by GARY DARBY
Bending down, she gives me a concerned look. “You should climb aboard the noble one and ride. Get out of the snow, at least.”
Still chattering, I reply, “With my deepest respects, Alonya, look who’s talking. The giant lady with only sandals on her feet.”
Her mouth lifts to one side as she acknowledges, “True, but my feet and toes aren’t blue yet whereas your nose is starting to look like a tiny bluebird sits on your face.”
At that, Wind Glory pushes past and Alonya falls in step with the sapphire. Helmar never gives me a glance though Amil gives a small wave as they pass.
Wind Song paces by next and Cara brings her dragon to an abrupt halt. “Hooper,” she asks softly, her face concerned, “are you ill?”
“No,” I shake my head and stomp my feet, though it’s hard to lift them. “Just stretching my legs.”
Phigby leans over, his eyes intent on me. “And just how long have you been stretching your legs, Hooper?”
“Not long,” I answer.
Cara turns and says something to Phigby to which he nods. She slips down off Wind Song and hurries over to me as Phigby guides Wind Song a bit ahead of Golden Wind who is turning about.
Pushing through the knee-deep snow, Cara comes up to me, her face stern, concerned, and angry all at the same time. “Hooper,” she spits out, “you are the worst liar on both sides of the Denalian Mountains.”
“What are you talking about?” I sputter.
“You’ve been walking this whole time, haven’t you? I bet your hands and feet are so cold you can’t even climb back up on Golden Wind.”
“That’s silly, Cara,” I answer. “Of course, I can get up.”
“Uh, huh,” she sniffs. “Prove me wrong.”
Golden Wind has pulled just ahead and stops, waiting for me. “All right,” I huff. “Watch.”
She and I start to walk toward the golden’s head when just then, for whatever reason, Regal takes it upon himself to get into a screeping, chubbing fight with Wind Strider in their saddlebags. Their incessant screeping and shrieking seems to bounce from mountaintop to mountaintop.
And then, above their screeching comes an even louder sound—the cracking of splitting ice. A loud rumble seems to shake the air. I jerk my head up and suck in a breath through clenched teeth.
The whole mountainside is falling, crashing straight down at us and there’s no place to hide or run.
White death will take us before we’ve moved thirty steps.
Cara whirls, her eyes wide with fear at the sight of the churning, rumbling white cloud speeding down at us.
“Hooper!” she screams and starts to pull me through the snow. Both of us break into a stumbling, slipping run as we try to get to our dragons.
In an instant, I realize it won’t work. We can’t outrun the sliding white mountain of death. A second thought flashes through my mind. What can I do other than die alongside Cara?
A third, harder thought forms. I may be prepared to die but I’m not ready to see Cara die. But what can I do to stop the roaring, ripping ice boulders that are flashing down the mountainside straight at us?
Scamper and the sprogs are screeching atop Golden Wind, adding to the incredible din that’s so loud it seems to prevent me from hearing my own thoughts.
But through the bedlam I hear what sounds like the Gaelian Fae’s voices ringing in my head, And call the wind in fearsome brew!
I rip Truorka, the sapphire gemstone, out of my tunic.
The snow and ice are blasting down the mountainside. It sounds as if the falling, smashing ice boulders are tearing the mountain apart, grinding granite stone into pure powder.
In moments, we’ll be crushed under the weight of the massive avalanche.
I thrust Truorka high and call as loud as I can, Vald Hitta Sasi Ein, Power to this One!
With its own growling roar, a giant windstorm erupts at our back, rushes overhead, straight at the swirling, immense ice wall. Then, the eruption of snow and ice hits and as if the wind forms a bow, the avalanche sweeps up and over us!
Holding Truorka as high as I can, I watch wide-eyed, mouth agape as giant ice chunks roll just above Golden Wind’s head.
The wind’s roaring is deafening and in an instant we’re standing in the middle of a white tunnel draped on all sides by rushing, spinning snow and ice chunks.
Then, as if the thunderous wind had giant hands to hold the snow and ice aloft, the last huge, craggy ice boulder comes to a stop just over our heads and we’re standing enveloped in a snow tunnel.
I turn and with relief see Cara, her back to Golden Wind staring upward in sheer disbelief. Just beyond her, there is an impenetrable wall of ice as if the wind stops right at that point.
I look to where Wind Song is crouching with Phigby atop her as if she thinks that the tunnel will collapse. Farther, Alonya kneels next to Wind Rover where both Helmar and Amil sit with an arm up as if they would hold back the ice.
Seeing that everyone is safe and unharmed, but like both Cara and me amazed to be alive, I take in a deep, deep breath.
However, before I can even let it out, there is a crackling, hissing sound above our heads and somehow, I can feel Truorka’s power start to waver.
“Alonya!” I shout as loud as I can. “Can you see a way out?”
Alonya turns, takes a few steps and leans forward as if to peer just ahead. She whirls back to call out, “Yes! There’s an opening here.”
“Phigby!” I yell. “Get everyone out and hurry, I have no idea how long this will hold the ice back.”
“Helmar,” Phigby orders, “have Wind Glory push through that opening, make it bigger. Everyone follow Wind Glory. Move!”
Moments later, I hear the sounds of ice cracking and sliding away as Wind Glory punches through the hole leading out from our silvery, sliding tunnel.
Holding the gemstone as high as I can and straining with every bit of strength I have to keep its power from disappearing, I bawl, “Cara! Take Golden Wind. Get out, now!”
Instead of obeying, Golden Wind swings her head around to put her muzzle close. “Well done, Gem Guardian. Now let us all get out of this snare, shall we?”
My teeth clenched hard, I growl, “Will you please take Cara and leave? I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up.”
Cara slips next to me, grabs my free arm and shouts over the roaring wind, “Let’s go Hooper, time to leave, everyone’s out!”
“You go,” I yell loud enough for her to hear, “I don’t know what’s going to happen if I walk away from this spot.”
“I’ll tell you what’s going to happen,” she snaps, pushing her lips next to my ear, “you’re going to hold that gem up for as long as it takes for the three of us to make that opening because we’re not leaving without you.”
“Cara!” I yelp. “Has anyone ever told you how stubborn you can be?”
“Many times,” she retorts just as loud. “I consider it one of my best qualities. Now move, I don’t fancy bandying words with you while we’re standing under a canopy of a thousand wagonloads of ice.”
“More like ten thousand,” I grunt, “and I feel like I’m holding them all up by one hand.”
She takes my free hand and pulls me toward the dragon-size opening as Golden Wind paces beside us. All three of us keep our heads up and our eyes on the churning ice and snow above us.
We’re almost to the opening to our front when from the other end comes a giant roaring sound.
I spin around, my eyes popping wide and my head jerking back at what I see.
The canopy is falling inward like a funnel closing from its top downward and if we don’t get out in time we’ll be buried alive under a mountain of snow.
Cara grabs at me and yells, “Run!”
Golden Wind lumbers ahead while Cara tries to pull me along but the best I can manage is a slipping, off-balance stumbling run.
“Hooper! Faster!” Cara screams but picking my feet up is like trying to lift two blocks of thick
ice from my ankles down.
I push ahead, Cara tugging at me, both of our breaths ragged and harsh. Behind, I can hear the crash of ice boulders as the little tunnel collapses upon us. The golden bursts through the opening and Cara and I are almost to the gap when I feel the ice thundering down right behind us.
There’s a blast of icy air filled with snow and I know we’re out of time.
With every bit of strength I possess I grab Cara and throw her through the narrowing hole.
I try to dive right behind her but I’m not fast enough and the crushing snow and ice catches me in its icy grip.
The last thought I have before darkness takes me is to keep the Truorka aloft so that what little power is left will hold the opening wide enough for Cara to escape.
As long as she’s safe, whatever happens after that doesn’t matter.
7
My teeth chatter and knock together so hard that I feel as if I’m going to break a tooth in half. No, make that several, all at the same time. I’m shivering so hard it’s as if I’m a straw doll and someone is shaking me back and forth, trying to jar the stuffing out.
I suck in one great gasp of air after another as Cara rubs my hands and arms as fast as she can while Phigby is doing the same at my back, trying to bring life and heat back to my skin.
“You’re as blue as that gemstone you were holding up,” Cara claims in a throaty rasp. “Keep taking in deep breaths, Hooper.”
“Indeed,” Phigby agrees, “and a good thing you held it up high because that sapphire glow was like a beacon under the snow, leading us right to you.”
“Ggggoooddd pplllaannn, yyyesss?” I manage to stutter.
“Yes,” Cara snarls, “an excellent plan. All except that part where you tossed me through the opening and let the ice boulders drop on you.”
She rubs my arms even harder, her eyes flashing me a concerned look. “If you’re going to be a knight in shining armor saving the fair damsel you’ve got to learn that means saving yourself too. Otherwise, what’s the point?”
“I’llll haaave toooo worrrkkk onn thh thh thhaat.”
“You do that,” she grins, taking my hands in hers to blow her warm breath across them, all the while rubbing them with vigor.
My eyes are mere slits but I can see we’re out of the snowpack and back down the rocky trail. I’m not sure how I got here but at least I’m not lying under a grave of snow and ice.
I hear rocks clattering as if someone is pushing boulders around and turn my head just enough to see that Alonya, Amil, and Helmar are pushing rocks of all sizes together, forming somewhat of an oval mound with a wide opening at the top.
Cara must have caught my gaze for she explains, “They’re building you a rock hothouse.”
“Whhhaaat’ssss aaa—”
“You’ll see,” is all she answers.
Though it’s hard to keep my head still from all my shivering so that I can see, moments later, I watch as Helmar leads Wind Glory over to the rock pile, points to the boulders, and commands, “Dragon fire!”
The sapphire unleashes a stream of burning fire upon the rocks for a few moments and then stops. Alonya steps forward, runs her hands over the heaped stones and calls over her shoulder to Phigby, “Good and warm.”
“Get him inside,” Phigby orders.
Alonya lopes over, picks me up and carries me over to the rocks. She lays me down inside and in an instant, I feel the heat wash over me. The giantess turns, scoops up Cara, and sets her down next to me.
Phigby leans over and orders, “Get his boots and socks off, Cara.”
Cara is quick to pull off my feet coverings and as she does, Phigby takes one look at my feet, mumbles something under his breath and then directs Cara, “Rub those feet hard while I use the heat to whip up a warming potion and a balm.”
Out of the corner of one eye, I can see Golden Wind lean over the opening and peer at me with anxious eyes. I’m taken aback in surprise at her expression.
It’s not just apprehensive, it’s so sad that for a moment, I think that if she blinks, a dragon tear will roll down her face.
Then Amil pokes his head over the edge, puts his hand over the stones and calls over his shoulder, “You better hurry, Phigby, the cold is sucking the heat right out of these rocks.”
“I am hurrying!” Phigby snaps.
Golden Wind seems to be studying my oval-like rock mound before she draws back and disappears.
Cara looks up at me from where she’s rushing to rub one foot and then the other. “Hooper,” she questions, “can you feel your toes?”
“No,” I stammer, “too cold.”
She bites down on her lip and goes back to work. I can hear Helmar speak low to Alonya just outside the mound, “A good idea you had but the rocks aren’t keeping the heat for very long.”
“Then,” she answers, “we’ll just have to bring him back out and have the dragons hit the mound with another round of fire.”
“Yes,” he replies, “but what if someone sees? It won’t be too hard to guess that there’s a dragon where none should be.”
Just then, there’s a fluttering noise and I watch as the four sprite dragons hover before they drop down into my little rock shelter.
Golden Wind sticks her head over the opening and I can see a satisfied expression on her face.
“What—” Cara begins but before she can finish, the sprites on each side of me start to glow bright and then, without warning, they burst into flames.
Though my eyelids seem encased in ice, I manage to crack them open enough that I just stare at the four little balls of fire.
Cara screams, “Phigby! The sprites, they’re on fire!”
I can’t move, afraid that if I srunch to one side or the other that my clothing will catch on fire. I hear a scrabbling over rocks and first Phigby, then Alonya, followed by Helmar and Amil jut their heads over the rough edge.
I’m quite sure their eyes are as wide as mine. “They’re burning,” Cara cries out, pointing to the sprites, “do something, they’re burning alive!”
Phigby pushes his head a little further into the opening, his beard draping down as he peers at the four little dragons with an intent expression. While Cara is almost beside herself, Phigby seems perfectly calm.
He reaches out a hand toward the largest orange dragon. The sprite looks up and screeps at him.
“Hmmm . . .” Phigby muses, “that doesn’t sound at all like he’s in pain and the rest seem fine, too.”
Phigby draws back, scratching at his head. “Strange as it may seem, I think that this is a natural occurrence for them.”
“Natural?” Cara sputters. “How can any living thing encase themselves in flames and not be harmed or killed?”
Phigby scratches at his tousled head and replies, “That I can’t answer, Cara, but look for yourself, do any of them appear terrified or writhing in agony from the fire? Besides, dragons unleash fire from deep within their bellies, yet that doesn’t hurt them, perhaps this is just another manifestation of that same ability.”
He holds out both hands over the opening as if warming them over the tiny flames that seem to course over the dragons’ bodies. “I would say that somehow they knew of Hooper’s needs, and mine to concoct my potions, and have shown us another surprising element of dragons.”
His face turns serious as he tugs at his beard. “One, I believe, that has never been seen or noted before this for I’ve never seen anything in the texts on dragons regarding such behavior.”
He eyes me. “Hooper, you do seem to bring out qualities in dragons that have never been seen before.”
Leaning closer, he asks, “Warmer, now?”
“Much,” I acknowledge and turn my head to the sprites who’ve settled down, two on each side of me, and exude a soft warmth that fills the small rocky mound. “Thanks to them.”
I turn back to Phigby and bunch up my face. “Still can’t feel my toes, though.”
Phigby’s eyes take on a look of gr
ave concern. “Err, yes,” he replies, “we’ll have to do something about that.”
He moves away while the others keep staring at the sprites. “Amazing,” Helmar murmurs.
“I would say more than amazing,” Amil returns, “but I can’t think of a better word right now.”
“How about stupefying?” Alonya suggests.
“Yes,” Amil acknowledges. “I am indeed stupefied.”
A few moments later, Phigby’s head is back over the opening as he holds out two cups to Cara. “Put these close to the sprites and let them come to a steam. Once they’re hot have Hooper drink both.”
Cara sets one cup next to Dazzle and the other next to Shine, the two largest sprites. Then she goes back to rubbing and kneading my feet.
“Feel anything yet?” she asks.
“Feet, yes,” I answer, “but not so much with the toes.”
She glances over at my boots and frowns while inspecting my socks. “Hooper,” she asks, “are those the best socks you have?”
I snort. “Cara, those are the only socks I have. Or ever had, for that matter.”
“Oh,” she blinks at me, her mouth sagging before she turns her gaze away. I can see her bite down hard on her lower lip as she goes back to massaging my feet.
A few moments later, I smell several aromas floating up from the steaming cups. “Yech,” I mutter, wrinkling my nose in distaste. “That doesn’t smell like poison.”
“What did you say?” Cara asks.
“The odors from Phigby’s concoction,” I answer. “Sulfur and pig slop. Phigby says that his poisons have a honey fragrance and taste sweet so that you’ll be sure and drink all of it. So that’s how you’ll know the difference between his giving you poison and real medicine.”
“Speaking of which,” Cara says as she picks up a cup, scoots forward a little and hands me the mug. “I better not see one drop left,” she orders.
I hold my nose and drink the first cup’s contents and then the second, though that one makes me gag and I have to fight hard to keep the contents down.
Just as I hand the mug back to Cara, Phigby leans over the rock’s edge. “Cara, you need to come out and let me get in. There’s not room for both of us and I need to get to work on those feet of his.”