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

by GARY DARBY

  Then they and you will die! Vay screams and lifts her shaft high.

  The crimson orb spits out hundreds of flaming, red-hot darts that shoot outward in a spinning, flashing circle.

  “Look out!” I shout and duck down, pulling Marce with me as searing darts flash by on every side. One splits my tunic and scorches my side and I yelp in pain.

  Bending over, I can see Scamper hiding behind the golden’s carapace as the better course of valor against Vay’s slashing darts.

  Good for him. Right now, I wish I could scrunch in under the golden’s carapace, too.

  Raising my head for an instant, I see four blurring spots speed by us on one side.

  The sprites.

  They rush right at Vay and just as they zip in front of her face, they burst into a brilliant, blinding light.

  Vay shrieks, jerks back and throws up a cloaked arm to cover her eyes from the brilliance. For a moment, her staff stops spitting out its deadly barbs.

  Vay whips around as the sprites dart by, flipping her free hand outward as if she were throwing something into the air. Magically, it seems, a scarlet mesh net appears.

  It flies through the air and catches the little dragons, ensnaring them in its folds. Flailing and fluttering against the net the sprites tumble to the ground.

  “Hooper!” Marce screams and I jerk my head back to the front. While I’d been watching Vay entrap the little sprites, Aster’s creature is winging straight at us.

  The creature’s crazed blood-red eyes center on me and I can feel its hate and hunger pour across the short distance between us.

  “Golden Wind!” I call out. “Get us out of here!”

  Before she can move, Regal Wind appears, his powerful wings pounding through the air as he slams head-first into Aster’s beast.

  The fiend rolls to one side and though Aster’s beast is the larger, the two giants grapple, biting, clawing at each other while their wings hammer the sky, ripples of force that beat at me.

  Somehow, Regal Wind wraps his mouth around the Nahl’s snout, preventing the beast from pouring out its freezing death.

  The golden yanks herself to one side just as Vay unleashes another round of the sizzling, screeching darts that burn everything they touch.

  “Phigby!” I yell out to those below. “Get them out of here!”

  The Uhlan need no urging from Phigby but scatter for the nearby woods as the fiery barbs rain down upon them.

  Helmar and Cara break in the opposite direction and I start to yell for them to get back when I see why they’re running toward us and not away.

  Wind Song and Glory are settling to the ground. Cara and Helmar are making for their dragons.

  Just as the golden tilts to one side to get away from Vay, the evil fairy swings her rod down and from the orb explodes a billowing cloud of darts, headed right toward us.

  Golden Wind puts on a burst of speed and for the moment, we outrace the lethal barbs. Twisting and turning, the golden wings faster and faster, but still the fire arrows follow us right behind.

  No matter which we way we turn, they turn. If we go up or down, they stay right with us.

  Glancing down, I see Vay following us with her shaft as if she were guiding the fatal fire arrows.

  And, no matter how fast the golden skys, the deadly darts are gaining. If they reach Marce and myself, there can only be one end.

  Then, an idea comes to mind.

  “Golden Wind,” I cry, “circle around, get behind Regal and the other Nahl.”

  The golden flips her wings over and in a screaming turn, we circle Regal Wind and Aster’s beast. Just for a moment, we’re hidden, out of Vay’s sight.

  Still, the darts stay right with us, coming closer and closer. “So much for that thought,” I growl.

  “Wait,” I smile wide, “I have a better idea.”

  I guide Golden Wind down and around the two battling giants until we’re behind and coming up on Vay’s Nahl.

  “It seems to forget that there’s a front and a back,” I mutter to myself, “and concentrates everything to the front side.”

  Glancing back at the flaming bolts who are almost to the golden’s tail spikes, I cry out to Marce, “Hold on tight, this is going to yank your head off!”

  Marce scoots closer and tightens her grip. Her arms are lithe but there’s a strength in them. I decide that if she goes flying off, I’m going with her as there’s no way I’m breaking that grip.

  Vay has her head to the front but is swinging it from side to side, trying to find us. She’s doesn’t realize that we’re right behind her and coming up fast.

  Which suits me just fine.

  Marce and I crouch down as we flash up the creature’s long, thick tail, then we’re over its black backside.

  I glance over my shoulder. The barbs are less than two body lengths behind Marce and me. The billowing cloud is no more but instead, a giant blazing arrow points straight at our backs.

  Waiting but a moment more, I then yell, “Now!” as I reach out, grab Scamper tight in one hand while I grasp one of the golden’s horns with my other hand. Golden Wind flips her body up, her wings flare even wider and we zoom straight up.

  My head is snapped back and I fight with all my might to hold onto both Scamper and the golden’s horn lest we be thrown off. Marce squeezes so tight that she pushes all my air out and I have to fight for a breath.

  I manage to glance back over my shoulder just in time to see the fiery bolt blast into Vay and her Nahl.

  There’s a screech of rage that fills the air and I watch as the beast, its head ripped and shredded, begins to spiral to the ground.

  Golden Wind comes to an abrupt halt and hovers in the air while Marce and I lean over to watch the scene unfold below us.

  With an explosion of fire and black smoke the creature crashes into the ground. The breeze soon blows away the haze and we can see the beast crumpled, lying still in death’s hands.

  “Fitting,” Marce growls in my ear. “Killed by that witch’s own hand.”

  I look closer at the beast’s still body. “Yes, but where is Vay?”

  “Slain too?” Marce answers in a hopeful tone.

  “No,” I reply, shaking my head, “something tells me it’s going to take more than that for us to be rid of that hag.”

  Bellowing fills the air and I glance over to see that Regal and the remaining Nahl are still locked in combat and it appears that Regal is getting the worst of the fight.

  He still has his jaws clamped tight around the demon’s mouth but the larger brute’s claws are raking Regal’s scales.

  Amil has Wind Glow diving straight at Aster aboard his Nahl. “Must be out of dragon fire,” I scowl as Amil’s crimson skims just above Aster, its talons out trying to grab hold of the man but misses.

  Off to one side I can see Phigby scurrying toward Bold Wind but for now, he’s no help. Cara and Helmar are nowhere in sight but that can’t be helped as the immediate threat is to Alonya and Regal.

  “Golden Wind,” I call, “Alonya and Regal need help.”

  In answer, the golden dives toward the two giants. “What are we going to do?” Marce asks over my shoulder.”

  I shake my head and answer, “I’m not sure, but doing nothing is out of the question. If Regal lets go of that thing’s mouth, if even for an instant, it will freeze both him and Alonya.”

  From atop the creature’s back, I see Aster rise up and where he once held a sword, he now holds a staff with a small crimson orb.

  “He’s got one of those fire sticks, too!” I yell.

  Aster chops his rod straight down and a stream of flaming darts shoot out, hitting and piercing Regal’s breast scales. The great purple drake rears back in pain, releasing the Nahl.

  In that instant, the demon springs back, opening its mouth to unleash its breath of freezing death.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  We’re too far away, we’ll never get there in time. The Nahl is going to release its fatal hiss an
d there’s nothing that I can do to stop the creature from killing Alonya and Regal Wind.

  Then, there’s a sharp thrum at my ear and a dragon heartwood arrow speeds through the air.

  The bolt seems to cross the distance in a moment of time, catching the fiend full in its open mouth. Black blood spews out and the beast jerks back from the arrow.

  But before it can twist away, another arrow follows the second, and a third, each burying itself deep into the creature’s foul mouth. The beast writhes in the air, chomping its fang-lined mouth down, trying to rid itself of the bolts’ bite but it’s no use.

  Marce’s arrows are buried deep and blood gushes from the beast.

  Another arrow flies through the air, this time from Alonya’s great bow. The large shaft slices into the creature’s glowing scarlet eye, quivering as it embeds itself into the monster.

  The thing rears back, shrieks, and then tumbles out of the air, its wings flailing loose and useless at the fiend’s sides. The beast crashes into the ground, next to its dead mate.

  For a moment, there is a stillness and then, from behind the demon’s body, Aster crawls out to stand, his face hard and a snarl creasing his mouth in pure hate and rage.

  “Golden Wind!” I yell. “Aster!”

  She snaps her wings together and we dive straight down at the rogue prince.

  Aster whips up his magical staff to unleash its fire darts at us.

  Just as I’m about to shout out “Dragon fire!” Marce’s longbow twangs again. Her arrows speeds across the distance in an instant and catches Aster’s rod full-on.

  The staff flies out of his hand, shorn in half and splintered. The pieces tumble through the air, bounce and roll across the ground before coming to a stop. For an instant, the orb sputters before its glow dims until the sphere is dull and dark.

  Aster must have sensed his own immediate danger for he darts behind the Nahl’s dead body before Marce can get off a second shot at him.

  We skim across the ground, searching for Aster, only as my eyes sweep across the battlefield, at a sudden thought, my head jerks up. “Golden Wind, where’s Vay?”

  We whip around and what I see causes my heart to turn cold as if a Nahl had caught me in its lethal blast.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  I can only think that Cara must have gone to save the sprites and Helmar followed her, for now the two stand cornered by Vay, her malevolent shaft leveled straight at them.

  Neither Helmar’s sword nor his bravery will save them from Vay. They’re trapped between Vay and the Nahl’s dead bodies. There’s no one close enough to help the two, no safe haven, and they face a vengeful dark fairy. I have no doubt that Vay intends to carry out her threat and I will not see Cara live past this day.

  Of a sudden, there’s a shimmering in the field between Vay and her ensnared prey and my eyes go wide.

  Osa, Nadia, and Eskar appear.

  The three beautiful fairies’ faces are serene but they hold a certain hardness as they gaze at their dark sister.

  At their appearance, Vay’s furious scream is like the crackling of a lightning bolt through the air.

  No! She rages. You have your world and this is mine. Mine, do you hear!

  Golden Wind comes to a stop, hovering nearby while I stare with open mouth at the sight of the three fairies.

  Marce’s voice is weak and her breathing is small and fast on my cheek. “Hooper, who are they?”

  “Osa, Nadia, and Eskar,” I answer. “And don’t worry, they’re friends and what better time for friends to come to our aid than now?”

  The three fairies turn their faces away from Vay and peer toward me. Their eyes and face soften as they raise their arms and smiling, point toward me.

  As one, they begin to speak and though their voices are like the wind’s whisper, there is a strength like the power found in a rushing river.

  Their speech calms me and fills me with awe as when I sky on Golden Wind, the wind rushing through my air, the sky so close that I could feel as if I could reach up and run my fingers through the blueness.

  At the same time, I can feel a burning inside, a fire in the bosom like when you first discover a truth and it fills you with resolve and ardor.

  Over the field their voices flow, rising in fervor and force,

  And for him tis the hilted stone

  Emerald of power to hand and bone

  Galondraig, sword of honor, sword of right

  Strength of arm, of righteousness and clear sight

  To the cutter’s son only does it hark

  Ever ready, evermore to drive away the dark

  Lift your spirit, raise your heart

  From you the gemstones will never part

  Call upon their power to drive away the blight

  From them and you comes righteous might.

  At that, the fairies raise their sleeved arms and from my tunic pocket, the gemstones whirl upward into the air spinning round and round faster than the eye can follow.

  As if my blade had a mind of its own, Galondraig slides out of its scabbard.

  My sword flashes straight up above me, its emerald luster shining brighter and brighter, its tip pointing straight up into the crystal-clear blue sky.

  Around the blade, the gemstones swirl, each leaving a trail of luminous color—emerald green, sapphire blue, sun yellow.

  From their swirling comes a brilliant glow, brighter than any sun-high light. I squint my eyes and hold up a hand from the blinding brilliance.

  Then, the three’s voices, stronger than before fill the air,

  Joined now, blade and gem

  In answer, only to him

  Raised up for the right

  Give to him the might

  Power to arm and to hand

  That freedom sweeps the land.

  At that, there is an explosion of light and when I open my eyes, I see twinkling, bright little stars everywhere and in the starry field’s center, Galondraig floats.

  Only it’s not Galondraig of old. Instead, the three gemstones are now embedded in the hilt and from them flow their colors into the sword.

  I reach up and Galondraig eases into my hand until I hold aloft a blade that’s now filled with the power of all three jewels and not just the one.

  Remember, Hooper, the three fairies call, Ride the Rainbow, Ride the Rainbow.

  There’s another burst of light and the three fairies are gone, leaving us once again facing Vay and her wickedness.

  Vay spins around to Helmar and Cara, her black robe swishing around her like a roiling dark cloud. She raises her staff, the crimson orb showing dark scarlet streaks as if there were blood inside that boiled and churned. Pointing it straight at Helmar and Cara, Vay is bent on carrying out her threat against Cara and in doing so, against me, as well.

  Golden Wind doesn’t waste an instant.

  She speeds through the air faster than ever before but my fear that it’s not going to be enough rises to the point of horror.

  From Vay’s rod explodes a red-hot, spinning, giant arrow. It crackles with flames and fire as it heads right at Cara and Helmar.

  They stand terror-stricken as the blazing bolt speeds straight at them, knowing they won’t be able to flee in time.

  I’m not sure how she does it, but the golden tucks her wings and we roll over until both my and Marce’s heads point to the ground.

  Squeezing my legs as hard as I can, somehow, I keep Marce and me seated on the golden while Scamper is yowling his disapproval of being turned upside down.

  But I understand in an instant why Golden Wind has us in this fashion.

  Holding Galondraig up I wait until the exact moment and then slash downward with every bit of strength I have.

  Galondraig slices through Vay’s flaming arrow and shatters it into hundreds of tiny embers that splatter and shower the ground in a glowing, shimmering cloud.

  Helmar shields Cara and the two duck and cower away from the blazing bits but none reach them and for the moment,
they’re safe.

  The death-bolt is destroyed and Golden Wind flips us right side up and we swing around ready for whatever Vay has planned next.

  Vay’s towering scream of rage and fury seems to cause the air to quake and shudder before it dwindles and fades away as does she, leaving but a wisp of black smoke where she once stood.

  I can feel Marce slump down behind me with her face against my back. “Is it over, Hooper? Please tell me it is.”

  Taking in a deep breath, my eyes sweep across a landscape of death and destruction—Vay’s leavings.

  Letting out my breath in a long sigh, I murmur, “Yes, Marce, for now, it’s over. But only for today.”

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Gathering upon the crown of a nearby hill, our company and the Uhlan look down upon the fallen and burned-out fortress. A single, large rising column of black smoke breaks the evening sun’s sharpness.

  Rollo’s funeral pyre.

  “Well,” Amil rumbles, “I would say that Hanfeld Castle is no more.”

  “Yes,” Phigby agrees, “but fortune favors us and we still live.”

  He glances over at Marce who stands with a downcast expression and sad eyes. He lays a hand on her shoulder. “Though at a great cost.”

  There is a moment of silence before Amil growls. “We came so close to burying that prince scum with his wormy friends. We’ve lost him, yet again.”

  “But not without trying,” Alonya declares, “and only because his foul mistress took him with her.”

  “Perhaps,” Amil snarls, “fate and fortune will favor us and Vay will be so unhappy with him that she’ll do what we weren’t able to accomplish.”

  “As some would say,” Phigby replies, “from your lips to her ears.”

  Alonya turns to Marce and gives her a small head bow. “Thank you for those extraordinary bowshots on that demon. If not for you, both Regal and I would now be blocks of ice . . . or whatever it turns you into.”