by GARY DARBY
Then I hear Phigby’s bellow from above, “Hooper, use the emerald! Do it now!”
Whirling around, I spot what appears to be tiny, dark strands of river reed sweeping by in the current. I slam my sword into my scabbard and yell up at the golden, “Let go!”
Her talons spring open and I drop to the water, hitting with a resounding splat. Spitting and sputtering, I struggle to the surface and grab a handful of the stringy little plant.
I reach out and grasp Alonya’s muscled shoulder. “Hold onto me!” I shout. I reach into my tunic, pull out the emerald and cry, Vald Hitta Sasi Ein! Power to this One!
In an instant, the little reedy water plants begin to spin around us faster and faster until within a few heartbeats we’re enveloped in a dripping cocoon of matted plants. The eels, caught off guard, renew their attack but the river weed is entwined so thick that they can’t rip through to get at us.
Of a sudden, our water ball is pounded by dragon wings and the Tyger Eels begin screeching in high-pitched squeals. I smile to myself. The sapphires and the golden are attacking the water beasts, slicing the life out of them with their sharp talons.
I squirm around in our watery shell, lace my fingers into the water reeds and face Alonya. My elation evaporates.
Her face is drooping into the water as if she’s lost all her strength. I manage to raise her head above the water as it’s obvious she’s losing consciousness and even inside our protective sheath she’s in danger of drowning.
From above, dragon talons break through the top of our little plant bubble, there is a mighty jerk, and with a rush, we’re plowing through the water shoreward. It’s not long before Golden Wind drags us ashore over the bumpy, stony riverbank. Within moments, Amil, using his ax as a cleaver shreds our water reed sphere to pull us out.
Phigby rushes over, and with Helmar helping, turns the giant maiden on her side where she coughs and spits up water while we gather around her with anxious faces. She takes in great drafts of air and it takes a moment until her breathing is normal.
Phigby brings out his bag and begins to apply his healing creams and salves to her numerous nasty bite wounds.
When he’s finished, he turns to me. “You next, youngster.”
“Me?” I stammer “I’m not hurt.”
“Oh really?” Cara replies, gesturing at my leg. “What’s that red stuff running down your leg? Waterberry juice?”
I glance down and see blood oozing through my pants from a deep gash in my thigh. “Oh,” I mumble. “Didn’t even know it was there.”
Phigby goes to work on my leg, working a flesh-colored salve deep into the wound. Within moments, the bleeding stops and with practiced hands, he wraps a cloth bandage tightly around the leg.
With Amil and Helmar’s help, Alonya manages to sit up and reaches out to me. “Thank you, Hooper. I again owe you my life.”
I shake my head. “You don’t owe me anything, Alonya. I’m just glad you’re safe.”
She turns to Phigby, coughs, before taking in another breath and asking, “What were those things?”
“Tyger Eels,” he replies in a hard voice. “A type of flesh-eating fish that should not be found in this river, but only in the Great South Ocean.”
“It would seem,” Amil observes, “that we continue to find a large number of things in this realm that belong elsewhere.”
“Indeed,” Phigby replies, “it appears that Vay is acquiring her minions from both near and far.”
He sets his medicines back into the bag and mutters to Alonya, “After our encounter with the Jallhugr in the mountains, perhaps I should not have let you attempt that swim. These are not normal times or places and we must be constantly on our guard.”
Alonya gives Phigby a wan smile in answer. “Thank you, but if you’ll recall, it was I who forced the issue and made the decision to swim. But, after this, I sincerely wish to do my swimming only in the baths at Dronopolis. I’m quite sure I won’t find any Tyger Eels splashing around in the baths with me.”
“Well,” Helmar answers, “be that as it may, if you are able to walk, Alonya, I suggest that we move away from here. It won’t be long before that lone Wilder dragon alerts the other Wilders.”
As we gather ourselves together, Helmar walks over to me and lays a hand on my shoulder. He eyes me, his mouth working as if he wants to speak but can’t find the words.
Nodding and taking a deep breath, he concedes, “That was an act of incredible courage, Hooper.”
I give him a lopsided smile in reply. “Courage or stupidity? In all honesty, Helmar, it was the only thing I could think of doing at the time. But don’t ask me to do it a second time.”
He grunts in answer. “Sometimes that’s all courage is, Hooper, doing something while everyone else is either doing nothing or waiting for someone else to act. As for me, what I saw was a brave and daring deed.”
His lips turn up in a wan smile. “Let’s hope that you won’t have to do that again, at least not anytime soon.”
With that, he turns and makes his way over to Wind Glory. Cara eases up beside me. “Well, it’s good to see that you two are at least talking to each other.”
“What do you mean?” I reply, wringing out my soaked tunic. “We talk all the time, hadn’t you noticed?”
“No,” she retorts. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“Oh, sure,” I return. “Why, just this morning, he said, ‘Move!’ when I got in his way.”
Letting out a long sigh, and shaking her head, she turns away, headed for Wind Song.
We push on through the woodlands on the far bank, and from this point on, Amil is our guide.
Even with her bloody wounds, Alonya stumps through the forest alongside Wind Glory and Amil, spurred on by the fact that we need to get as far from the river as possible and hope that it was only the Tyger Eels that spotted us.
The night seems to pass more slowly than normal, perhaps in part because I can’t rid myself of the feeling that we are being pursued. I spend half my time glancing over my shoulder, certain that I’ll see red dragons winging right at us in the night sky.
Only, no Wilders show and by the time the moons’ soft glow touches the far horizon we’ve covered several leagues in the dark, leaving us, and most of all Alonya, worn out.
Amil pulls us off the tree-lined trail we’ve followed since the river and up to a small hill that’s crowned with a stand of tall, thin pine trees. “We have a choice for our camp,” he announces and gestures up the hill.
“We can rest there and use the high ground for defense, or we can stay here at the base where the trees are thicker. Either is the best shelter we’re going to find at this point.”
Phigby glances around as if sizing up our situation. “A choice between dense trees or the high ground with not-so-thick woods.”
Alonya points up the hill. “My pick is the hilltop. Easier to defend, easier to see any enemy coming at us.”
“And I prefer the dense woodlands,” Cara counters. “Better to hide the dragons.”
We appear to be at a standoff so I clear my throat and say, “Can we not do both? The dragons secluded here, the company on the hilltop? I’ll stay with the dragons down here and you can set a guard up there, warn me if you see anything.”
Phigby scratches at his head, his eyebrows furrowed in thought. “Splitting your forces is not always a good idea but this time, it would seem that’s best.”
While Alonya and the others trudge up the hill, Cara helps me get the sprogs out of the saddlebags. “Are you sure about this, Hooper?” she asks. “Staying alone while the rest of us are up on the hill?”
“I’m sure. I’ll be all right. I’ve got the dragons, you’ve got the rest of the company. Seems a fair trade.”
She gives me a wan smile. “Maybe, but make sure you yell real loud if you need help.”
“I will, you do the same.” She starts to turn and I reach out to touch her on the elbow.
“Uh, good job on that Wilder, Cara. T
hat was really smart, using his own dragon to hide behind.”
She dimples. “Thanks, but not anything compared to what you did in the river for Alonya.”
Her face lights up. “Hanging upside down from the golden’s talons? I’ve just got to try that with Wind Song.”
“Uh,” I hesitate, reluctant to encourage her, “it’s not all that great, especially when you’ve got Tyger Eels snapping in your face. I’m beginning to think that that river was more than aptly named. Wolves on land and in the water.”
“True,” she replies, “and I agree that it wouldn't be so wonderful having fangs a finger’s length from your nose, but still, swinging under a dragon like that? Like I said, I’m going to try it sometime.”
And no doubt, I think to myself, it’s only a matter of time before you do.
Her face turns serious for a moment. “Hooper, back to the Wilder and how I used his dragon to hide us? You know, I noticed something really odd about that.”
“What?”
“Well, you know how sensitive our dragons are to other dragons?”
“Yes, especially Golden Wind.”
“Right. Yet, there we were just a few body lengths behind that big red and not once did he alert his rider that another dragon was sneaking up. It’s true that we got the jump on them, but still, when we closed, I was sure that the scarlet would react to our closeness, but not even a twitch.”
“Hmm. That is interesting. I wonder why?”
Cara shook her head, her auburn curls dancing on her shoulders. “I don’t know but I think it’s important that we remember that. It might be an advantage we can use again.”
She smiles at me. “Have a good sleep, Hooper. See you at dusk.”
“See you at dusk,” I reply.
I sit with my back against the golden in the dark, listening to Scamper and the sprogs as they dig around a bush as if there were treasure buried at its base. Or at least, lots of worms.
Every so often, like a moth is drawn to a light, my eyes flick up the hill and I can’t help thinking that Cara is there.
Alone with Helmar.
And I’m down here with a bunch of dragons.
After a bit, Golden Wind murmurs, “You seem deep in thought.”
She turns her head to gaze upward at the knoll where I’m staring. “Or perhaps you have only one thought.”
“Perhaps,” I admit.
Hesitating for a moment, I then ask, “Golden Wind, when the Faelian Ode book opened the first time, only I saw the image of Pengillstorr, but this time, both Cara and I saw Wind Rover. Why was that?”
“Because that’s what Rover wished.”
I nod to myself. “Cara loved Rover almost as much as she does Wind Song. Sometimes I think that with her father and brother gone, she loves you and Wind Song more than anything else in the world.”
“Maybe,” Golden Wind replies, “but I think you underestimate Cara. She is one of those rare individuals who has a heart that will never be overfilled with love. Her heart grows the more she cares, the more she loves. That is not to say that she is not capable of hating. She hates evil and wickedness as much as any one of us.
“But love is the flame in her candle, that which keeps her wick burning bright day after day.”
A sudden thought crosses my mind. “Golden Wind, since Cara loves dragons so much, and has so many more abilities than me, why wasn’t she chosen to be the Gem Guardian?”
I sigh. “She would be so much better at it than I. Wouldn’t do some of the dumb things I’ve done.”
Golden Wind is silent for a long time. “Hooper, why aren’t you the golden dragon?”
“Well—I—I—” I stop. I’m stumped as to what to say. “Because . . . I’m not a dragon?”
Golden Wind chuckles. “No, you are not a dragon, but that’s not the reason. Hooper, we are who we are. I cannot be you, you cannot be me.
“I have no doubt that Cara will be the very best of what and who she is supposed to be. The question is, will you be the very best of who and what you were meant to be?”
I think about her words for a long time before I ask, “Golden Wind, how do you know just who and what you are meant to be? It seems that life just doesn’t come along and says, ‘Here, you are to be a blacksmith, or here, you are destined to be a Dragon Master, or here, you are expected to shovel dung for the rest of your days."
She’s quiet for several moments before admitting, “No, it isn’t always easy to wring life’s answers out of her.”
Flicking her ears several times at the sounds around us, she asks, “Do you remember when we were at the Wolven Floden and you became so engrossed in watching the river’s swirls and eddies?”
“Don’t remind me,” I moan. “Another masterful mistake of mine.”
“Nevertheless, you tried to guess exactly where the next eddy would appear. Were you ever successful?”
“No. They just seemed to appear and disappear without any reason.”
“Life is like that river, Hooper, full of swirls and currents that seem to appear out of nowhere without reason, without cause.
“Moreover, just as you could not predict where the Floden’s next eddies would show, neither you, nor I, nor Cara, nor any of us will be able to predict where the next swirls of life will appear.
“Each of us in this company has a place, Hooper. You have yours, I have mine, Cara has hers, and so on. Only by each of us doing our part will we be able to meet the next eddy that the fates will throw at us on this journey.
“And there will be many, most of which we’ll not be able to see, just as you couldn’t see where the next swirl appeared in the river.”
After a moment, she adds, “But that doesn’t mean we have to go where the eddy would take us. You can choose your own destiny, you can—”
“Go with the flow or fight against the current. It’s your choice,” I rejoin.
“Something like that.”
“Well, if that’s the case,” I reply, “then I definitely feel like I’ve been fighting against the current.”
“Yes, Hooper,” she agrees, “that you have for a long, long time.”
I stand, walk to the front of her face, reach up and scratch her between her eyes. After a bit, she opens her eyes to ask in a surprised voice, “Thank you, Hooper, but what was that for?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I reply. “You just seemed to need it—for watching over a kid that’s been fighting the current for such a long time. Maybe someday he’ll stop and go with the flow, just to surprise you.”
“Yes,” she answers, with a soft laugh, “that would be a surprise, indeed.”
We stand that way for several moments, not speaking when suddenly a giant hand whips out of the early morning darkness and closes about my mouth. My hand reaches for Galondraig, but Alonya whispers, “Be still!”
She eases her hand off my mouth and points toward a clump of dark trees. “Someone watches,” she whispers in my ears.
Slipping off to one side behind the dragons, she uses their big bodies to shield herself from whatever it is that hides in the dark shadows.
Sliding Galondraig out of its scabbard, I step to Golden Wind’s head. “Can you see or hear anything?”
“No,” she whispers, “they were there only for an instant but are gone now.”
“They?” I question. “Wilders? Jallhugr?”
“Neither,” the golden answers.
Alonya’s footsteps announce her arrival. “Gone,” she growls. “Well before I could get close. That’s twice now they’ve come and gone like ghosts in the night.”
“You saw them before?”
“No,” she replies. “I didn’t see them, it was more like I felt their presence. I admit, whoever or whatever they are, they can use the night like a cloak to make themselves all but invisible.”
Motioning to the dragons, Alonya rumbles, “Well, Hooper, it would appear that we are to be companions for a bit. Would you like to sleep first, or shall I?”
&n
bsp; “You first, Alonya,” I offer. “I’ll stand watch. I’m not sure I could sleep anyway.”
She slides her huge sword in its scabbard, finds a soft spot in the grass, and drapes her cape over her large body. It doesn’t take long before she’s asleep.
“Terrific,” I mutter. “Invisible people. Just what we need. What’s next, invisible Wilder dragons?”
The golden swings her head to eye me. Meeting her stare, my eyes grow wide as I groan, “No . . .”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Two days later, from a forested, dark, and secluded knoll less than a half league from the River Lorell, we survey both the sky above the waterway and what moves up and down its course.
They’re waiting for us.
In the moons’ glow, what we see both skyward and on the river’s dark surface is disheartening.
Amil lets out a long, downhearted breath. “I had intended for us to reach the Lorell just below Inverfloden and then go to the port to buy food and to find a ship to carry at least Alonya across. When we had to cross the Wolven we ended up on the wrong side. Still, I thought I could make it work, but this—”
He gestures toward the river with his ax and then lets it drop, piercing the soft dirt as if to make his point. He didn’t need to gouge the soil because what we see in the river valley makes its own ready mark.
“Those Wilders are lazing along,” Helmar observes, “as if they know nothing can escape their gaze.”
“Aye,” Amil returns. “Few in number but they have the vantage point and it’s easy for their riders to survey the river.”
Taking a step forward to get a better view, Phigby declares, “I’ve never seen so many ships on the Lorell at one time.”
He points down at the dark river. “Those boxy ships are carracks, merchant ships that ply these waters and are sea-going as well. We have little to fear from them, other than discovery. It’s the sleek, fast sloops and corvettes that we must avoid.”
My eyes catch sight of several trim ships that slice through the water, their triangular dusky white sails catching the wind and speeding them across the river’s smooth surface.
