“THEN WHY DOES IT NOT ATTACK THE WYVERN? THEY ATTEND IT, BUT IT DOES NOT HARM THEM. WHY?”
“I don’t know!” Gus growled. He sucked a huge pocket of air into his throat and flung his head from side to side.
Again, Pine had to work to hold on. “WHAT AILS YOU?”
“My FIRE! I have no FIRE! This world has stolen it!”
He circled and began another descent. She could see he was planning to land this time. Fire or no fire, he was going to storm in and challenge whatever lay in that cave. She saw one last chance to halt his aggression.
“IF THIS WORLD HAS TAKEN YOUR FIRE, IT MUST HAVE TAKEN THE GOYLE’S ALSO!”
Rendering both a little less dangerous, she hoped.
But Gus had an easy answer to that. “A goyle does not have fire.”
With a thump, he landed on the threshold of the cave, sending loose stones racking down the hill.
Pine closed her eyes, recalling the battles she had seen above the settlement. Gus was right. The goyles relied on a vile spit that burned like fire and ate away flesh. In that sense, the thing might have an advantage.
“Get off me. Now.” Gus’s claws were fully out.
“Aye,” she said, knowing exactly what she had to do.
She stood up tall, ran the length of his snout, and jumped.
Into the cave she went, still running. At every step, she could hear Gus calling her back. But she needed to get to the goyle before he did.
She did not have to travel far. The cave was larger than it looked from outside and was lit by a multitude of glowing flutterflies. They were present in every notch of stone. And there, taking up most of the floor, was the beast the Kaal had called a darkeye. A hideous black monster, half the size of Gus, with a scale-free body and stigs like branches cut from a tree cursed by evil. To see a living one this close made Pine catch her breath. Its eyes were like mud shaken up in water; no light shined from their fixed black cores.
But L’wen-Gar was right. The beast was dying. It barely had the strength to raise its head. When it saw what stood before it—a plain Hom girl—it put its head down again and groaned.
“I know what you are,” she panted in dragontongue. She put a hand on her bloodstained robe. Not many days since, she had been invaded by the auma of a “goyle” and would have died if Ren had not come to her aid. She was free of the darkness now, but the memories of it lingered in her sleep. She looked over her shoulder. Gus was closing in with menace in his hearts. Even without its fire, an irate dragon was a herald of death.
“There is a dragon coming to kill you,” she said. “I can help you, but you must—”
Too late, Gus was there.
“Stand away!” he bellowed.
“NO!” Pine whipped around to face him, spreading her arms in a gesture of protection.
Gus lifted his isoscele. It was straining him to twist it into a position from which he might land a decisive blow. But in truth, all he really needed to do was drop that weight on the sick creature’s head to knock any life force out of it.
He swung the heavy isoscele forward.
“NO!” Pine screamed again.
And on that word, the cave light faded.
Every flutterfly had shut off its glow.
Pine gasped. Panic seized her heart. Suddenly, she found herself in total darkness, between two creatures capable of the most dreadful malevolence. Could the goyle see Gus? She wasn’t sure. But any moment now, the inborn light from the dragon’s eyes would give Gus enough shine to mount an attack. And surely after this he wouldn’t hesitate.
She heard him snort. He was confused and unnerved. But in the end, it was the sound the darkeye made that turned out to be the most frightening of all.
“Gurrrsss,” it cried. A stressed gurgle from a damaged throat.
Gurrrsss. Gurrrsss. The cry echoed all around the cave.
Pine counted her breaths. Shaking, she turned. There was something about that noise. Something … “Again,” she panted.
“Gurrrsss,” the thing said.
Behind her, the dragon growled.
Pine gulped; the light from his eyes was coming.
“Say ‘dragon,’” she blurted.
The darkeye opened its mouth a fraction. The needle fangs, so deadly in battle, glinted weakly in Gus’s light. “Darrrgon,” it said.
“Dargon,” Pine whispered. She whipped around to face Gus. “Harken, skaler. The creature knows it is dragon, but labors to say it. It knows you also. It speaks your name. Gurrrsss. Gurrsss. It knows you. GUS.”
Before he could react, she knelt beside the “dargon” and asked it one more question. “You were dragon once. How were you named?”
It gagged as though it might spit bile.
Pine bravely held her position. She stilled her shaking fingers and laid a hand on its blunted snout. “Tell me,” she said, with gentleness.
“Gaarrrnunn,” it hissed, writhing away from her act of kindness.
“No,” Gus said, shuffling back. His tail anxiously swept the floor. “No, it can’t be. No. No. No.”
“Garnun,” said Pine, angry now that Gus was retreating. “You know this name, don’t you? It pricks your ears true. Tell me, skaler. Who is Garnun?”
Gus’s face was a sea of distress. Despite the lack of light, Pine could see his color draining.
“Tell me,” she demanded. She had never seen a dragon look so shocked.
Gus shuddered from nose to tail. “Not Garnun,” he said. “It’s trying to say Garon.”
The darkeye let out a faint moan.
“Garon?” Pine repeated.
“A dragon from the first Wearle,” the roamer stuttered. “His name is Garon. He’s Gabrial’s father.”
A moment of deep, deep silence passed.
By the end of it, the flutterflies were glowing again and Gus had lost his appetite for killing; he was already stomping out of the cave.
Pine took one more look at the goyle, then jumped up and hurried after Gus.
By the time she’d caught up, he had dropped to his haunches outside the cave mouth, his jeweled eyes staring at everything and nothing.
“Tell me,” Pine said. “I would know about Garon.”
Gus shook his head.
“Tell me, you lump!”
She hit him to jolt him out of his slump. But she had tested his patience once too often and he roared back, knocking her down to the ground, his face just a muggy breath away from hers.
“Go on, eat me,” she taunted him. “I pray to the Fathers my bones rip your throat!”
He squeezed his claws into her robe for a moment. Then, with a snort that nearly blew her one tooth out, he released her and pulled away.
Pine breathed in relief. That was a little closer than she cared for. She stood up, shaking grit off her robe. Gus’s sweat was clinging to her hair. “Was he noble?”
“Who?”
“Garon!” she tutted.
“There is no Garon. The goyle took his auma. It has to die.”
“You would offend your friend Gabrial by slaying his father?”
“If Gabrial were here, he’d kill that thing himself. It’s a mutant. A servant of Graven. It’s evil.”
Pine walked around and put herself in front of him. “I know about goyles.”
“You know nothing, girl.”
“I do,” she insisted. “I was slain and reborn with the auma of a goyle. It can be conquered. Ren Whitehair knew.”
“Ren Whitehair is an enemy of the Wearle.”
“As are you—but I do not stand here in judgment of you, skaler.”
He growled in frustration and looked away.
Again, she put herself directly in his eyeline. “Your loyalty to the Wearle is no slight on me. I know you would fly with them again if you could. Help this beast. It was one of you once. If we save it, your honor can be restored.”
By now, L’wen-Gar had crossed the valley to be with them. All around, the Wyvern were quietly returning, slippi
ng past Gus to go into the cave. He thought he could hear them singing to the goyle. Singing! In the presence of something that vile.
Pine sat on a rock and explained to L’wen-Gar: “The creature you call ‘dargon’ was once dragon, like Gus. In this form, he calls it by another name: ‘goyle.’ But its true name is Garon. Garon is father to a dragon called Gabrial. Gabrial, likeways, is guardian and father to the little one, Gariffred.”
“Then, the dargon is a great-father,” L’wen-Gar said.
“Yes,” said Pine. She felt Gus wince. This was painful for the roamer to hear. “Garon was changed into the shape he is now because he ate the blood of an evil black dragon. The blood was cast in rock and Garon did not know what he was doing. He did not know that darkness would befall him. Until then, his auma was pure.”
That brought an angry snort from Gus. “How would you know? How can a mere Hom girl know anything about a dragon like Garon?”
“Because I have ears,” Pine said curtly. She looped her hair behind them as if to prove it. “When I was held in Gabrial’s cave, I would hear the blue wake from sleep sometimes, vexed by unsweet dreams about his father. He would speak them in frightened whispers to Grendel. I learned that Garon was kind of heart, yet as brave as any skaler could be. There lay the core of Gabrial’s terror. When he learned what had happened to his father’s Wearle, he wanted to believe that Garon had died fighting goyles. The fear that his father might have turned into a mutant would always wake him. Here, in this cave, is the truth of it.”
“A truth he must never learn,” said Gus. “I’m telling you, girl, that beast must die.”
“The Aether will not allow killing,” said L’wen-Gar.
Gus tightened his jaw. “I want my fire restored.”
“Let her be,” said Pine. “Can’t you see the Aether is displeased?” A dark orange cloud was hovering over Gus. “There is no badness in this world. Aught that would threaten it is swiftly tamed. You have no fire, the goyle has no spit. You must learn to be at peace with that.”
“How can you talk of peace,” Gus railed, “when that thing in there is writhing in torment? The fact it speaks its name is no comfort to me. If badness is not allowed in this world, why is Garon still sick? If the auma of the goyle can be tamed, why haven’t they crushed the evil out of it?”
“We have tried,” said L’wen-Gar, gazing at the sky. “With Pine Onetooth’s help, we will try again.”
“You know a way?” asked Pine.
“Perhaps,” said the Wyvern. She pointed at the bite marks on Pine’s hand.
Until that moment, Pine had given little thought to her wound. Now, for the first time, she looked at the marks and wondered at their unusual pattern. What had been a gooey mess had quickly healed into three clear lines that ran in parallel waves across her palm. Gus looked at the pattern and grunted scornfully. Gayl should be taught to bite harder, he growled; any competent dragon would have taken Pine’s hand off.
But Pine was intrigued. “This means something to you?”
L’wen-Gar nodded. “There is a place we know where the stars align thus.”
Pine clicked her tongue in thought. “You must lead us to it. The dargon also.”
“What?” Gus almost splintered a nostril. “You want to move it? How?”
Pine glanced at his huge, strong feet.
“No,” he snorted, backing up. “The only way I’ll put my claws on a goyle is to tear it into tiny pieces.”
“The Aether will not—”
“I know!” he snapped. He looked furiously at Pine. “This is madness. I want Gariffred brought to me. Now.”
“And then?”
Gus rose to his full height. “We find that slit and go back. I can’t stay in a world where I can’t burn evil—and neither will he.”
Pine did her best to scowl. Realizing the Aether would not approve, she apologized silently, then turned to L’wen-Gar and said, “Bring the little one to us. We will wait here for you.”
L’wen-Gar nodded, glad to be away. She disappeared down a hole, leaving Gus to vent his anger on Pine. “This is not going to happen, girl. The wearling is mine to protect. If you stand in my way, I will …” Still the words of violence would not come. In frustration, he swept his tail across the ground, almost catching a Wyvern that had popped up from a hole to see what all the fuss was about. “How can you ask me to aid a beast whose kin slew one Wearle and many of another?”
“You must learn to forgive,” she said, holding her nerve in the face of his snarls.
He turned on her again, generating just enough heat to make her flinch. “Dragons do not forgive their mortal enemies.”
“Then dragons are no better than goyles!” she hit back. “Garon is fighting the darkness within. Why would you let it take him when there may be a way to heal his pain?”
“You really expect that fiend to regenerate just because we show it mercy?”
“My heart begs me to try,” she said. “Look into my eyes and answer me this: If you were in his place and he in yours, would Garon have tried all ways to save you?”
A good argument. One that ran a spike through Gus’s breast. While the question pecked at his brain, Gariffred popped up out of a hole. “I can’t put the drake in danger,” Gus growled, but his tone was gentler now.
Pine stroked her hand over Gariffred’s head. “I swear on the souls of the Fathers of the Kaal, no harm will be done to the drake.”
Gus snorted quietly. There was nothing of meaning in that vow. What dragon would put its trust in the spirits of the Hom?
Nevertheless, he admired the girl’s faith. He sighed and gave a reluctant nod.
“Gus will bring the dargon out,” Pine said to L’wen-Gar. “Will you guide us to the place of stars?”
“We must wait for night,” the Wyvern said, nodding. “Until then, rest.”
In time, night fell as it usually did with a slow shift from light into darkness. Yet there was no hint of a setting sun. It made Gus wonder how the island world worked. Where did its gentle warmth come from? What turned its sky this strange shade of orange? What was the mysterious Aether?
He was dreaming on these things, when Pine tapped his shoulder. They were still by the entrance to Garon’s cave, which was lit by the glow from the flutterflies and the few faint stars that had blossomed above. The Wyvern choir was still in voice.
Pine’s touch made him snort and her draw back. A dragon’s waking breath was not the most pleasant of odors.
“Come, skaler. It’s time.”
Gus rose sluggishly and looked around him. The Wyvern were awake and active. Their gauzy wings glowed in the dark, making it easy to pick them out. To his surprise, their eyes shined a pale shade of blue, not unlike his in dim conditions. “Where’s Gariffred?” he asked. Panic gripped his hearts when he realized the drake was not among the Wyvern, a feeling that grew a magnitude worse when Pine said casually, “In the cave with—”
“WHAT?!”
Gus exploded past her, scattering the Wyvern that had gathered around the entrance. To his relief, he found Gariffred at the first bend of rock. L’wen-Gar and two of her kind were with him. The drake was unharmed, but his eyes had a forlorn look about them. Gus immediately knew what it meant.
“Has he seen it?”
L’wen-Gar gave a wary nod.
Pine hurried up. She wrapped an arm across Gariffred’s back. With her shoulders set firm, she faced the big roamer. “I showed him the goyle so he would know what it is—who it is.”
Gus rumbled like a bruised volcano. But the deed was done, the drake unharmed. There was nought to be gained by taking Pine’s head off. He checked his anger and pushed her away. “Wait for me outside.”
Pine wisely said no more. She guided Gariffred into the night, leaving Gus to do what he must.
Gus took a breath to steady his nerves. No per on Ki:mera had ever given counsel on a situation as challenging as this. He prayed it would not be a false endeavor.
Ba
ttle stigs bristling, he moved cautiously into the cave, into the chamber where the creature lay. Every wall was lit by flutterflies. Garon was awake and making shadows, clearly aware that something was happening.
Gus laid his isoscele over his breast. He took another deep breath and spoke. “My name is Gus. I was born of the line Karnayen. I fly with your noble son, Gabrial. You have my word on his trust that I mean you no harm. I am to take you to a place where you might be healed. But first I must bring you out of this cave. It may cause some discomfort. I beg you, do not resist.”
With that, he put his jaws around Garon’s neck and began to drag him toward the exit. Brutal, perhaps, but the only way. There wasn’t room in the cave to lift him. And Garon was too weak to crawl.
At the very first contact, the goyle in Garon began to fight back, writhing and thrashing as best it could remember and the Aether would allow. The barbed tail rapped Gus more than once, but failed to leave a single cut.
Once outside, all opposition faded. Garon merely gave an exhausted groan as Gus let go of him to turn and reposition. For one heartrending moment, the goyle’s blank eyes set their sights on Gariffred. The wearling crunched his claws into a ball, but his soulful graark suggested he had seen through those vacant mirrors and found a shred of light inside.
“Get on,” Gus said to Pine.
He dropped a wing and she scrabbled straight up.
To L’wen-Gar he said, “I can’t lift off with the creature in my claws. I’ll need to snatch it up. Be ready to lead.”
And with a whup of his wings, he launched off the slope, using the air rolling up from the valley to aid his forward thrust. “Gariffred, follow!” he commanded the drake. He waited for the clap of Gariffred’s wings, then banked back sharply and in one swoop seized Garon off the ground, turning Wyvern heads in awe. “Which way?!” he bellowed to L’wen-Gar, his mighty wings working at full capacity.
“Across the valley to the arc,” she called. “The Aether knows our purpose. It will take us straight to the place of stars.”
The New Age Page 12
