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

by GARY DARBY

  It’s Liam who’s singing while at the same time, he’s carving figures into the tree. Next to him, the young woman wipes at tears that flow down her cheek. It only takes me a moment before I realize that we’ve stumbled onto some sort of sacred ceremony and I start to pull Cara back from the scene.

  The young woman must have seen us for she taps Liam on the shoulder and gestures in our direction. Liam stops singing and turns. “I’m sorry,” I stammer, “we heard you singing and followed it. We certainly didn’t mean to intrude.”

  Liam turns to the young woman, puts a hand on her shoulder, leans close and whispers for several moments. She buries her head in his shoulder and he holds her for several moments before she pulls back, brings her baby in tight, and walks away.

  With a little hand gesture, Liam beckons for us to join him. “You didn’t interrupt, I was through with the carving and the ceremony anyway.”

  He motions to the etching on the tree. “This is one aspect of being the Vinderfangen that I dread above all. The memory of a loved one’s death that sears itself into my mind.”

  With one hand he runs his fingers over the newly cut carving and sighs, “This is the death marking for Gril Matweaver. That was his young widow and his newly born child that you saw.”

  He reaches a bit higher to run his hand across another etching. “This I carved on their wedding day,” he lowers his hand onto another etching just below, “and this was when Wendi, their little one, was born.”

  “We sincerely apologize again,” Cara murmurs, “we didn’t mean to be inconsiderate or to intrude.”

  “You were neither,” Liam replies, “and as I said, I was finished anyway.”

  “How did he die?” Cara asks.

  “There is a river not too distant,” Liam answers, “that runs the color of copper when schools of redfish swim up it on their way to their spawning grounds. But it is a dangerous place to fish and we only go when the fish appear, which was at the beginning of this moon cycle.

  “For many leagues, the river runs through a narrow gorge that’s choked with churning rapids. However, the narrowing causes the fish to crowd together making it much easier to pull in a full net with but one cast.

  “To get close enough to the river to throw a net, you must climb down the gorge and at the bottom stand on rocks made wet and slippery by the churning rapids. It’s made even more dangerous in that if you fall in, you are sucked under and held in the current. It is rare that anyone who falls in manages to break free and make it back to shore.

  “Gril and his brother Samil were fishing together when a log caught their net and yanked both into the water.”

  He steps to the side of the tree and motions. “It was almost ten days before Samil’s body was found many leagues downriver and this is his death marker. We never found Gril’s body and as is our custom, waited a full moon’s cycle before declaring him dead.”

  “Did Samil leave a widow as well?” Cara questions.

  “No,” Liam replies. “He was not quite of age yet, though there are several young women in the village who mourn him as they hoped to be his bride.”

  “With her husband gone,” I ask, “what will happen to Gril’s widow and child?”

  “The Uhlan take care of their own,” Liam answers. “Rest assured that she and the child will not go hungry, nor will they be without a roof over their heads or wood for a fire in her hearth. She’s still young and I suspect that in time, she will receive an offer of marriage.”

  “I hope she does,” Cara whispers, “it is not good to be alone for too long.”

  “No, it is not,” Liam answers.

  I glance around and notice other trees with fresh carvings. At a guess, I gesture and ask, “For those who died fighting the Blackguards?”

  “Yes,” he sighs and his voice is sad, heavy. “And I have not yet finished.”

  He straightens and gestures past the trees. “Now, I must leave you as I have a few things to attend to before I see your company off.” With that, he strides away toward the village.

  After watching Liam walk away, Cara turns to lay a hand on the fresh carving. “To have to remember so many who have died.” She moves to one side of the tree and seems to be studying the other nearby trees.

  “Yes,” I reply, “to remember those you loved and who have passed on is hard.”

  Cara glances back at me over her shoulder. “As we know all too well.”

  She turns back and then motions outward. “But Hooper, think about it. Every time these people lose someone, Liam doesn’t just come here and make a carving that marks their death as if that’s the end of his task. He has to remember all of it. When they died, where, and how.

  “Like today. He had to stand beside a heartbroken widow, listen to her sobs, the cries of her baby and know that that little one will never know her father.”

  She hangs her head for a moment, draws in a shuddering breath. “Sometimes it seems that there’s nothing fair in life at all and you have to wonder what the point is in living.”

  I’m unsure as to how to answer, but then I walk up to her, reach out to gently hold her shoulders. “I’m not entirely sure how to answer you, but I do know that if you weren’t in my life, then yes, there would be little reason for living.”

  She turns, looks into my eyes before she buries her head in my chest and I hold her close. “You’re right, Hooper,” she replies, her voice muffled and low. “Just having one person in your life that cares makes it worthwhile.”

  For an instant, there’s nothing between us and I’ve never felt warmer, more alive in my life. It’s only the two of us holding on to each other and I know from that moment on that no matter what happens, if Cara is with me then the world is good and right.

  She sighs and whispers, “Thank you, Hooper.”

  “For what?”

  “For holding me when I needed it. You’re getting much better at this, you know.”

  “I am?”

  “Uh huh, so don’t do something silly and ruin the moment or I’ll have to take back what I said.”

  “That means I can’t move, speak, or breathe, but for you it’ll be worth it.”

  She laughs lightly. “Well, you can take a breath every so often, but not too many now.”

  I suck in a breath and pretend to hold it while she laughs louder. A sharp, “Hooper! Cara!” breaks the moment and we both turn to see Helmar standing nearby. “The company is up and Phigby is calling us together!”

  Even in the darkening forest, it’s easy to see that his face is ruddy, and his lips pressed tight. “Coming, Helmar!” I call back and turn to Cara. “Hey, it wasn’t me that messed up the moment.”

  She pokes me in the ribs. “All right, I guess I’ll have to let you off the hook this time.”

  Her face turns serious and she whispers, “Still, I appreciate it, Hooper. Even if was but a moment, it was a moment outside of our harsh world and reminded me that there was still room for caring and goodness.”

  I give her a broad smile. “You’re welcome and as much as I wish this moment could go on, we’d best be getting back.”

  With that, we hurry back to where the company and dragons wait. Amil throws up a hand and calls, “Over here!”

  As we hurry up, Amil grouses, “Nice of you to join us. For a moment we thought we were going to have to leave you two behind. The Uhlan have brought us some nice cheese wheels and baked bread to sup on. I was all for divvying it up among ourselves and leaving none for you two wanderers, but Phigby wouldn’t let me.”

  “Sorry,” I mutter, “we lost track of time.”

  Helmar shoots me a hard look but I ignore it as just then Scamper and Silky come bounding up. Both squat on their hind legs in front of Amil, pawing at the air with their noses held high as they sniff the air.

  “Didn’t think,” Amil grumps, “I’d get away with cutting up the cheese before you two beggars show up.” Nevertheless, he cuts two slices out and tosses them to the two.

  At th
e sound of footsteps, we all turn to see a small army of Uhlan archers approaching with Liam in the lead. At a gesture from Liam the bowmen stop a few paces away while Borm steps out along with several of his fellows, and hands our archers full quivers of arrows. They even have a few Amazos-sized arrows for Alonya.

  “You have our gratitude, Borm, Liam,” Phigby replies. “Rest assured that we are well versed in where to place these bolts.”

  “I have no doubt of that,” Liam answers and then motions to Jelani Ros. “The Jelani has explained what part they play in the plan and all understand.”

  “Good,” Phigby replies and then raises his voice to say, “Remember, it will not be just how well you speed your arrows into our enemies’ throats, but that surprise is the key to our success.”

  With that, he instructs Ros, “One Uhlan per dragon. It will take a bit to get everyone in place, so let the others rest, eat, and be patient.”

  Ros nods and then points to several Uhlan who begin moving toward the dragons. Ros follows me to Golden Wind and once there, I say, “I’ll go up first, watch what I do, and then sit behind me.”

  He nods in understanding and I climb aboard the golden. Once settled in, I motion for Ros to come up. Moments later, he settles behind me, his bow and quiver tight against his back. “Hold on to me,” I instruct, “and press your knees against her scales. Got it?”

  “Yes,” he gruffly answers, “though I wish I had more to hold onto than just you.”

  “It’s a short skyride, you’ll be fine. Now, here we go. Sky, Golden Wind.”

  The golden, her scales burnished bright by the lowering sun, reaches out, catches the soft breeze and springs upward. I smile as a soft gasp escapes Ros’s lips and his clenched hands dig a little deeper into my stomach. Then, we’re winging higher and higher toward the clifftop.

  It takes us almost to where the King and Queen stars are past their zenith before the Uhlan are in place. We bring the dragons back to our camp to let them rest, drink their fill of water and eat another round of goats.

  Liam and Borm are waiting for us and approach as we dismount. “Everyone is in place,” Phigby announces and turns to Borm. “Ready?”

  “Yes,” Borm returns. “With whom shall I ride?”

  “Me!” Marce is quick to volunteer.

  Phigby chuckles just a little and gestures toward Marce. “It appears, Borm, you’ll be with Marce on Wind Walker.”

  Liam turns to Borm and instructs, “Take them well south before you turn north up the coastline.”

  “I understand, Vinderfangen,” Borm replies.

  Liam takes a step toward us. “Jelani Ralos and I will command those who defend the tunnel.”

  “Ralos is well enough?” Phigby asks, surprised.

  “No,” Liam smiles thinly, “but there is no way I can keep him out of the fight. Besides, he is a seasoned warrior and his expertise is well suited for the fight in our underground passageway.”

  Liam pauses, holds us with his eyes for a moment. “My new friends, or rather, I should say old friends, for I’ve known of you for quite some time—thank you for coming to our aid. Without you, we would have stood little chance of saving our valley and most importantly, the Wind Catcher.

  “Be strong in the fight, knowing that our cause is right, and when the dawn awakens the day, I shall be here waiting to greet you and to celebrate with you in our victory.”

  With that, he turns and strides away, the darkness soon swallowing him from sight.

  “Do you think,” Amil begins, “that little speech, you know that part about victory, was based on something that tree of his told him?”

  “The Whisperer,” Marce answers, “can only tell him of things past and present, not future.”

  “Hmm,” Amil mutters, “that’s too bad as I was hoping that he knew the outcome.”

  Phigby lays a hand Amil’s shoulder. “Nothing wrong with hoping, my stout of heart friend. In fact, these days hope is the one thing we must hold tight for it is what gets us from one sunrise to the next.”

  The corners of his lips turn up in a smile. “That and the bonds of friendship that lie within this company. Without those, I’m afraid the days would be even darker still.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  We rest our dragons for a bit more, partake of a small meal ourselves, and then we’re aloft. Passing over the enormous cliff we turn southward with Wind Walker in the lead. We’ve set our plan in motion, and as Liam said, by dawn we should know if we’ve been successful or not. If we fail, I have no doubt that the Valley of the Whisperer will soon be an inferno, and few, if any, Uhlan will survive. Which may well hold true for our company as well.

  Peering off to my right, I know that somewhere in the far distance a drog army marches, and for a moment it seems I can almost smell their putrid odor on the wind. Above them wings a Wilder horde, commanded by our foul nemesis, Talonda Kur.

  I’ve let Golden Wind tarry behind the others and as my eyes sweep across the company, a long sigh passes my lips. “That was a deep sigh,” the golden says. “Something on your mind, Hooper?”

  “I was just thinking.”

  “Thinking is a good thing as long as it doesn’t take you down dark and dangerous paths.”

  “I wasn’t thinking along those lines. Sometimes I wish I were . . .” My voice trails off as I’m hesitant to finish my thought.

  “Were what?”

  “I know this sounds silly but sometimes I wish I were a powerful wizard or sorcerer, maybe even a god, and not just a Hooper.”

  “And if you were, what then?”

  “I’d use my magical powers to send Vay to the deepest, darkest part of the underworld where she couldn’t escape, or maybe I’d encase her in a mountain of granite, or so deep in the ocean she could never reach the surface, or—”

  “I think I get the idea, Hooper. You don’t have to have that kind of magic to fight Vay or any evil for that matter.”

  “No?”

  “No. When good people stand up for what’s right, stand strong in their belief of what’s right, that’s powerful magic, too. Bravery, courage to stand up for one’s convictions has a power all to itself.”

  “But not the kind of magic to put Vay in the underworld.”

  “Perhaps not, but think of how different this war would be if no one chose to follow Vay, if no one did her bidding, if she stood stewing alone in her own malevolent soup.”

  “No Prince Asters.”

  “No Prince Asters.”

  “Or Wilders, or Talondas, or—”

  “Any of them.”

  I sigh again. “But that’s not what happened, is it? Seems like an awful lot of people took up her side and here we are again, winging off to yet another battle, another fight.”

  “Do you want to turn back, leave the Uhlan to fight the drogs and Wilders alone? You know what would happen, right?”

  “I know,” I answer. “But these confrontations are becoming fiercer, more desperate.”

  I hesitate, my mind running over our last desperate encounter with Vay. “I think Vay knows how close she came last time to destroying us and that only increases her bloodlust.”

  “But she didn’t destroy us and that’s the important thing.”

  “Sure, but what if we get into a scrape as bad as that one and the three sisters don’t show up? What then?”

  I answer my own question. “I don’t even want to think about what that means.”

  The golden takes her time answering but then says, “Hooper, some people see a threat and wait until the battle comes to them. Some see the same danger and turn aside, hoping others will fight the battle. And then there are those who recognize the threat and they run to the battle before it grows to become an even larger danger. Which of those are we, Hooper?”

  “Uh, the last?”

  “You say that as if you’re not sure.”

  I shake my head, draw in a deep breath. “No, I’m sure the company is the latter. I mean, isn’t that what we’
re doing right now? Running, or rather, skying to the fight?”

  “Indeed, Hooper, that we are and that means Vay can never be sure of where we’ll show up.”

  I think about that for a moment before replying, “We’re keeping her off balance, making her uncertain of her decisions, perhaps even a little fearful in her choices.”

  “Indeed, and it heightens her frustration, makes her even more unsure.”

  “And that’s a good thing.”

  “A very good thing that works exceedingly well in our favor.”

  We both grow silent, the sound of her rhythmic wingbeats lulling me for a time but then I lean forward and ask, “Golden Wind, will this war ever end? Will there come a time when we won’t be rushing forward to fight again?”

  She takes her time answering and then says, “Of a surety, someday this war will end, Hooper. But the fight against evil is never over. If not Vay, then another will rise. Every generation faces its own nemesis in some form or another. Wickedness itself is always the same, it just changes faces from time to time. But its goal always remains the same, to turn people away from the truth, from the right and good.”

  Golden Wind lets out her own long sigh. “And as for us, yes, our struggle will have its conclusion, but the question is, what will that be?”

  “Right,” I mutter, “with us dead and Vay victorious or—”

  “The ending,” she growls, “that I much prefer, is Erdron free of Vay and her murdering ways and all of us free to live out our lives as we choose.”

  “I like that much better, too.”

  Lifting my head, I let my eyes sweep across the company, and as I look at my companions and their dragons I can’t help but feel a kinship that I’ve never felt before, even though it seems we’re never very far from danger and bloodshed.

  “Remember, Hooper,” the golden gently responds, “that in the midst of trials, there are blessings, and in the midst of blessings there can be trials as well.”

  “I know,” I reply, “though sometimes it seems we see the bad more than the good.”

  “Yes, Hooper. When it seems you are beset on all sides with tribulations it is very hard to see the blessings, small though they may be, that may attend you as well.”