by GARY DARBY
Daron’s silence is his answer. Cara’s piteous moan tells me that she realizes that her brother knew beforehand that the vicious attack was coming and how destructive it would be. Her brother is a murderer of innocent people, all in the name of ill-gained lucre.
Then I hear Master Boren. “How bad was it, Cara?”
“Completely destroyed,” she answers in a hollow voice. “From what I know, everyone is . . . ” she can’t go on, and I can hear her softly crying.
I can hear clothing rustling again, and I have the impression that Master Boren now faces his son. “You were not only part of the subterfuge that got me to the Manor House and my capture by the Wilders, but you let them destroy and kill — ”
“Oh, enough,” Daron snaps. “So a few villagers, and a few peasants got killed, and a bunch of old buildings burned to the ground. What do I care about that? Absolutely nothing.”
“That’s why,” Helmar growls, “you didn’t want me to leave the Manor House. You intended for the Wilders to capture both your father and me.”
“Of course,” Daron pronounces snidely. “But just so you’ll know, I made certain that neither of you were to be harmed. If the fools had done the job right, we’d have father, you and the golden in hand by now, instead of playing these silly games of scouring the countryside. Now it appears that that rabble of idiots let the golden escape.”
He lets a breath out. “But I have the feeling you know where we can find her. So let’s make it easy on everyone and just tell me where she’s gone.”
“You’re in league with the Wilders,” Cara says in a voice that is so full of disbelief that it comes out as the barest of whispers.
Then, Cara’s loud gasp is accompanied by clothing swishing and the squeak of a stool leg that makes me think that Daron has grabbed his sister.
His voice rises in ferocity so that it’s almost a snarl. “Don’t look at me that way! I didn’t kill anyone, the Wilders did all that. Now listen, I made sure that you and father and Helmar were not to be hurt in the raid and you weren’t. However, my ability to keep all of you safe now depends on one thing and one thing only — that I can deliver the golden.”
“Daron!” Helmar demands. “Let go of her, you’re hurting her.”
Only heavy breathing breaks the silence but then I hear a grunt and the scrape of a stool as if Daron had roughly pushed Cara away. “Daron,” calls Phigby, who until now had been silent. “I understand why they want the golden, but why your father and Helmar?”
Daron laughs in reply. “That’s because you and everyone else have underestimated the Wilders. You think that the Drachen War reduced them to just a small clan that raids along the hinterland every so often.
“But you and everyone else are wrong. Stupidly wrong. The Wilders are so much more than a small band of dragon riders. Their lands extend far beyond what the maps show.”
The tone of his voice takes on a tinge of awe. “And their dragon herds? Lorell’s puny holdings would be but a few sprogs compared to theirs. Vast lands and all covered with dragons.”
I can hear him draw in a breath before saying, “I know, I saw.”
“You saw!?” Cara sputters. “You mean you’ve been to their lairs?”
Daron laughs again. “Lairs! They don’t live in burrows like animals, Cara. That’s just what they want everyone to believe, to make it seem that they’re some sort of ignorant savages.”
“All right,” Helmar says, “let’s assume that we believe you, for now. That still doesn’t answer the question, why Master Boren and myself?”
“Yes, Daron,” Cara demands. “What do the Wilders want with father and Helmar?”
I hear a few more footfalls as if Daron is pacing again. “Breeding,” he finally answers.
“Breeding!” Boren exclaims. “You don’t need a Dragon Master for breeding. Dragons are quite capable of doing that all on their own.”
“That’s true,” Daron answers, “if all you were after is the usual varieties of dragons, but not if you wanted very unique, very special dragons. That takes the experience and knowledge of a Dragon Master.
“And I have to admit, there’s none better than you, father. Everyone knows that Dragon Master Boren Dracon is the best in all the land.”
He pauses and then says, “And a good Dragon Master needs a good apprentice to help him. After all, father, you are getting a bit old.”
“Daron,” Phigby asks quietly, “these ‘unique dragons’ of which you speak, what kind of — ”
“I’ve said enough,” Daron responds curtly. “Now listen to me, all of you. If you tell me where the golden is, I may be able to save you.”
“Save us?” Cara answers. “Save us from what?”
Daron’s voice is a mere whisper, but I can feel its threat even from a distance. “Not from what, Cara.”
He takes in a raspy breath. “From her.”
27
The instant Daron utters “her,” the image of Vay rushes into my mind like the frosty breath of a cold north wind. The evil hag leers at me, and I feel a chill sweep over my body as if I had thrown myself again into the spring creek back at Draconstead. Now I understand the golden’s warning; Vay is here or is coming, and soon.
I don’t know how I know that, but I do.
Is Daron conspiring with Vay? I can’t help but wonder, how is that possible? How could anyone follow her wickedness? Then I remember Phigby’s lesson with the stones. Daron has chosen to follow Vay, and she not only holds power, she wields life and death in her hands as well.
The thought that anyone would be in league with such a repugnant creature causes me to shudder, which makes the vine I’m standing on shake as well. Before the rustling becomes too loud, and I give myself away, I manage to stop my quaking.
From inside the room, I hear Cara say, “Her? Brother, what are you talking about?”
“Just this,” Daron replies in a hard tone, “unless one of you tells me where the golden is, I can’t save you. They’ll give you to her and believe me, that’s not what you want to happen.”
I hear fierce anger in Cara’s reply. “Daron, why are you doing this to me, to father? We’re your family.”
Before Daron can reply, I hear firm footsteps and a new voice. “That’s easy to answer, my dear. Simply put, your family cannot give Daron Dracon what he desires, above all else.”
I don’t recognize the new voice but after a few moments of silence, I hear, “And what is that, Prince Aster?” Helmar says almost with a sneer. “Wealth? A royal title, perhaps?”
Aster’s answering laugh is derisive. “Oh, nothing so banal, Helmar. Daron will have that and more once we get what really matters.”
“Which is?” Helmar asks.
“Power, of course,” Aster answers in a no-nonsense tone. “Absolute, unfettered power.”
Cara’s voice is like a knife slicing through the air. “It was you that I saw in Draconstead at the birthing barn. You were the tall Wilder that led the attack. You had the Wilders kill all those innocent people.”
I can’t see, but somehow I can feel Prince Aster’s indifferent shrug. “Yes, unfortunately, sometimes those things just happen. But just so you’ll know, you actually helped plan the attack, you know.”
Cara’s voice is like a frozen river, ice cold, hard and harsh. “I did no such thing, and I would never help — ”
“Ah, but you did,” Aster is quick to interrupt. “The Winter Carola at the castle, remember? I admit you were a warm, pleasant armful to dance with but more so, you were so eager to answer my questions about Draconstead. The information I gleaned from you was invaluable in planning our attack.”
He pauses and laughs loudly. “Oh, but I wish you could see the look on your face. Did you think that we invited you, your father, and Helmar, three commoners for any other reason?”
His laugh is sharp, almost shrill. “Oh, wait, you thought that I, as the second born, without obligation to marry royalty to keep the bloodline pure, was interested
in you as a possible bride? That I was wooing you and that’s why you were at the ball?”
Aster laughs loudly again. “I am so sorry, Cara, but that thought never crossed my mind. Once I have the golden, I can have any woman, or women, for that matter, that I want. Perhaps then I may consider you as a royal consort, but not now. Not until we have the golden and all that goes with her.”
You beast! Cara’s voice is little more than a growl, but something in her tone makes me think that the prince’s comments hit close to the mark regarding the ball. Poor Cara, I think to myself, she thought the invitation came from a possible royal suitor, only it turns out it came from a royal traitor.
The room becomes quiet, and all I can hear is a low muttering. Then comes the sound of footsteps fading away as if someone has hurried from the chamber.
Prince Aster’s voice grows hard. “Enough of the idle chit-chat. Since Daron has failed to convince you to be reasonable, my approach will be a little different. It’s very straightforward. Where is the golden? Speak and you live. Remain silent and one of you will die while the others watch.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” Master Boren protests, “None but King Leo himself has the right to execute us.”
In a voice dripping with sarcasm, the prince says, “Then we won’t bother with the formality of petitioning His Majesty. He is getting on in age and does so need his rest these days.”
He waits, but no one answers. Then, with a snide air, he says, “Very well, since you choose to defy me — Daron, I will let you decide. Who dies?”
I hear the sounds of a struggle and then, “Get your hands off me!” Helmar furiously demands.
Cara yells, “No!”
Daron shoves Helmar’s head out the window. He struggles ferociously against Daron. Helmar has his head twisted toward the room and doesn’t see me just below the window sill.
“If you don’t want your beau to learn to fly without wings, sister,” Daron returns in a hard tone, “tell us where the golden is.”
“Don’t tell them!” Helmar chokes out.
Daron yanks Helmar back inside the room. “Last chance,” he says, “tell us, or so help me, I’ll throw him from this tower. Make no mistake, Cara, I would like nothing better since he’s so special to you. And to you too, right, father?”
Boren mutters in a voice that sounds as if he’s aged a hundred seasons, “Son, please, don’t do this. Don’t betray our family, don’t dishonor our name.”
I’ve heard enough, I can’t wait any longer. Cara and the others are in the hands of crazed maniacs and even if they knew where the golden was and could tell the prince, I have no doubt that he’s going to kill all of them.
I have no idea what I’m going to do, but right now, doing something is better than doing nothing. I rise up and squeak, “Wait! Stop. They can’t tell you where the golden is, only I can.”
Daron yanks Helmar around and backs away from the window, his eyes wide in astonishment. I scramble up onto the window sill and hop down to the floor. “They can’t tell you because she’s not where they left her.”
Prince Aster takes one look at me, his hand goes to his bandaged arm that’s in a sling, and he bawls, “You!”
“Uh, hi there, Prince Aster,” I stutter. “Yes, it’s me all right. As they say, it appears we meet again.” I edge away from the window and stand close to the nearest wall. As I do, I can feel Scamper edge out of my tunic hood and down my back. His sharp claws bite through the goat’s hair and I try not to wince as they prick my skin.
I point toward Aster’s injured arm. “Sorry about that arm, but you really have to be careful around dragons. They can be a bit temperamental at times and you just never know when they’re going to act up.
“Especially when they get a bit riled about what’s going on, you know, like when someone is trying to steal them in the middle of the night which means their sleep gets interrupted, which makes them really grumpy and — ”
“Shut up!” Aster shrieks as he draws his sword.
The sight of the sword makes me shut up — for the moment.
“Hooper,” Helmar growls, “what are you doing here?”
“Well,” I answer, my eyes never leaving Aster’s sword, “it appears that I’m here to rescue you, yon fair damsel, and everyone else, too. Especially Phigby, I like to read his books you know, not to mention he makes the best fireworks in the whole kingdom.”
I’m babbling again, stalling for time as I try to think of a way out of this. “Of course, I’ll rescue Amil, too, just — ”
“Stop!” Prince Aster’s command stops me in mid-word. He takes several deep breaths as if to calm himself. His snicker is sharp, loud, and for some reason, reminds me of Hakon and Arnie’s sniggers. He wipes at his eye as if his laughter had brought a tear.
“You?” he sneers. “You are going to rescue your friends, all by yourself, I presume? By chance, you didn’t bring a Dragon Knight army along, just in case your audacious plan didn’t work out?”
“No,” I mutter, “it’s just me against you and Daron the Master Bully so I think that’s about all we’ll need.”
Scamper has reached the floor. I have no idea what the little tub is up to, but he moves so quietly, staying in the shadows, that it appears that neither the prince nor Daron has seen him.
“But I don’t need an army, because I have what you need, meaning Golden Wind. And I’m not going to tell you where she is until you let my comrades go and I know they’re safe and far away from the likes of you two.”
“Hooper, no,” Cara says. “Do you know what it means if they get their hands on the golden?”
I turn to her, scrunch my face together and answer, “Uh, from what I heard, more baby goldens?”
Her eyes and mine meet and she swings her eyes toward the corner where Amil and Phigby sit tied up. I get it. Scamper has managed to stay hidden and is now behind those two.
Suddenly, Helmar cries out angrily and lunges toward me, fighting against Daron’s restraint. “Hooper! Don’t you dare tell them where Golden Wind’s hidden. Don’t be a fool! Once they have their hands on her, nothing can stop them.”
He fights so ferociously that for a moment, I think that Daron can’t hold him and that Helmar is really going to attack me.
The two tussle in the middle of the room and then I see Prince Aster whip around his blade as if he would run Helmar through. Before he can, though, Amil suddenly flies over Cara and broadsides the prince, sending both of them to the floor in a heap.
Daron slams Helmar into the wall with a loud thud and springs away. Before Amil can stop him, he’s through the door and pounding down the stairs.
I reach over and pull Helmar to his feet. I pull out my knife blade and with a quick sawing motion, cut through the knotted bands. “Free the others,” he grinds out and rushes out the door in pursuit of Daron.
I jump over to Cara, who wears an expression of sheer shock at seeing me followed by anger at Prince Aster and her brother. While I’m sawing at Cara’s bindings, I hear Amil grunting behind me and turn.
He’s propped an unconscious Prince Aster up against the wall and huffs, “I guess I hit him too hard, knocked him out cold.”
He straightens and runs a hand over his bald head. “I suppose if the king hears about this it’ll be the chopping block for me. Attacking royalty, even corrupt ones, is a capital offense, you know.”
Cara’s bindings drop to the floor just as her father appears at her side. She stands and they embrace, both have tears in their eyes. A moment later, Helmar rushes back into the room. “I lost Daron,” he says, “but there’s a good chance that there are guards on their way.”
Phigby comes to stand beside Boren, rubbing at his wrist where the rope bindings had chafed. “Are we cut off?” he asks Helmar.
Helmar gives a quick nod to Phigby before he turns to me. “Well done, Hooper. You and Scamper played your parts extremely well.”
“As did you,” I reply. “For a moment there, if Daron had
n’t held you back, I thought you were going to beat me to a pulp.”
A corner of Helmar’s mouth turns up in a faint smile. “I was afraid that the prince would see right through that.”
“Royal arrogance,” I reply. “We’re the little people, we couldn’t possibly outsmart him.”
“Speaking of,” Phigby says as he gazes at the prone Aster. “What are we to do with him?”
“Barter,” Amil quickly says. “Our lives for his.”
“That may not work,” I reply. “He’s not the one in charge here.”
“What do you mean, Hooper?” Helmar asks. “Is King Leo here?”
“Didn’t you hear Daron?” I answer. “Even if His Majesty were here, I’m not sure it would work.”
I turn to Phigby. “You heard Daron, didn’t you Phigby? He said that he was trying to save you from her. He could only be talking about Vay.”
“Vay?” Amil sputters. “She’s here?”
Phigby holds up a quick hand. “Or on her way. For the moment, let’s assume Hooper is right and we can’t use Aster as a bartering chip.” He turns to me and quickly asks, “How in the world did you get up here, Hooper, and can we escape the same way?”
“Well, I didn’t fly,” I answer and lead him over to the window and point down.
Helmar and Phigby crane their heads out the opening. “You climbed up that?” Helmar asks in an amazed voice.
“Like I said,” I reply, “I didn’t fly.”
They turn back to the open door and the spiral stairs. “We have one sword and a knife,” Phigby states. “That’s certainly not going to be much help against men-at-arms with bows and lances.” He lets out a forlorn sigh. “And they took my bag.”
“So we climb,” Helmar says.
He points at the door. “We need to find a way to block that, slow the guards up, even if it’s just a bit.”
I point to a small table in the corner. “Will that work?”
“Yes,” Helmar answers, and bounds over to the table. He hands the lone candle to Phigby, grabs the table, and turns it on one end. After Amil slams the thick wooden door shut, Helmar jams one edge of the table against the door and the other end into a jagged stone edging on the floor.