’re only three, but maybe we can do something to slow the Wilders and drogs down long enough for the company to catch up. If not, I’m afraid by the time we get there, Hidden Haven will be lost.”
“Then I suggest you hang on tight,” she answers and with that, her wings begin to beat faster and faster until they’re little more than a blur in the night air. I scoot Scamper a little further under her carapace to shield him from the wind, but he doesn’t stir from his sleep at my touch.
I peer behind and practically in no time my comrades are mere dots in the sky before they fade into the darkness and are lost to my sight.
The wind roars in my ears as I hunker down behind the golden’s skull sheath, one hand on a horn, the other holding Scamper in place lest he be swept away by the bruising gale.
It seems as if little time passes before the golden comes to a thundering stop. I pop my head up and look around. “To our front, Hooper,” the golden directs.
The moonlight is just enough to let me see and my eyes widen at the sight. Like army ants scurrying across the ground to fall upon some enemy, a vast horde of black specks swarm through the forest below while above them wings an army of Wilder reds.
The drogs’ brutish bellowing and the Wilders’ wingbeats fill the air, drowning out all other sounds. Seeing the sheer size of the forces we face, I swallow and mutter, “Golden Wind, I think we’re in big trouble.”
“Have faith, Hooper. Do not assume the battle is lost before the first arrow is unleashed or blade drawn.”
“We’ve got to stall them somehow,” I reply, “hold them in place long enough for the company to catch up.”
“Sound thinking, what’s your idea?”
“Idea? I was hoping you might have one . . . or more.”
Scamper, awakened by the golden’s
jarring stop, starts chittering and a weak smile lifts my mouth. “Good notion, Scamp, but I don’t think dropping a few boulders on their heads will do much good, not unless we had the Dragon Legion doing the dropping.”
I rub my thumb over the gemstones in Galondraig’s hilt. “Though I might be able to—”
“Careful with that train of thought, Hooper,” the golden warns, “Vay does not know we’re here yet.”
“But once we attack, she’ll know.”
“Not immediately. It will take some time before word gets back to her and those moments could become precious to us. Once you use the gemstones, like a Tyger can smell blood from many leagues away and pinpoint its source, Vay will not only know we’re here, but most likely why.”
“Just once,” I grumble, “I wish things would be simple. Use the gemstones, blast the drogs and Wilders back into the sea and be done with it.”
“A wonderful solution for another time, perhaps.”
After a moment of thought, I say, “All right, I have an idea, not much of one but with luck it might stall them long enough for the company to get into the fight. Maybe.”
“At this point, Hooper, ‘not much of one’ is better than none.”
“If you say so, I’m not so sure.”
“Your lack of conviction is not very comforting, you know.”
“Sorry, I’m doing my best just to convince myself that this idea has any chance of success.”
I peer at the gemstones in Galondraigs hilt, run a thumb over their smooth surfaces. “I may not be able to use the gems right now, but maybe Talonda and his cur friends don’t know that.”
I take in a deep breath. “All right, let’s go. Find Talonda for me.”
The golden tucks her wings and we dive toward the leading edge of the Wilder pack where, most likely, Talonda will be. We pick up speed, the wind rushing through my hair and then the golden makes a screaming turn and beats her wings furiously to bring us to a stop.
Directly in front of us, a dragon length away is a big scarlet, and sitting in the crimson’s neck saddle is Talonda Kur. For an instant, his face shows stunned surprise but that quickly changes to pure hatred. His hands clench together in hard fists and his lips press so tight that they all but disappear in his face.
As our eyes meet, I mutter under my breath, “Here goes nothing.”
Holding Galondraig high to let the moons’ wan light catch the blade and turn it into a column of emerald radiance, I call out, trying to make my voice firm and authoritative. “Talonda, you’ve met defeat at the hands of the Company of the Golden Dragon and yet Vay allows you to live. I suggest you not tempt the fates for this may well turn out different and your body becomes worm food.”
I point back toward the cliffside. “Your personal nemesis, Queen Alonya Escher waits for you. You do remember the beating you took at her hands, don’t you? She told me that she sharpened her blade extra fine in anticipation of it finding your neck and finishing what she started on Harrwald’s bastion. So I suggest you turn around and take this flea-infested army of yours with you and do what you do best—run.”
Through it all, Talonda’s large hands clench and unclench and by the way his eyes never leave me, I imagine that he is picturing my neck caught in his two hands like a vise, slowly but surely squeezing the life out of me.
“Since we last met,” he snarls, “I’ve dreamed of nothing more than killing you and that Amazos scum.”
“Really? Well, these days, as far as I’m concerned, you’d just have to take your place in line with the others who want to do the same.”
Scamper starts chittering at the top of his lungs. “What did you say, Scamper?” I ask, cocking an ear in his direction. “Oh yes, this is the same Talonda Kur and his putrid-smelling band of fellows that we defeated at the battle of Sky Haven. You know, the ones who tucked their tails and fled like the cowardly cur hounds they are.”
I laugh out loud. “Oh wait. Now I get it. Cur. Kur. An apt name for you and your family.”
Talonda rises from his seat, his face dark with hate and rage. “I swore that the next time we met, I would kill you no matter what she wanted.”
“Yes, well,” I retort, “as I said, get in line with the others who want my head.”
I raise Galondraig a bit higher, turning it so that the dragon jewels gleam and shimmer. “I’ll give you and this pitiful band of yours one chance to turn around and go back the way you came, Talonda, or . . .” I twist Galondraig slightly, letting the light from the gems play across his vengeful face.
His eyes narrow and I can see his neck muscles bulge and twitch from his anger. However, the fact that he hesitates is a good omen, a sign that he not only respects the gemstones, he fears their power. Better still, he doesn’t know that I won’t use that power unless it’s absolutely necessary.
Talonda’s eyes are like granite and he stares so hard it’s as if by his sheer will he would throw me off Golden Wind to my death below. Then, he seems to relax just a bit and he gives me a curt nod. “Do you swear as the Gem Guardian that if we turn away that you’ll not bring your powers to bear on us?”
For an instant, my voice catches as I’m caught entirely off-guard by Talonda’s request. He really does fear the gemstones!
“You have my word,” I blurt out in a rush.
Just for a moment I’m tempted to add something like, “Now, begone, you scurvy knaves or I’ll turn your dragons into gnats!” but I don’t.
Instead, as Talonda holds up a hand halting the drogs and Wilders, I’m astounded and grateful at the thought that this might end without bloodshed and the Wind Catcher and Uhlan might live to see another day—as well as my comrades.
Talonda eyes me for a moment and begins to turn his dragon around. As he does, I breathe in a deep sigh of relief and lower Galondraig.
It was a mistake to lower my guard. I should have known not to trust Talonda. A cur he is and a cur he will always be.
The next thing I know, with a roar that seems to shake the skies Talonda’s big red charges into Golden Wind and we’re locked in mortal combat and surrounded by hundreds of Wilders.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Locked together, Golden Wind and Talonda’s crimson battle tooth, talon, and tail, each fighting to gain a hold on the other and deliver a fatal blow or bite. Talonda’s huge battle scimitar comes crashing down and I barely manage to swing Galondraig up at the last instant to counter his punch. That, and the fact that I’m hanging on by one horn saves me from being thrown off and falling to my death.
Talonda rips his sword down again and the blow is so powerful, so hard, that I lose my grip on Golden Wind’s horn. I’m punched backward so hard that I’m all but bent double.
The booming roars of Golden Wind and the scarlet fill the sky and then joining them are the exultant cries of Talonda’s men as they exhort him to victory.
The Wilder chieftain’s sword is a blur as he slices a wicked backhand at my head. I catch his blade on an edge of Galondraig, but his thrust is so forceful that he almost rips my blade out of my hand.
Another overhand jolt sends me reeling back as our swords collide, sending green and yellow sparks flying over the two dragons. Talonda redoubles his efforts and his violent blows become a dizzying array of thrusts, rips, and overhand hits.
Scamper’s crazed chittering at the Wilder catches my attention and I shout, “You stay here, Scamp! Don’t even think about going over there and clamping your teeth on his nose!”
Gratefully, the little tub heeds my order and stays in place though he’s doing a feverish dance on the golden’s carapace wanting to get into the fight.
Golden Wind gives way to the Wilder scarlet, sensing perhaps that I’m losing my swordfight with Talonda and giving me precious moments to recover from each crushing stab or blow.
Talonda urges his red to stay with the golden, pushing him forward, not allowing the smallest space to open between us.
My arm and hand are going numb from the constant, power
ful pounding. I’m panting, trying to catch my breath. My throat burns, and my chest heaves as I draw in a ragged breath. I have no doubt that any moment one of Talonda’s furious attacks is going to break through my weak defense and his sword tip will ram deep between my ribs.
Sensing the end, Talonda’s men raise their voices in a growling roar, urging him on, exhorting him to finish me.
Talonda swings his wicked, curved scimitar back, spits to one side and growls, “Gem Guardian? You’re nothing but a measly piece of worm dung, a weakling who has no place among real men and a lie to those who think you can win this war.”
His face turns even uglier and he brings his lips back in a horrible, skeleton grin. This is it, I think, this time I won’t be able to hold him back and I’ll die with his sword running me through and through.
For an instant, my thumb caresses the gemstones and I whisper, “I’m sorry, Golden Wind, but I haven’t the strength to hold him off, I’ve got to use the jewels to save us.”
I open my mouth to utter the power words but just as I do, a colossal dragon slams into Talonda’s red, knocking him away from the golden.
Regal’s claws are buried in the red’s side and he snaps furiously at Talonda who swings his sword in a flurry to ward off the huge purple. The two dragons grapple in a fight to the death and both plummet toward the ground. Alonya manages to get off one shot with her bow but the bolt flies wide as Talonda’s scarlet twists to one side just at that moment.
As loud as I can, I shout, “Alonya, pull Regal back! You’re going to hit the ground!”
I’m not sure who heard me, Alonya or Regal, but the big dragon releases the scarlet and cups his wings. The red turns over, spreads his leathery limbs just before he hits the ground, and speeds away to join the ranks of the Wilders and disappears.
Just then, a chorus of horns swells and the Wilders break off from watching our duel and head for the cliff. Below, the drogs shout and dance before they sprint for the tunnel opening.
A yell of, “Hooper! Get down!” causes me to duck just as a Wilder arrow splits the air just over my head. I snap up in time to see Cara’s arrow plant itself into the Wilder bowman who clutches at his chest before he topples from his dragon.
