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

by GARY DARBY

  “Not so crazy,” Pip pipes up to say, “you send us. We bop ol’ Fire Meeney and ugly witch both in nose!”

  “Poke in eyes, too,” Kyr grins. “That’ll teach 'em for sure.”

  “Pull witch’s ears,” Sim laughs, “stretch’em down to belly-button.”

  “Ears no stretch,” Kyr retorts. “Bite ears much better. Big hurt.”

  “Stretch hurt worse.”

  “Will not!”

  “Will so!”

  By the time Alonya reaches the three, they’re rolling on the ground, with Sim pulling on Kyr’s ear, while Kyr bites Sim’s ear and Pip’s whacking both.

  “Maybe we should send these three,” Alonya grumbles as she pulls them apart, “instead of Phigby, they’d torment Vay for sure.”

  “Or keep her laughing so much,” Amil grunts, “that she’ll forget about everything else.”

  “I seriously doubt she knows how to laugh,” Cara mutters.

  Snag turns to Phigby. “While I admire the noble sentiment to sacrifice yourself for the good of the quest and the company, Vay will suspect you’re up to something. She won’t be fooled that easily.”

  “Vay’s wanted to get her hands on me,” Phigby replies gruffly, “for, well, a very long time. Her gloating alone will take up several days’ time. And in that time, I expect all of you to do what must be done and then come get me. I don’t want to spend one moment more in that hag’s presence than I have to.”

  I haven’t said much, just listened, but after a glance toward the dragons, I speak up. “Phigby, you’re forgetting someone important in this wild scheme of yours. Someone who could get hurt as bad as or worse than you.”

  “Eh?” he answers. “Who?”

  “Bold Wind. You do realize what Vay would do if she gets her claws into him.”

  “Say,” Amil returns, “that’s right. I’d guess she wants him almost as bad as she wants you. Hooper’s right, what she’d do to him I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.”

  Amil pauses and then adds, “Well, maybe to my worst enemy, after all.”

  Phigby shakes his head at me, his face grave. “Nay, lad, I haven’t forgotten the valiant Bold Wind. I assure you, she will not have him.”

  “That’s good,” Amil mumbles, “I kinda like the thought of having our tiny herd of big scarlets around.”

  “But she will,” I point out, “because Bold Wind will not leave you. You must know that.”

  “Hooper’s right, Phigby,” Cara affirms, frowning deeply. “We won’t lose just you, we’ll lose him too.”

  “He’ll leave if I tell him to leave,” Phigby growls.

  I laugh, but it’s mirthless. “You honestly don’t believe that, do you?”

  Phigby opens his mouth to retort, slowly closes it, before grunting, “No.” He locks eyes with me. “But he will if you order him. After all, these are Hooper’s dragons.”

  I shake my head firmly. “They’re not my dragons, they’re nobody’s dragons. They stay with us out of loyalty to the company and to Golden Wind. Besides, I wouldn’t order him to do that because I know where his heart would lie. And that would be with you.”

  “Well, professor,” Amil comments, his eyes narrowed, his fingers pinching his lower lip, “sounds like you’d best come up with another idea because that one isn’t going to fly with your dragon.”

  “Good pun, Amil,” Tavin smiles.

  Amil appears surprised for a moment before he too grins. “It was, wasn’t it?”

  “So,” Snag says slowly, “unless Phigby or one of us has another thought, it seems we’re down to be seen or not to be seen.”

  “Or stay here,” Marce persists. “Otherwise, Vay will be back with reinforcements and she’ll attack and destroy the Uhlan just for spite.”

  “Not,” Phigby insists, “if we draw her attention and her forces away from this spot. With Liam dead and no Vinderfangen to take his place, the threat to her is gone.”

  My gaze is on my feet, for I’m not comfortable with any of Phigby’s notions, but I’m not one to criticize Phigby. After all, he’s much wiser and smarter than I’ll ever be.

  Cara gives me a shoulder nudge and a questioning expression, but I don’t respond though apparently Alonya is not above challenging Phigby. “Phigby, the more I ponder your ideas the more convinced I am that we can’t stay here. However, I’m not convinced either that letting the company be openly seen is the proper course. The more I think about that idea the more I feel the lion’s jaws squeezing around my neck.”

  Marce plants herself in the middle of the group. “You’re forgetting one thing. What if Vay’s already on her way and what if she’s bringing an army with her? What then, or had you not thought of that?”

  “That’s possible,” Phigby admits. “Though Liam mentioned only one army headed to this valley and we defeated them, that doesn’t necessarily mean there couldn’t be another army or two, for all we know. Which, to my mind, makes it imperative that we be seen far away from this valley. To Vay, we are a much more important prize than this valley or the Uhlan will ever be.”

  Marce’s face becomes hard, her lips pressed tight together. She doesn’t speak but it’s obvious she doesn’t agree with Phigby even a little.

  “Aye,” Amil grunts, “if there is another army out there, the best course would be to lead it astray.”

  Marce’s face clouds up. “But the tunnel is closed! The only way to get in here now is over the cliff. That means they would have to have dragons and we destroyed most of the Wilders.”

  “You’re assuming,” Tavin counters, “that those we killed were all the Wilders hereabouts. I would not be so quick to make that assumption. For all we know, there could be double, triple the number of Wilders still left that we don’t know about.”

  “And,” Talia speaks up to say, “the number of Uhlan archers able to string a bow is considerably less. No, I agree with Phigby. We need to let the shark chase the sea-salmon as far away from here as possible.”

  “Shark chase the sea-salmon,” Amil nods. “Sorta like letting fox lead the dogs on a merry chase.”

  “That makes more sense to me,” Snag muses, “than staying here. Vay didn’t know we were here the last time she attacked. She won’t make the same mistake twice of sending too few.”

  “Skying in broad daylight,” Alonya muses, “in an unknown land. A risky gambit, Phigby, that could backfire and hurt us badly.”

  “Risky!?” Marce spits out. “Add to that foolish and dangerous!”

  Marce whirls on Amil, her face set in a hard glower. “The Uhlan gave us sanctuary, a risky and dangerous offer, wouldn’t you say? They fought alongside the company, yet here we sit with hardly a scratch whereas they just buried a quarter of their loved ones and we’re quibbling over whether or not we get seen by a few villagers.”

  That does it. I’m on my feet. Challenging Phigby is one thing, Marce is quite another. “It’s not quibbling when we’re talking about the safety of the golden, Marce. Yes, we helped your kinsmen because we had the element of surprise working for us and it was necessary to save the Whisperer. But that battle is over and now we know what we need to know to go on.

  “Staying here risks Golden Wind at a time when we are so close to finishing the quest. For me, this can’t be about the Uhlan but about her. She’s the reason this company exists and the one reason that Vay hasn’t conquered all of Erdron or had you forgotten?”

  “I haven’t forgotten,” Marce snaps, “nor have I forgotten the dead and injured Uhlan who for a brief time were, in a way, part of this company, or had you forgotten that, Hooper Menvoran?”

  “No, Marce,” I growl low, “I haven’t forgotten. Nor have I forgotten the brave Amazos and Dyrfolken, Master Boren and Wind Rover, or Grand Wind and King Leo, or Sea Bright and Keoni, or Pengillstorr and Vaskarhat,” my voice chokes, “or little Loda and Wind Shine, nor any of the others who’ve died and were a part of this company in one way or the other.”

  I straighten, draw in a d
eep breath. “I remember all of them and their sacrifices, to include your fellow Uhlan!”

  My voice is trembling, matching my body. I let my anger subside before I grump at Phigby, “I know you would never put Golden Wind in danger on purpose, but this notion of yours is deeply troubling.”

  “Aye, professor,” Amil laments, “I have to agree. To me, what you’re proposing is like saying it doesn’t matter if we jump into hot bacon grease or boiling lard. We get fried either way.”

  “On both sides at that,” Snag adds in a dry tone.

  “Yeah,” Amil agrees. “On both sides.”

  “Then we’ll fry up nice and tasty,” Phigby grunts.

  “Phigby,” Alonya sighs, “I’m sorry, but I too have serious reservations over this idea. It’s asking for trouble and makes us even more vulnerable than we already are.”

  “I feel the same, professor,” Amil chimes in.

  “Me too,” Cara nods.

  “And I,” Tavin adds.

  Phigby glances my way. “Yes, we’re in an unknown land,” I respond, “and we’ve already met one of Vay’s armies, and no, we don’t know how many more are out there. If her portal lies somewhere north, doesn’t it make sense that’s where she’s keeping her strongest forces? And yes, by now, between the Blackguards and the Wilders she knows we’re here.”

  There is a long moment of silence where no one speaks. Amil glances around and shrugs, holding his hands out. “Appears we’re at an impasse, professor.”

  “So it seems,” Phigby sighs and pulls at his beard, his eyes a little downcast. “Then, I suggest we sleep on it. We’ll rise a bit earlier and take this up again. Hopefully, rested minds will deal with this matter better.”

  Marce stomps her foot and whirls away to disappear into the darkness in the direction of the Uhlan camp.

  I feel a need to go after her, apologize for my harshness, but just as I take a step in her direction, a soft hand on my arm stops me. “Right now, it’s not your voice she wishes to hear. Give her some time, then speak to her.”

  With a nod to Cara, I turn to find Phigby’s eyes following Marce, too. He works his mouth for a moment before bringing his face back to us. “Whatever we decide, we must be gone well before sunrise. For every moment we stay here heightens the risk to the surviving Uhlan, and I for one do not want to be responsible for a massacre if Vay and her followers return to this valley.”

  Drawing in a deep breath, he declares, “And rest assured that will be the Uhlan’s fate if we do not draw Vay’s attention elsewhere—and soon.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  I wait for Marce, but she has not returned to our camp by the time the night is half gone, so I try to get some sleep, though it is mostly a wasted effort. I’m sure that I’ve just closed my eyes when a rough hand awakens me with several sharp jabs to my shoulder. I blink several times to shake off the sleep and see Amil looming close. “Get up, Hooper. Marce and Wind Walker are missing!”

  “What!?” I sputter and roll to my feet.

  He points over to where Phigby and Ralos are engaged in agitated speech. “Borm’s gone too,” he growls. “It was Ralos who alerted us. Said that one of his sentries heard dragon wings a bit earlier and woke Ralos. At first, they thought it was Wilders and came to wake us. It was then that Phigby discovered that Marce and Wind Walker were gone.”

  I glance upward to find the King and Queen stars halfway between the horizon and their zenith meaning dawn is still a ways off. Together with Amil I hurry to where the rest of the company gathers around Phigby and Ralos. “And you have no idea where they went?” Phigby demands.

  “None,” Ralos growls. “That fool girl came into camp earlier tonight. She and Borm went for a walk, came back late. That was the last time I saw him.”

  “And Borm never said anything to you?” Alonya questions.

  “No,” Ralos answers. “Nothing.”

  Phigby runs a hand through his wild, unkempt hair and sighs deeply. “Well, it’s obvious that the two skyed away from camp, but why and where would they go?”

  “Maybe for a romantic moonlit ride?” Cara offers, giving me a sideways glance and a little smile.

  “Phhh,” Ralos spits out. “A romantic ride on one of your dragons? Borm would never do such a thing. Besides, I made it clear that that girl was not for him.”

  His voice turns even angrier. “She must have cast a spell on him. A witch in disguise.”

  “Marce is no witch,” I answer sharply. “She’s no different than any of you Uhlan.”

  Amil nudges me, whispers low, “See? What did I tell you. No spell, just woman power.”

  Phigby ignores Amil, turns to Ralos. “Marce is no sorceress, just a young woman of determination and conviction, like the others in our company. I’m sure that for whatever reason she and your son did this, in their minds it was for an honorable purpose.”

  “But why?” Ralos presses. “Where did they go? There is much danger beyond this valley, Borm knows that as well as anyone.”

  “I cannot answer as to where,” Snag rumbles, “but I would think the why is obvious. It was clear that Marce was distraught that we wouldn’t consider staying here in anticipation that Vay would show up.”

  He motions toward Phigby. “Perhaps she and Borm decided to implement your plan.”

  Phigby’s head snaps up. “They wouldn’t—”

  “Oh, but they would,” Cara asserts. “Snag’s right. You saw how upset Marce was last night. She clearly thought that we were wrong and her way right.”

  “Yes,” Snag observes, “she was thinking with all emotion and little logic.”

  “At times, a common trait among the young,” Phigby nods.

  Ralos steps forward, his lips pressed tight. “Plan? What plan and what is this about Vay?”

  “Earlier in the evening, we were discussing several ideas,” Phigby explains, “to try and draw Vay’s attention away from your valley and onto us. It’s in our minds that when Talonda Kur and some of his Wilders escaped Vay would soon know that the company and especially Golden Wind are here.

  “That she would send another army to attack the valley was on our minds, so we discussed several ideas of how to prevent such an event. Each had its risks and certain dangerous aspects, to be sure, and so we engaged in, shall we say, a spirited debate over the merits or lack thereof.”

  He clears his throat and shoots a sideways glance in my direction. “Marce was quite adamant that the company should stay here, while the other proposal dealt with us heading east to lead Vay’s followers away from your haven.”

  Ralos shakes his head. “And Borm was here to hear these ideas of yours?”

  “No,” Phigby replies, “I can only surmise that Marce must have told Borm about our conversation and—”

  “Now,” Tavin interjects, gesturing toward the towering cliff, “she and Borm are out there—”

  “All alone,” Cara says in a small voice, “and most likely trying to make themselves appear as the whole company.”

  “You must bring them back!” Ralos demands. “My son is brave, with a good heart, but he is not one of you dragon-riders!”

  “Easier said than done,” Snag replies, “unless you have some idea which way they headed.”

  Ralos shakes his head in response so I step forward and ask, “Ralos, would Borm know where the nearest villages lay?”

  The Uhlan Jelani points toward the towering cliff. “Yes. The closest are a few fishing villages on the coast northward from here.”

  “Unlikely they would head north,” Snag states.

  “Perhaps, but let’s not discount that possibility,” Phigby replies and then asks Ralos, “what about east or south?”

  “There are several that lie eastward,” Borm answers. “Fewer south.”

  “How far?” I question.

  “On foot, several days,” he answers.

  “By dragon,” Helmar replies softly, “a half-day skyride or less.”

  I look at Phigby. “You were
adamant about us heading east. I think that’s where they headed.”

  “Maybe,” Cara replies. “But those fishing villages, being closer, would be tempting.”

  “Especially,” Amil mutters, “if they think there might be some Sung Dar in the area. They’d certainly tell Vay what they’d seen.”

  “They wouldn’t be so foolish!” Ralos snaps.

  “It’s not a matter of being foolish,” Phigby replies. “In their minds they’re doing this for your people.”

  “Maybe even for the company,” Tavin notes.

  “Split up?” Alonya suggests. “Half to the coast, the rest to those easterly villages?”

  Silence greets Alonya’s proposal for a moment before Phigby says, “That would offer the best chance of finding them—”

  “And the best chance,” Amil growls, “to get ourselves in bigger trouble if we get jumped.”

  I can see where this is headed. More discussion, more time-consuming argument. I glance over at Golden Wind but she has her eyes closed though she’s angled her ears forward, listening. I step forward, shake my head. “No. We don’t split up, we stay together.”

  Phigby eyes me for a long moment before nods. “Agreed, lad. But which way?”

  I take a deep breath. “East. I don’t think they would go to the fishing villages. Foolish yes, stupid, no.”

  “East it is,” Phigby replies.

  “Well, Phigby,” Alonya scowls, “it looks like you get your way after all.”

  “I assure you, m’lady,” Phigby contends, “I did not intend for this to happen to ‘get my way’ as you claim.”

  “Well, it has,” Alonya growls, “and we have but one choice and that’s to go after them and swiftly, in broad daylight.”

  Just then, an Uhlan woman, her gray hair marking her as one advanced in years, trundles up. She hands a bulging sack to Ralos before she turns and hurries away. Ralos holds the bag out to Phigby. “Fresh-baked bread and cheese. I’m sorry it’s not more but at least you won’t search for my son and your comrade on an empty stomach.”

  “We appreciate the offer, Ralos, we sincerely do,” Phigby replies, “but from what I saw, your people need this more than we.”