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

by GARY DARBY

  Shaking my head and meeting Vay’s cold eyes, I stammer, “You can have me in exchange for all these, but not Golden Wind.”

  Vay’s harsh laugh is mirthless, grating as if two sand blocks rubbed themselves together right next to my ears.

  You?! Oh, Hooper Menvoran, you overestimate yourself. You I can have anytime.

  Vay straightens and her voice is as if a hundred vipers issued from her mouth. I tire of this. Give me what I want or I will unleash my pets on you, your beloved Cara, and these other worthless maggots.

  As if thunder were unleashed, from inside the staircase comes a booming voice, “There is only one thing maggoty and worthless here, Vay, and it is you!”

  Then comes, Luminous, glarius, orbis!

  From the stairs comes a crashing noise and then as if out of nowhere, an immense brilliant ball of light explodes out of the stairwell, rolls across the landing and crashes into the men-at-arms.

  They run hollering and yelling from the scalding sphere, its heat burning and blistering wherever it touches flesh.

  It spins into the middle of the room and then in a blinding flash, light bursts throughout the chamber.

  The two snake-demons rear back, squirming and screeching, trying to slither away from the dazzling radiance.

  I jump to one side watching as from the unexpected burst of sun bright light, Vay and Aster lose control of their Nahls, who squeal, spin, and try to flee the blinding luster.

  The room erupts in bedlam.

  With a great cry, the Uhlan attack Aster’s soldiers. The soldiers have weapons but they’re in disarray and battling an enraged nemesis.

  From the corner of my eye, I see Rollo toss Marce his bow and quiver and an instant later, he wades into the soldiers with a sword he strips from a dead, burned soldier.

  His blade is a whirling glint of metal that shows no mercy as it slashes and thrusts.

  The glaring light from the spinning, spitting ball goes dim. I whirl toward where I last saw Cara and my heart goes cold.

  With the brilliant glow gone, Aster has somehow managed to bring his beast under control and it’s backed Helmar and Cara into a corner.

  From one side dash several soldiers, coming to Aster’s aid, their lances up and poised to run Helmar through and through

  Helmar swings at the grotesque creature with his sword but the thing rears up and away from Helmar’s slash.

  Just as it does, it unleashes its foul hiss, catching the running soldiers. In an instant, they’re standing rigid like blocks of ice, their spears pointing up and out, the glint of dim light making them look like long, thin icicles.

  Undaunted, Helmar rushes the beast, swinging, hacking with all his might at the foul fiend, trying to save Cara, but the thing is too quick, too fast. Each time it slithers away from Helmar’s frantic efforts to kill it, leaving Helmar chopping at empty air.

  Hurrying toward Helmar’s desperate fight, out of nowhere I catch Rollo darting from behind Aster’s creature. I’m not sure how he does it but he runs right up the beast’s scaled back. In his hands, he holds one of the men-at-arms’ lances.

  I know in an instant what Rollo intends. To slay the vileness called Aster for what he did to Rollo’s companions.

  Just as Rollo brings back the lance to loose at Aster, one of Vay’s scarlet spears of death splits the air.

  Blood-red, it runs Rollo through and through.

  The Uhlan leader staggers for a moment, drops the lance he’s carrying and grabs the crimson spike with both hands.

  I can see him trying to rip the pike out of his body but he can’t. His face holds an expression of agony as he totters for an instant.

  Aster, coward that he is, turns and thrusts his curved, wicked-appearing scimitar into Rollo’s defenseless body.

  Rollo bends over and then, lifeless, falls to the stone pavement.

  Dead.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  I stand riveted, unbelieving at what I just witnessed. Marce’s scream of rage and pain shatters my momentary trance.

  And a good thing, too.

  A black blur of fanged death stabs at me from one side.

  Without thinking, I lunge away and slash at the Nahl with Galondraig. A hideous, warbling shriek and a splatter of evil-smelling blood greet my sword’s edge.

  The beast retreats even though Vay is screaming in rage for it to stop. A moment later, she regains control and whips the beast back around to face me.

  Stumbling away, I regain my balance just as the creature, its one wing drooping where I slashed through its side, slithers across the ground toward me.

  Its red eyes are full of vengeance and fury at my sword stroke that now spurts blood down its dark side.

  I know this time, I won’t be so lucky.

  At Vay’s shrieking command, the Nahl slides up and rears back, and in the next instant, I know the air will be full of its hideous hiss and there’s nothing I can do to stop the creature.

  Unseen by me, somehow, Scamper has found his way up the fiend’s back. Just as Vay opens her mouth to scream her command to unleash its hiss, Scamper bounds up on her shoulder and bites down hard and swift.

  Instead of shouting her death-dealing order, Vay shrieks in pain and claws at Scamper but he’s too fast, springing off. He hits the ground running and darts away from the demon.

  Vay whirls around, her eyes full of rage, centered on me. Then, to my astonishment, Phigby is at my side, his sword held up in defiance of Vay and her hideous beast.

  Both the Nahl and Vay seem to freeze for an instant. Vay leans forward, her face contorted in rage. She sweeps her staff in front of her, Begone, old man! These are mine, you have no place here.

  “Ah, Vay,” Phigby utters in a long sigh, “you are wrong. These are neither yours nor mine. They are free to choose their own course and that is the way I intend for it to continue.”

  With that, a ball of light appears in Phigby’s other hand and it shoots right up into the creature’s face, exploding in a brilliance that turns the chamber’s darkness into midday sun-bright.

  The beast’s high-pitched screech fills the room and it rears so far back trying to get away from the light that it almost topples over on itself and onto Vay.

  Phigby’s rough hand shoves me aside, and he orders, “Go help Helmar, this one is mine.”

  Staggering away, I dash toward where I last saw Helmar battling Aster’s beast.

  Cara and Helmar are in trouble.

  Without a weapon, it’s all Cara can do to dance and twist away from the creature while Helmar does his best to slash and cut at the twisting fiend, keeping it off-guard, if but for a moment.

  Then, the thing corners Helmar and it rises, its fanged mouth opening wide, readying its death-dealing hiss.

  A dragon-heart arrow slices through the air, burying its needle-sharp point deep into the beast’s eye.

  The thing’s hissing is like a thousand serpents were suddenly dropped into the dungeon. It twists its head back and forth in such violence that Aster is thrown from his seat and goes flying off.

  Tumbling on the ground, he only stays that way for a moment before he’s up and running toward the far end, where a large door bursts open and he plunges into the darkness.

  Right behind is his craven beast, still trying to shake the arrow free from its ripped and shredded eye.

  Helmar darts toward the door but I yell, “Helmar, no! You’ll just be running into another trap. Get Cara out of here!”

  He slides to a halt and I can see a moment of indecision on his face. He’d like nothing better than to do to Aster as Aster did to Rollo.

  Then, with a scowl turning his face hard, he whirls around, dashes back to Cara and grabs her around the waist, pushing her along, away from the fight.

  I spin back to the battle, only to find Vay and her demon vanished, leaving Phigby kneeling on one knee, breathing hard.

  Past him, the last of Aster’s soldiers is struck down and the Uhlan stand triumphant, though it cost the
m a great deal. Among the dead are not only Rollo, but several Uhlan.

  Running over to Phigby, I wrap an arm around his shoulders and pull him to his feet. “Phigby, are you all right?”

  Taking in several deep breaths, he nods. “Yes, only I don’t remember it being so hard before. Took my breath quite away.”

  Glancing around, I squint my eyes toward the darkness where Aster and his Nahl disappeared. “Where did Vay go?”

  “I’m not sure,” Phigby breathes out, “but it would be best if we not follow but find our way back up to the light.”

  “Good idea,” I agree. “Everyone!” I shout. “Up the stairwell! Follow Phigby.”

  Phigby staggers away, heading for the stairs. Just behind, Helmar is pulling Cara along. Just as she disappears into the stairwell, she glances back and gives me a smile.

  The Uhlan stream up the stairs and while they do, I make sure that we don’t leave any live Uhlan in the foul pit.

  I soon find that we won’t be.

  Scamper comes bounding up, chittering at me that it’s time to go, too. “I know, I know,” I say in haste, “you go, I’ll be right behind. Promise.”

  With that, he darts away and shoots up the staircase.

  Deep sobbing causes me to turn and I spot Marce kneeling next to Rollo’s body. Running over, I slip down next to her, one arm draped over her shoulder.

  “Marce,” I begin, “I am so sorry about Rollo, but we have to go. We don’t want to be here if Vay returns, trust me.”

  Her body is bent over and she strokes Rollo’s face, set in death’s mask. I watch as one silvery tear rolls down her cheek, hangs on her chin for an instant and then drops, softly, upon Rollo’s cheek.

  Murmuring, she says, “He had such high hopes when we set off, to follow in the footsteps of Leefson. Walk old and new trails, see the world again and bring back so many new discoveries to our people.

  “He wanted his name to go into the Historica alongside all the great explorers of the past.”

  With a hand to her mouth, she sobs, “Only now, I’ve afraid that his name will come to mean the greatest Umriah of all.”

  “No,” I whisper, squeezing her shoulder, “it won’t, I promise. If need be, I will go to your homeland and testify on Rollo’s behalf that he died saving his comrades and all of Nervan from Vay’s evil.”

  She turns her face up to me, her eyes hopeful. “You would do that for him?”

  “Yes,” I affirm. “For that is the truth as I see it.”

  She bites on her lower lip. “Thank you,” she whispers.

  “Now come,” I urge, “we can’t tarry any longer for we’ve pushed luck as far as it will go, and I assure you that Vay will not wait.”

  In tenderness, she touches her brother’s face one more time and then together we race for the steps.

  The climb up the stairs takes far less time than it did for the three of us to climb down. Perhaps it’s because fear and the terror of what lies in the underground chambers spurs our feet to fly up the stairs.

  We dart through the hallways and burst into the open courtyard. Choking black smoke and a gray haze waft across the quad, obscuring our view but from what I can see, it’s been an epic battle.

  Parts of the battlements lie in great chunks of stone and block, scattered across the square. Fires rage in two bastions and while many archers and men-at-arms run here and there in disarray, still there is fight among a great many on the high walkways.

  There is a constant thrum of longbows and the even louder snap of ballistae and catapults unleashing bolts and boulders. From one corner comes the whisssh and fizz of Devil’s Fire lofting over the castle at some unseen target in the air.

  In the dim haze, I can see Phigby has led the Uhlan, Cara, and Helmar to the gate where they huddle for protection under the lower bailey’s gatehouse roofing.

  Grabbing Marce’s hand, I start to dash toward the rest of the company when the gray curtain parts and from the cloud appears a dark shadow.

  It’s Golden Wind.

  With a thump, she lands right in front of us. “Climb up,” I yell to Marce and with that, we clamber up to the golden’s neck saddle.

  Scamper darts up her leg and takes up his usual place, his nose pointed forward as Marce settles in behind me. “I’ve never ridden a dragon before,” she shouts, “what do I do?”

  “Wrap your arms around my waist and hold on tight,” I call back.

  She throws her arms around my waist and squeezes hard as I command, “Sky, Golden Wind.”

  Golden Wind cups her wings and then springs upward, catching the wind. A moment later, we sweep up and across the castle battlements.

  “The gate!” I call to Golden Wind. “Cara and the others are trapped under the gatehouse!”

  In a fast, tight arc, Golden Wind sweeps back around, dives low, and points her nose straight at the large, stout gates.

  “Crouch,” I call over my shoulder to Marce, “it’ll cut down the wind.” I lean forward and she leans with me, her cheek on my back.

  Faster and faster, Golden Wind speeds toward the castle until Marce shouts, “Isn’t she going to pull up?”

  “Watch,” I answer.

  At the last moment, Golden Wind unleashes a ball of dragon fire. It flies through the air and bursts against the wooden gate, shattering the stout timbers and leaving the remaining pieces ajar.

  Golden Wind tips her body and wings upward and we zoom across the gatehouse’s top, coming so close that the golden’s rear talons catch the watchtower’s staff and pennant, sending them fluttering and spiraling to the ground.

  Glancing over my shoulder as we climb to escape the flights of arrows that reach up toward us, I see Phigby, with Cara and Helmar alongside sprint from the gatehouse, followed by the Uhlan.

  Then, swooping down in a thundering dive comes Regal Wind. He roars across the castle’s front, protecting the fleeing company from the longbowmen’s bolts.

  He’s followed by Wind Song and Wing Glory, who skim so low and fast that if any man-at-arms or archer dared to stick their head up, they would have lost it right then and there.

  Wind Glow with Amil aboard, and Bold Wind are followed by the sprinting sprites. Together, we hold the archers at bay long enough that our company can dash to safety, out of bow range.

  As our dragons and the company start to collect down the road toward the village, I think, in satisfaction, that our desperate battle is over and though we’ve suffered grievous losses, still, we saved most of the Uhlan and Cara from that vile pit.

  As Golden Wind wings toward where the company gathers, my thoughts are interrupted by a loud and ominous rumbling as if the ground itself were going to unleash some Titan monster from the dark underground.

  Golden Wind swings around so that we can see back toward Hanfeld Castle. The rumbling is coming from the keep. It’s quaking, shaking as if some living thing inside were trying to escape its confinement from within the grotto.

  First, the uppermost blocks begin to fall, and then more and more from below start shredding away from the keep’s facade, raining down on the courtyard below.

  More stones fall and the keep’s lower wall begins to show huge cracks. The whole grotto and hillside start to tremble and shudder, the shaking spreading out until our company below has trouble standing upright.

  The fortress walls begin to crumble, sending those standing on the upper walkways screaming to their deaths. The bastions that held the Devil’s Fire launchers totter back and forth, reeling from the enormous shaking until they too crumble in upon themselves.

  Great flames shoot upward, exploding in huge bursts of fire that spread clear across the castle, leaving the shattered walls and courtyard a sheet of blistering, scorching flames. Men run in crazed abandonment, trying to flee the blaze even as their clothing catches fire from the inferno that seems to be everywhere.

  Even though these men were my enemies just moments before, my stomach turns at the piteous sight and even at this distance, I
can hear the screams, the shouts, the curses of those caught in the unyielding flames.

  Then, with a massive explosion of rock and stone, the keep explodes outward, shearing the grotto’s top clear off, sending rocks spinning up into the air as whirling embers of glowing stone.

  From the boiling smoke, haze, and ash, black wings unfold and a moment later, two giant Nahl rise from the chaos.

  Ten times bigger than those we faced in the dungeon, their grotesque snakelike face hold bulging scarlet eyes filled with hate and fury.

  Astride one is Vay, while Aster rides the other.

  Their angry eyes match their demons’ and it’s obvious where their rage is centered.

  On us.

  Marce’s gasp fills my ears and I sigh long and loud. “Next time remind me to keep my all-is-well thoughts to myself.”

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Marce’s gasp turns into a tiny voice, “Hooper, how do we fight something like that?”

  Gulping, I answer, “I’m not sure but if we don’t, our people down below don’t stand a chance.”

  Winging with slow, deliberate flaps of their wings, the two Nahl close upon the huddled company both above and below and then halt in midair.

  Leering, Vay swings her shaft to point downward at Phigby. Ljos Efla, you should not have interfered. This will be your undoing, old one.

  I watch as Phigby gives Vay a mere shrug and shouts up, “Old does not always mean frail or lacking abilities, Vay. You might want to remember that next time.”

  Next time? Vay laughs. There will be no next time. I mean to have what is rightfully mine and put an end to this nonsense.

  “Nonsense?” Phigby laughs in a derisive manner. “Is it nonsense for these people to want to live in freedom? To choose what they will be, to go where their life’s desires will lead them?”

  I will lead them! Vay snaps. I will choose what is best for them and for that, they will honor me.

  “Honor?” Phigby sniffs. “No, Vay, that is the very last thing that they will do. They will abhor you, detest everything about you and what you stand for. From the first day of their lives until their last their tongues will speak of you with nothing but derision and loathing for that is truly what you deserve.”