Wings of Fire (The Legend of Hooper's Dragons Book 7)

by GARY DARBY

He does this several times before I finally get it through my head that he’s showing us the way. “Silky,” I state. “He’ll lead us in the direction we need to go.”

  “What?!” Amil sputters. “How would that, uh . . . well, whatever he is know where to go?”

  “I’m not sure,” I answer, “other than he’s Pim’s friend and acting like he wants us to follow him.”

  “What if,” Cara asks, “he’s only taking us in the direction that leads to Pim? What about Tavin? It could be those things took him elsewhere.”

  As Phigby tugs at his beard, he muses, “I would think that if we found Pim, we would find Tavin as well.”

  From atop Alonya’s shoulders, Pip calls out, “You want us go find them? Chase shadows away?”

  “All we have to do,” Kyr retorts, “is walk up. They take one look at us and jump into deep, dark hole.”

  “Better yet, hide at top of trees,” Sim huffs. “Never come down. In dark hole might step on one of them.”

  “Would not,” Kyr retorts.

  “Would too,” Sim spits.

  “Stop it,” Alonya snarls. “We don’t have time for your bickering.”

  “No, we don’t,” I agree, “but what I want you to do is to get on your sprites, add your glow to theirs.”

  Pip jumps to his feet and while holding onto one of Alonya’s braids for balance, points upward. “To the sky and beyond!”

  “To the sky and beyond!” Kyr and Sim echo, clinging to Alonya’s other braid.

  As Alonya holds each pixie up, the sprites wing over to let the pixies hop on and then wing away. Moments later, with the pixies’ added glow, the camp is filled with light that spills into the trees, driving the shadows far back.

  “All right, everyone,” Phigby orders as he motions toward Silky. “Let’s mount up and follow our little leader there.”

  “And just where is he leading us, Phigby?” Amil questions.

  “To a place of nightmares and horrors, Amil.”

  Amil peers at Phigby for a long moment, his eyebrows arched and his eyes wide. “Oh, is that all? For a moment there I thought we were going someplace really bad.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “If you meant that to be a joke,” Alonya replies to Amil, “I’m afraid I don’t see the humor in finding ourselves amid nightmares and terror.”

  Rubbing at his chin, Amil nods. “Come to think of it, neither do I.”

  “To your dragons,” Phigby orders. “Hooper, you and the golden will follow Silky, the rest of us will follow.”

  “My big boy is going to knock trees down,” Alonya states. “Can’t be helped, these trees are set too close together for him to squeeze through without snapping some of them in two. It’s going to be noisy.”

  “Understandable,” Phigby replies, “besides, the Shadow Flames already know we’re here. We ride as fast as we can, but remember all of you, stay within the light! Not one strand of hair, a toe, or a shred of clothing outside. One misstep and you may well join in our unfortunate comrades’ fate.”

  Cara and I exchange wide-eyed stares before both of us scramble for our dragons.

  At that, Phigby heads toward Bold Wind just as the golden plods up. She lowers her head to whisper, “Do not despair, Hooper, our friends still live.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes, but as Phigby said, they are in grave danger. We haven’t a moment to lose.”

  As Bold Wind lumbers alongside, Phigby gives me a nod telling me he’s ready, I call up, “Pip, Kyr, Sim! Spread yourselves out and make sure you cover everyone in light!”

  The three sprites space themselves along our dragon line but before we start, Phigby and I glance back, ensuring that everyone is within the circle of brightness. Satisfied that everyone is awash in light, Phigby digs into his bag and brings out a tiny white sphere. He cups his hands around it, croons so softly and low that I can’t hear him and then throws his orb upward.

  In an instant, it bursts into a brilliant gleaming ball, like the smallest of suns, and to my astonishment sprouts tiny wings that move as fast as a hummingbird’s. The winged globe lifts a bit higher so that we’re able to see farther into the trees.

  With my eyes on the radiant sphere, I lean toward Phigby. “I really, really wish that someday you would tell me who you really are.”

  He gives me a grim smile. “And I really, really don’t think that today, or rather, tonight is the time. As I’ve said before, I am who I am, and nothing more.”

  “Right,” I growl, “just as I’m the king of the northern kingdom and nothing more.”

  Just then, Silky who’s standing just ahead of the golden starts chittering as if impatient. Scamper, in his usual place atop Golden Wind’s carapace chatters back in answer. For several moments, there is a back and forth between the two. Then, without warning, Scamper bolts down the golden’s leg to join Silky.

  “Hey you!” I yell. “Scamper, get back up here!”

  As usual, he ignores me and for a moment, I consider getting off Golden Wind and fetching him back. Phigby motions toward the two. “It would appear that your beastie would like to help his newfound friend and our kidnapped companions. Why don’t you give him the chance to do just that?”

  “He might get hurt or captured by those shadow things,” I protest. “Besides, he scares easily and might do something stupid like running off into the dark.”

  “Yes,” Phigby acknowledges, “there is that, but seeing as how Scamper has fought Vay herself there’s not much he’s wont to fear these days, don’t you think?”

  I open my mouth to retort and then slowly close it. “I guess you’re right,” I answer.

  Phigby glances back over his shoulder and then turns. “Everyone’s ready, let’s go.”

  As Bold Wind and the golden step forward, Phigby’s light ball stays over Scamper and Silky as they bound away.

  The two set a fast pace through the trees and our dragons stay close behind. Every so often, either Phigby or I glance back, ensuring the company is bathed in light. I must admit, since we can’t stay in a straight line but must weave between trees, our dragon line takes on the appearance of a glow worm winding and grinding through the forest.

  The grinding comes from Regal Wind flattening trees that get in his way.

  After a bit, I turn and ask, “Phigby, you said our weapons wouldn’t be any good against these shadow things. How then are we supposed to fight them?”

  “The only way we can against such beings, with light, of course, though in this case it will take an extraordinary form of light.”

  “You mean like with the sprites and pixies?”

  “No. Their light will merely hold our nemesis at bay. We need something far more powerful.”

  I suck in a breath. “The three sisters! They’re coming to help.”

  Phigby grunts in response. “Wouldn’t that be nice, but no, I doubt that they will appear. I’m afraid this is our fight, and our fight alone, so be ready for my call.”

  “Me? Why—”

  Phigby whips up a hand, stopping me. He turns slowly from side to side, his eyes gleaming in the sprites’ light. The darkness is like we’ve entered a tunnel, the blackness running up and over the company and only the sprites’ and pixies’ light keeps it from washing over us.

  “They’re all around us,” he whispers, “waiting just outside the light. This is even worse than I imagined. I wonder . . .” His voice lowers to the point where I can’t hear him at all.

  “Phigby,” I urge, “you wonder what?”

  He doesn’t answer as he’s turned in his neck saddle, peering at the company behind. He calls out to them, “Keep close together and stay in the light! Not one foot or arm outside the circle or you’ll join Pim and Tavin!”

  I turn with him to watch as the dragons press up against each other, nose to tail practically. Once the other dragons close ranks, Bold Wind and the golden begin to plod forward again, careful to stay inside the ring of sharp light.

  We go
a bit farther before I ask, “Phigby, what was it that you wondered about back there? You stopped speaking midsentence.”

  Slowly, as if he’s still thinking about the matter, he replies, “The storm—don’t you now find it highly suspicious that the winds brought us to this place? They practically landed us in the laps of these shades.”

  I think about it for a moment before saying, “Yes, but when we set down, none of the dragons, or Scamper and Silky noticed anything wrong. Maybe it was just bad luck.”

  “Perhaps bad luck that Vay made for us,” Phigby growls.

  I have no answer, so I keep quiet and though Phigby said our weapons wouldn’t do any good, nonetheless, I lay a hand on Galondraig’s hilt.

  The dragons trudge ahead, with the golden and Bold Wind keeping just behind Silky and Scamper, who squirt between trees and act as if they know exactly where to lead us. Without the moons or stars as a guide or timepiece, I’m not sure how long we’ve traveled when suddenly Phigby holds up a hand as there is a slithering and hissing that grows around us.

  As if the blackness is being sucked into a giant hole, the surrounding dark abruptly disappears. Phigby gestures just ahead. “It appears that our two pathfinders have found what we seek.”

  Leaning a bit forward, I peer at what Phigby points to and take in a deep breath. “This just keeps getting better and better.”

  Cut into a craggy cliff is the entrance to a dark cave. A ragged arch outlines the black portal into which absolutely no light seeps from either the sprites or Phigby’s light ball.

  Our dragons ease up to stand just behind Scamper and Silky, who sit on their haunches staring at the opening. “How is it possible to have something even darker than the darkest of nights?” I ask Phigby.

  “Because,” Phigby answers, “that is not a natural darkness. It comes from those who are sinister and evil.”

  We slide off our dragons and moments later the company gathers round to stare at the ebony portal that barely clears Phigby’s head. With wary steps, we press forward but just at the entrance, Phigby whips out a hand to stop us. “Hold, everyone,” he rasps, “there is something amiss here.”

  “Other than Pim and Tavin amissing?” Amil quips. “Or that we just rode through a tunnel of complete darkness?”

  “At least as much as those,” Phigby answers and slowly reaches out a hand as if he were going to lightly touch something but all I see is the darkness leading into the cave. His hand stops for an instant and then moves left to right before he presses forward.

  Of a sudden, he jerks his hand back as if he had thrust his fingers into a fire. At the same time, fiery letters, each a flaming red, pierce the portal’s darkness. They glow scarlet for several heartbeats before cascading down to the ground and fading away.

  “What was that?!” Cara demands behind us.

  “Runes,” Phigby answers, blowing on his hand as if to cool it off.

  “Runes!?” Amil sputters. “What kind and what do they say?”

  “Old Style Gaelian,” Phigby answers, “and I’m afraid that I’m going to have to stick my hand into that and leave it there for a moment before I can read it all. It quite surprised me the first time and I wasn’t expecting to have to read first epoch runes.”

  “First epoch!” Alonya spits. “They’re that old?”

  “Indeed,” Phigby answers.

  “Phigby,” I question. “you acted as if those letters burned your hand, are you sure you want to try it a second time?”

  “If I don’t, my boy,” Phigby replies, “then none of us are getting through this portal. But I shall be all right, I assure you.”

  He thrusts his hand into his bag, brings out a dark jar. A moment later, he’s spreading a pasty white salve over his hand. “Hopefully, this will shield my hand a bit.”

  He puts away the ointment and eases his hand forward. Again, the fiery letters appear:

  Ώ ΐΔ Θ Ξ

  Π Σ Φ ΰ β δ

  Ε ζ θ λ ξ

  Φ ψ ω ύ

  Ώ Ђ Є Љ Њ

  Б Г Д Ж

  Й Л Ч Ъ

  Э Ю б ж й л

  Τ σ ψ Є Љ

  Ю ф ж зẞ

  “Can you read them?” I ask.

  He sighs low in answer, holding his hand in place. “It has been too long. This may take a while.”

  “Don’t make it too much of a while,” Amil encourages, “for our friends’ sakes.”

  “Perhaps,” Snag suggests, “we should wait for daylight?”

  “Any other time,” Phigby responds, “I would agree, but we can’t wait that long.” He turns from the runes, picks up his bag while muttering, “In the meantime, perhaps this will answer some of your questions about those who took our companions. Give you some idea of what we face.”

  He hauls out a thin book, holds it in front of his face and blows the dust off the cover. He extends it toward Cara, saying, “Would you care to read a new book, my dear?”

  “Would I!” Cara exults and snatches the book out of Phigby’s hands.

  “The book’s pages,” Phigby explains, “will turn of themselves to the pertinent sections for you to read as we may not have time to read the whole text.”

  With raised eyebrows at Phigby’s comment, Cara sits cross-legged on the ground and while the rest of us gather round to hear her reading, Phigby goes back to his runes.

  From the book’s front cover, Cara reads, “The Fall of the Amorans.” On its own, the book opens towards the end and Cara continues, “I, Hodas Alzar, the last surviving historian of the Academics do set these words down to record the final account of my people, the Amoran.

  “In the beginning, we were a blessed people, placed in a bounteous land by the gods during the Age of Creation. From the gilded Mountains of Toth, to the rushing, turquoise-blue Saba River, we prospered in a land where beasts of all kinds thrived, the soil fertile for the growing of crops, rivers full of fish, the forests teeming with game and various woods of all sorts for the building of homes and other purposes.

  “From the first, we worked hard, educated ourselves, were innovative and inventive and became a wealthy, happy, and flourishing people, in many ways the envy of the world.

  “For hundreds of seasons, our people were self-reliant, beholden to themselves only, respecting the rights of others, and willing to help a neighbor in need.

  “Our laws were simple and limited in number. At the beginning of each new season, we elected what few judges we needed to oversee the application of our rules. Our judges abided by the precept: If the judges are to judge the people, the people have the right to judge the judges. If a magistrate strayed from our society’s decrees in applying the law, then he or she would face the people’s vote.

  “Accordingly, we fashioned a government whose guiding principle was that the individual held paramount rights in all things. Those we set as governors served but one full season before another took their place.”

  “What?!” I sputter. “No lifelong kings or queens?”

  “A wondrous concept,” Amil agrees before turning to Alonya, “with the exception of present company.”

  “Believe it or not,” Alonya sniffs, “but this ‘present company’ agrees with your sentiment. But go on, Cara, what other wondrous ideas did they believe?”

  Cara turns back to the book but before she can begin, the book pages flip rapidly on their own before they stop. “Well,” Cara huffs, “I suppose I wasn’t meant to read those pages.”

  She leans forward a bit and begins, “Over time, our people began to stray from our guiding principles. We allowed governors to stay longer and longer in their positions and by doing so, made them too powerful.

  “They turned our governing bodies into instruments that served the governors instead of the people. Little by little, the government usurped the rights of the individual until the needs of the state became paramount and individual rights were swept aside.

  “We learned too late that the power that comes f
rom supposing that one person is superior to another is more than addictive—it becomes all-consuming, infusing mind and spirit with the constant desire to lord over others.

  “It bloats the ego, gives one a false sense of being and entitlement, and warps the mind into nothing but self-serving thought. It breeds hate, distrust, and self-righteousness.”

  “Nothing new there,” Amil snorts. “Sounds like quite a few people we’ve met along this journey. With the exception of those we’ve added to the company, of course,” he adds.

  “Of course,” Tavin adds in a dry tone.

  Amil turns to Phigby and asks, “How are you coming on those runes, professor?”

  “Staring at flickering runes,” Phigby grumbles, “is, forgive the pun, ruining my eyesight but I believe I’m making progress.”

  “Should I stop reading?” Cara asks.

  “No, my dear,” Phigby replies. “Continue. As I recall, you’re about to learn just who it is we face.”

  Cara turns back to the book but as before the pages flip themselves rapidly before stopping. “Toward the end of our days,” she reads, “we allowed evil to walk among us; not as a sudden, blinding spate of wickedness, but instead, it walked softly among us, making a few inroads here, a few there until most people were unaware that evil had them in its vile grip.

  “Many claim that it began with Wilmus Clios, who used his high office to commit foul deeds against the people. However, most historians agree that it started well before his rule and that no single person caused our downfall but instead it was our citizens in general who refused to challenge the root causes of our decay.

  “We drifted away from the values that had made us great. We became selfish, lazy, self-centered, and vain. We replaced the founding principles of our nation with avarice, greed, and an indulgence in irresponsibility. Instead of accepting personal responsibility for our own lives, we shifted blame elsewhere.

  “It took many seasons, but there came a point when fewer and fewer people were actually workers that could provide for the necessities of life—grow food, repair and maintain a cottage, make clothing and tools, work the fields, hew wood, draw water.