by GARY DARBY
“It is our custom,” Ralos answers, “to be a giving people to each other. The Uhlan feel, after what you’ve done, that you are a part of us, so you are as entitled to this as we are. Besides, as it is said, giving and sharing fill the spirit more than a full stomach.”
He thrusts the sack out, “Please, help fill our spirit so that what we’ve suffered will not be so painful.”
Phigby nods, takes the sack, and hands it over to Amil. “Ensure everyone gets an equal share.”
“And don’t forget to save Marce’s and Borm’s share,” Cara says. “They’ll be hungry when we find them.”
She turns to Ralos and smiles. “And find them we will.”
“From your lips to the gods’ ears,” Ralos answers. “Please, bring my son back to me. He is all I have left.”
“Rest assured,” Phigby answers and lays a hand on Ralos’s shoulder, “we will do all that we can to bring him safely home.”
“Then,” Ralos nods, “I will take that as your promise and hold you to it.” With that, he turns away and heads back to the Uhlan camp.
“To your dragons, then,” Phigby orders and after grabbing a slice of bread from Amil and a small hunk of cheese, we hurry to our dragons. As I rush up to Golden Wind I whistle for Scamper. The little tub and Silky burst through some brush and Scamper bounces up the golden’s leg to settle in his usual place while Silky bounds over to Wind Sparkle.
As I climb into the golden’s neck saddle, Scamper sniffs the air and then starts chittering at me. Eeeeetttt?
“Hey,” I answer, “from the looks of that dirt on your whiskers and around your mouth, I’d say that you and Silky had an early morning breakfast of worms or grubs already.”
Errrnnooo, he chitters at me, shaking his head in denial. “Are you sure? Your whiskers tell a different story.”
Sssuurre, he answers.
“All right, then,” I sigh and hand him half of the bread and some cheese. I’ve barely swallowed my one last bite when Phigby raises a hand signaling it’s time to sky.
Golden Wind walks out into the clearing, spreads her wings, catches the light breeze and then we’re aloft. She settles in next to Bold Wind and we spiral up and up until we’re high enough to sky across the steep cliff and turn eastward where a pale pink light on the horizon announces the coming dawn.
I let the golden drop back as I want to talk. “Golden Wind, Marce and Wind Walker are missing. Borm, too.”
“I know. I heard them leave in the night.”
“You did!? Why didn’t you stop them?”
“It is not my place to stop a Prince of the Forest.”
“But you’re—”
“No more than who I am, Hooper, no more than who I am.”
“Seems like I’ve heard that before. Still, why didn’t you wake me or better yet, the whole camp to stop them?”
“They seemed very determined to leave. Are you sure that if I had awakened you that Marce and Borm would listen and turn aside from their effort?”
“Of course!”
That she doesn’t answer causes me to reply, “Well, maybe.”
“Both Marce and Borm were highly agitated, Hooper. I’m not sure but that violence wouldn’t have raised its ugly head.”
That shocks me so much that I jerk back. “Wait, are you saying that Borm and Marce would draw swords against anyone who tried to stop them?”
Again, Golden Wind doesn’t answer and the fact that she doesn’t tells me that she believes either Marce or Borm, perhaps both would have drawn swords on anyone trying to stop them. “This has gotten out of hand,” I growl. “To have disagreements among the company is one thing, but to come to blows!”
“It’s happened before, has it not?”
This time it’s me that doesn’t immediately answer as she’s right. “Yes,” I answer slowly, “and it cost us dearly. But why would Marce do this? She’s endangering not just herself but Borm and Wind Walker. They’re alone, without the protection of the—”
“Gem Guardian?”
“Well, I was going to say the company, all of us.” I shake my head. “I don’t understand.”
“Really? You don’t recall a certain special person who went off by herself, at great risk, to try and save prisoners held by Prince Aster?”
“Yes, but that was—”
“Different? How so?”
I blow out a breath. “All right, you got me, I don’t know how it’s different. Maybe because the stakes are so much higher now.”
“It seems to me that where a person’s life is concerned the ‘stakes,’ as you call it, are eternally high.”
“All right, maybe I can understand Marce’s and Borm’s conviction but what about Wind Walker? Surely, he knew it was wrong to go off and leave the company.”
“Wrong, Hooper? Perhaps in your mind but perhaps not in Wind Walker’s. Perhaps he thought he was protecting us—maybe even you. After all, he was, and still is, one of the—”
“Guardians,” I interject. “I know, but now they’ve put us in an awful place. Do you know where they went? We’re guessing that they’ve headed east.”
“No, I don’t know where they’ve gone, but in this case one guess is as good as another, don’t you think?”
“Seems so,” I reply as I peer ahead where the morn’s pale light is spreading across the horizon, parting Night’s Curtain even more. “The sun will be up soon. Do you think you can find them?”
“Wind Walker is a swift dragon, Hooper. They are far ahead of us and I suspect they know exactly where to go—unlike us, who must guess as to their direction.”
“Too far to catch?”
“For the other dragons in the company, yes.”
“But not for you.”
That she doesn’t answer tells me what I need to know. “If we push ahead, leave the company behind,” I muse to myself, “that could be as bad as what Marce has done. We need to stay together.”
“Together we are stronger, apart, weaker?”
“It seems I’ve heard that before too. Yes, now more than ever, when we’re so close to finishing our quest we need to stay together.”
I draw in a deep breath. “On the other hand, if we stay with the company, then Marce, Borm, and Wind Walker will face whatever danger presents itself, alone, without the company’s help.
“On the other hand, if we rush forward, we’ll be alone and that could put us in danger.”
“Hooper.”
“On the other hand, if we reach Wind Walker quickly, maybe we can convince him to turn around, rejoin the company.”
“Hooper.”
“On the other hand—”
“Hooper!”
I jerk my head up, reach for Galondraig. “Wha—!”
“You’ve ‘other handed’ this enough,” Golden Wind asserts. “Make a decision, time grows short.”
I think for a moment and then shake my head. “No, I said that the company needs to stay together and so we will, but when I find those two I’m going to have some choice words for both.”
“I suspect you’re going to have to stand in line. Several in the company stew over this and their anger is building.”
“Including mine,” I growl.
Our pace eastward is swift, our eyes both on the rising light and searching for a large emerald dragon. The night is passing and with it, the ebony haven that hides us. It won’t be long before anyone looking up will see a rainbow carpet moving quickly overhead and know exactly it’s the company.
It’s not long before the sky lightens enough to see landscape features. I lean over to look down. We’re over a broad river valley. Beneath us is a forest, with a sluggish, brown river snaking through the woodland. “Hooper,” the golden directs, “look ahead.”
I rise up just a bit and peer to our front. The forest breaks and just beyond, cleared land is laid out in a patchwork of fields. Rock walls surround some of the meadows holding in small herds of cattle, sheep, and horses. “We must be nearing one of the vi
llages.”
As we shoot across the pastures, in the near distance my eyes catch the telltale curling wisps of chimney smoke that mark a village. Then, the top turrets of a castle come into view. Abruptly, the golden growls, “Uh oh.”
“Uh oh? What uh oh?” I repeat but she doesn’t answer. Instead, she shoots us skyward, climbing high into the air. I glance behind to find the company is staying right with us.
The golden levels off and goes into a slow glide. “Ahead, in the village square.”
I lean forward to stare and what I see causes my heart to sink. “I think uh oh is an understatement.”
Fighting ferociously against a spiderweb of stout ropes that bind and hold him down is Wind Walker. Off to one side, pinned against a wall with arrows pointed at their throats are Marce and Borm. The quad is filled with longbowmen and armor-clad knights seated on large, black horses, some of which paw with their hooves and step sideways as if made nervous by all the commotion.
Worse, off to one side is a full phalanx of ballistae—dragon killers all. It’s apparent it was their thick ropes and talon-catching prongs that brought Wind Walker down. That the big green is still alive is a miracle in my eyes.
Surrounding the men-at-arms is a throng of villagers and even at this height I can see their anger and their clenched fists raised to the sky, some thrust toward the captives. Movement to one side of the square catches my eye. Pulled forward by teams of oxen are two more of the wicked machines though these are much larger than the others. Each carries a giant shaft tipped by an iron point.
I have no doubt as to their intentions. As soon as the men lead the oxen away and crank the strong ropes back, they will launch the two wickedly-tipped lances—straight into Wind Walker’s heart.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The blaring of horns snaps my eyes toward the small castle. Over the lowered drawbridge pound a dozen or more barrel-chested horses. Astride each is an armor-clad swordsman. Lances point straight up with fluttering blood-red pennants at their tip. Leading the phalanx on a horse that seems twice the size of the others is a giant of a man. His black armor glints in the early morn and a purple plume festoons the top of his helmet.
At full gallop the horses cover the distance from the keep to the square in short order. The man jerks the reins of his ebony steed back, sending the animal into a skidding stop close to Wind Walker. The black-clad rider dismounts, throws up his visor, and takes a few steps closer to the still-fighting emerald.
“He’s in charge,” I growl, “they won’t fire until he gives the word.”
I swivel in my seat. “Phigby! Take half to the right! Alonya, take the rest to the left! Don’t attack unless I signal.”
The company splits off, half following Phigby and half trailing Alonya—all except Cara. “What are you going to do?!” she demands.
“Try to talk some reason into those people,” I reply, “before someone gets hurt.”
I draw Galondraig, ordering, “Golden Wind, get me down there!”
Golden Wind tucks her wings against her body and an instant later we’re in a steep dive and gaining speed. The wind rushes through my hair as I lean forward as if I could help Golden Wind go faster. I hold Galondraig high as we scream downward, closer and closer to the village square.
Scamper has his little paws clamped tight on the golden’s carapace, his face into the wind, his lip’s fluttering and cheeks pooched out from the wind’s force.
“No dragon fire,” I call to Golden Wind, “but let’s make sure those machines never fire at a dragon ever again!”
Golden Wind’s dive steepens even more until we’re pointed almost straight down. The gale roars in my ears but I ignore it as my whole attention is on the infernal ballistae and Wind Walker.
The ground looms closer and closer and just when it seems as if we’re going to slam into the pavement, the golden thrusts her wings out, we flatten out just a bit, she cups her wings, catches the air, and we fall a short distance to land squarely on top of one ballista. Before she can get to the other dragon-killer, a sapphire lands full force on it smashing it to bits.
Splintered and shattered wood shoots out, spraying the machine’s crew and the black-clad leader. The man ducks, takes the shower of what now is little more than kindling on his armor.
Cara whoops and smiles at me though I give her a glare as she was supposed to stay above the fray. Turning back, I find that the man, as big as Helmar and Amil put together, has whipped out his sword and now glowers at Cara and me.
Well, my sword is out too so I thrust its point skyward to let the sun turn it into an emerald pillar of light. I rise in my seat and call out, “I am Hooper Menvoran, Gem Guardian and those you hold are my friends. Release them or I will bring wind and fire upon your heads and destroy this village.”
I lean forward and stare right at the huge man, whose eyes are a mix of stunned surprise and anger. “And for good measure,” I snarl, “that puny castle of yours will not have one stone block standing when I’m done!”
Under my breath, I whisper, “A good roar from you about now would add to the effect, don’t you think?”
In answer, Golden Wind lets out a thunderous growl while Scamper puts his paws on her carapace ridge and snarls as loud as he can. Wind Song joins in and the air vibrates from their thunder.
The villagers and a good many of the archers pull back while the horses rear and start bucking. The giant’s horse, the white of its eyes clearly showing in fright, pulls away from its rein-holder and bolts for the castle.
“Good job Scamp,” I quip, while knuckling his head, “I think you did it.”
Scamper gives me a smug look and starts chittering. “No,” I answer, “that’s enough for now and no, I don’t want you to bite his nose off.”
To Cara’s grin I give a nod and turn back to the big man whose lips are pressed tight and his eyes glare at me. “Well? I’m waiting but I won’t hold off for long.”
The man’s eyes narrow as if he’s appraising whether or not I will carry through with my threat. He takes a step forward and addresses me in a deep, gruff voice. “I know who you are. There is only one who rides the golden dragon. But Gem Guardian, how do I know that after I release these scum friends of yours that you won’t carry out your threat anyway? In these times, many promises are made, few are kept.”
“Because I am the Gem Guardian,” I reply, “and my word is my bond. Release my friends and you have no fear of me. We will leave your village in peace and be on our way.”
The man brings a gloved hand up, through his helmet’s open visor slowly strokes his square-shaped chin. “There is little in the rumors about you that speaks to honesty and truth. As I said, in these evil times few there are that I would make my right-hand man.”
“I’m not looking to be your right-hand man,” I grunt. “All I want is for my friends to be free and gone from this place. So, what’s it to be?”
The man stares at me for a moment before a leer spreads across his face. From his expression, I get a sick feeling that there’s something I’m missing here.
“What’s it to be?” The man mutters, his eyes on the ground as he strikes a thoughtful pose. “What’s it to be?” he repeats again before he whips his hand out and points just beyond Wind Walker. “That!”
He springs back and raises his arm. “Make one move, Gem Guardian, and your green friend here dies!”’
I turn slowly and what I see makes my face go hard and my spirit sink. From behind the crowd of villagers, unbeknownst to me, the lord’s men have quietly pulled up two more large ballistae. As the throng of villagers part still more, I can see four wicked lances pointed right at Wind Walker, two from each machine.
Golden Wind whispers, “I think this is what’s called, calling your bluff.”
“Really? What gave it away?” I sigh to myself and add, “This just keeps getting better and better.”
Scamper is chittering wildly at me. “Yeah, you’re right, I should have let you bite hi
s nose off.”
The man’s grin seems to fill his visor as he knows he’s got me in a real bind. He rears back and roars in laughter. His smirking is brash and harsh. “The golden in my hands! Oh, the gold ducats that will fill my treasury!”
While he laughs, under my breath, I mutter, “If I call his bluff and threaten dragon fire and the gemstones’ wrath, he may surrender. Maybe.”
I pause as the man’s raucous laughter seems to fill the square. “On the other hand—”
“Hooper!” the golden growls, “Now’s definitely not the time for your ‘on the other hand.’”
I flick my eyes toward Cara and give her the barest of nods, telling her to get ready. Her return nod hardly moves her head, but she lifts her bow ever so slightly showing me she has an arrow notched.
Biting down on my lip, I whisper, “Scamper, I need a distraction, if only for a moment.”
Without an instant’s hesitation, the furball sails off the golden and darts across the square. The still smirking noble doesn’t see him as the gloating man’s eyes flick between me and his death-dealing machines.
Before the leering lord can react, Scamper runs up an armored leg, his claws scrabbling on the metal and then launches himself right at the man’s face. The knight is too stunned to move and before he can swat at Scamper, small, sharp claws rake his face. He roars in anger and pain, tries to grab Scamper but the little tub is a brown blur as he darts away, heading straight for the golden and safety.
Cara’s arrow catches the man mid-torso and though it doesn’t penetrate his armor, the blunt force sends him reeling backward. I jerk Galondraig skyward, whip it around in a large circle signaling the company to attack.
Golden Wind springs skyward just as the dragon-killers launch their lethal lances. I have no idea how she did it, but the golden buckles in the air and we’re diving sideways—and upside down.
Four missiles suddenly appear under me and without thinking, I swing. Galondraig flashes through the air. Its finely honed edge splits the four shafts as if they were little more than straw. Splintered in half, the lances tumble through the air and I whip my head around to watch as the deadly missile tips drop to the pavement, skid, and end up a hand’s length from Wind Walker.