by GARY DARBY
The golden hugs the ground, lifts just a bit to clear the trees and then shoots straight up like a shooting star in the night. We wing up and up until she rolls us over. We’re just behind and above Talonda’s beast. Golden Wind hovers for a moment and then tucks her wings.
We plunge downward, faster and faster. I pull Galondraig from its scabbard and hunker down, waiting for the golden’s move. At the very last instant, she straightens and we rush up the creature’s huge backside. “Ready?” she calls.
“Ready!” I growl and press my knees tight together. “Grab onto something, Scamper!”
Arrrnnoooo, he groans, knowing what’s coming. He grabs onto a scale with all four paws and then we’re upside down.
Maybe it was Scamper’s yowling that warned Talonda. All I know is that at the same moment I slashed Galondraig downward, he jerks to one side. I have the satisfaction of hearing him scream as my blade cuts through flesh. However, I can tell from the feel of the blow that though I’ve wounded him, it’s not a mortal wound.
At his master’s scream the giant beast pulls back, stopping the flow of dragon fire and as the golden pulls us right side up I glance back. Talonda is holding a hand to one arm, his sword arm. His face is set in a snarl and for an instant, I can see in his eyes that he wants to follow the golden, avenge what I’ve done to him.
At the same moment, Phigby’s light shield dims and then fades into the dark. Talonda, his face showing rage, has his giant dragon surge forward and the beast plows through the company’s ranks as it dives downward.
“Golden Wind, after him!” I shout but the golden is already darting forward, right behind the scarlet behemoth. “Don’t let him get to the tree!” I yell but it’s not the Wind Catcher that Talonda is after.
The red beast swoops down, claws outstretched, and I scream, “No!” just as its talons slam into Liam and lift him off the ground. The thing wings higher, heads straight for the oncoming Wilders.
I can hear the wingbeats of the company just behind as we whip close to the tree in pursuit of Talonda and his monster. I whip my head to one side and peer in the direction of the waterfall. A lithe figure is running across the rocks toward the waterfall’s precipice. Talia stops at the edge of the water’s course and holds her trident high. The signal that she’s ready.
Knowing what’s coming, I slow the golden, turn her so that we face the company and yell, “Get away from the tree! Get higher and away from the tree!”
“Hooper,” Cara answers, her face a hard mask, “are you crazy!? Those Wilders will destroy the tree.”
“And I am too weak,” Phigby adds, “to bring up another shield, m’boy.”
To Cara I answer, “Just crazy enough to know what I’m doing, now quit talking and get up high, all of you!”
I can see a moment’s hesitation on Cara’s and my comrades’ faces before Wind Song suddenly darts straight upward, as does the rest of the company.
Golden Wind spins out of her hover and we spurt forward. Talonda’s monster has pulled far ahead but before the golden can give serious chase, the beast wings upward and a bit higher. I watch in horror as its claws snap apart and release Liam.
My mouth is open in a soundless scream as Liam’s body arcs a bit higher and then plunges into the sacred grove. My head snaps up just in time to see Talonda give me a little wave and a smile of satisfaction as he turns the giant scarlet toward the high mountains and wings swiftly away.
“Someday, Talonda,” I snarl, “you’ll get yours, that I vow.”
“Hooper, ahead!” the golden calls.
A wall of Wilders is headed straight at us. The golden spins around, away from the oncoming horde but then I see below a small group of Uhlan archers standing defiant, ready to defend their beloved Wind Catcher. “Golden Wind, the Uhlan!”
She dives down and we come to a hover just in front of the Uhlan. “Get away!” I order. “Trust me, you don’t want to be here in a few moments.”
“The Wilders!” one of the Uhlan shouts and jabs a finger upward at the oncoming scarlet dragons and their riders.
“Will be sorry they ever entered this valley,” I reply. “Now move!”
The Uhlan hesitate just for a moment before they break ranks and sprint away from the tree. Golden Wind beats her wings furiously and we swiftly rise in the air toward the cliff. I raise Galondraig high so that Talia can see and circle it around my head, my signal to her that we’re ready.
Just as Talia brings her Wave Master high in the air before thrusting it into the water, Golden Wind suddenly stiffens and growls, “Hooper, look at the base of the tree.”
I twist in the saddle and go as stiff as Golden Wind. Coming out of the doorway is the same young widow with the tiny baby that Cara and I saw in the grove. I jerk back around and find that Talia is holding her trident aloft as if she senses that something is wrong.
“Don’t wait!” I yell. “Do what you must to save the tree!”
I can see a moment of hesitation cross Talia’s face and then she gives me a firm nod. “Let’s go, Golden Wind.”
The golden surges forward, gaining speed with every beat until the wind roars in my ears and threatens to throw me off. Scamper yowls his displeasure and hunkers down behind the golden’s carapace.
Off to my left, the Wilders are like a vast flying scarlet carpet and drive toward the tree. I glance behind and my mouth sags for a moment. Trailing us by several dragon lengths is a column of water that weaves and twists as it flows through the air.
The golden thunders through the air matching the thundering of my heart. “This is going to be so close,” I mutter to myself.
Golden Wind puts on a last burst of speed and then we’re skimming just above the ground. Images flash by on each side but I keep my eyes centered on the young woman who apparently doesn’t see us as she has her face turned up to the Wilders and is trying to flee from them.
The golden snaps her wings out, cups them and we slow but don’t stop. Golden Wind rears up slightly, stretches out her rear talons and then I hear, “Got her!”
Below me, there’s a scream followed by loud wailing from the young woman who must think that she and her baby are surely doomed, caught in the talons of a dragon.
A moment later, her wail is drowned by a roaring, sizzling sound that rips through the air. One glance and my eyes go wide as a wall of Wilder dragon fire roars toward us. “Go!” I yell. “Straight up!”
The golden bounds upward, her wingbeats a blur as she climbs skyward. I glance over my shoulder to see the curtain of flames boil toward the Whisperer. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, Talia’s water column shoots between the tree and the searing dragon breath.
The wall of fire hits the water and an instant later an explosion of scalding, scorching steam bursts outward and upward. It fountains straight up, the cloud hissing and spitting as if it were blistering the very air.
Abruptly, Golden Wind rolls over and dives downward. “What are you doing?!” I yell.
“Saving us,” is all she answers as we plunge straight toward the ground.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
It takes me only a moment to see that Golden Wind made the only choice we had to survive. She picks up even more speed in her screaming dive though we barely stay ahead of the raging steam cloud.
The Wilders are not so lucky.
We sweep overhead and I lean over to peer downward at the horde. It’s sheer panic and chaos. By bunching together in their attack on the tree, when the cloud sweeps toward them, they can’t turn away in time. Those who do manage to swing their dragons around aren’t fast enough to escape the searing fog.
The blistering cloud envelops them and even above the sizzling steam, I can hear shrieks of sheer agony along with the terrified growls and bellowing of their scarlet dragons.
We wing on and watch as the cloud finally slows until it is little more than a swirling haze and mist that whirls in tight little circles as it rises into the sky. The golden finds a suitable meadow and gently
lowers the terrified widow to the ground before she slips over to one side and sets down.
I slide down and hurry over to the woman, who’s crumpled to the ground clutching her wailing baby. “Are you all right?” I ask. “I’m sorry we had to scare you like that, but it was the only way to get you safely away.”
The young Uhlan brings her hand away from her mouth and shakes her head. “No, if you hadn’t rescued us, my baby and I would be dead. I shall always be grateful.”
I give her a little smile and motion toward the golden. “I didn’t do much, it was mostly Golden Wind.”
After helping her stand, the Uhlan walks over to Golden Wind and bows deeply at the waist. “And you, Golden Wind. With all my heart I thank you for saving my baby and me.”
Golden Wind returns her bow with her own and then looks up at familiar wingbeats. As the Uhlan woman backs away and the company begins to land, I step close to Golden Wind and ask, “Are you all right?”
“Yes, Hooper,” she whispers. “Very tired but otherwise unharmed.”
I put a hand on her neck scales, stretch it toward her midsection. “And your sprog?”
“She’s fine too. She rather enjoys the excitement, you know.”
I draw in a deep breath. “Well, I’m glad she does, but I could do with a bit less, if you ask me. In fact, if I weren’t so young, I’d use Phigby’s line and say I’m getting much too old for this sort of thing.”
“Make that for the two of us,” the golden replies.
“Why, you’re not old, Golden Wind.”
“No, but some days even the young feel old.”
“Don’t I know it,” I whisper back as I watch my comrades quickly dismount and hurry over. As they rush up, I count noses and breathe a sigh of relief to see that everyone is safe.
As Marce and Borm come close I point over to the woman and her baby. “I’m afraid we frightened her pretty badly. Why don’t you see what you can do to help her?”
They nod and hasten over to the young mother. Cara steps in front of me. She holds me with her eyes for a moment before slowly shaking her head as if she can’t believe what she saw. “That was an amazing piece of skying, Hooper. You and Golden Wind all right?”
“We’re fine, but as you can imagine, Golden Wind is pretty tired.”
“I would think so.”
“Maybe,” Tavin offers, “we should rest the dragons and ourselves for the remainder of the night. I think we’re all pretty tired.”
“What about the Uhlan on top of the cliff?” I ask.
“Way ahead of you on that,” Talia speaks up. “I had Wave Rider take me over to check on them.” Her face turns sad. “They got hurt pretty bad, but Ralos said they wanted to stay until first light, then come get them.”
“In case more Wilders show up,” Amil states. “Good idea.”
I turn to Phigby and it’s plain to see from how his shoulders slump and his eyelids droop just how tired he is from his energy-draining efforts. It suddenly occurs to me that Phigby is more wan and gray than ever before.
I ease up next to him. “That incredible shield of light you created took a lot out of you —why don’t you get some rest?”
His smile is drawn, weak. “It seems most things these days take a lot out of me.” He lays a hand on my shoulder, turns me around and motions toward the woods. “When I can, I shall rest, but not now. There is still much work to be done.”
Making their way out of the grove where they’ve taken refuge from the Wilder attack are dozens of Uhlan. Most of the men bear wounds of one sort or another, with the women and children helping them along.
“We saved their tree,” Pim says, first looking at the Uhlan and then at her lance, “but it seems it came at a steep price.” It’s hard not to notice her forlorn voice and sad expression.
“Anything worth saving is worth the price,” Helmar responds quietly and though his voice is bleak, there’s an edge of emotion that I can’t help but notice.
“Indeed, Helmar,” Phigby replies, and I can tell by the way the two look at each other that Helmar is remembering his dead sister.
One glance at Pim and I take a step closer. “Hey, it could come back. Maybe it’s like a well that goes dry for a spell. It just needs for more water to seep into the bottom, or, in this case, more power to flow into your lance.”
Pim shakes her head, her eyes glistening with tears. “It has to be me. I must have done something terribly wrong. Maybe the lance is telling me that I’m not worthy to wield its power.”
“I can’t believe that, Pim,” I answer.
“Neither can I,” Phigby adds as he draws closer to the two of us. “My dear, do not give up hope that your wonderful lance will come to life again. It may well do so in due time.”
Pim looks up, wiping at eyes that are now wide and eager. “Do you know something, Master Phigby?”
“About your lance?” Phigby answers. “No, I’m afraid not. But I do know you and I have no doubt that if anyone is worthy to wield the Lance of Gae deBuide, it is you. So, have faith and heart and pray that it will return to its former self. Remember, it was once broken and then made whole. There’s no reason it can’t happen twice.”
Pim seems a bit disappointed at Phigby’s answer but gives him a nod and a wan smile in return.
As Phigby turns back to the Uhlan stragglers a breeze washes over us and he coughs while the rest of us scrunch our faces up at the smell.
“Whew,” Amil utters and wrinkles up his nose. “Boiled Wilder. I’ve smelled rotten turnips that had a better aroma.”
“Well,” Phigby rumbles, “there’s nothing we can do about the smell, but there is something we can do for these people. Come along, everyone. While the dragons rest, let’s see what we can do to help these good folks.”
We work through the remainder of the night and by the time dawn sends her first pale light out to push away Night’s Curtain, we’ve tended to all those who suffered wounds in the fight. As the day brightens, we get our first good look at the destruction.
The glorious golden-brown tree still stands in all its majesty but around it is a swath of devastation. Most of the Uhlan’s village is flattened. Those few cottages that still stand are so severely damaged that they’re unfit to live in.
Bodies of Wilders and their dragons litter the ground in a strip that leads from the edge of the great tree clear through the adjoining forest. Gesturing to the dead, Alonya’s voice is bitter. “I would trade the bodies of all these to see Talonda’s carcass lying roasted next to his monster.”
She lays a heavy hand on my shoulder. “You tried, brother, it’s too bad your sword did not find his heart.”
“I know,” I sigh. “A hand’s width to the left and you might have gotten your wish.”
While Alonya, Amil, and I walk among the Wilders, scavenging arrows where we can, the rest of the company ferries Ralos and his surviving Uhlan from the cliff top down into the valley.
Toward noon, the Uhlan and the company gather to share a common meal, mostly of scavenged goat meat, cheese, and slightly burned bread.
As we have business to discuss, the company settles a bit apart from the Uhlan. Tavin is the first to speak up. “We need to leave,” he states, “we’ve done what we came to do. We haven’t the time to waste.”
“Yes,” Snag agrees, “and as we have a fair idea of where the dwarves are held, we should be about our business.”
“Hold on,” Amil counters, “I wouldn’t be in such a rush.” He turns toward Phigby and asks, “Right, professor?”
“Err, umm, what?” Phigby replies, his mind apparently elsewhere and not listening to the discussion. I can’t help but notice that both he and Alonya are uncommonly quiet, especially our Golian Amazos who sits on a fallen log, her head down as she slowly chews on a roasted goat’s leg.
“I said we shouldn’t be in a rush,” Amil repeats, “to leave this place.”
Phigby gazes off toward the Wind Catcher, seems to study the giant tree for a
moment before he half-heartedly brushes a few crumbles of cheese out of his beard. “Perhaps you’re right,” Phigby answers in a quiet voice.
“I am?” Amil stammers.
Cara and I exchange a quick glance before Cara says, “Phigby, you’ve never said that we should hold back before. You’re the one always pushing us. You’re holding something back, so let’s hear it. We’re all in this together, remember?”
Phigby, who’s got his arms wrapped around his front, is staring at the ground, silent, but obviously engrossed in some thought or other.
“Well, Phigby,” Amil presses, “the lass has a point.”
“Yes, she does,” Phigby acknowledges and raises his head to look at us. “There’s always been the question of whether or not Malonda Kur brought all of his Wilder horde with him when he crossed the sea and attacked the western kingdoms. If he didn’t, that means—”
“There could be a Wilder stronghold in the north,” Amil finishes.
“Yes,” Phigby nods, “and that might have something to do with Talonda showing up here on the eastern shores.”
“He wants to extend his rule,” Tavin declares, “over the Wilders that were left behind.”
“But,” Alonya points out, “you are only supposing that there are Wilders to the north.”
“Sometimes,” Amil mutters, “supposing is a good argument not to do what you’re supposing to do.”
“And just what are we supposing to do?” Snag asks.
Amil motions toward Phigby. “He’s supposing to take us north. I can see it in his eyes.”
Phigby purses his lips together, seems to tighten his arms about him. “So,” Cara questions, “is Amil right, are we leaving to head north or not?”
Phigby doesn’t answer, instead he once again stares at the Whisperer, whose leaves look like tiny silver and gold curls at this distance and glint and gleam as the leaves twirl in the breeze.
“Phigby?” Cara presses.
“Eh?” he answers.
“I asked are we leaving or not?”