“Perhaps she’s a chameleon,” he stated.
“Hah! I’m no such thing. Chameleons are extremely rare, and I killed the last one in our vicinity.”
Streak snuck behind Batram and nipped a big bite of popcorn.
“Hey!” Batram swatted at him with his scroll. “Go away, spider-eating pest!” He cleared his throat. “Perhaps I can clear matters up and give the young Grey Cloak some reassurance. This is indeed Zanna Paydark. I can vouch for that. She’s been a customer in the bartery for many years.”
Grey Cloak crossed his arms. “If that’s the case, and you’re indeed my mother, then what’s my real name?”
“It certainly isn’t Grey Cloak,” she scoffed. “I’d never give a child of mine such a silly name.”
He frowned. “It’s not silly.”
“You named yourself after a garment.”
“Why does everyone say that?”
Zanna’s stern expression softened. She came closer to him and placed her hands on his shoulders. “Your name is Dindae. It means my little shadow.” Her words rang true.
His eyes began to water. He broke away from her. “It can’t be. My mother is dead.”
“I’m not dead. At least, not in the sense most people would believe it. There is a lot you don’t know and need to understand. I believe now is an opportune time to explain it.”
Grey Cloak clenched his jaw. He was angry when he should be happy. She infuriated him.
Dyphestive tapped Zanna on the shoulder. “I believe you, but I have a question. Can you tell me what happened to my father? Is he alive too?”
The room quieted. Only Batram’s obnoxious crunching could be heard.
“The less you know, the better,” she said.
“Oh yes, here we go. Another dodge,” Grey Cloak said.
“Hush. I want to know the truth,” Dyphestive insisted.
Zanna reached up and touched his face. “And you deserve it. Your father is a very dear friend of mine—a Sky Rider, the same as me.” She stood before him and offered a solemn look. “Olgstern Stronghair is alive, but he would be better off dead.”
38
Grey Cloak didn’t talk, but he listened to every word his alleged mother said. He stood with his back to the wall, leaning against it with his arms crossed and frowning as Zanna Paydark continued to spin her story while the others hung on her every word.
“It all came down to the Day of Betrayal,” Zanna solemnly said. “The Sky Riders were at full strength, more than equipped to take the monster dragon down. Led by your father, Olgstern, we flew to Dark Mountain fully prepared to launch our attack.” She paced with her arms crossed and spoke with a serious look on her face. “I’ll never forget the day—over one hundred Sky Riders flying in formation with dragon wings shining against the sun. One single focus. One single mind. Or so we thought.
“At that time, we’d come to understand the nature of Black Frost’s rise to power. We knew that he had tapped the vein of another world and that was where he drew his power. What we didn’t know was how to stop it or close the portal, but the Sky Riders agreed, one step at a time. We needed to destroy Black Frost and close the portal after.” She leaned on the display case and fixed her eyes on the objects that gleamed inside the glass.
“Unfortunately, he was one step ahead of us. We arrived at Dark Mountain with superior numbers, outmatching the Riskers three to one. It should have been an easy victory. It would prove to be anything but. As we circled the temple, remaining airborne, we urged Black Frost to surrender. Instead, he stood his ground in sheer defiance and gave us a warning.” Her face darkened. “‘Join me or die.’”
She continued with a haunted look in her eyes. “We laughed. Can you believe it? From our lofty heights, we actually sniggered, never realizing the full extent of our danger. We were so arrogant, so full of pride, so angry, but we were blinded. We had vengeance in our eyes. You see, Black Frost killed your father, Grey Cloak, and your mother, Dyphestive. And that wasn’t all. He weakened the other Sky Riders as well with his brazen attack. Little did we know that he was setting us up for the Great Fall.”
“Olgstern Stronghair ordered the attack. We began our descent in attack formation. The Riskers and their dragons stood their ground, guarding Black Frost on the top of the temple. I saw his eyes and the spark of deceit within—a predator about to devour his prey. I’ll never forget the moment, the feeling of my stomach sinking into my toes.” She hung her head. “We were attacked by our very own.”
Batram had created two more small buckets of popcorn and shared them with Streak and Dyphestive. They all stuffed the fluffy white kernels in their mouths, crunching loudly.
“That sucks.” Streak buried his nose in the bucket of food. “What happened?” He rolled onto his back, picked up the bucket, and dumped its remaining contents into his wide-open mouth. “Mmm, that’s good.”
Zanna didn’t show any irritation in her creaseless forehead. “Two-thirds of the Sky Riders turned on their kind. They flew in the formation’s back ranks and attacked everyone before them. Their arrows and javelins intended for the Riskers struck against their own men. The Riskers guarding the temple attacked. We were caught off guard, hemmed in by our very own, and outnumbered.
“Black Frost only added salt to the wound. He was four times bigger than any other dragon. His scorching flames consumed grand dragons whole. In the flick of a lash, we were lost. Honorable Sky Riders perished that day. Others succumbed to evil. We only had one last play to make.”
Grey Cloak’s heart beat in his ears. Her words drew him in as if he were reliving all she said.
“Olgstern and I agreed. We told Justus and the others to flee. The battle was lost. We stayed behind and drew the enemy’s fire,” Zanna continued. “I had no doubt that Black Frost’s power came from deep within the temple. That was why he guarded it so heavily. Determined to unravel his secret, we drove our dragons into the heart of evil, summoning as much of our shields as we could to protect us. I had a ruse. Olgstern crashed onto the top level, where smoke and flames already billowed. I scattered more smoke in all directions using vials, much like you do.” She gave Streak an approving look. “Because it’s always prudent to have a backup plan.
“Taking advantage of the confusion, using the cover of smoke and darkness, we navigated our way into the bowels of the temple and descended deep into its depths. At the bottom, we traced the energy source that fed him, where we confirmed he was draining the vibrant life force of another world. Our goal was simple—cut off the source and destroy the portal—but we had no idea how. We followed the signs and wandered into the chamber, where we saw an open portal and glimpsed another world. It was a beautiful place, with marvelous vegetation and fields of wonder, but the colorful landscapes were turning gray. The eye of the portal burned like a great lantern, but there was no way to shut it.” She sighed. “We crept closer. My skin felt pricked by a thousand needles. Tiles covering pressure plates gave way. We were consumed by gas and turned into solid stone.”
Grey Cloak applauded slowly. “Magnificent story, but if you were turned to stone, how did you wind up here?”
Zanna smirked. “That story is a lot more complicated.”
39
Dyphestive rested his head in his hands. “So, my father is a statue?”
“Take heart, Festive. There is hope for him, thanks to you and Grey Cloak. I’m very proud of you both, and no doubt your father will be too.”
Grey Cloak stood. “Explain how it is you came to be here and how he’s stuck there.”
“The less you know, the better. It’s risky enough that we’ve been forced into contact. I tried to avoid it,” she said.
“Obviously,” Grey Cloak stated.
“I know this is difficult, but show some respect. I am your mother.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know you.”
“Festive, is he always hardheaded?” she asked.
“It can be an issue.”
Zann
a Paydark took off her coat and set it down on the countertop. “Batram, I’m going to need some new clothing.” Her old garments were moth-eaten and frayed. “See what you can find me while I talk to the children.”
Batram pulled a handkerchief out of his front pocket and wiped his hands. “I imagine I’ll find something. It’s been good to see you after all these years. I’ve missed your visits.” He glanced at Grey Cloak. “His, not so much. He’s made out like a bandit and still owes me for the cloak.”
Grey Cloak tightened his cloak around his body. “No, I don’t.”
Batram grew into his monstrous form, standing over ten feet tall with a bug-eyed face and eight insect arms. He leaned over the counter and said in a demonic voice, “Yes, you do!” He took Zanna Paydark’s cloak, bowed to her, turned, and walked away.
“I wouldn’t upset Batram. He’s an ally we desperately need,” Zanna said. “I’ve spent decades building a strong relationship with him. I’d hate for you to spoil it.” She eyed the Cloak of Legends. “As you can see, it has benefitted you as well.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“I left the Cloak of Legends for you. It used to be mine, but I gave it to Batram. I told him to let you have it if you ever walked in here one day.”
Grey Cloak scoffed. “You’re only saying that.”
She gave him a nonchalant look. “You can ask him if you like.”
“I don’t think I could take his word any more than I would take yours.”
“Cut her some slack, boss,” Streak stated. “I would never talk to my mother like that. And I’d be thrilled if I ever even met her.”
“Why is everyone against me? I’m not the one who avoided my children for decades. She abandoned me.”
“No, I didn’t. Black Frost captured us after he killed your father, Jerrik. He was a wizard of the Watch, a very kind man. He is the one who discovered Black Frost’s plan.” She couldn’t hide her guilt. “He’s the one who opened the portal. He tried to close it again, but Black Frost betrayed him.”
Grey Cloak gave her a haughty look. “My, don’t you spin a fine tale? Let me guess. Dyphestive’s mother spins yarn into gold.”
Zanna slapped his face. “Don’t speak ill of the dead. Like it or not, I’m your mother. Jerrik was your father, and Festive’s father is made of stone. It hurts. I have to live with it. I protected you from that. Festive’s mother, Careena, was my best friend, a vision of grace and kindness, and I saw her destroyed.” She poked him in the chest. “Now you know. Now you can live with that!”
Grey Cloak rubbed his sore cheek. “Sorry.” He smirked. “But it’s been a long day.”
“It’s been a long lifetime.” Zanna took a deep breath. “But thanks to you two, believe it or not, we can put an end to this madness.” She showed a space between her thumb and finger. “We are this close. Will you listen or not?”
“I’m all earholes,” Streak said.
Dyphestive pushed himself up on one leg. Popcorn rolled off his chest onto the floor. He stooped down and offered Zanna a sheepish smile. “Can I have a hug?”
Zanna’s eyes teared up. She opened her arms. “Of course you can.”
Grey Cloak’s throat tightened. He swallowed the lump building inside it. In his heart of hearts, he knew the truth, that the woman standing before him was his mother, Zanna Paydark. She beckoned him over with her hand. He moved in, and they all embraced.
Dyphestive sobbed. His rumblings shook them like leaves.
“Let me get in on this.” Streak wormed himself into the action. “Ah, that feels nice.”
Zanna broke away and wiped her eyes. She sniffed. “Whew, I haven’t felt anything in a long time. It’s good to feel again.” She cupped Grey Cloak’s face in her warm palms. “When I saw you in the dungeon, I thought it was a dream. I thought about you every day. Believe me when I say it pained me not to reveal myself until it became absolutely essential.”
“I don’t understand,” Grey Cloak said.
“You should. You will, better than anyone. I don’t mean to be mysterious, but the less you know, the better. Otherwise it could alter how I arrived here,” she said.
Dyphestive snapped his fingers with a loud pop. “You went through the Time Mural, too, didn’t you?”
Zanna didn’t say, but Grey Cloak saw in her eyes that she had. “But how?”
“As I’ve stated. It’s complicated. If I say, it could have a catastrophic effect on the past, present, and future.” Zanna took Streak out of Grey Cloak’s arms, cradled him, and stroked him like a cat. “Revealing myself to you is dangerous enough, but at this junction, it’s necessary.”
“So, you were sent to find us?” Grey Cloak asked. His thoughts spun like a miller’s wheel. “What for?”
“To finish your training. We can’t afford to let your talents go to waste anymore.”
40
Still in monstrous form, Batram moseyed toward them from the long corridor behind the counter. He stood tall between the shelves and drawers that ranged from as large as coffins at the bottom to small enough to hold a thimble at the top. He put a set of neatly folded clothing on the counter. “I think you’ll find these to your liking, Zanna.” He crossed his four upper arms and pushed the garb toward her. “Please, try them on.”
Zanna took the clothing and smiled. “I’ll be right back.” She pulled back the violet curtain stretched over the corner of the room, entered, and closed it.
The brothers shared a curious look.
“She’ll probably be a while.” Batram drummed his fingers on the glass case. “While you’re waiting, why don’t you take a look at some new items I’ve acquired?” He reached below and produced a brass lantern. “This will summon an arguably helpful spirit if you rub it.”
“No, I have something like that.” Grey Cloak stared into the case, and his brother joined him.
An array of necklaces, bracelets, and rings sparkled like stars. Fine weaponry was on full display, including axes, swords, and daggers of all sorts, as were brooches and earrings, gauntlets, bracers, lanterns, candles, stacks of rolled-up scrolls, shined boots, and soft leather ones.
Grey Cloak yawned. “I’m so tired, I can’t think.”
“Perhaps something for the larger gentleman, then.” Batram revealed a large warrior’s helm fashioned like a dragon’s skull. He ran his spidery fingers over the polished steel surface. “It has very unique powers.”
“Can it make me fly?” Dyphestive asked.
“No.”
“Ah, well, no thanks, then.”
“Ahem.” Zanna stepped out from behind the curtain. Her messy hair was tied back in a ponytail. She wore a long-sleeved black jerkin tied off in a knot above her belly. A storm-gray sash dressed her hips, and her fitting trousers were pitch-black. The ink-colored boots she donned came above her ankles and were cuffed at the top.
Batram nodded. “A good fit.”
“A very good fit,” Dyphestive commented with big eyes.
Grey Cloak slapped him in the chest.
“What?” Dyphestive shrugged. “I need new clothing too. Can I get something in black?”
“Thanks for the clothing, Batram. I’m going to need some weapons to match.” She pointed at the case to a pair of finely crafted daggers with silver handles. “I’ll take those, that. I’ll need some healing salve, hmmm… I like that short sword, and …”
Batram pulled out the items she asked for.
Zanna strapped the silver daggers on her thighs. She slung the short sword over her shoulder.
“Here, I’ll give you the assortment you usually require.” Batram added small potion vials, jars, and scrolls to a large leather pouch. “Take it and take no more.” He gave her an irritated look.
She hung the pack on her shoulder. “Thank you. You always know what a girl needs.” She glanced down at Dyphestive’s foot. “Can you walk?”
“I can walk, sort of.” Dyphestive’s ankle was crooked and angled away from his body. “Mad Wol
f broke it.”
Zanna squatted down. “It’s not broken. It’s bent. Your father had the same problem.”
Dyphestive gave her a curious look. “What are you saying? It’s made of metal?”
“Either that or something like it. It’s your gift as a natural. One of them anyway.” Zanna patted the countertop. “Climb up here.”
“Pardon?” Batram asked.
“The barbarian bent Festive’s bones. I need you to bend them back, Batram. You’re the only one strong enough to do it,” she said.
Batram tapped his chin. “True, but that must have been one strong barbarian.”
“When a berserker is enraged, he can bend steel like rope,” Zanna said.
“I can bend steel,” said Dyphestive. “Let me try it.”
“Are you mad? Let Batram do it,” Grey Cloak suggested.
It was too late. Dyphestive had already pulled his foot into his lap and grabbed ahold of it. He started to twist. “Huh, I can feel where it’s out of place. Urk!” The ankle popped.
Grey Cloak’s stomach turned upside down. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
Dyphestive gave a proud look. “Hmm, it wasn’t bent, only dislocated.” He rolled his ankle in small circles. “Did you hear it pop into place?”
“How could we miss it?” Grey Cloak pinched his nose. “Batram, can you get him some new boots? His feet stink.”
Zanna giggled.
Batram moved back into the aisles and started opening drawers. “I’ll find something. Something for everybody.” He whistled a cheerful song.
“Well, Mother, as long as you’re waiting, what can you fill us in on? Can you tell me about this cloak? Or is that another big secret?”
Zanna smiled. “I don’t see the harm in that. Your father, Jerrik, and I stole it.” She walked over to him and smoothed the fabric over his shoulders. “This was before I became a Sky Rider, back when I ran as wild as the wind and worked for the Wizard Watch.”
Barbarian Backlash: Dragon Wars - Book 14 of 20: An Epic Sword and Sorcery Fantasy Adventure Series Page 13