by GARY DARBY
CHAPTER TWENTY
No matter the cost! Phigby’s words ring in my head, forbidding and stark, yet I know he’s right. The question is, what will be the ultimate cost?
“You understand, Hooper?” Phigby presses.
I nod slowly. “Yes, Phigby, I understand.”
His grip lessens to gently press against my shoulder. “Good lad. We’ll see you tomorrow at daybreak.”
“Tomorrow at daybreak,” I reply and with that, he hurries over to Bold Wind, where he settles in behind Borm’s body that’s draped across his dragon’s neck. Moments later, the big scarlet and Wind Walker are aloft and winging westward.
I watch them for a few moments before I order, “Let’s go, we need to find a hiding place, wait for Marce and Phigby to return.”
“Could we make a little stop beforehand?” Cara asks.
“As in?” I question.
“The dragons are hungry,” she answers. “The paddocks around here are full of fat sheep.”
“It’s not even close to full payment,” Talia responds, “after what that so-called nobleman did to Borm, but it’s a start.”
“I agree,” I answer, “besides, Cara’s right, the dragons could use something to eat.” We hurry over to our dragons and not long after we’re aloft. I have Golden Wind turn us eastward and soon we’re over the checkerboard fields with their stone-wall pastures. “First good flock of sheep you spot, you and the others are to help yourselves.”
“Don’t have to encourage me twice,” she answers. It doesn’t take long before we spot several pastures where large flocks of plump sheep graze in the stone-walled meadows. The golden goes into a glide to quieten her wings so as to not stampede the sheep and I point downward, letting the company know what we’re doing.
The other dragons quiet their wings too and down we slip, picking up speed. We whip just over the stone walls and Golden Wind yanks two startled sheep off the ground as if she were an eagle plucking trout from a mountain lake.
Of course, that sends the flock in a panic and the bleating of frightened sheep fills the air. However, no matter which way the sheep stampede, they’re no match for hungry dragons and soon the paddock and the neighboring one are empty.
As the company circles upward, I call out, “Keep skying, don’t stop to eat!”
Scamper chitters at me, to which I shake my head. “No Scamper, we’re not going back to get you a sheep. You’ll just have to make do with what you can scavenge tonight.”
Aaarrrwww, he grumps at me. “Sorry,” I reply, “but that’s just the way it is. Look at me, I don’t have a sheep either, so I’ll be scrounging right along with you.”
I glance back to make sure each dragon has at least one sheep in its talons. All have two, except Regal, who’s got four. “Naturally,” I grunt.
We wing east for a bit until the town drops below the horizon before I turn us on an angle, heading north and a little west. We put distance between the village and ourselves before I lean over and say, “Golden Wind, look for a good hiding spot, but don’t forget we want to be close to due north of the town so that Phigby and Marce can find us tomorrow.”
“I understand, Hooper,” the golden replies.
Sitting back, my thoughts turn to Borm and to Phigby’s stark pronouncement. Golden Wind must have sensed my anxious thoughts for she asks, “Disturbed by Borm’s death?”
“Yes,” I admit. “It’s always hard to see someone you know die. Even worse when it’s a friend—or more.”
“Death to someone who’s close,” the golden replies, “always brings to mind our own mortality, perhaps even thoughts of when will it be our time, how will it happen, where will it happen? Will we be alone or in the company of friends or loved ones?”
I nod to myself, then ask, “Have you ever had those thoughts?”
“Of course, haven’t you?”
I wait a moment and then admit, “Once or twice, I guess.” I glance over my shoulder to check on my companions. The company is strung out behind, keeping pace with the golden, though they’re an odd sight with sheep dangling from talons.
After a moment, I turn and put my face into the wind. “To be honest, ever since that night at Draconstead when first the drogs tried to kill me and then Aster, they’ve come more often than I’d like.”
“Yes, a drog spear or sword at one’s throat does heighten the sense of impending death.”
I shake my head, let out a sigh. “Borm was so young, and he and Marce . . . well, they seemed to be developing something special between them and now he’s gone and her heart’s broken.”
“Yes, I know. Marce will mourn and know pain for many days ahead. But she is strong of spirit and someday she will be able to smile again.”
“If it weren’t for Vay—” I spit out.
“Indeed, if not for Vay.”
“She’s hurt and killed so many. When will her day come?”
The golden remains silent for several moments before saying, “Sometimes Hooper, many have to fall in order to kill the evil that we let rise.”
“That must be what Phigby meant when he said we had to stop her at any cost.”
“Phigby realizes more than most how hard it is to root out evil when it’s allowed to grow and fester.”
I glance back again at the company, the golden’s words in my mind Many have to fall . . .
“But how many?” I ask myself and the answer for me as I gaze at all my comrades is one is too many.
We sky almost to midday when the golden slows and arcs slightly to the right. “Up ahead, Hooper. What do you think?”
I lean forward and gaze at the thick forest. To our front, there’s a break in the trees, that outlines a small meadow, not much bigger than two Regals put together. As it comes more into view, I glance around but see nothing except a thick greenwood that stretches on for leagues. “We don’t want to go much farther than this and I don’t see anything better, so I guess it’ll have to do.”
Studying the opening another moment, I sigh, “There’s no getting around it, Regal will have to scrunch up against the tree line and pretend he’s a giant purple rock. But we can hide the rest of the company in the woods.”
“As I thought,” Golden Wind replies.
I turn and first point ahead and then down, signaling to the company that we’re going to land. The golden swoops down, glides over the dark forest before she flares her wings and settles to the ground. She’s followed by Wind Song and then one at a time, the rest of the company.
Alonya has her big purple wait until the rest of the company is in the trees before she brings Regal down. As it is, his outstretched wings splinter a few treetops, but it can’t be helped.
No sooner do I have Golden Wind in the woodlands than Scamper shoots off her leg and bounds away. “Hey,” I call, “if you find a sheep wandering around, make sure you share.”
“You really think he would?” the golden chuckles.
“No, but I like to prick his conscience occasionally.” I slide to the mossy ground and pat her neck scales. “Enjoy your mutton.”
“I shall, and I’ll share with the sprites.”
“Nice of you,” I smile, “considering they’re a bit on the wee side to haul off their own sheep.”
The dragons make short work of the dead sheep before they curl up in sleep. To Alonya I ask, “Have you got Regal as close to the trees as you can?”
“Yes, but he’ll still be seen if someone flies right overhead.”
“Then, let’s hope no one skies right overhead,” Amil answers.
“Or, if they do,” I return, “mistake him for one huge rock.”
No one speaks after Amil; they just seem to be waiting, so I say slowly, “Alonya, would you and Cara like to try your hand at a little hunting?”
“Only,” Alonya replies while settling a hand on Cara’s shoulder and peering intently at Amil and Helmar, “if there’s a little competition to it.”
Amil nudges Helmar. “Will they never give
up? How many times do we have to beat them before they finally acknowledge our supremacy in the art of game hunting?”
Helmar doesn’t try to answer through Alonya’s peals of laughter. She holds her chortling back for a moment and then bends toward the two. “May I remind you, good sirs, that I and my hunting companion are the unbeaten champions.”
“Hold,” Tavin exclaims, “I want to be in on this.” He turns and asks, “Pim? Talia? Snag? As Marce is not here, I need a hunting companion.”
“I’ll go,” Pim offers. “I feel a need to stretch my legs.”
“Excellent,” Tavin replies, looks around and points off in one direction. “We’ll take that way.”
“We’ll go opposite you,” Alonya returns.
“And we’ll split the difference,” Amil responds.
“Everyone be back by sundown and no later,” I order, “with or without a kill.”
Amil turns to Alonya and asks, “The wager?”
“The winners, meaning Cara and I,” Alonya answers, “are off watch for two nights, starting tonight.”
Tavin looks at Pim, who nods. “Done,” he states. “But you’ll be standing our guard duty.”
Amil chuckles and wags a finger. “We gladly accept that you four will be standing our watches.” At that, he and Helmar trudge away.
Alonya unlimbers her bow and asks Cara, “Ready?”
“Sure,” Cara replies, gives me a smile and a wave and then they’re off, followed by Pim and Tavin.
“Hope they find game,” Talia sighs, “or it could be a long while between meals.”
“An empty stomach is a pretty common occurrence in this company,” I reply.
“My money is on Alonya and Cara,” Snag answers. “I’ve seen how those two handle a bow. If there’s game to be found, they’ll bring back meat.”
“Actually,” I return, “they’re all pretty good but I admit, I’d choose Alonya and Cara too.”
“So,” Talia asks, “how will they determine who’s the winner if they all bring back a deer or a boar, or one deer and two boars, or two deer and—”
I hold up a hand stopping her. “I get it, but I honestly don’t know, it’s never happened before.”
“Let’s hope,” Snag grins, “that this is the time. I’d like nothing better than to gnaw on a nice broiled venison haunch or roasted pork ribs.”
Scratching in the dirt nearby causes me to turn only to find Scamper and Silky digging furiously at the base of a feathery bush. “Actually,” I laugh, “if Scamper and Silky were a team, I’d bet on them. Scamper, at least, rarely suffers an empty stomach.”
I glance around, find what I’m looking for. The pixies and sprites, asleep and bunched up together next to Regal.
“If you two want to catch a nap,” I offer, “I’ll guard the camp.”
“I don’t feel much like sleeping,” Talia returns. “I’ll help you.”
“Well, then,” Snag smiles, “I never turn down the opportunity for a nap. Never know when another chance might come around.”
The large demon strides over to where Wind Strider snoozes and curls up next to his dragon. Talia and I begin a slow patrol through the camp but as everyone is asleep, it’s quiet and appears peaceful.
Talia breaks the silence by asking, “Do you think she’ll come back?”
“Who will come back? Vay?”
“No, I know that hag will, I was asking about Marce.”
“Oh.” I chew on my inner lip as we continue to walk. Her question really didn’t catch me by surprise, I’d already thought of the notion myself.
I let out a long breath. “I hope so. We badly need her and Wind Walker.”
“Hidden Haven and the Uhlan pulled at her, you know. It wasn’t just Borm. She was back among her own people. In a way, she was home.”
“I know,” I sigh.
She holds up her trident, stares at it a moment. “I came along thinking that I could be a help to the company—”
“And you are—a big help!”
She gives me a smile but then her expression and voice turn melancholy. “Thanks. Only, I didn’t realize how quickly I’d become homesick. I miss the sea, Hooper, the feel of the water gliding over my skin, diving so deep with Wave Rider that everything turns black—”
“Being a daredevil and shooting straight up through a blowhole.”
She dimples. “Especially that.”
“Well, if it will make you feel better, first blowhole we come to we’ll stop and let you and Wave Rider have at it.”
Talia laughs lightly. “I can’t wait, but seriously, Hooper, if I’m homesick and have only been gone a short while, think how Marce must feel—as I understand it, she’s been gone a lot longer from her home than I have.”
“That’s true,” I acknowledge. “Still, the Uhlan are, or were, explorers. I would have thought she could handle homesickness better than any of us.”
“Perhaps she did,” Talia returns, “until Borm came along. He reminded her a great deal of what she was missing back home, or, that she could have there in Hidden Haven. Among the MerDraken, home, hearth, family are part of who we are, our identity. From what I saw, that’s something we have in common with the Uhlan.”
“Actually,” I nod, “it’s something that pulls at all of us in the company.”
“Really?” Talia asks and motions over to a sleeping Snag. Even—”
“Yes,” I quickly reply, keeping my voice low. “Believe it or not, Snag once had a family—a home of sorts.”
Talia’s eyes go wide and she turns to gaze toward where Snag lies asleep. “Amazing. You just don’t think that demons are—”
“Capable of such things?” I ask.
Talia nods, to which I say, “I found it pretty hard to believe it too, but it’s true. Snag is a demon, yes, but he’s people, too.”
Talia nods very slowly as if she’s running my comments over in her mind. “I’m beginning to see that,” she answers and bites down on her lip for a moment as if she’s searching for the right words before responding, “It certainly changes my perspective.”
“I know exactly what you mean. I’ve had to change my thinking on so many things. For example—” I sweep my arm toward the dragons. “I’ve learned that people come in more sizes, shapes, colors, temperaments, and beliefs than I could ever imagine.”
I laugh low. “Not only is the world a lot bigger than I ever thought, but it’s not as simple as I once believed.”
We walk a bit farther, reach the end of camp and turn back. “What if Marce doesn’t come back?” Talia asks. “What if Phigby can’t convince her to return?”
“We go on,” I reply, “it’s all we can do. But if Marce chooses to stay behind, Wind Walker won’t. He’ll stay with the company.”
“You’re sure?”
“Absolutely.”
“Because he told you so?”
I give her a grudging smile. “No, but I know how committed he is to the fight against Vay and to this company. You might say he has a personal grudge to settle with her and he’s not going to stop until he’s had his chance.”
I draw in a deep breath. “Or, die trying.”
Talia and I are silent for a long time as we pace around the company. “I think she’ll come back. She’s got something to prove, too.”
I sigh deep. “Especially now.”
The afternoon wears on and we three split up the guard duty, keeping watch over the dragons and waiting for our companions to show.
A little before dusk, three weary, but triumphant hunting teams return to camp. “Well,” Alonya sniffs while gazing at the buck that Amil slings down to the ground and the one that Tavin lays alongside, “I guess we’ll just have to call this a draw.”
“Hold on,” Amil argues, “I’m thinking our animal is a tad sight bigger than those scrawny things you two brought into camp.”
“Not so,” Cara protests, “they all have the same rack and in size I don’t see any difference.”
Scratching at his head, Tavin looks from one animal to the other and back. “Unfortunately, I have to agree with Cara. But there must be some way to declare a winning team.”
“Maybe,” Snag offers in a dry tone, “if you counted the number of fleas on each?”
Snag’s proposal is quickly quashed, and after the hunters argue among themselves for a bit, they agree to call this hunt a draw with no clear winner. “There might not be a victor among ourselves,” Amil growls while gesturing at Scamper who’s bouncing between the three deer, “but it appears there’s at least one who thinks he’s won the grand prize.”
Amil and Helmar, with help, quickly field-dress the deer and I have the sprites provide us with enough heat to cook the venison. Naturally, the deer’s remains go to the dragons while we sup on juicy venison steaks roasted over three glowing sprites.
At Amil’s right, Scamper and Silky have a field day, getting bits of meat from all three gutted deer. We finish eating in the dark as I don’t want the sprites’ light to alert anyone to our presence.
Around a fist-sized piece of meat, I ask, “Alonya, I think that you and Regal should be aloft at first light. What do you say?”
She finishes her mouthful and swallows while nodding. “I agree. We’ll sky just high enough that Phigby and Marce can see us and then lead them to camp.”
“Good,” I answer and turn to Amil. “Let’s save some of the meat for breakfast and for Phigby and Marce.”
Glancing at the quickly deepening gloom of the forest, I add, “Let’s double the guard, four of us on at a time.”
Cara casts a questioning expression in my direction. “Something bothering you, Hoop?”
“Other than being in a strange land,” I respond, “with Blackguards and Fire Hounds running around, not to mention Bazyl, a Fire Elementis, and whatever else Vay has brought forth, no, I’m not bothered at all.”
“When you put it that way,” Amil growls, “maybe we should double the double guard.”
“I like the idea,” Tavin replies, “excluding the pixies, what say you eight spend the night watching over the camp while I sleep.”