by GARY DARBY
He glares and for a moment, I’m held by what I see as a shadowy aura that seems to surround the prince, a darkness that has shape but no substance.
From the shadow comes power, and Aster’s voice rumbles through the air like thunder. “Do not think you can trick me, for I see where others are blind, hear where others are deaf, walk where none dare tread and act while cowards tremble in their rats’ holes.”
I wonder if it is Aster who speaks or Vay? Has she somehow taken over Aster’s mind and will, too?
“Then it would seem,” Phigby calls out in his own firm voice, “that you need to listen better, see more clearly, walk straighter, and pay heed to the fact that rash acts lead to costly consequences. Look below you, Aster, at the scores of Wilders and dragon bodies that litter the ground.”
Prince Aster gives the ground below a casual glance as if he cares not for those who lay slain.
His laugh is harsh, grating. “Costly?” he answers. “I could lose ten times ten of those that lie dead, and it would be as if a few stars went dark in the night sky from what I can amass if needed.”
“And what of your Sung Dar fleet and your drog army?” Amil shouts. “Could you lose ten times ten of them? Look to the sea, Aster, for that is precisely what you did.”
Aster jerks his head to one side as if he’s just now seeing the billowing smoke that rises from the sea, signaling the death of his fleet and his invading drogs.
“That’s right, Prince Aster,” Amil sarcastically calls out, “the mighty Sung Dar fleet lies burning and destroyed as does your slimy, scum-filled drog army.”
Aster’s mouth goes tight, and he clenches and unclenches his fists. The Sung Dar’s defeat is more than just a surprise, it is a shock to his pride and vanity.
His voice is angry, hard, threatening. “Enough. I tire of this. Give me what I want or I feed each of you by an arm or a leg at a time to my always ravenous King of Dragons.”
We remain mute; our silence is our answer.
Aster leans forward, rage on his face. “So is that your final answer?”
From below comes a loud and penetrating voice. “Yes! And this is our final answer!”
A long, thick, pointed shaft flies through the air. It whizzes past Aster and Daron, missing them by less than a hand’s width.
Panicked, they stumble backward before both fall onto the dragon monster’s scales and roll away to place the leviathan’s head between them and another projectile.
Without a word from me, Golden Wind dives down and to the left and as she does, I glance below and see rank upon rank of Golian ballistas filling the streets.
Teams of Elepho Oxen pull the four-wheeled carriages into place while scores of Amazos put their shoulders into turning and guiding the huge carts into place.
As soon as our dragons dash away, I see Queen Alonya jerk her hand downward and with it, the dart-throwing machines unleash a barrage of bolts at Aster’s mammoth beast.
The shafts hit the brute like a torrent of hailstones, but its scales are so thick that the giant arrows bounce off, having no effect.
Then, through the boiling curtain of flame and smoke comes a horde of Wilder dragons. What was before a trickle of a few dozen now becomes a torrent, a rolling tide of crimson war dragons.
Their fire joins with the monster’s until it is a solid wall of flame that bursts even the stoutest of granite edifices asunder. Master Boren leads us down until we hover just above Alonya. “Your Majesty, what can we do to help?” he calls out.
Queen Alonya wipes a grimy hand across her forehead, smearing ash the color of charcoal across her face. “I’ve ordered the city evacuated,” she calls back bluntly. “We cannot hold against this.”
She points to the west. “Most of the young and old will try to flee down the Appan Way and make for our strongholds there. Do what you can to hold the road open. If the Wilders cut it, then I fear that few will be able to escape.”
With that, Master Boren turns Rover toward the wide boulevard that leads toward a high cut in the foothills to the west, and we trail behind. I glance over my shoulder, and my body stiffens.
Aster has turned the giant red to follow us. I urge Golden Wind to catch up with Wind Song. I point at what follows and call out, “Aster gives chase.”
Both Cara and Phigby glance over their shoulder before Phigby answers, “Yes, but we’re faster. That so-called king dragon may be big, but it’s slow in the air.”
From the other side, Helmar shouts, “When you’re that immense, you don’t need speed.”
“Quite right,” Phigby concedes, “we’re the feisty little sloops while that thing’s a lumbering galleon. But even so, we’re more than outmatched.”
I look behind, and though we’ve outdistanced it, the gargantuan beast still follows. “This isn’t going to work,” I shout. “We’ll lead it straight to where we don’t want it to go.”
As if she suddenly realizes the import of my words, Cara has Wind Song spurt ahead; no doubt to warn Master Boren that our nemesis shadows us.
I lean down and say, “Golden Wind, we’ve got to do something, Aster is going to destroy Dronopolis and kill everyone he can find.”
She doesn’t immediately answer but then slowly asks, “Hooper, are you ready to run to the fight? Are you prepared to do what must be done, no matter the cost?”
I’m not exactly sure what she’s asking of me, but I immediately answer, “Of course, if it means saving Queen Alonya and her people.”
Suddenly, without another word, the golden cups her wings and we come to a dead stop in the air.
For a long moment, she just hovers. It seems as if time comes to a standstill. There’s no wind, no sound, the clouds no longer race across the sky, even the sun seems frozen in place.
Then, the spell is broken and Golden Wind pirouettes in the air as if she’s spinning on her tail. We dive down, picking up speed, straight at Aster and his so-called dragon lord.
I don’t have a clue what Golden Wind is planning. All I know is that it had better be soon because we’re but a few heartbeats away from the giant brute and its wall of dragon fire.
We’re so close now that I can see both Aster and Daron. Their brows are furrowed, and their faces hold expressions of anxious questioning. They too are wondering what the golden is about to do.
“Hooper,” she calls back, “get ready. When I tell you to, you must jump immediately. Do not hesitate, for if you do, you’ll fall to your death, and we may get only one chance at this.”
My heartbeat thuds in my ears, my breathing comes as loud as the rushing wind. I loosen my leg hold on Golden Wind’s neck and push back slightly. “I’m ready. I think.”
“Then here we go,” she calls out.
Suddenly, Golden Wind’s wings burst into a dazzling golden brilliance. Each wing burns with such radiance that I have to bring a hand up to shield my eyes.
Then she points her head down, and we dive right at the monster that seems to be waiting for us.
Behind us is a vibrant tapestry of gilded light that flows through the air. It’s not wispy like a cloud. Instead, it seems solid enough that one could walk upon it and not sink through.
We’re close enough to the dragon giant that I can see both Aster and Daron duck and hold their hands up as if to shield themselves from the brilliant light.
The giant dragon rears its head back. It bellows in pain as if the golden light burns its scales. Then, Golden Wind flips her wings on edge just as we reach the beast and shouts, “Now, Hooper!”
I launch myself off her neck, my arms and legs flailing as if I were trying to walk on air. I hit the brute’s scales as if I were a flat stone skipping across a pond. I bounce, roll, and bounce again.
Before I can stop, I’m sliding down the beast’s side, scrabbling for a handhold on one of its huge scales. I claw with both hands until I finally snag the edge of a plate.
I look down and I forget to breathe.
Dangling over the side, there’s not
hing between me and the ground far below but empty air.
I manage to get a toehold on another plate and slowly, I pull myself up, one scale at a time until I’m finally able to stand on the beast’s broad back. The golden shoots by, leaving a dazzling, flowing trail of light behind her.
For the moment, Aster and his dragon king are distracted by the golden and don’t know that I’m here.
I draw my emerald sword and take a deep breath. I understand now the golden’s plan. I’m to take on Aster and Daron.
If I somehow can defeat them, then perhaps, just perhaps, I can gain control of their dragon monster, turn it away from Dronopolis, maybe even turn it against the Wilders and their raging crimson beasts.
Crouching, I silently move forward. Aster is armed, but I can’t tell if Daron carries a weapon or not.
Aster’s dragon hovers in place, seemingly confused and disoriented by the golden’s brilliant rivers of light that stream across the sky. It bellows and shakes its head as if blinded by the radiance.
I’m within a few steps of Aster when the golden flashes just above. Aster turns to follow the golden, and when he does, he catches sight of me.
For a moment, his mouth gapes open in amazement. “You,” he hisses before he rips his sword out of its scabbard and leaps around his gilded throne.
He charges at me and brings his blade down with a mighty blow. Our edges catch for an instant before his tip slides off mine, and he whirls his sword upward in a hard undercut.
I barely dance out of the way of his blade before he rains down blow after blow upon my sword. Staggering back, he rushes me.
We come together, me with my sword held up to ward off his blade, he coming at me with his height advantage.
His face is but a knife’s edge from mine, and his hot breath sweeps across my cheeks. “I should have killed you back in the barn,” he grinds out between clenched jaws.
He shoves me so hard that I fall, ending up on my back as his scimitar comes swinging down. The jolt almost knocks my blade from my hand.
Aster swings again, but at the last instant, I manage to roll away, and his sword slashes into a crimson scale.
When I fought Vay, my sword seemed to have a life of its own, and I parried her thrusts as if I were a trained swordsman. Now, my blade feels as if it were a deadweight in my hand and I’m barely managing to hold Aster off.
My one advantage for the moment is that he is enraged beyond reason. He’s an inflamed maniac who knows only to rain down savage blow after savage blow on my sword.
A furious wildman has replaced the calculating and expert swordsman that I saw at Dunadain Keep.
That Boren rejected his offer and that he has not killed me by now, infuriates him even more. His eyes take on a crazed look as if all reason has left him.
Scrambling to my feet, I fling my sword up just as he unleashes another jarring strike. Then I see Daron running up from behind the prince.
Outstretched in his hand is a short sword. It’s evident that he intends to join Aster, and I know that I cannot battle the two of them together. Once he enters the fray, my fate is sealed.
A golden glow suddenly appears, darting toward the giant’s head. It’s Golden Wind.
Somehow, she knows that I’m in trouble. She tucks her wings, gains speed and dangles her talons under her body. I immediately understand what she intends to do.
Maybe it was my full eyes or my sudden stiffening that warned Aster.
Whatever it was, just before the golden reaches us, he flings himself to one side, just as I do. But not Daron.
The golden’s talons catch him squarely, sending him sailing over the giant’s back. He hits hard, rolls, and begins to slide over the side.
I can hear him screaming as he hurtles over the scales and then his shrieks abruptly stop. Aster pulls himself to one knee, warily keeping an eye turned to the sky to see if the golden will return.
Then, I hear Daron’s faint, “Help me!”
I roll to my feet. For a moment, I hesitate. I owe nothing to Daron. All I’ve ever been to him is someone to bully and humiliate. However, if I owe anyone, it’s Cara for she has brought me a few precious moments of light in my life.
And she loves her brother.
I turn away from Aster, hoping that he’ll stay cowered for the time I need to help Daron.
Reaching the side, I peer over. Daron is barely holding onto the edge of a scale, but only with one hand. The other arm hangs limp and useless, broken no doubt when the golden struck him or when he crashed onto the brute’s rock-hard scales.
I suck in a breath and mutter to myself, “Hooper, you’re a fool, you know that, don’t you?” Sliding my sword into my scabbard, I ease myself down the beast’s side.
Fortunately, the dragon giant is barely moving in the air, so I have to fight little more than a breeze as I clamber down though even the slightest movement of its enormous wings sounds as if I’m standing near a thundering waterfall in the air.
Breathing hard, from both exertion and fear, I finally stand on the edge of a plate just above and to Daron’s side.
Holding precariously onto the scale with my scarred hand, I reach down and grab a handful of his tunic. “I’ll pull you up, but you’ve got to help me with your good arm and your feet. Do you understand?”
He grimaces in pain but nods. I begin to pull while Daron scrabbles for a toehold. He catches an edge with his toes and stands.
I climb the following scale, and we repeat the process. Twice more, I pull him up and hold him until he can perch on an edge.
My breath comes hard and fast. I know we only have a bit more to go, but I can feel my strength waning. Gritting my teeth, I pull until Daron is again on an edge.
I reach up to the next scale but instead of my hand finding the next plate, my fingers strike against a hard boot toe.
I peer up. Aster is standing above us with a sardonic smile on his face. He laughs at the two of us. “Saving your enemy, Hooper? How noble of you, but I fear it’s been a wasted effort.”
He brings his sword up high. I don’t know exactly what happens next. Maybe Aster is off-balance, maybe he does it on purpose.
All I know is that Aster’s sword slashes down. If the edge was meant for me, it missed, and instead cleanly slices the fabric of Daron’s tunic that I grasp in one hand.
Before I can grab another fistful of cloth, Daron screams, “No!” and is tumbling through the sky, falling helplessly to his death.
Aster’s blow has caused me to lose my hold, and I slip down the beast’s side, only at the last instant am I able to grab onto a scale and stop myself.
I don’t want to look down, but I do anyway, and suck in a breath at what I see.
Master Boren and Cara are winging just below. Cara’s face is frozen in terror as she sees her brother falling helplessly through the sky.
In an instant, Master Boren has Wind Rover in a steep dive as if he would catch his son before Daron crashes into the ground.
I’m unable to tear my eyes away from the scene, even though my hold on the plate is precarious at best and I’m in danger of joining Daron in his fall.
As if I’ve been struck by a lightning bolt, my body goes rigid and my mind numb, as I suddenly realize that Boren has no chance to save his son.
Nevertheless, Rover speeds downward faster and faster toward the onrushing ground. I can see Boren reach out to his son as if he would pull him to safety.
I can hear Cara screaming, and I shout at the top of my lungs, “Pull up! Pull up!”
My cries go unheeded and then it’s over.
Master Boren has joined his son, lying broken and smashed on the bloodied ground. What they did not have in common in life, they finally have in death.
Both killed by an evil, sadistic madman who knows nothing of life or light.
Chapter 33
Tears of rage and pain fill my eyes. Now I understand why the golden asked me if I was willing to do what was necessary, no matter the cost to
run toward the fight. And now I know, the price was too high.
For some reason, I feel it’s my fault that Master Boren lies dead on the rocks far below. I’ve let the company down. Worst of all, I’ve let Cara down.
Maybe . . . maybe it should be me lying dead on the ground and not Master Boren.
Then, my hurt slowly turns into cold anger, an icy rage that spreads from my gut outward until it fills my whole body. I glance up, but Aster is gone.
Suddenly, the giant beast starts to whip itself from side to side. I recognize instantly what it’s trying to do—dislodge me, send me plummeting to the ground.
With every bit of strength I have left I slowly pull myself up until I’m finally able to crawl onto the beast’s back.
Aster is standing on the behemoth’s head, pulling its giant horns first this way and then that. The monster is writhing through the air as if it were an enormous sky serpent.
Pulling my sword out, I stagger forward, my face and my heart like stone. I barely remember my own father, but in some ways, I picture him something akin to Master Boren.
Gruff, but loving to his children, steadfast and loyal to family; willing to sacrifice his own life trying to save his child.
I advance on Aster, and I don’t care if he turns to face me, or not. I will see him die for what he has done this day.
Perhaps Vay warned him, for just as I reached him he turned at the last instant. My sword is an emerald blur as I slash at him, but as luck has it, I miss.
Instead, my sword rips through one of the giant dragon horns, spraying shards of bony tusk over the beast’s head.
Aster barely has time to draw his sword before I’m upon him. This time, it is he that staggers under a furious rain of blows. My fury surges through me. My cold rage is now a fiery passion and my blade blazes in my hand like a pillar of emerald light.
I pound and batter his scimitar, my attacks driving him back and he gives ground each time my sword lands. The tip of his curved sword shatters and metal slivers fly through the air.
My sword glows with an emerald luster so brilliant it’s as if it had just come from a fiery forge.