That was when a strange thing happened.
She heard a voice in her head, and it was coming from the pupp.
Mell, pick up the knife, it said.
Her face creased in confusion.
The knife, said the voice, do as I ask.
Gibbus voices screamed all around her.
Fires flickered in the stagnant walls.
The air began to feel oddly stale.
“Spirit, why do you taunt me?” Mell said. She wanted to cry. She did—a little.
You know me, said the voice. I am one with this creature. She means you no ill. Pick up the knife.
Mell rested her bleary gaze on the blade. “I know you?” she muttered.
Aye, said the voice.
The knife lay close, handle nearest. Its cutting edge glinted at every nick.
Do it, said the voice.
Mell’s fingers crept forward.
HAAR! The cave erupted with noise. Everywhere, Gibbus hollered their approval.
You know me. You trust me, the voice continued. Do not be afraid. Do as I ask and help will come.
Mell swayed momentarily. “Who are you?” she whispered. Her hand closed around the twine that Waylen had used to bind the handle of the knife.
All around the cavern, Gibbus whooped and beat their chests hollow. At last. A fight! But while most of them argued about the victor, only one—the gray—turned its head and twitched its nostrils.
There was a change in the air.
A wisp of something that should not be present.
Smoke.
Mell brought the knife to her breast. The skaler tilted its head and graarked. In its eyes, a dim light shined. The light of dawn rising over the mountains.
I am not as I was, but you know me, said the voice. My name was Rolan Woodknot. I rode with brave men against the skalers. But what you see here is no foe to the Kaal.
“Rolan?”
Aye.
Mell smiled faintly. She saw her reflection in the flat of the blade. “I hear you, Rolan. What is it you would have me do?”
Look at the clasp. The sign marked there.
Mell turned the knife against the flat of her hand. “The sun, the moon, the stars,” she said.
The Kaal had used the mark for centuries. Three wavy lines that did not meet. A symbol of fortune, gifted by the old ones, blessed by the Fathers.
A symbol mostly forgotten.
Carve it, Mell, and help will come.
“Carve it.” Mell was almost delirious.
Make the sign in the erth, said Rolan.
Mell nodded weakly. Her hands clasped double around the knife.
She was halfway to scratching out the second line when the gray Gibbus grew suspicious.
It lumbered up and knocked her sideways.
The knife fell from her grasp.
The Gibbus looked down at what she had drawn and wiped it clean with one twist of its foot. It snatched up the blade, then kicked Mell away, rolling her on to her back. As she made eye contact, it raised the knife.
Two things stopped it ending her life. First, something dropped out of one of the shafts and rolled a short distance across the cavern floor. It was the head of the Gibbus Grynt had killed. A shocked silence gripped the chamber. The gray Gibbus turned to look. In that instant, Gayl rushed forward and bit straight through the creature’s ankle. The gray screamed in agony and toppled over, blood gushing from the wound. The knife fell from its hand. Gayl was immediately at the gray’s throat, sinking her bitter-sharp teeth into its neck.
For all this, the Gibbus fought back well. Its strong arms lashed like fury at the myss, catching the broken bones of her wing and ripping one section of the sails to shreds. A rough hand gripped the base of her tail and twisted it brutally. Gayl squealed in distress and surrendered her bite. Instantly, the other hand shot toward her head to close around her slender neck. Despite the dreadful wound to its leg, the Gibbus sat up, raising Gayl aloft. It squeezed her throat, slowly, remorselessly, causing her spiracle vents to crack. Then it squeezed again until her jaws spread wide. Gayl wriggled and started to weaken. Her wings drooped. Her pre-claws bunched. The gray Gibbus gurgled in triumph, ready to apply the fatal press.
That gurgle was the last sound it would ever make.
Using every grain of strength in her body, Mell heaved forward and plunged the knife deep between its shoulders, piercing its wicked heart. The Gibbus rocked as the life bled out of it. A veil came down on its glazed brown eyes. Mell swiftly withdrew the blade and hustled the cumbersome body aside to be as ready as she could be for the next assault.
But the Gibbus weren’t coming for her anymore. Some kind of terror had gripped the whole tribe. They were heading for the tunnels, but reemerging from them as soon as they’d gone in. All around the cavern, they were spluttering and hacking, falling to their knees, their hands to their throats. Great plumes of smoke were rolling across the far side of the chamber, cloaking the Gibbus in a deadly cloud.
Skaler breath!
Mell felt the first wisps sting the corners of her eyes and knew she must act or die, choking.
Covering her face, she rushed to Leif’s side. Quickly, she slashed the girl’s ties. Leif was gasping, her once lively eyes now red with pain. She collapsed as Mell freed her. “Leave me,” she whispered.
“I will not,” Mell said. She raised Leif by the shoulders and shook her awake. “We have to run, Leif. Run. The skalers are attacking.”
“Too weak …” Leif croaked. Her head fell forward.
She gasped once more and quickly passed out.
By now, the Gibbus were desperate to escape. Some had worked out that the side of the cavern where Mell was positioned was least affected by the smoke. As Mell shielded Leif against her chest, two Gibbus swept past and dived into a tunnel. She heard them scrabbling toward the surface and tasted a tang of clean air in their wake. There, she thought, was the route she must take.
Putting the knife into her belt loop, she struggled to her feet with Leif in her arms. The girl weighed no more than a nest of twigs and was easy enough to carry. But carrying was one thing, climbing another. Still, Mell reasoned, she had to try.
Mell, wait.
The voice again. In her rush to get away, Mell had forgotten the heroic pupp. She saw it now, half cast in shadow. It had crawled behind a rock to be out of the chaos.
More Gibbus swept by, stampeding for the openings. Mell pressed herself back into the darkness, coughing as the smoke worked into her lungs. I must flee, Rolan, or the girl will die. I pray your new kin come for you.
No, he begged as she started to move. Hide if you can. I will draw the smoke from you. You may be caught in flames outside.
A shriek came from deep within the tunnels. A knot of Gibbus tumbled back into the cavern. The last three to fall were all on fire.
Hide, Rolan urged her.
Mell shook her head. Nay, I have no quarrel with skalers. This child is wounded. You know them, Rolan. Surely they will show her mercy?
They will, but they may not see you in time. And if you cross the Gibbus, they will cut you down. Hide and make the sign. I promise you, help will come.
That was his last communication. The tall Gibbus Mell had seen at the settlement, the one that had wanted to finish her off, pushed through the rest and dragged the pupp out of hiding, clamping its throat to keep the jaws at bay. The skaler kicked but had no more fight.
What they planned to do with it, Mell could not imagine. But here, she thought, was a chance to flee. Yet the moment she turned to run, one of the ogres was blocking her path. It was bearded, this one, and ugly for it. Its lips peeled back off its broken teeth. Mell braced herself and slowly retreated, until her shoulders bumped the wall and she could go no farther. The Gibbus sneered. Mell spat in its face. The beast immediately sprang forward. It tore Leif out of her arms, tossing the girl aside as if she were made of nought but air. Mell screamed and went at it, fists flinging. But the Gibbus was quick and its r
each was long. It pinned her by the throat and put her back against the wall until her toes could barely touch the ground. It rumbled sourly, its breath as rank as fouled water. With the back of one finger, it stroked her hair. Mell turned her face from the touch and saw a solution at her side. In a flash, she’d pulled one of the lights off the wall and thrust it into the creature’s face. It screamed and fell back, its beard alight. Quickly, Mell pulled the knife from its fastening at her waist. Forgive me, she whispered to Leif in her thoughts, for here our journey must surely end. And yelling for the honor of the Kaal and forest folk, she went in for what she thought would be her final kill.
But others were arriving by then, the tall Gibbus at their head. It clamped the wrist that held the knife with a grip as tight as three men might levy. It pulled the weapon out of Mell’s hand as easily as plucking fruit from a tree. For one beat of her brave Kaal heart, she thought the beast would drive the blade through her, the way she had killed its companion, the gray. Instead, it would do her a small favor. With her free hand, she tried to gouge its eyes. But it caught her again and turned the blade against those fingers, drawing the edge across her skin until her blood ran freely and she wept with pain. Then it struck her with enough force to leave her dazed. Dazed, but not entirely adrift. For as they picked her up again, she pressed her hand against the wall and drew, in blood, the sign that Rolan had wanted.
Come swift, she muttered in the blur of her mind.
Before she too, like Leif, passed out.
Gabrial! What’s wrong?
As the wyng drew back to rekindle their fire sacs and the second wave of dragons moved into position, Commander Garrison sped over the blue, surprised at his apparent unwillingness to fight. Several Gibbus had come to the surface, where they had met a fiery end. Yet Gabrial, who was part of the first line ordered to attack, had barely warmed his nostrils. He’d been scouring the landscape for any signs of Gayl. This isn’t right, Garrison. There ought to be more of them. Gabrial had expected to see a huge exodus of Gibbus, not a few half-crazed stragglers. We can’t take the mound apart unless the creatures flee.
Garrison banked sideways, scanning the rocks. The smoke may have poisoned the rest.
Or we can’t see them. Or they’ve gone deeper. Either prospect made Gabrial’s hearts beat faster. Didn’t you say they had some hiding trick? What if they’re cloaking Gayl from our sight?
It appears they don’t want to. Look.
Two creatures had suddenly emerged from the mound, dragging Gayl between them. One was brandishing a knife.
Now Gabrial’s battle stigs rose.
A warning cry went out from Grendel, quickly echoed by another from Grynt. The Prime had seen the wearling and ordered an immediate cessation of fire. But the sighting had gone to Gabrial’s head. He swooped down, screaming loudly. The beasts responded by yelling hysterically and retreating toward the hole they’d come out of. Only at the final moment, thanks to a forceful shout from Garrison, did the blue dragon come to his senses. He tilted his wings and soared overhead.
Grendel was livid. The gold beads along her face were glowing so brightly they could have been on fire. “Do that again and I’ll cut you down,” she skriked, no longer bothering to keep the silence.
“They’ve hurt her,” snarled Gabrial, his wings clapping as he pitched around her. “It looks like she’s been bled.”
“They’ll hurt her worse if you go in again,” snapped Grynt. He glided past, calling out to Garrison. “What’s your assessment? What do they want?”
“Safe passage,” the commander said. “We let them go; they give us Gayl.”
“Can we trust them?”
“I doubt it. But I don’t see what option we have. Another challenge like that and they’ll finish her, for sure. I suggest we pull back and see what they do. There’s no way we’re going to negotiate with them.”
“Do it,” said Grendel, circling overhead.
“Grendel—?” Gabrial started.
“She’s frail. I’m not going to risk her, Gabrial. Garrison, give the order.”
Grynt nodded at the commander. With one sharp cry, the roamers moved to a higher loop. “You, too,” said Grendel, snorting air under Gabrial to make him lift.
“This is wrong,” he said as he climbed beside her. “It’s a trick. I know it. These creatures aren’t fools. Remember what they did to Gossana.”
“They’re coming out again,” barked Grynt. “Watch where they go, but do not engage.”
Gabrial looked down and saw Gibbus emerging all over the mound, from openings the dragons hadn’t flamed. There were more of them now, but still not enough to allay his suspicions. To Garrison, he said, “What if they’re just delaying us long enough to let most of them get away unseen? How do we know they won’t turn on Gayl when they’re all aboveground?”
“We don’t,” said Garrison. “That’s why we’re watching.”
“This is madness,” said Gabrial. “There must be something we can do?”
Gabrial.
The blue gave a sudden start. The voice in his head had come from high above, and not from one of the wyng. He twisted his supple neck left and right. To his amazement, he saw Gus flashing through the cloud layers with Pine Onetooth riding his back.
Garrison had seen the big roamer as well. “In the name of Godith, where did he come from?”
The roamer broke through the clouds again. Gabrial saw Pine leaning over a wing, pointing toward the top of the mound as if she wanted Gus to land. At the same time, he heard a clamor of voices. Chief among them was Grendel’s.
“GARIFFRED!”
Gabrial immediately switched his gaze downward. To his horror, he saw the drake on the ground. He was approaching the two Gibbus holding Gayl.
Ignoring the fury of voices at his back, Gabrial dived again. From some way off, he heard the Gibbus bark a punitive warning at the drake. One of them pressed the knife against Gayl. Gabrial bared his fangs. His only hope of saving her was to phase before the knife cut deep. But just as he was i:maging his phasing point, he saw Gariffred barrel his chest. All the ears in the air heard the faint click of jaws. Gabrial glanced at the Gibbus and noted they were showing no sign of fear. Another small, insignificant dragon, they were thinking.
How wrong they were.
For Gariffred had found his spark. He took one breath and lit it with a flame that flowed over the Gibbus and Gayl as well, engulfing all three in the same inferno. Gabrial’s spirits lurched and then soared. Suddenly, he realized Gayl would survive and the Gibbus would burn. By the ancient laws of Godith, set down after Graven had accidentally killed his brother, no dragon was able to flame its own kin. Gariffred was the only dragon who could save his sister by such means. And he’d done it. In style.
Long before the igniting burst died, Gabrial had his claws around Gayl and was lifting her away. “Fly!” he screamed. He looked back to see Gariffred opening his wings. Relief flooded Gabrial’s hearts. But the joy was short-lived. The drake wasn’t rising high enough. Something was preventing him taking off fully.
A Gibbus hand had closed around his leg.
Now Gabrial knew that his fears about the creatures were not misplaced. There were unseen Gibbus on the ground, ready to ambush any dragons that landed.
Gariffred flapped and pecked and savagely clawed. His pin-sharp fangs took a chunk of Gibbus flesh and nearly slashed through an eye as well. He beat his wings so hard that the creature was dragged along a short way, causing both of them to slide down a shallow incline. Foolishly, the Gibbus refused to let go. At the bottom of the slide, with the weight in its favor, it had a fleeting moment of glory. It sank its teeth into Gariffred’s leg and wounded him cruelly behind one knee. The drake howled and blew a spike of fire, but couldn’t bend his neck to an angle sharp enough to light his aggressor. But by then it didn’t matter. A snort from behind made the Gibbus turn its head. It had the momentary luxury of staring into the glittering eyes of a ferocious female dragon, then saw nothi
ng but fading clouds as its head sailed over the Wild Lands, taken from its shoulders by Grendel’s isoscele.
The ground around Grendel erupted with bodies. As Gariffred flapped clear, Gibbus shimmered out of hiding and swarmed over Grendel in the same way they’d attacked Gossana. In size, Grendel was half a wing smaller than Gossana. But the future queen had youth on her side and fire in every grain of her body. She took off with five assailants on her back. They clawed and bit and did all they could to bring her down, but their mission was always doomed to fail. They were already giddy with the rush of air, when Grendel soared and performed a roll, hurling all five aside like sparks. Three of them didn’t even reach the ground. Garrison picked one off in midair, snapping it to mulch in his giant jaws. Two more were burned to cinders and given over to the wind’s amusement. Another went down like a shooting star in the body of water beside the mound. The fifth ended life as a blemish on the rocks.
In that sense, it was a one-sided contest. The dragons swooped and phased and flamed freely, killing any Gibbus fool enough to reveal themselves. But Gabrial was still concerned about what might be happening within the mound. If there were Hom captives, he felt he had a duty to rescue them. At the moment, he could do little about it, for he was still carrying Gayl and thinking about a safe place to set down. Although unharmed by her brother’s fire, the myss was suffering some mild heat blindness; little light shined from her youthful eyes. Her cuts were sealing—like all dragons, she had the extraordinary power to rapidly self-heal minor wounds—but her wings were wrecked and she was weak from the loss of blood. Gabrial seriously feared for her survival. In any other circumstance, he would have flown her straight to Grymric. She needed herbs and counsel and rest. But the healer himself was hurt and far away.
What to do?
That was when he thought about Pine and how she had mended Gus on the cliffs. He immediately began to look for the roamer. In two flicks, Gabrial had him. Gus was lowest in the sky, dangerously close to the top of the mound. Garrison flashed overhead demanding to know what Gus was doing. Gus had his claws spread ready for a landing, but was actually hovering just off the ground. Gabrial’s hearts thumped as he saw Pine ease herself along Gus’s spine and get ready to jump.
The New Age Page 20
