On Wings of Thunder (The Legend of Hooper's Dragons Book 3)

by GARY DARBY

  Just then, Scamper comes sailing down the golden’s leg and dashes toward the door. His sudden appearance startles several Uhlan and they swing up their bows.

  “Wait!” I shout and dart out. “He’s only accepting your invitation.”

  I draw in a breath. “As am I.”

  Turning, I follow Scamper, who’s plunked himself down in front of the closed door, his face turned up, expectant and hungry.

  Behind me, I hear metallic rustling and turn to look over my shoulder. One by one the Uhlan drop and shoulder their bows.

  I see Cara hesitate and then she too, marches past Rollo and joins me.

  Moments later, Rollo opens the wooden door and ushers all of us into a large room that has an open kitchen and tables at one end while the far end holds hammocks that swing between square wooden pillars.

  “Our common room,” Rollo explains and leads us to the tables. He eyes Alonya who has to bend and squeeze through the door and whose head brushes against the ceiling even as she stoops over. “But our benches were not made for such a large guest.”

  He motions to a nearby Uhlan, whispers in his ear, and the rover spins on his heel. Moments later, he and another Uhlan reappear, rolling a large barrel up to one table.

  Rollo gestures and says to Alonya, “It’s full of hard cheese and the barrel is quite sturdy. It may not be all that comfortable but I’m afraid that’s all I can offer—that, or the floor.”

  Alonya hesitates before she swings a leg over the barrel and gingerly sits. There is a bit of moaning from the wood and bands that constrict and hold the cask together but it remains intact under Alonya’s weight.

  Amil chortles at seeing her and Alonya snaps, “What is so funny, Traveler?”

  “I’m just glad that they only have you over a barrel,” he replies with a broad grin, “and not the rest of us.”

  Rollo stares for a moment before he too, chuckles. Soon, even Alonya is laughing at Amil’s little joke.

  It doesn’t take long for the Uhlan to bring seasoned venison, pork, cheese, hard bread and butter to the tables. While the meal may have been plain to the others in our company, to me the food was both delicious and sumptuous.

  The food is set upon thin wooden squares and there are no other plates or utensils, so each of us uses a knife to slice or cut a piece of whatever we want. Scamper is as happy as a bee in field of blossoming clover as I give him a small piece of everything, even a slice of bread with butter.

  The Uhlan point with their knives at him and some even smile a bit, watching him roll over on his back and gnaw away at the food.

  The Uhlan eat and murmur among themselves and from what I can tell they enjoy the comfortable familiarity of being among long-held companions and fellow travelers.

  Our company eats in silence, and I believe they are like me, wary, but famished and willing to eat while keeping a watchful eye on the Uhlan. I sit next to Cara and though she eats as if famished, her eyes are in constant motion, flicking around us, watching the Uhlan’s every move. Her expression tells me that she’s grateful for the food but, like me, she’s not comfortable with our hosts or our setting.

  An Uhlan comes through the door and says to Rollo, “We’ve brought the meat up from the stores for the dragons.”

  Before Rollo can reply, Helmar rises and says, “I’ll feed the dragons, if you don’t mind.”

  Rollo shrugs while saying, “Suit yourself.” He motions to the waiting Uhlan. “Geoff, you and Marce help him and then you two come eat.”

  It doesn’t take long before Helmar comes through the door followed by the two Uhlans, a young man and woman. Rollo calls out, “Geoff, keep the door open so that they can see their dragons and know they’re safe.”

  Geoff doesn’t answer but pushes the door wide open and the two sit at two empty places near us. I notice that Geoff, the young Uhlan male digs into his meal, while his female companion, Marce, but picks at her food.

  My attention is drawn back to our table as Helmar mutters to us with raised eyebrows, “Two goats apiece for the dragons, fresh meat at that, and both the sprogs and sprites have their fill as well.”

  He gives a little head bow to Rollo. “Thank you for providing for our dragons.”

  Rollo acknowledges Helmar with a nod and then turns as Phigby says, “Yes and I add my thanks as well.”

  Rollo finishes one last bite, swallows and leans back from the table. “But now you would have our story, yes?”

  “Yes,” Phigby replies, “and I would also know how you know our names.”

  Rollo gestures as if his knowing our names was nothing out of the ordinary. “We not only know your names, but why you have come to this place and what it is you intend to do.”

  He leans a bit closer, again glances in my direction. “I even know your destination.”

  At that, there is an uneasy shuffling among my companions. I too feel a tenseness. If Rollo is not a friend, then the information he holds would be precious to our enemies and very profitable for him and his company.

  He lets out a sigh and straightens. “I can also tell you that far in the past, several of my people went into the Tormented Swamp. None returned home. It is either a brave thing you attempt or a very foolish one, indeed.”

  None of us speak until Phigby says, “All right, you seem to know quite a bit about us, so I again must ask, how do you know?”

  Rollo turns to Alonya and a small smile plays about his lips. “For a giantess, I must admit you move through the woods as quietly as a deer and you almost caught us twice. Except for forest beasts, none have ever come so close. Fortunately, our natural camouflage served us well and you passed right by us.”

  “You!” Alonya snarls. “It was you that trailed us the last two days.”

  The hiss of her sword as it begins to slide out of its scabbard sounds like a dragon’s tail swishing through dry, crinkled fall leaves. However, before her sword is even a quarter out of its sheath, as one, the Uhlan are on their feet, their hands on sword hilts.

  Phigby reaches out and grasps Alonya’s large wrist. “Alonya,” he rasps in a sharp tone, “may I remind you that they came here in peace as did we. Let us not break the pax simply because they were able to steal through the forest without us seeing or hearing them. As Rollo said, if they had wanted to do harm, they could have done so before now.”

  She stops at his touch and voice before she slams her sword back into her scabbard and gives Rollo a small head bow. “My apologies, Seeker. I am not so used to having anyone outwit me in the greenwood.”

  Phigby, too, gives a little bow. “And I offer my apology as well. Please forgive our reaction at your revelation. Being trailed the last two days by several unseen watchers has left us a bit, uh, wary, shall we say, of you and your motives.”

  He shakes his head. “Our last encounter with those who remained hidden almost killed one of us, so you can see, we are forced to err on the side of caution.”

  Rollo returns both Alonya’s and Phigby’s bow with a curt nod and at a slight gesture from him, the Uhlan relax their hands and return to their seats.

  Amil’s question is brusque. “Why were you following us and did not show yourselves before this?”

  Rollo hesitates for a moment before he lets out a long sigh. “Because, Amil, we had to be sure we guided you to this spot where our ship lay at anchor.”

  His eyes sweep across our faces. “You see, we met someone who has a keen interest in your little company. A dark lady who seems to command the sky above and the ground below. And is willing to move both to lay her hands on you.”

  At that, this time it is we who jump to our feet, hands clutching sword hilts.

  “Vay!” Alonya hisses.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “Ah, yes,” Rollo replies in a soft tone, keeping his hands on the table in plain view. “I see that you are familiar with her as well.”

  Phigby holds up a hand, keeping us in our places. None of the other Uhlan have risen or gone for their
swords, but none move their eyes from us.

  “How is it that you know Vay?” Alonya snarls. “Are you in league with her?”

  Rollo raises an open hand and gestures for us to sit. “Please, be seated and I will explain.”

  With some hesitation, but following Phigby’s example, the rest of us slide down, though none of us have our hands far from our sword hilts.

  “We come from a land far from this place. We call it Nervan. It’s where our people have lived, hidden from the rest of the world for hundreds and hundreds of seasons.”

  “But now you’ve come forth again,” Phigby states.

  Rollo nods and leans forward, his elbows on the table, hands clasped in front of his face. “During the great epoch you mentioned, our people roamed across the whole of Erdron. Our custom was that we would journey out in our family clans, each assigned to one of the four cardinal points.

  “As we traveled, we spread out and for fifty full seasons explore all that we could. Sometimes, we moved slowly that we might carefully study our surroundings, at times swiftly to see new things, new places.

  “Then, at the beginning of the fifty-first season, all the clans returned to our sacred place, the—”

  “Center Point,” Phigby returns.

  Rollo looks at him in an odd manner to which Phigby admits, “I found mention of it in an obscure reference by Socrales, an ancient historian.”

  Rollo nods as if to himself and then goes on. “Once all the clans returned, there would be a full season of rest, a time of celebration, of sharing what we had seen.

  “We rejoiced in making new friends and celebrated with old acquaintances. It was also a time of remembrance for those we had lost along the way.

  “Marriages were solemnized as the young of suitable age who hadn’t found mates within their own clan found them amongst another.

  “As importantly, or perhaps more so, it was then that we added to our Historica all that we had seen and learned.”

  Cara’s head snaps up and she leans toward Rollo. “Historica?” she asks, her eyes gleaming. I can tell that at the mere mention of a new book she’s forgotten that just moments ago, she had her sword hilt in hand.

  For Cara, even a book perhaps hundreds of leagues away, in an unknown land is like cheese to Scamper. Hold it out in front of him and he’d tunnel through a whole mountain just to get a bite.

  Books and dragons. How can I ever compete against those?

  Rollo nods and smiles. “Yes, the Historica is a chronology of our travels, a description of all that we have found, and maps that are carefully drawn showing our routes to and from Center Point.”

  He pauses before whispering, “It is also filled with the secrets we have learned in our journeys.”

  Stopping as if to gather his thoughts, he then goes on, “Once the season of rest was over, the clan High Chieftains, or as we call them, the Jelani, started the exodus cycle anew.

  “Each clan would always go in a different direction than they had taken before so that in our going and returning we would add to our Historica.

  “This was our way of life, our reason for living since the first Uhlan struck out over the pathways. As you said, Phigby, there was no greater desire in our breast than to see what lay beyond the horizon.”

  He let out a long sigh. “But it could not continue forever. Our people were always small in number, but the fire within to explore, even in the midst of danger and hardship, has always been our driving force.

  “However, our desire to see the world took its toll. Exploring can be dangerous and Erdron is not without its risks.”

  His eyes became hard, his stare penetrating. “Especially when it becomes known that you carry secrets with you, perhaps secrets that lead to riches beyond belief.”

  “Those you came across started to attack you,” Alonya states.

  “Yes,” Rollo affirms. “Everywhere we went, it became the same. It was as if we wore gold cloaks about us, or carried treasure chests among our belongings, neither of which was true. People became crazed at the thought that if they robbed and killed us that their dreams of wealth would be fulfilled. Instead of being the Seekers, we became the Pursued.”

  “Sounds familiar,” Amil rumbles under his breath.

  “Yes,” Rollo acknowledges, “indeed. There came a time when we were so few, that when the clans returned to Center Point the Jelani called for a Grand Conference in which all the Uhlan participated.

  “According to our Historica, there was but one chief question which our ancestors debated. Could we continue in the old ways with so few of us and those few growing fewer with each return to Center Point?

  “The discussion went on for the moons’ full cycle. Then Leefson, one of the Jelani, and a great explorer, who until then had not spoken, but listened, rose and spoke powerfully and with great eloquence.

  “In fact, his are the only words recorded in the Historica of that meeting.”

  Rollo’s lips turned up in a small smile. “I won’t repeat it all but hear part of what he said: ‘If we do not care for our children, and our children’s children, who will?

  “If we do not nurture them, cherish them, who will? If we do not give them life, sustain that life, who will? If we do not watch over and protect them, who will? Not just in this moment, but for all time?

  “Our people’s journey was once wondrous and fulfilled our yearnings to great satisfaction. Yet I would ask you, is it now worth the lives of our children, those who sit here in this council and those yet to come? For me, it is not—it can never be.

  “Though I ache to walk the trails again and my heart bleeds from the thought that I won’t, I cannot allow for my own vain selfishness to stand in the way of what is right. And what is right is to preserve the lives of our children; those who are alive now and those who are yet to be born.”

  Rollo paused and then as if enacting some scene from the Uhlan’s Historica, stood and drew his sword, pointing it straight up while he stared skyward as if he were talking to the gods above.

  “Someday, our people will grow strong and we shall once again be the Uhlan of old. But until then—” Rollo brings his sword slashing down and stabs it into the planking, the hilt quivering for an instant when he lifts his hand away.

  “Until then, for the sake of my descendants, this is where I stand!”

  Rollo raises his head, his dark eyes gleaming in the torchlight. He reaches down and yanks the blade out of the deck wood.

  Drawing in a breath, he says, “Every Uhlan present at the Grand Conference voted to give up our wandering ways and find a place where we would be safe and isolated from those who would slay us for our supposed riches.”

  He gives a little shrug. “So we did, and there we have remained all this time.”

  “Excuse me, Rollo,” Amil asks, “but as a Traveler myself, I’d like to know where exactly is Center Point?”

  Rollo’s lips flicker with the hint of a smile. “It is a place that in all our years no one, other than ourselves, has ever visited or seen. And I will only say that it is nestled in the Seven Vales’ centermost valley under the Seven Leeks but I believe you won’t find that place on any map, for it was the one place we never drew on any map, nor did we reveal its location.”

  “Seven Leeks?” Cara asks.

  “It is from an old tongue meaning snow-capped mountains,” Phigby explains.

  I can see Amil’s mouth push up to one side as he grumbles, “In other words, you won’t tell us.”

  “You are most perceptive, Traveler,” Rollo returns with an impassive stare at Amil. “But do not take it personally. Even if you were a king and commanded me to divulge its whereabouts, I would refuse, even on pain of death.”

  “So,” Phigby prompts, “you’ve remained hidden over the ages; unknown, unseen, keeping to yourselves, never venturing out to walk the pathways?”

  “Never,” Rollo acknowledges. “Until now.”

  “Why?” Alonya questions.

  Rollo settl
es into a bit more relaxed stance, scabbards his blade, and sits. “Over time, we grew enough in numbers that there began to be talk of taking up the old; to venture forth again even though there was fear of what we might meet.”

  His eyes hardened and I could hear a growl in his voice. “But it turned out to be just that—talk. The Uhlan of today are not the Uhlan of Leefson’s day. We’ve become complacent, our lives are too comfortable.

  “Where we live, it seems the sun always shines, the rains always come, the crops never fail. The sea is full of fish. Throw out a net once and reel in a full measure of fat sea trout and be done.

  “The wooded hills and lush mountain vales are so full of game that they fall prey to even the most inexperienced hunter.”

  Pausing, he adds, “No one has any desire to leave Nervan and see what the world now holds.”

  He sweeps his arm around at his company. “Except for a very, very few.”

  Rollo raises a corner of his mouth in a crooked smile. “Through a great deal of persistence and . . .” he laughs quietly, “annoyance on our part, the clan Jelani finally relented and agreed to let four small contingents leave, one for each cardinal point as before.

  “We swore an oath that we would never reveal where Nervan lay and that we would come back within five full seasons to report on our journey.”

  Turning, he peers at the Uhlan that sit silent, but their eyes never leave him. “We make up one of those small companies that decided to go out and explore.

  “However,” he goes on, swinging around to face us, “we decided that because we are so few, the old way of treading over the ground by foot or boat was too slow, we needed something swifter to carry us across the land, we needed—”

  “Dragons,” Cara states.

  “Yes,” he smiles and cocks his head toward Cara. “You are very perceptive, Cara. You see, on Nervan there are no dragons. So, we set out to find dragons and discovered an island several hundred leagues away that was full of dragons—emeralds or greens as I believe they are called.”

  “Wait,” Helmar sputters, “you found an island where’s there’s only emerald dragons?”