by GARY DARBY
“You’re right,” I nod, “Marce is good—very good at what she does. I’m just jumpy as we have one of the company missing already, I don’t want us to end up with two.”
Just then, we hear a slight rustling in the bushes which causes me to tense and reach for Galondraig’s hilt only to ease up when Marce’s head pops up close by. As she pads into camp, the company gathers in a tight knot around her.
“There’s a way down,” she begins, “that will work but it’ll be a tight squeeze for Regal in several places where he could get jammed between trees on one side and a cliffside on the other.”
“But can he make it?” I press.
“I believe so,” Marce nods and turns to Alonya. “You’ll have to press him against the cliff so that he doesn’t push over the trees and send them bowling down the cliff.”
“That would get someone’s attention right quick,” Amil growls. He gives Alonya the eye. “Before we get started, maybe you should teach your dragon how to suck in his gut.”
Sim starts jumping up and down, waving his arms. “Me do it. Me know how to suck in gut. Do it all the time!”
“Quiet!” I hiss. “We don’t need to start yapping about anyone sucking in their stomach.”
I turn back to Marce. “And your trail gets us to the river?”
“Yes,” Marce answers. “It’ll put us close to a rocky beach but there’s enough greenery alongside the river for concealment.”
“Good job, Marce,” I reply and then lay out the order of march for the company. “Do what you need to get ready,” I direct, “and remember, silence is our friend, so muffle everything you can that might make a sound.”
Soon after, with Wind Walker in the lead, the golden and myself right behind, followed by Talia, Wave Rider, Alonya, and then Regal Wind, we start down.
The night is dark enough and with a thick tree canopy overhead, I’m not overly concerned about the Wilders spotting us as we wend our way down to the river. However, we find out soon enough how right Marce was about Regal.
At the first narrowed point, I stop dead in my tracks as Regal scrapes against the rock wall, the sound like two pieces of sandstone rubbing together. Then, my eyes grow round as he brushes up against a stand of trees on the opposite side that groan and creak as they bend against his weight.
I hold my breath watching, and then he’s through, though the trees rock slowly back and forth before they finally right themselves. “Let’s just hope,” Talia whispers in my ear, “that no Wilder sees those swaying trees and wonders why or we’re done for.”
Knowing she’s right, I have the company hold up and swing my head up, listening for the telltale sound of dragon wings thumping our way—the dreaded sign of discovery by the Wilders.
However, it remains quiet and I signal for Marce to take up the march again. Twice more, Regal has to squeeze through a constriction between rock and trees but each time he squeezes through without incident. After the last halt for Regal to slip through the narrowing, I smile to myself and murmur, “Maybe Alonya or Sim taught him how to suck in that gut of his.”
The trail becomes less steep and widens until it finally flattens as we reach the forested valley floor. Marce leads us close enough to the slow, dark river, that I can hear its water lapping against the pebbled beach.
I turn to whisper to Alonya and Talia, “All right, it’s now or never. Talia, if this doesn’t work, you’re the one to alert Alonya and you two get back up here. If Regal can stay below the water, then give me a wave and the rest of us will follow.”
Alonya and Talia nod at my instructions and then Alonya reaches up to stroke Regal’s neck. “Big boy, we’re going for a little swim. Pretend you’re a fish and keep under the water as much as you can.”
Regal swings his head around, sniffs at Alonya, and grunts. “That’s right,” Alonya speaks reassuringly, “we’re going to swim up this river and hopefully catch Vay’s scum off guard. Think you can do it?”
Regal brings his head back around, stares at the water for a moment and then starts to step into the river. “Hold on,” Alonya yelps low, “not without me.”
The two wade into the water, Alonya grabs a horn and moments later, Talia and Wave Rider are in the river. The night and the dark river swallow them up and they disappear. Anxious, I wait on the riverbank, watching the surface.
I’m so intent on the water that I jump a little when a lovely voice at my shoulder whispers, “Can you see either of them?”
“No,” I reply to Cara, “and I don’t know if that’s good or bad.”
“I’d think it was good,” she replies. “Isn’t the idea to get up the river without being seen?”
“Yes, but—” I begin but stop midsentence when a head breaks the water and Talia gives a wave of encouragement, signaling that at this point, our plan is working.
“That’s our cue,” Cara says and whirls around to bring Wind Song down to the water’s edge.
As Golden Wind is the next in line, I hurriedly gather the sprites, the pixies, Scamper and Silky and explain their role in all this. “Remember, once the last of us is in the water, then you sky to the opening. Stay below the tree canopy and wait for us. Stay put and don’t do anything on your own until we get there. Understood?”
The three pixies step forward, straighten, and snap me a salute. Pip says, “We don’t do nothing!”
“Wait and do nothing!” Kyr echoes.
“Do nothing mean we can’t sleep?” Sim asks.
“Sleep is doing nothing, dimwit!” Kyr retorts.
“Me snore when asleep. That’s something, not nothing,” Sim returns.
“That different!”
“Is not!”
“Is—” Before they can get into a scuffle, I reach down and turn all of them to face me. “Sleep all you want, but absolutely no talking or fighting! Nothing that would alert the guards, understood?”
I put my hand on Galondraig’s hilt. “If you do and I find out about it, I’ll use the gemstones to turn you three into cockroaches! The kind that people like to smush under their feet.”
At that, they scurry away, looking to hide behind Alonya but as she’s not there, they find a large rock to cower behind. “You didn’t have to threaten them,” Cara scolds in my ear.
“Had to make sure they knew how serious this is,” I counter, “and not go off on their own.”
I reach down to pick up Scamper. Looking into his little button eyes, I order, “And as for you and Silky, no rooting around for food. Stay put until we show up.”
Awwwwrrrrr, he replies and gives me a hang-dog look. “I mean it,” I say, wagging a finger at him as I set him down, where he promptly scoots off with Silky in tow.
“What?” Cara asks softly. “You going to turn him into a cockroach too?”
I smile at her. “Never. But he doesn’t know that.”
With one hand on her neck scales, I lead Golden Wind into the river. We both step off into the water and I immediately regret my plan. First my legs and then creeping higher as we go deeper are fiery needles poking into my skin.
“This is worse than I thought,” I hiss, and grab a horn so that the golden can tow me.
“Just hold on,” the golden whispers, “and we’ll make this as fast as possible.”
As the cold grips me, I answer, “Please make it faster than fast.”
She doesn’t respond, instead, as I grab a deep breath, she submerges, taking me with her. Buried under the snow and ice in the Denalian Mountains was terrible—this feels even worse. At first, fire and ice run up and down my body, then the cold takes hold, a stinging, gripping pain that holds me.
I can’t think of anything else but holding onto Golden Wind and the icy water that seems to burn and freeze at the same time. I don’t recall all that well how many times we quietly surfaced to take in a breath as all of my energy and thoughts focus on keeping both hands locked on Golden Wind’s horn.
There comes a point where my violent, jaw-tapping shivering slo
wly subsides, and I begin to feel a warm haze that invades mind and body. It seems at that same moment, we surface, and I can feel the golden dragging me through the water and up on shore.
Something tells me to let go and I fall a short distance to the ground. Somehow, I blink my eyes open to find the golden standing over me, her mouth open. For a moment, I had this bizarre thought that she was going to eat me and weakly, I raise a hand to try and stop her.
Then, I feel warm air flow over me as she lowers her head even more. Slowly, my sluggish mind realizes that she’s using her dragon breath, without the flames, to warm me up. After a bit, she withdraws just as a large form appears over me. “Up you go,” Alonya whispers.
She lifts me to my feet and I glance around. In the darkness, I can make out the dark blobs of our dragons. “Everyone’s accounted for, though ice-chilled to the bone,” Alonya reports.
With a small gesture, she motions to the river. “I left Regal in there. Trees too close in here for him.”
I turn at soft footsteps as the remainder of the company sloshes up. I quickly count noses. “Talia?” I whisper when I don’t see the young MerDraken.
“She and Wave Rider are scouting ahead,” Alonya replies. She uses a hand to point. “You might want to take a look over there.”
Turning, I peer at where she’s pointing. In the near distance, through the tree limbs, I can see tiny, flickering flames. “Campfires,” I state.
“I guess that answers the question,” Amil mutters, “of whether the opening is guarded or not.”
“Yes,” Cara answers, “but how many do we face?”
At light splashing from the water’s edge, Marce says, “I guess we’ll find out soon enough, here comes Talia.”
The lithe MerDraken runs up and shakes herself while wiping off the water around her eyes. “Never have I experienced such coldness! It saps mind and body.”
“We know,” Tavin replies, “but what did you see?”
Talia turns to me, her eyes and face grave. “It’s worse than we imagined. On the opening’s near side is a wide shelf, large enough for even Regal and the portal is high enough as well. However, there must be several dozen Wilders and the bulbous creatures you call drogs at the entrance and just beyond.”
“Drogs!” Cara spits.
“No Blackguards or Fire Hounds?” Amil asks.
“Not that I saw,” Talia answers.
To me, Tavin says, “We cannot use dragon fire, it would alert every skying Wilder within ten leagues.”
“I know,” I sigh, and ask Talia, “See any Wilder dragons?”
“No, but it’s in my mind since there’s so many, we might not achieve the surprise we hoped for.”
There’s a long moment of silence before Pim suggests, “We need a diversion, something that would cause those guards in front to take their attention away from the opening.”
“Enough so,” Alonya nods slowly, “that we would be among them so fast that they wouldn’t know what hit them until it was too late.”
“Yes,” Pim agrees.
“What if,” I muse, “a few of us went back into the water and attacked from the rear?”
I can tell from the uncomfortable silence and shuffling of feet that my idea is not greeted warmly.
“All right,” I nod, “I’ll do it myself. The rest of you, sneak up close to the opening and when you hear shouting, that’s your cue.”
“You can’t do this by yourself,” Cara sighs, “I’ll go with you.”
“And I,” Talia offers. “Wave Rider and I’ll guide you, otherwise you might come up too soon.”
“Thanks,” I nod to the two and turn to Pim. “Find Scamp and Silky, make sure they’re all right.”
“I already have,” she replies and motions off to one side. “They’re over there, rooting around a tree.”
“Naturally. The pixies and sprites?”
“Nearby,” Alonya replies with a motion towards our front. “Napping.”
“But of course,” I half laugh, “doing nothing. Well, when it comes time, make sure they’re invited to the party, we’ll need everyone in on this.”
Taking in a deep breath, I say to Pim and Cara, “Let’s do this.”
I freely admit, as I head back to the river with Golden Wind, I really, really, really, don’t want to go back into the freezing water. In fact, I start shivering even before I put a toe into the dark stream.
“One more time,” I whisper to Golden Wind, “and I promise I’ll never ask you to do this again.”
“Oh, but I find it refreshing,” the golden answers. “I don’t mind at all.”
“Refreshing?” I growl. “You call freezing to death refreshing?”
“I’m sorry, Hooper, I tend to forget how thin your skin can be at times.”
“Thin? More like nonexistent against that cold.”
We quietly wade into the water behind Wave Rider and I suck in a breath at the fiery stinging that once again engulfs my body. Then we’re under and the golden, her talons gripping the rocky bottom, tows us strongly against the sluggish current.
I’m about out of breath, struggling to stay under and not pop to the surface when the golden slowly and quietly comes to the top. We take a quick look around before she ducks down, lets me settle in her neck saddle before she raises her head to let me see.
We’re next to the bank and in the firelight I can see grotesque shadows play against the walls. Drogs! Their guttural mutterings fill the arched tunnel as they grunt and growl.
To my right, I see Talia perched on Wave Rider’s head, her trident at the ready. She gives me a nod, telling me she’s ready. To my left, Cara is in Wind Song’s neck saddle, an arrow already notched and her bow pulled taut.
I squeeze Golden Wind’s neck telling her we’re ready. Her neck muscles tighten and then she explodes from the water. Before the drog brutes can react, she lands squarely on two of them and I wince as I hear the squishing of plump bodies under her talons.
I’m off her neck, sliding to the rock way and charging into the surprised drogs. Galondraig is a dark blur in the shadows and two drogs fall to the ground, clutching their split-open stomachs.
Cara’s arrows whizz past and several more of the grotesque beasts spin around, shrieking and clutching at arrows embedded deep in their eye sockets. Talia’s Wave Master thumps as she unleashes a volley of bolts and two drogs slump over to fall headlong into the river.
I can tell I’m much slower than usual, even lethargic. The cold has taken a greater toll than I expected and I have to force myself to keep swinging or a drog lance is going to gut me.
Two drogs charge, their spear points aimed straight at my head. A wicked backlash from Galondraig shatters their lances at the head though that doesn’t stop the drogs from bulling onward. One takes its broken lance and tries to bash my skull in but he pays for his error when my sword plunges into his paunch.
With a scream, he goes to his knees and I turn to his fellow, but he’s already on the ground, clutching at Cara’s arrow that’s ripped through his throat. With a thunderous growl, the golden swings her tail over my head catching a whole phalanx of drogs and smashing them against the rock wall.
Wind Song’s talons rip through a drog who’s charging at Cara, stopping him dead, literally, in his tracks. Wave Rider is doing his own damage with those drogs foolish enough to try and get to Talia.
Seeing that some drogs have decided to retreat and fight another day, I yell to Talia, “Plug the way, don’t let any escape!”
She swings Wave Rider around and the big sea-dragon plants himself squarely in the middle of the pathway, his mouth open in a ferocious growl. An onrushing cohort of drogs, seeing their way blocked, stop, their lances pointed at Talia and her dragon.
Their hesitation is their undoing.
From behind, Golden Wind swings her tail into the unsuspecting bulbous brutes. Her spikes impale the whole lot and for a moment, they hang high over the rocky floor, faces etched in agony before the gol
den swings her tail over the river, shakes it vigorously, dropping the drog bodies into the river.
I turn back, ready to take on more drogs, only I find that the fight is over. With a low growl, Wind Song shoves the last few drog carcasses into the river. “C’mon,” I urge, “let’s go help the others.”
We three take off in a trot, the dragons lumbering behind. It only takes a few moments before we hear the unmistakable sounds of fighting ahead, the thrum of bows, the meaty thunk of arrows finding their targets, the ring of metal on metal, along with yells and curses. There’s a growing chorus of dragon growls that soon overshadows all other sounds.
We round a bend and immediately find ourselves in the midst of a raging fight. Our sudden appearance at their rear throws the defending drogs and Wilders into a panic. They have overwhelming numbers but instead of fighting as a cohesive unit, each drog or Wilder fights alone.
I wade into the mix and Galondraig seems to have a mind of its own, slashing, parrying, thrusting without any thought from me. A pile of bodies begins to form around my feet as my breath comes in heavy draughts and my heart pounds in my chest. I have no idea what’s happening around me, I only see the next Wilder or drog that charges at me fighting with a desperate fury.
Dragon growls fill my ears along with the clanging of blade on blade. For an instant, I catch the weaving, bobbing light of the sprites and pixies as they wing into the fray, their scorching flight marked by anguished screams and shrieks.
Then, all at once, it seems, a last arrow flies through the air and the drog standing in front of me slumps forward in death.
My chest is heaving, my sword arm numb, and I can barely hold on to Galondraig’s hilt. I bend over, trying to catch my breath before I straighten and look around. Cara is next to me, her mouth open as she sucks in one deep breath after another. “You all right?” I gasp.
She nods, bends over to put her hands on her knees as she pulls in more breaths. To my right, Talia is slumped against her sea-dragon, her head up, trying to draw in air.
A golden head swings around and I reach up to put a hand on her scales. “All right?” I whisper. “Both of you?”