by GARY DARBY
I clench my fist over and over, feeling anger burn within me before it finally subsides. Gazing at Cara as she kneels in front of the burial stones, I not only understand her grief but it is mine.
Her bitter anger, my bitter anger.
Her hatred, my hatred.
My eyes turn up to the heavens, my fists clenched, my heart torn, ripped. How, oh, how I wish I weren’t the one who brought all those to her.
Scamper sits quietly beside me, and for once, seems to understand the sacred occasion and isn’t making a nuisance of himself nosing around trying to find food.
As night’s curtain begins to pass overhead and with it, the first of the evening stars appear, the group turns from the graves and somberly walks down the slope.
All are silent, except for Cara, who still occasionally sobs as she walks close to Helmar, her head bent and his arm tight around her waist.
Feeling that I shouldn’t join the group, I too turn away and take a few steps to stand on a tiny knoll and gaze at the scene in the narrow valley below. It’s been a day that few of us will ever forget.
For the moment, it seems, the Wilders have disappeared back into the mountains. Alonya and Desma have led the remaining contingent of the Amazos into the foothills, where to Alonya’s satisfaction, the ruling matriachs, by acclamation, affirmed her ascension to the throne.
Now, the city’s survivors of the Wilder attack slowly make their way up the Appan Way to the northern strongholds.
Among them, are a few Mori Amazos who lived through the battle with the Wilders. None wear blood-red kilts, the last outward vestiges of Gru’s torturous rule.
It will take time for the Golian soul and mind to heal from what they endured under Gru, but the rule of Queen Alony and Princess Desma, I believe there will come a time when they will be whole again.
Just beyond the foothills is an orange and ruddy glow that stretches clear across the horizon.
Flickering tongues of flame fill the sky. Black, billowing smoke soars high, casting a thick dark pall over the city’s heart and its suburbs. Only away from the inferno is the air clear enough to breathe without choking on the dense and acrid smoke.
Dronopolis is being abandoned as the inferno is now out of control, and there aren’t enough Amazos left to fight the fires. Dronopolis may have seemingly been made of stone, but its lush trees and gardens fuel the flames, plus the timbers used in their buildings.
A once proud and mighty city lies in ruins. Its sheer vastness means the flames will roar for several days unless by some miracle a days-long rainstorm sweeps over the city.
The survivors aren’t waiting for that miracle and the fear of the Wilders’ returning has caused Queen Alonya to order the Golians out of Dronopolis northward.
Those that are able-bodied carry what food and belongings they were able to salvage and climb wearily into the high foothills.
Here and there, a team of Elepho Oxen pull a carriage on which the most severely wounded lie moaning in their pain.
However, most of the injured are forced to hobble along or are being carried on makeshift stretchers. Some of the older children carry tired and worn-out little ones on their backs.
Unlike Master Boren and Daron, the Golians have not buried their dead. Instead, they’ve used the time to save the living and to make ready for the Wilders’ next onslaught.
I hear heavy footsteps and turn to find Queen Alonya standing but a few paces away. “Your city,” I murmur to her. “Your beautiful, amazing city is destroyed. I am so sorry.”
She stands silent, and she lets her gaze drop to the ground for a moment before she raises her head.
“Yes, but thanks to you and others, we were able to save many of my people, and for that, I am grateful. In time, Dronopolis will rise again, but for now, we must ready ourselves in case the Wilders return. That is the most important thing.”
Phigby comes to stand beside the new Golian Queen and lays a hand on my shoulder. “After you killed Aster’s dragon,” Phigby says, “the Wilders withdrew. Queen Alonya and her warriors were able to evacuate many, many more from the city because of that.”
I let out a breath and run a grimy hand over my face. A city destroyed but fortunately not all of its citizens with it. A small victory, but won at a terrible cost.
“Will the Wilders return?” I ask.
Amil joins the group and bows respectfully to Queen Alonya. “With your permission, Your Majesty, may I answer that?"
“Certainly, Amil, your counsel is always welcome.”
Amil gestures toward Dronopolis. “We hurt them badly,” he begins. “The destruction of the Sung Dar fleet, the loss of that behemoth dragon, not to mention that your warriors killed a great many of their reds.”
He smiles in grim satisfaction. “It is my thought that, for now, they’ve withdrawn to lick their wounds.”
“But will they return?” I ask again.
Helmar joins the group and nods solemnly. “Of that, you can be assured. The question is where and when. After all, they not only didn’t conquer the Golian Domain, they didn’t capture her.”
His eyes peer meaningfully in the golden’s direction.
I turn my eyes away from the glowing fires of Dronopolis and see Cara, far off to one side, with her head pressed against Wind Song. Once before, after we fled Draconstead, she thought her father and brother dead and cried.
But not knowing for sure if they had actually died, she had some small measure of hope that they still lived.
Now, she’s watched them die before her eyes, and from how her shoulders shake from her sobs, I know she feels the loss unbearable. “Yes,” I murmur low, “we hurt them, but they hurt us badly, too.”
“Yes,” Phigby murmurs. “And I agree with Helmar, they will be back, seeking the golden. Vay will not rest until she has her.”
Queen Alonya points over to where Phigby is discussing something with Desma and General Katus. “I too agree and because of that, I’m holding a war council. I would have you join us, provide me with counsel.”
Helmar and Amil give quick nods, turn and make their way towards Phigby. I hesitate, my eyes still on Cara. “Coming, Hooper?” the queen asks.
“I beg a moment, Your Majesty,” I answer.
She gives me a gentle pat on the shoulder, her eyes flicking toward Cara. “I understand,” she murmurs. “Take what time you need.”
I give the queen a small bow of respect and walk away from the group to stand next to the golden who, along with Wind Glory, sits off to one side.
The sprogs are curled up in sleep at her feet, and Scamper is off somewhere. I watch as Cara leads Wind Song behind an outcropping, shielded from the other’s eyes, to be alone in her grief.
“You have to go to her,” Golden Wind murmurs. “You know that. Explain what happened.”
“I can’t,” I mumble, “You know she blames me. Besides, I don’t know what to say—”
“You have to try, Hooper. Hard as it may seem, she needs to hear from you, or she will forever think that not only do you not care but that you are indeed to blame.
“And we both know that’s not true. You have to face her, explain, set things right between the two of you.”
The moons have started to rise over the mountains and for a moment, it seems as if she, and she alone, is bathed in their light. Golden Wind raises her head, peering at the moons while a soft aura surrounds and flows over her.
Then, slowly, the light pulls away and she turns to me. “No one is assured of a tomorrow, you only have today to do what must be done in this day.”
I glance up at her, my eyes still blinking as I’m wondering if I actually saw her bathed in shining light.
Then I shake my head, unsure of what I actually saw and murmur, “Easy enough for you to say. I think that I’d rather fight Vay with a twig than have to face Cara and her damning looks.”
The golden nudges me with a leg; my own legs feel as if they’re bound by together by stiff rope. I can hardly m
ove, but I slip behind the outcropping and stop as I can’t take another step.
Cara is leaning against Wind Song as if to gather some comfort from the touch of the dragon that she loves so much.
Her crooning is so so soft that I can’t make out her words, but I can feel the desolation, the lost, lonely hurt in them.
I want to reach out, to hold her, comfort her, ease her pain, but I can’t.
I’m the reason for her anguish. I can’t help but feel it was my doing that caused her father and brother’s death. In some way, I should have been able to hold onto Daron, save him from falling, only I didn’t and now he and Master Boren are dead.
In my heart, I believe that I have no words, no apology; no remorse great enough that will ever ease Cara’s loss. I have to say something, do something, but what?
“Cara?” My words are hardly more than a whisper. “Cara, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean for . . . I didn’t know . . . I’m . . . I’m so sorry.”
Her head snaps up, and she whirls as if my words are a whip at her back. Her pained expression gives way to anger as she stares at me. She hesitates before she spins around, her back to me, unwilling to turn and face me.
I hang my head down as it’s apparent that my fumbling, bumbling attempt has only made matters worse.
Then from behind, a new voice murmurs, “Cara, Hooper is trying to tell you how sorry he is, but more importantly, you need to know it was not Hooper’s fault that your father and brother died. The fact is, Hooper tried with all his might to save Daron.”
Cara slowly turns. She looks around, but there’s no one there but the golden and myself. “Hooper,” she whispers, “that wasn’t your voice, nor any of the others’. Who—”
The golden takes a step forward until her head is just above me. Cara’s eyes grow wide, and her mouth drops open. “Golden Wind,” she asks with a catch in her voice, “was that you?”
“Yes, Cara, it was.”
Cara’s intake of breath is sharp, and she stumbles back against Wind Song. “You can talk, and I understand you!”
Her eyes flash in anger. “I was right, you two were talking that night in the forest!”
“Yes,” the golden answers. “Hooper couldn’t reveal it to you because I wouldn’t allow him. The time was not right. Now it is.”
Golden Wind pauses and then lowers her head so that she and Cara are eye to eye. “Cara, do not blame Hooper for your tragedy. Your brother tried to help Aster kill Hooper. During the struggle, to save Hooper, I knocked Daron down with my talons.
“I had meant only to brush him, to give Hooper time to recover from their attack. But Aster’s monster lurched up just as I swept over its back and I hit Daron harder than I meant to.
“The strike from my claws sent Daron sliding off the side of Aster’s dragon. He managed to catch himself, but he had only one hand to hold onto the scales. It was Hooper who climbed down and tried to save him from falling.”
She pauses, lets out a long sigh. “Hooper did everything he possibley could to save Daron. He couldn’t use the gemstone, so he placed his own life in danger to save Daron. He went down the beast’s side and pulled Daron scale by scale upward.
“They were almost to the top, almost to safety, when Aster appeared. Before Hooper could do anything, cut through Daron’s tunic that Hooper had gripped so tightly to keep him from falling.”
She pauses and then says softly, “It was Aster’s blow that caused Daron to tumble off and fall to his death. Hooper is innocent but he blames himself and agonizes over what happened.”
Cara listens intently and then slowly, her expression changes from anger to sadness again, and she puts a hand to her mouth. “Hooper tried to save Daron?” she sniffles.
“Oh, yes,” the golden gently but firmly speaks. “To the point that Hooper placed his own life in danger. But he did it, not for Daron, but for you, because he knew that you loved your brother, even after what he had become, even after all the horrible things that Daron did to Hooper beforehand.”
Cara looks at me with soft eyes. “Is that right, Hooper?”
I can only give her the barest of nods.
Then, the golden says, “After Hooper saw your father and Wind Rover sacrifice themselves trying to save Daron, it filled him with a righteous anger. It was the spur that he needed to fight so valiantly, to defeat Aster, destroy the monster, and in turn, be willing to die so that others might live.
“If you must blame anyone, condemn Aster and me. Me, if you must for hitting Daron too hard in my effort to save Hooper; Aster for his despicable actions. Hooper bears no fault, on that you have my word.”
Through all of this, I’ve kept my gaze averted, my eyes to the ground.
A soft, gentle hand lift my chin up, and I look into the most beautiful eyes in the world. “I’m sorry, Hooper,” Cara murmurs.
A tiny smile lifts the corners of her perfect lips. For an instant, fondness in her tear-streaked eyes replaces sadness. “Forgive me?”
I hesitate and then shake my head firmly. “No, because there is nothing in this world that you could ever do to me that would require that I forgive you. There is nothing to forgive, not now, not ever.”
We gaze deeply into each other’s eyes for a long moment before Cara glances up to the golden. “Thank you, Golden Wind, for telling me what actually happened. And no, I do not blame you for your actions. You did not mean for it to happen.”
She hesitates and then says, “And, of course, your secret is safe with me, I promise.”
“Thank you, Cara,” the golden replies. “For your understanding and your promise. However, there is one other thing you need to know. There was more than one sacrifice of the heart today.”
Golden Wind nods to me. “Show her the gemstone.”
I reach into my tunic pocket and first take out the emerald jewel. Then I bring forth the sapphire gem.
Deep within its soft blue luminance, there’s a small wisp of cloud that swirls around as if there’s a soft breeze inside the precious stone.
Cara’s go wide as she stares into its brilliance. “It’s Wind Rover’s,” I explain. “She gave it to me just before she died.”
Cara softly gasps, “Before she died? You mean—”
“Yes,” I murmur. “She lived just long enough to give me this and to tell me to remember her sacrifice of the heart forever.”
Cara’s mouth slowly opens and her eyes widen. “She spoke to you?”
I nod while I hold the gem out to her. She bites down on her lip, takes the gemstone and caresses it to her bosom.
She begins to sob, and I do what once was unthinkable. I reach out with both arms, wrap them tightly around her trembling shoulders and hold her close.
Cara melts into my body and I hold her tight as each of her long, wracking sobs breaks my heart, and I wish with all my might that I could take her hurt, her pain to myself.
“Oh, Hooper, I was wrong, so very wrong about so many things,” she whispers, her breath soft and warm against my cheek.
We stay that way for the longest time before Cara pulls back slightly and says, “Thank you, Hooper. Thank you for letting me hold her jewel. For some reason, just holding it eased my pain.”
A tiny smile curls her lips. “And thank you for holding me when I needed it.” She places the sapphire next to the emerald in my hand.
I can feel the golden’s breath on my neck and turn. “Hooper, do you remember when Phigby said that Voxtyrmen was the Jewel of Growth?”
“Yes,” I answer. “Why?”
“He also said,” she goes on, “that it was called that because it had power over the living, growing greenery of Erdron. But, he was only partially correct. It has the potential to grow other things as well.”
I glance down at my skinny arms, legs, and body before giving her a skeptical look. “Well, I’m afraid that in my case, it doesn’t seem to be working very well.”
Golden Wind gives me an indulgent smile. “There are many ways to grow, Hooper, s
piritually, emotionally, mentally—courageously. And they are as important, maybe even more, than being physically strong or able.
“Hooper, Pengillstorr gave you his jewel so that you would grow, to become the person you are supposed to be. But as an oaken tree or a Dragon Heart tree never stops growing, you cannot stop growing, either.
“There are still many more tests that await you—that await all of us. There are more mountains to climb and it will take all the courage, all the strength that you now have to pass those tests and scale those heights.”
Her eyes grow serious and her expression, sober. “However, for you to continue to grow, there is one challenge, one test, that you must face here and now.
“It won’t be the last you’ll confront, but without facing it and conquering it, you will never be able to overcome those obstacles that are still to come.”
I glance at Cara, whose eyes must be as big as my own.
Cara slips her hand in mine. “Whatever it is,” she whispers, “I’ll be right here beside you.”
I squeeze her hand and smile gratefully. I peer back at the golden.
“Are you ready?” she asks.
“I—I guess so,” I answer.
Golden Wind lowers her head so that we’re face to face. “You once asked me if Pengillstorr was special and I told you that he was the Forest King, remember?”
I nod at her. “Yes, and you also said that he was more than just that, but you didn’t explain what.”
The golden stares at me for a long time. “Hooper, do you remember the night your family perished?”
Her question takes my breath away it’s so unexpected. I work my mouth for a moment before I snap, “What has that got to do with any test here and now?”
I hold up my scarred hand and arm. “But as you can see, I wil carry that memory where ever I go for the rest of my life.”
“Hooper,” she murmurs, “tell me what happened that night.”
I shake my head at her. I don’t want to remember, to relive that terrible memory. Ask of me anything, except that. Golden Wind looms close. “Hooper, you must do this.”