"Hang on!" The Swan tipped her wings to keep her riders from falling. "It might get worse!"
Another powerful gust rocked them in the opposite direction. Still another struck them from beneath. The Swan tucked her wings in close, trying to cut through the wind that fought their descent.
"What's happening?" cried Ilien.
The Swan couldn't answer. She had all she could do to keep from being blown upside down. Windy and Ilien held on as if riding a wild, feathered stallion. Ilien felt the tingle of an unsummoned spell spread through his body, but before any magical words could spring from his mouth, the wind died as suddenly as it had risen. The Swan rocked to a steady glide. She looked about as if she could see the air currents around her, watching for another attack.
"What was that all about?" asked Ilien.
They were still far above the green valley. The Swan tucked her wings again, and they plummeted toward the ground like a stone.
"What are you doing?" shouted Ilien. Windy clung in silence to his waist with a grip that nearly squeezed the breath from him. "Slow down! You're going to crash!"
They careened toward the rocky slopes, the ground a blur of grey and green. A gale force wind ripped away the last shreds of warmth and protection that Ilien's spell had offered. The cold whistled painfully in their ears. The ground lurched closer.
"Stop!" cried Ilien.
And they did. The Swan's massive wings shot outward. The force of their deceleration crushed Windy and Ilien onto her back. Her downy feathers plumed around them, stopping their free fall like an inflatable air bag.
"Quickly! Jump off!" shouted the Swan. They had landed halfway up a green, rocky slope littered with large boulders. An icy wind eddied around them, and the Swan's breath steamed the air. "Make haste before it comes! Quickly, behind the rocks!"
"Before what comes?" asked Ilien. Windy was already off and running for the nearest boulder.
"The watcher, that's what! Now go!"
"The watcher?" mumbled Ilien as he climbed down from his perch on the Swan's back. "What's it watching? This?" He regarded the bleak landscape with raised brows.
"Quit your grumbling and come on!" shouted Windy from behind a rock. Something caught her eye and she looked skyward. She seemed puzzled. "That's odd. Look!"
The sky stretched overhead like a blue glass dome, unbroken save for a single cloud in the distance. But the cloud didn't just hover as it should have. It streaked through the blue expanse at an amazing speed, trailing a thin white tail of vapor.
"It's here!" cried the Swan. "Now get behind that boulder with Windy. Let me handle this."
"What do you think it is?" asked Ilien as he ran toward Windy.
"It's a dragon," marveled Windy, her eyes still trained upward.
"It is nothing of the sort! Now get down," shouted the Swan, shaking her head.
Ilien reached the boulder and turned back. The cloud still sped across the sky, directly toward them, but within it he could just make out the form of a winged creature. Yes! A dragon! Smoke poured from its mouth, engulfing it in a billowing white cloud.
"Get down!" shouted the Swan, trying not to look in their direction. "I'll talk to it and explain why we're here. Don't come out until I say it's okay."
"Talk to a dragon?" said Ilien.
"No," replied the Swan. "A Gorgul. And yes, talk to one."
"A what?" asked Ilien.
"Never mind! Just stay down!"
"What's a Gorgul?" asked Windy, shielding her eyes and squinting skyward.
"A steam dragon," said Ilien, suddenly remembering his dream. "It breathes steam instead of fire. At least I think it does."
The Swan turned on Ilien. "Wherever did you get that idea? A Gorgul might breathe steam, but it is not nearly a dragon. Dragons are rather rude and stupid, regardless of what the old tales say. So don't ever call a Gorgul one if you know what's good for you. Now get down!"
Windy grabbed Ilien's arm and dragged him behind the boulder.
The sound of a steam engine crashing off its tracks split the air around them. Billowing clouds of vapor and dust drove past their hiding place, swallowing them in a plume of white-hot mist. Ilien expected an unconjured spell to race to his mind, but none did. Though the situation seemed perilous enough, he felt they weren't in any danger. Strangely, he knew they were safe, he just knew, and he pushed his way past Windy to get a better look at the Gorgul.
"Ilien, get back here!" demanded Windy.
"Come on," he called to her. "It's okay."
The sight that met him, though, nearly made him race back to the safety of the boulder. Perched upon a steam-shrouded boulder stood the Gorgul. Ilien blinked. It was straight from out of his dream. It thrust its long, reptilian neck into the air, its open mouth like a chimney spouting forth roiling smoke. Two leathery wings flexed outward twenty feet to a side, then curled slowly inward to wrap around its scaled body. A gurgling hiss sounded in its throat as vapor shot forth from a pair of red, fleshy gills, like slitted wounds just beneath its pointed ears. On seeing Ilien, the Gorgul swung its head around and sucked in air, its chest bulging like a giant tea kettle ready to sing.
Ilien froze in the steamy air. The Gorgul's inward breath ceased and its gills closed tight. Its eyes narrowed as it sized up its target.
Suddenly, the boulder on which it stood shouted, "Will you get off me, you flying steam iron!"
Ilien blinked twice. Once to clear his eyes, and once to clear his wits. The steam shrouded boulder was the Swan.
"Get off! Now!" demanded the Swan. "Will you never learn? Look before you leap! It's me, you leaky, near-sighted, rusting radiator! It's me, Penelope!"
The Gorgul squinted hard at the Swan beneath it, then let loose its mouthful of steam, bathing her in a cloud of thick white vapor. "What are you doing under there?" it asked. It turned a weak gaze on Ilien as Windy stepped cautiously from behind her boulder. "And why didn't you tell us you were coming today? We weren't expecting you for a couple of days. You know how careful we are nowadays." It craned its long, scaly neck toward Ilien, trying to determine if what it saw was really there at all.
"Get off!" shrieked the Swan, struggling violently.
Two leathery wings flapped twice and the Gorgul lifted from the Swan, sending clouds of dust into the air. Its great neck turned and its steaming body followed. It set itself down beside the prostrate, and very annoyed, Swan, and sniffed the air warily in Ilien's direction.
"By all that is real!" exclaimed the Swan. She rolled to her feet with all the dignity she could impart to a bad situation. "There's no reason for such poor eyesight. You live with a NiDemon! Fixing sight for him should be as easy as blinding a bat, for pity's sake."
Ilien stepped back. A NiDemon! It couldn't be! He must have heard wrong. But from the look on Windy's face, he evidently had hear correctly. The Swan had tricked him. The mysterious stranger she was taking him to was a NiDemon!
"No!" he cried. He stumbled backward and fell to the ground. "No!" Panicked thoughts raced through his mind, but he was too shocked to say anything else. Windy darted back to her boulder and crouched there in fear.
The Swan looked crossly at Ilien and shook her tail feathers. "Gather your wits. I am no traitor. I am no bringer of doom. Think Ilien! Think of all you have seen and learned."
The Gorgul's gill flaps squeezed tight and steam hissed between them.
"Did you not listen to what you were told?" asked the Swan.
Ilien did think hard for a moment as he sat in the dirt, but his thoughts were a jumbled mess. All he knew was that another whom he trusted had betrayed him. The Swan had led him to a NiDemon, all the while soothing him with promises of help at the journey's end. How could she have done such a thing? His throat felt suddenly thick, and he struggled to fight back tears. His pencil wriggled in his pocket.
The Gorgul shifted its feet and squinted at Ilien. Its huge scaled head leaned in close. One pale eye opened wide, examining the quaking boy. "What in the world did y
ou bring me, Penelope?" It reared back and cast a distressed look at the Swan. "Don't tell me this is the boy you told me about."
"The one and only," said the Swan.
"A rather poor specimen, if you ask me," replied the Gorgul.
Windy stood up, cleared her throat and stepped out from her hiding place. Both Gorgul and Swan flapped their wings in surprise, sending her scampering back, fleeing dust and debris. But when she saw Ilien sitting all alone in the dirt, broken and dismayed, she plucked up her courage and walked forward again.
"I'll have you know that this boy has more courage than the both of you combined! Look at you two—ten times his size and bullying him like schoolyard animals! Ilien alone faced the NiDemon under Greattower. He alone rescued me. Where I come from there are songs sung about such deeds. Poor specimen indeed!"
The Swan smiled, her eyes shining like black marbles in the sunlight. "My apologies to you both, your highness." She turned her long neck and lowered her feathery head to Ilien. "I would have told you, but then you would not have come. Remember what I said, that I was taking you to a friend, not a friend of mine, but perhaps a friend of yours? Do not be afraid. I am no traitor."
Ilien felt his face flush in anger and embarrassment. He climbed to his feet. "I will not make friends with a NiDemon," he said. "I've met one NiDemon already, and I didn't like him very much."
The Gorgul chuckled, relaxing its gills and breathing out steam. It bared its fangs in a sorry attempt at a smile. "Soften your heart. Not all NiDemon are alike, just as not all Nomadin are alike. You will find my master—different." The Gorgul planted its clawed feet firmly before Ilien. "Let me introduce myself properly. My name is Pedustil, and I am the personal body guard of Bulcrist, the NiDemon whose aid you seek." Pedustil lowered his head in a bow, but his eyes never strayed from Ilien's.
"Whose aid I seek?" questioned Ilien, glancing at the Swan. "We're out to rescue Gallund, a Nomadin. Why would a NiDemon choose to help me rescue a Nomadin?"
"Bulcrist will help you with many things," replied the Swan, lowering her wing to the ground so Ilien and Windy could again climb aboard her back. "Now get on. I will tell you more later."
Ilien looked suspiciously at the proffered wing.
"Get on. Ilien. It's getting late, we've a ways to go, and I don't want to be caught flying in the dark, especially along side a nearsighted Gorgul with leaky gill vents."
Windy and Ilien reluctantly climbed up to their perch upon her back. Pedustil thrust out his great leathery wings and with a heave lifted into the air. Sand and debris flew in all directions, especially theirs. Once he was fully out of the way, the Swan took a few quick steps, flapped twice, and followed behind the Gorgul as they climbed above the valley floor.
Chapter III
Tannon Bulcrist
The sun sat glowing on the horizon, and the land below was touched with shades of blue when they finally began their descent. They spiraled down toward rolling hills crowned with spiky evergreens. Rivers and streams snaked their way between the hills, bright silver ribbons twisting and turning on themselves, meandering through the shallow, rocky valleys.
Ilien had spent the two hour flight trying not to think about where they were going, but it was no use. He couldn't put it out of his mind any longer.
A NiDemon. The Swan was taking him to see a NiDemon. And though he knew now that the NiDemon looked nothing like the hideously twisted monsters described in childhood tales, he vowed to be cautious. The fact that they resembled the Nomadin didn't mean they weren't monsters. The last NiDemon he'd met, Philion, had been cruel, and Ilien had been caught off his guard, surprised by the NiDemon's appearance. This time he'd be ready for anything.
"Hold on," called the Swan. "There's some bumpy air below us." With that the three weary travelers descended rapidly toward the pine-topped hills.
Windy wrapped her arms around Ilien's waist. "Look there, to the left," she said in his ear.
Ilien peered in the direction she indicated and could see nothing peculiar, just another forested hilltop with here and there grey outcroppings of rock.
"Your other left," said the princess.
Ilien blushed and turned. There, on his actual left side, Ilien saw a tall stone cliff jutting from the side of an enormous hill prickly with dense pines. The cliff rose from the valley floor beside a tumbling river, and climbed several hundred feet to end at the hill's crown. There, a flat expanse of rock formed a roof of sorts, a ledge extending from the hill so that the entire cliff resembled the outline of a cunningly built castle, nestled into the steep hillside.
The Swan angled her wings and they slowed. As they approached the massive outcropping, Ilien blinked in surprise. A single light twinkled on the cliff's side, a hundred feet above the ground. Was a climber stranded on the cliff? A lone traveler signaling for help with his torch?
"We'll land by the river, near the base of the hill," shouted the Swan over the rush of the wind.
No. The light was a torch, but there was no climber. The torch burned brightly in a single, small window, carved from the stone face of the cliff. A single, out of place, perfectly square window. The rest of the cliff showed no sign of excavation. But there it was—a window, two hundred feet up, peering out over the river below.
"That is the watch light of Bulcrist, a guide for those who are expected," said the Swan in answer to Ilien's questioning gaze.
"Is the entire hill a castle?" asked Windy.
"Of sorts," replied the Swan. "It was meant to be a fortress, and no better hidden fortress is there in all Nadae."
Ilien was silent. A fortress? A fortress against what, or whom? This was obviously the NiDemon's lair, hidden several hundred miles in the middle of nowhere in a perfectly concealed castle of impenetrable rock. But how did the Swan come to know about this place? In all his thinking over the last few days, Ilien rarely stopped to consider her role in all this. She knew far too much and said far too little for his liking.
They landed a stone's throw from the river. Its dull roar attracted Ilien's attention. Compared to the mighty Quinebog which cut through the Far Plains, this river paled in both size and strength. Wider, but more shallow and rocky, the quick water tumbled over small boulders and fell into churning pools. Beyond the river, past the far sandy bank, rose another round hill dark with pines. A stiff breeze tousled the distant treetops.
"That's amazing!" marveled Windy beside him. Ilien turned to see what she was talking about.
Pedustil stood with his tail toward the towering cliff. Beside him, carved from the hard rock, rose two massive pillars on either side of a double-wide door of golden colored wood. The door itself could easily fit five men abreast. The pillars stood another five men high and were intricately etched from top to bottom with a spiraling design that shimmered in the half-light of the dying day. Ilien's mouth dropped open. The door! Was that what he thought it was? He had seen the golden wood only once before, in only one other place—at Hemlock in the Drowsy Wood. The door was carved from two imposing slabs of golden marrow from the enormous trees of the last mystical place in all Nadae!
"That's incredible," he said.
"Yes. Amazing, isn't it," replied Pedustil. "And quite a useful skill, I might add, for getting into tight spots."
Ilien snapped his head up to look at the Gorgul, confused. "What did you say?" he asked.
Pedustil smiled, obviously pleased with himself, but slightly annoyed at having to repeat himself. He stretched his long, leathery wings out wide. "Let me show you again," he said. "Pay attention this time. It's not easy to do."
Before Ilien could react, Pedustil closed his eyes in concentration, folded his massive wings back horizontally, slid them downwards, inwards, upwards and downwards again, and then as if on hinges they folded yet again, directly in two. With a final effort he tucked them away behind his back and they disappeared completely. Standing before Ilien he looked like a giant fat snake with feet. Ilien was amazed how much smaller Pedustil appeared with
his wings missing.
Pedustil opened his eyes and smiled. "Retractable wings," he said proudly.
Ilien's confusion deepened, and he stood dumbfounded for a moment. He shook his head, and ignoring the Gorgul's obvious cry for attention, gestured to the golden doors. "I thought this place was supposed to be well-hidden."
"What are you talking about?" said Windy. "It's not that big, and Pedustil was just showing you how he can retract his wings so he can fit through."
"Fit through?" Ilien pointed at the magnificent double doors again. "He could fly through those!"
"Fly through what? Solid rock? I don't know what you'retalking about, Ilien, but I'm talking about the cave." Windy pointed away to the right. "If you call that huge, then I think all that high altitude flying has finally caught up with you."
Ilien looked to where she pointed. A hundred feet to the right of the massive doors yawned a small cave, large enough for a man to walk upright, but clearly too small for Pedustil, unless he retracted his wings.
"And I'm talking about the double doors right in front of you!" said Ilien.
Windy gave Ilien a sideways glance. "Ilien. There are no doors in front of me."
Pedustil gave a start. "What did you say?" He was so surprised that one of his wings popped out of its hiding place upon his back and flopped to the ground.
"Don't tell me you can see them too," said Windy.
The Gorgul turned to Ilien, a strange look of wonder in his pale eyes. "No," he replied. "I've never been able to see them, though I know they are there."
The Swan rattled her tail feathers. She approached the cliff side, inspecting it as if for defects. She turned to Pedustil. "Are you saying that there are doors here that only Ilien can see? How is that possible?"
"There is only one other who can see the front gate to Ledge Hall, as it is called. Only master Bulcrist, for it is he who cast the spell to hide them." Pedustil's eyes grew wide. "It is a Nihilic spell which masks them from all others. And only one who is as skilled in Nihilic could ever see them."
"That's impossible!" said Ilien, as if he'd been accused of a crime. "I would never learn that evil tongue! And I never have!"
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