by GARY DARBY
Phigby raises his sword at the advancing mountain spirits and shouts, “Stay back, or we will unleash not only dragon fire on you, but I will call up a spell that will turn all your gold into plain, ordinary, and worthless rock.”
That causes the specters to pause. Seeing them hesitate, Phigby raises his arms and cries out, “If I turn your glittering, gleaming gold into unappealing stone, what will bring light to your eyes?
“What will appease your cravings for its luster? What will satisfy your yearnings for the smooth, warm feeling of a golden nugget in your hands? Cold, hard, barren rock?”
The spirits hang back, unsure if Phigby is telling the truth or not. Phigby raises his hands, his voice growing in volume. “That is the first part of my curse, if I cry aloud the second part, your gold turns to ordinary stone.”
He raises his arms higher. “Readius, Hooperus?” he roars and glances down toward where I wait with the two sprites.
I give him a quick nod.
On each side, the dragons are growling low and deep as if in anticipation of unleashing dragon fire.
“Phigby,” Helmar calls, “if those things get much closer, our dragons are going to let loose.”
“It won’t do any good,” Phigby answers, “Against such as these, fire is not the answer.”
“What is?” Amil, asks, his voice wavering just a bit as he twirls his ax in his hands.
“You’ll see,” Phigby answers just above a whisper.
Phigby takes another step forward to confront the apparitions. “I tell you again, we do not covet your treasure, but we must pass through these mountains. Either leave us in peace or pay the consequences. I will not wait much longer before casting my spell. Now, what is your answer?”
The specters float in front of us, their eyes never leaving the dragons, but they seem unsure of whether Phigby can carry out his threat or not.
Phigby’s call is soft over his shoulder, “Everyone, get ready, and make every arrow count, and if need be, let every flick of your sword wrist find a mark. Above all, do not let them touch any part of you.”
He pauses and his voice is grim. “If they do, there is nothing I can do to help you.”
Then, as if the mountain specters had made up their minds that Phigby is bluffing, there is a swelling through their ranks, and they charge, their weapons held high, their mouths open in silent screams.
“Now, Hooper!” Phigby yells.
I shout, “Dazzle, Shine, Ember, Twinkle, glow bright!”
With two at each end, the sprites burst into a blinding brilliance that outlines the entire valley, including us, in a sharp starkness.
There’s a shrill shriek from the Jallhugrs as if the light were a spear piercing their bodies.
I watch amazed, as they plummet the short distance to the ground, no longer phantoms, but turned to flesh and bone by the sharp, intense light.
They stagger for a moment, stunned at going from ghostlike bodies to real, though grotesque, maggoty flesh.
However, their hesitation is their undoing.
Three bow strings thrum and three Jallhugrs shriek as arrows thud deep into their bodies.
“Helmar!” Phigby commands. “Dragon fire!”
Helmar doesn’t waste a moment. “Golden Wind, Glory, Song! Dragon fire!”
The three dragons rear back and then whip their heads forward. In an instant, the sharp valley is filled with the hissing of scalding dragon breath.
The dragon flame’s roar is joined by the now mortal Jallhugr’s screams and shrieks as they’re caught in the fiery maelstrom. The fire stream rushes across the narrow valley and spreads across the mountainside turning the vale into a scorching cauldron of flame and death.
The heat is so intense that I shield my face and move back several steps, as do the others.
In moments, it’s over and the dragons withdraw, their fire dying out and wisps of smoke curling up from their nostrils.
Those few Jallhugr who have survived the blistering flames stagger and stumble on blistered and blackened legs, their eyes sightless, their mouths open in silent screams of agony.
Alonya strides forward and with several sweeping slashes of her great sword ends their pain.
Phigby doesn’t waste a moment. “On your dragons!” he bellows. “Alonya lead us out of this death-trap!”
Cara and Helmar scoop up the sprogs and toss them onto Golden Wind’s carapace while I hobble over, slamming Galondraig in its scabbard.
As she rushes past, Alonya grabs me and throws me up on Golden Wind’s neck all in one smooth motion as if she’d been practicing doing just that.
Scamper is already on board, his nose pointed forward, his wild chittering matching his tail as it whips back and forth.
In less time than it would take for Scamper to dig out a nest of termites, we’re thudding down the defile, the sharp valley sides whipping past on each side.
I’m bouncing and jolting from the rough ride, gripping Golden Wind’s horns as tight as possible with both hands. This time, I’m determined to hold on and not fall off.
I have no intention of being turned into an ice statue.
Being last in line, I keep looking over my shoulder, fearing that I will see a Jallhugr army following. But the valley behind remains clear of floating, angry spirits.
We round a sharp bend and Golden Wind almost runs into Wind Song who’s come to a full stop in the pathway’s middle.
The Jallhugr army of spectral apparitions isn’t following behind.
It’s in front of us.
Like a roaring tide of wispy, white figures, they rush across the valley walls, filling the vale from mountainside to mountainside and blocking our way.
I have to take only one look to know that not even dragon fire will save us this time.
Chapter Ten
“Hooper!” Phigby’s voice bounces off the steep walls. “Get the sprites up here!”
Golden Wind sweeps past Wind Song and slides to a stop next to Wind Glory. “Dazzle, Shine, Ember, Twinkle! Glow bright!” I command.
The little sprites shoot off Golden Wind’s back, their bodies glowing as bright as tiny suns. They sweep back and forth in front of the crazed Jallhugr throng.
The thing’s front ranks slow as their bodies turn solid in the sprite’s brilliant light.
Alonya wastes no time and wades into the fray, her great sword slashing and slicing, felling a whole row of Jallhugr as if she were chopping down a stand of thin birchen saplings.
The rest of us slide off our dragons. I flinch from the pain but don’t hesitate in pulling Galondraig from my scabbard and rushing forward.
Amil jumps into the fight close to Alonya, his great ax swishing through the air, leaving two headless Jallhugrs to totter before they fall in a heap on the rocks.
Phigby’s sword sings through the air as he takes on several fiends at one time. He swings with such strength that his blade shatters two of the creature’s foils before it carries on to strip their heads right off their shoulders.
Cara and Helmar stand shoulder to shoulder with their bowstrings thrumming loud in the night air, made colder by the breaths of roaring ice ghouls.
With all my might, I swing Galondraig at two charging Jallhugr. Galondraig cleaves their swords in half and slices into their bodies as if it were a scalding hot blade slicing through a snowflake.
I turn away from the two Jallhugr as they writhe on the ground in their death throes to meet two more enraged ghouls.
They flinch as the dragons unleash their fire over our heads. Their hesitation is my opening and I leave them headless as well.
The dragons sweep their fire to each side of our little company, preventing the host of Jallhugr from surrounding us.
Helmar and Cara’s bows hum again and more Jallhugr fall with a shriek that rends the air. Alonya wades deeper into the host with her great blade, slashing in fury at the phantoms.
Those in front try to give way to her ferocity but those in back keep pushing
forward leaving their fellow ghouls at the mercy of her thundering attack.
Amil’s ax and Phigby’s sword are flashing blurs as they spin and whirl with their backs to the Amazos queen.
Between them they’re carving out a huge swath of fallen Jallhugr, who lie dying on the ground before they even have time to raise their demon swords.
But it’s not enough.
Relentless, more and more of the foul Jallhugr pour into the fight. In moments, the dragons will lose their fire and the great flood of Jallhugr will sweep around us, sealing our doom.
A great blast of cold wind whips down the mountain and I turn to stare. Another rushing white wave of raging Jallhugr spews from the mountainside and streams down the mountain’s face.
“Phigby!” I yell over the tumult and point.
Phigby takes one look, grabs both Amil and Alonya by the arm, pulling at them, while shouting, “Fall back! Fall back!”
With them, I step backward waving Galondraig in front of me as the Jallhugr advance, dark scowls turning their faces even colder and forbidding.
Of a sudden, the sprites’ light dims and I glance up. Only Twinkle and Ember, the two yellows zip back and forth crossing the Jallhugr’s front lines.
I back up against the golden who’s run out of dragon fire and now rears, pawing the air with her sharp, scimitar-like talons.
Cara comes to stand next to me and unleashes an arrow, straight and true. “Where are Dazzle and Shine?” I cry. “We need them!”
She whirls around looking everywhere. “I don’t know!” she exclaims. “I thought they were with you.”
The golden and the two sapphires tower over us, their great spurs outstretched as if they would rip the very air and any Jallhugr foolish enough to get close.
Their ear-splitting roars fill the valley from rim to rim. I can feel the air pound against me from their bellowing as if I stood under a thundering waterfall. Their ferocious growls hold the Jallhugr in place for a moment as if they’re uncertain whether they face more scorching dragon fire or not.
The ghouls start to take a few tentative steps forward and I know that in a few moments, they’re going to lose their fear and mount a final death-dealing charge.
To protect her, Helmar and I place ourselves in front of Cara, my sword held high and ready, his bow string drawn tight against his cheek as he takes aim.
We stay that way only for an instant before Cara pushes us both aside and plants herself between us. “This is no time for gallantry,” she snarls and draws her bow back.
We form a line, bows, swords, and ax ready for one final fight to the death against the Jallhugr horde, only I know that there can only be one outcome.
A cold, icy ending for all of us.
Before they can charge though, there’s a ripple among the Jallhugr ranks and they stop dead in their tracks. Almost as one, they turn gaping mouths toward the easternmost mountains.
I flick my eyes up at where they stare. A large, ruddy glow is building behind the nearest mountain.
Phigby whirls, his mouth open. “Wha—” he sputters before his eyes shine with a little gleam and he chuckles, “of course!”
I turn to gape at the brightening radiance that’s spreading across the ridgeline as if the sun were rising. I blink several times at what I see.
The night isn’t even half over, it’s not time for the dawn.
Phigby spins around, points and bellows at the top of his lungs to the Jallhugr, “It is the sun! With my power I have called up the sun in the middle of the night.
“Turn aside, you revolting scum or I will split wide your mountains and let the sun beat upon you, your fell cities and your precious gold. It and you will melt before its power and nevermore shall Erdron know of your obscene filth!”
He points again. “The sun! The sun rises before you!”
At the same time, Ember and Twinkle go dark and disappear, letting the Jallhugr assume their ghostlike forms.
There is an unsettled rippling across the cloud of phantoms, before, virtually as one, they bolt back up the slope. Then, as if the peaks had sucked them into their dark depths, the mountain spirits are gone.
I stand gaping, not sure which is more amazing, the Jallhugr’s abrupt vanishing, or the very early, and apparently life-saving sunrise.
“Phigby,” I start, but before I can utter another word, he whirls and snaps, “No time for questions. Everyone, to your dragons! Alonya, lead us out of here and as fast as your feet can carry you!”
I scramble toward the golden but I can’t help myself. “Phigby,” I call, “The sprites where are—”
Phigby waves a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry about them,” he calls back, “they’re doing just fine. They’ll catch up with us when they’re finished.”
“Finished?” I question as I scramble up on Golden Wind. “Finished with what?”
He doesn’t answer me for just then, Cara turns Wind Song onto the trail and at a lumbering gallop, the golden follows right behind.
We race along the trail, and though it’s dark and the path jumbled with boulders as before, we pay no heed, our fear of what lies behind overcoming our anxiety of stumbling over some unseen rock.
Alonya pushes herself and us hard and it’s not until the King and Queen Stars are high overhead and the moons start to rise before she slows as we round the final bend and before us lies the fork in the trail.
Breathing hard, she gestures for us to join her. We slide off our dragons and crowd around. She motions toward our new trail. “I never intended for us to walk this trail at night for the path is narrow and tight, barely wide enough for a single dragon.
“As I mentioned before, on one side is a sheer drop-off and the other is a steep cliff. Even though the moons are up, there will be times when we will be in deep shadow with nothing more than starlight to guide our steps. You cannot ride your dragons for one misstep and—”
She leaves the dire thought hanging for us to finish.
Phigby steps forward, breathing hard after our wild race down the mountainside. “We needn’t walk this trail just yet and I believe we can rest here until dawn.”
He motions toward the easternmost peaks. “Sunrise will be soon and I do not think those things will bother us again tonight.”
“Are you sure they’re not following, Phigby?” Helmar questions, his apprehensive eyes peering back up the trail we just left. “I would rather take my chances with Alonya’s narrow path than another encounter with those fiends.”
Phigby claps Helmar on the shoulder. “I’m sure. We should still set a night watch, as usual, but we can rest, sleep if you can, until the morn.”
Several of us exchange uneasy glances before I speak up. “I’ll take the first watch.”
From the corner of my eye, I see Cara start to protest but I raise a hand stopping her before she can speak. “I’ll sit on Golden Wind and not limp around. I can see everything from up there.
“Besides,” I say to the whole company, “you watched over me while I slept, now it’s my turn to watch over you while you do the same.”
I give Phigby a questioning look who answers by narrowing his eyes before he grumps at me, “Let me check your bandages. If there’s no staining of life fluid, you should be fine.”
“I’ll take the second watch,” Cara volunteers.
“And, I’ll greet the second dawn,” Phigby smiles and chuckles as if he’s told a joke.
At that, I question, “Phigby where are the sprites? Are they all right?”
“I assure you, they’re fine,” he replies. “They’ll be along presently, I’m sure. Now, sit and take your feet out of those warm sheepskin boots of yours so that I can see them.”
It’s not long before I’m sitting astride Golden Wind with Galondraig draped over my knees keeping watch over the camp.
After examining my feet, Phigby pronounces that I’ve bled little during our fight with the Jallhugr and that I can stand my watch atop the golden.
And th
ough there’s only bare ground and rock to lie upon, I do hope that my comrades can sleep.
They deserve at least a few hours’ rest.
It will be a cold camp, for Alonya has forbidden a fire as there is nothing to shield its glow from overflying Wilders.
I’ve not kept guard for very long when I see a hooded figure rise from the ground and walk over to the golden.
It’s Cara.
She comes close to the golden, pulls her tunic hood back and peers up at me. I bend over to whisper, “Is something wrong?”
“No,” she replies, “I just couldn’t sleep and didn’t want to toss and turn on the ground. It’s hard on the elbows.”
“Not to mention,” I reply, “hips, back, head, and well, everything.”
She smiles up at me in agreement. She reaches out to stroke the golden’s scales. In the moonlight, Golden Wind’s plates are burnished in a soft glow and I feel as if I’m sitting on a gilded cloud.
Except, I’ve always believed that clouds would be a little softer to sit on than Golden Wind’s hard scales.
“She’s so beautiful,” Cara sighs.
I don’t know how it happened. My mouth is living its own life again.
Gazing straight at her, our eyes meeting, I murmur, “Like someone else I know.”
Cara’s eyes widen. “Why, Hooper,” she replies in a husky tone, “I never knew you noticed such things.”
My mouth has taken the bit and is running free. “Oh . . . I’ve noticed. For quite some time.”
“Really?”
I nod, swallow, and then my wild stallion of a mouth asks, “Would you like to come up?”
Her wonderful apple-green eyes with their long eyelashes widen even more and blink several times. “Could I?” she all but stutters. “I’ve always wondered what it’d be like, you know.”
She bites down on her lip and glances toward where Golden Wind has her eyes closed, head resting on her forelegs. “Do you think she’d mind?”
I start to say, No, I don’t think she’d mind, when one of Golden Wind’s legs comes swishing around and with a gentle talon pushes Cara against her scales.
