The Legend of Hooper's Dragons Box Set

by GARY DARBY

  Catching sight of the onrushing dragons, Vay lets out a screech of wrath and spins back to me. Out of nothing it seems, appears a blood-red staff in her hands.

  Sitting at its top is a glowing, scarlet orb whose crimson light is blinding in its harshness. Like a bludgeon, she swings the twisted, misshapen shaft down at me and it’s all I can do to whip Galondraig up at the last moment.

  Vay’s crimson rod and my sword clash and there’s a dazzling explosion that staggers me backward. Smoke and the sulfur smell of fire fill the air before the breeze whisks away the dark haze.

  Blinking back stinging tears, I thrust my sword upward to counter Vay’s next crushing stroke but to my astonishment, she’s vanished.

  Then, over the wind comes her evil cackling, you’ll never see her alive, Hooper Menvoran. Never!

  “Cara!” I cry and just as I do come the muted twangs of longbows. Once more the air is black with arrows arching upward and then downward at me.

  I’ve nowhere to run, no place to take cover from the arrow flight. I fumble in my tunic, reaching for a gemstone but I know it’s too late.

  Then, a great shadow comes between me and the iron-tipped bolts. With a giant roar, Regal Wind rears up, placing his body in the arrow’s path.

  Like hail splattering against a stout roof, the darts bounce off his scales and fall harmlessly to the ground. Over her shoulder, Alonya gives me a grim-faced wave and I bring up a hand in thanks. Alonya turns and I hear her call out, “Dragon fire!”

  The air shudders as Regal roars again and then from his mouth comes what seems like a river of fire. Though I’m behind him I can feel the heat pressing against me as if I faced a roaring open campfire.

  From the castle walls come the shrieks and screams of dying men.

  Regal Wind rakes the fortress’s front from one bastion to the other, leaving burning corpses that litter the ramparts.

  Just then, I hear another set of dragon wings and feel the sting of bits of grass, dirt, and sticks that are spun up and away as Golden Wind lands nearby with a thud.

  Scamper is chittering at me from atop the golden as I hobble over to clamber up to her neck saddle.

  Settling in, Scamper is giving me the what-for before I reach out and knuckle him on the head. “You can yell at me later, Scamp, we need to go—Cara is in trouble.”

  Leaning over, I say, “Golden Wind, I owe you an explanation but it’ll have to wait—get me into the castle. Vay has Cara.”

  “I know,” she replies in a hard voice, “and our time short to save her.”

  With that, Golden Wind crouches and then springs into the air, catching the wind. We’re no sooner airborne than two balls of fire that seem to roll and spit embers through the air come whizzing at us.

  The golden dives under the first and zooms upward at the second. Both miss us by barely a hand’s width but I feel their heat on my face as they rush past.

  The golden’s desperate moves to avoid the fiery spheres has me clenching my jaws and swallowing against the bile that rises in my throat. I’m just glad I didn’t have much for breakfast or Scamper would be even more unhappy with me after Golden Wind’s last move.

  Pushing against my stomach to avoid an embarrassment, I shout, “What was that!”

  “Devil’s Fire,” she calls back.

  More globes of Devil’s Fire rise toward us. Golden Wind speeds upward to outrace the scorching orbs before they sputter out and plunge to the ground.

  Golden Wind hovers for a moment high in the air giving me the chance to glance downward and take stock.

  Helmar is on Wind Glory, Phigby rides Bold Wind, and Alonya is on a colossal Regal Wind.

  Blinking hard for a moment, I lean over and ask, “Is that Amil on Wind Glow?”

  “Yes,” Golden Wind answers, “and Rollo rides Wind Strider.”

  “I didn’t know he could sky a dragon,” I call back. “Or Alonya, for that matter.”

  “Neither did they,” she replies, “but love for a sister and the enduring power of comradeship pushed any hesitation aside.”

  Two blue streaks whoosh across the castle spewing dragon fire. Wind Song and Sparkle, both riderless.

  The four sprites dart in and among the archers; the moment their fire touches flesh elicits a shriek and a frantic effort to douse burning clothing.

  “I need to get into the castle!” I shout.

  With that, Golden Wind dives toward the fortress. Scamper leans on the golden’s carapace, his face into the wind, his little ears fluttering in the growing breeze.

  The castle’s front edge is still smoldering from Regal Wind’s attack but the rest of the massive castle is undamaged and its defenders fighting back.

  From the archers, the ballistae, and the Devil Fire launchers comes a barrage of projectiles that fills the air as if we faced a curtain of fire laced with arrowheads of doom.

  Coming from below and sprinting out of the bastions are even more archers, their heavy longbows signaling that these are expert and veteran bowmen.

  Regal Wind sweeps in again, only this time, instead of using dragon fire, Alonya has him rake his large tail along the rampart, sending archers and bowmen alike tumbling over the walls from the walkway to their deaths below.

  Even with our desperate and ferocious attacks, the sky above the fortress is full of arrows, both from archers and the ballistae plus what seems like an unending firestorm of Devil’s Fire.

  The catapults were slow to come to action but now their boulders, as big as a dragon’s head, loft upward like a rolling, impenetrable gray screen.

  The golden’s dive toward the fortress is halted by the barrage and we’re driven back up into the sky. Arrows whizz past, some bouncing off the golden’s scales and I push Scamper under Golden Wind’s carapace lest an arrow impale him.

  One bolt comes so close to me that it catches my tunic hood, punching a fist-sized hole through the material and almost knocking me off the golden.

  Golden Wind rises high enough to be out of range and my companions join me, their dragons hovering midair.

  “We’ve got to get down there!” I shout. “Vay has Cara and is going to kill her!”

  I can see the pained, distressed look on Helmar’s face. His eyes light up and he leans over Wind Glory to yell back, “I have an idea!”

  In rushed words, he explains and once he’s finished, we all nod in agreement.

  Turning our dragons as one, we dive downward, a wall of dragons and riders, bent on one thing, saving Cara or dying in the attempt.

  41

  Screaming downward, the dragons close ranks until we’re wingtip to wingtip. Helmar is in the center, one hand held high as we plunge ever closer to the castle and its bulwarks full of death-dealing war machines and archers.

  From the castle erupts a full-throated roar from the men manning the ramparts followed by an arching storm of arrows, boulders, and Devil’s Fire.

  The blistering bombardment flies upward even as we plummet, speeding toward the lethal curtain faster and faster.

  Helmar holds his hand up higher and higher and I’m thinking he’s waited too long before he whips his hand down with a bellow of “Now!”

  As one, we cry out, “Dragon fire!”

  A blazing curtain erupts to our front, a roaring, growling mountain of fire that is so hot and blinding that I throw up an arm to protect my face before it’s seared from the flames.

  Ducking down behind the golden’s carapace, I feel the blistering heat pass over me and then, we’re through the inferno and into the clear.

  Our raging, lava-hot fire has melted a hole in the blizzard of projectiles and a moment later, we speed across the wall of archers.

  Our roaring, skimming passage is so violent that it blasts screaming archers and men-at-arms off the walls and to the paved, granite quad below where they lie broken and lifeless.

  Golden Wind cups her wings in furious beating to stop herself and before I know it, her talons grip the pavement and we’re down onto the
courtyard.

  I’m off the golden and stumbling across the square, Scamper bounding beside me even as the golden spreads her wings to soar back into the sky.

  “Go back!” I shout at Scamper, but he ignores me and well, scampers along toward a doorway that appears to open into the keep’s dim interior.

  Hearing pounding footsteps behind me, I glance over my shoulder, afraid that I’ll see a phalanx of lance-carrying soldiers chasing me, their spears leveled and ready to pierce my puny frame.

  Instead, it’s Helmar and Rollo, sprinting grim-faced over the quad’s stone flooring, their eyes centered on the unbolted door that’s swung wide.

  Unlike my hobbling gait, they all but fly over the pavement and overtake me just before I reach the open doorway.

  They push past me and along with Scamper, burst through the portal and vanish into the darkness. Following as fast as I can, I step through the open door and find myself in a small alcove that fronts a dark hallway.

  Halfway down the hall, two oversized candles offer enough light to see by and I watch as Helmar and Rollo race down the passage with Scamper leading the way.

  “Thanks for waiting,” I grunt and at my best speed, hobble along behind them.

  The two push through more doors and dash down several more long hallways before coming to a landing that stands at the head of dark stairs.

  Halting, they wait for me before Helmar, breathing hard, points to the narrow steps and to where Scamper stands on all fours, peering down into the dim stairwell.

  “Do you think that Scamper knows where’s he going?”

  “A fine time to be asking that question,” Rollo mutters under his breath.

  Glancing down, I can just make out where Scamper sits below us, his nose pointing down into the shadows.

  “Probably better than either you or I,” I reply to the both of them. “If anyone can find Cara in this castle, he can.”

  Seeing Rollo’s scowl, I say, “And chances are, where Cara is, so are your companions.”

  Giving me a curt nod, Rollo whispers, “These stairs lead downward. Most dungeons are on the lowest level.”

  “Yes,” Helmar agrees, “and no doubt heavily guarded.”

  “No guards so far,” I offer, “maybe they’re all on the walls.”

  “Maybe,” Helmar returns in a doubtful tone.

  “This castle is too big for the three of us to search,” I point out. “My vote is to follow Scamper. I think he’s caught Cara’s scent.”

  “What choice do we have?” Rollo growls.

  “None,” Helmar states in a gruff tone and steps off the landing onto the first narrow ledge.

  With little sound, he follows Scamper, while Rollo and I trail behind, one wary step at a time, and descend into the ebon bowels of Hanfeld Castle.

  Forever, it seems, the stairs wind down until it feels as though they were leading us straight to Hades to face the netherworld’s malevolent creatures.

  At wide intervals, a small torch sputters, casting us in dim light and throwing up wavy shadows against the damp, cold stone walls.

  Stopping at a last landing, Scamper sniffs the air and I kneel beside him. As I place my hand on his back, I can feel his fur rise under my hand.

  “What is it, Scamp?”

  A throaty Grrrr is the answer to my question.

  “What is it?” Helmar breathes in my ear.

  “I don’t know,” I whisper back, “but whatever it is, it’s trouble.”

  “Where?” he demands.

  I point outward at the murky blackness that stretches before us. “In there, somewhere. And close.”

  From what little I can see in the dim torchlight, we’re in a large room and further down, sitting in the side walls, I can just make out several head-high wooden doors, but little else. The room’s far end is cloaked in darkness so thick that I can’t see a thing, as if the light was sucked in and then snuffed out.

  But it’s to that blackness that Scamper’s nose and eyes point.

  Whatever danger he senses, it lies within the pool of ebony darkness.

  To my right, before I can stop him, Rollo steps off the landing and eases forward to one side. He places one hand against the wall as if to guide himself as he takes another few cautious steps.

  Between his skin and his clothing, he seems to almost vanish and I only know he’s there by the slight movement that’s caught in the light of the lone sputtering torch behind us.

  I feel movement beside me, and then Helmar steps off the stone landing to slip down the other side opposite of Rollo, leaving me alone with Scamper on the steps.

  “Great,” I huff to myself, letting out a soft breath, “I guess that leaves me the middle.”

  Swallowing, I straighten and holding Galondraig out in front of me, step down to the straw-covered floor.

  Unlike Helmar and Rollo who move in silence, in my sheepskin boots I crunch the chaff underfoot and wince at the sound. One slow, shuffling step at a time, I advance down the room, my eyes flicking back and forth, searching for any hint of movement in the darkness. The only sound I can hear is my own breathing and Scamper’s constant, muffled Grrrr.

  Scamper stays right with me and his constant growling tells me that whatever it is that we face still lies in wait and hasn’t moved in the gloom.

  My hand goes to my tunic and I think about using the gemstones but I’m unsure that any of their powers would work in this dank, dark dungeon.

  Helmar comes to the first door and signals for me to halt. He reaches out, grasps something, I hear a slight metal rattling and then he withdraws his hand.

  “There’s a lock and a bolt on the door,” he whispers.

  “Same here,” Rollo calls, his voice soft, yet loud in my ears.

  From the glooms comes, Need a key to rescue your sweet Cara, Hooper Menvoran?

  Out of the darkness and into the pale light slither two Nahl, their evil red eyes glowing as they catch sight of me and my companions.

  Aster rides one evil beast, his lips drawn back in a cruel smile, while Vay rides the other creature. Vay throws her head back and in a wicked cackle hisses, The only key you’ll find here, Hooper Menvoran, is the one that opens death’s door for you.

  From behind us on the stairway comes the pounding of boots and I know it’s not our comrades rushing to our aid.

  It’s Aster’s men-at-arms and between them and the snake-demons, we’re ensnared.

  Trapped and no way out with death to our front, and death rushing up from behind.

  42

  The pounding footsteps behind us come to a halt, replaced by heavy breathing. I glance over my shoulder and groan at the sight.

  Hard-faced men-at-arms peer from under polished helmets as they snap their lances straight down at the three of us.

  Spilling down the stairs are several squads of the mail-shirted soldiers and they spread out until they’re standing in closed ranks, their spear points glinting sharp and lethal.

  One word from Vay and I’m sure they’ll run us through before we’ve moved a step, if that.

  A loud rustling noise, like viper scales over straw and brick swings me around.

  Black as a night without stars or moons, the Nahl slither forward again. Their giant snakelike mouths open wide and I know what’s coming next.

  Their ice-freezing hiss and afterward, a dousing with their flesh-melting spray.

  Vay cackles again and reaches down to stroke her serpent like demon. Easy, my pet, my lovely sweet. You shall have your feast, I promise.

  In her hand, she holds her crimson staff which she points at me. And you shall be first, if I don’t get what I want.

  With that, she sweeps her staff through the air and several things happen almost at once.

  With a whoosh, in each of the prison cells, a single torchlight springs up. Then, with a loud crack! The locks and bolts on the doors burst asunder, followed by the wooden gates at the rooms’ front banging open.

  Moments later, from the open
doorways and holding their hands to block the sudden light, stumble the Uhlan, appearing confused and apprehensive. They stop and stare at the sight of the two Nahl that tower over us all.

  “Marce!” cries Rollo and he rushes to the young Uhlan female. The two grasp each other in a fierce hug.

  To my left, a lone figure emerges from the last dark dungeon cell and before I can even move, Helmar dashes forward and sweeps Cara into his arms.

  She buries her shorn head into his shoulders for a moment before Vay cackles again as she points her staff at me, Hooper, you want Cara and these others free, I want my golden.

  And I will have her, you know.

  She sweeps her gnarled and twisted staff over the room. You may take all them, Hooper, leave the castle, and I promise no harm will come to any of you.

  Leaning forward, her red eyes seem to bore into me. In exchange for my golden. A simple trade. Their lives for one dragon.

  “Hooper, don’t you dare!” Cara calls out, still clutching Helmar’s brawny arms. “You know what it means if she ever gets Golden Wind.”

  At Cara’s call, Aster has his creature glide over to where it looms over Helmar and Cara. Spinning around, Helmar sweeps Cara behind him and brings up his blade threatening the evil creature with his sword point.

  A sour feeling creeps up my throat as I peer over at the two. One sword, I think, against a huge, dark, powerful creature that can immobilize you in an instant. I have this sick, sinking feeling that Helmar’s bravery will be in vain—one word from Aster and his demon will have both Helmar and Cara.

  Have you ever loved someone so much that the thought of losing them makes you feel dead inside? And, without that one person there is no world, no life, only utter nothingness? In that moment, I knew what my world would be like without Cara and it was a fate I could not face.

  Vay’s Nahl slithers closer to me and the evil hag leans close, her breath feeling as if I were once again caught under a hillside of ice.

  And you know what it means if you don’t, Hooper Menvoran.

  I stare in Cara’s direction and her eyes, her face are pleading with me not to give in, not to turn over Golden Wind to this monstrosity.