He wanted to explore, to see what lay beyond the entrance, but Gnag, ignoring the cavern in the distance, scooted on his useless legs from wall to wall, running his pale fingers across the stones and cackling with glee.
“Here!” Gnag said, shoving the brick at Janner. “Take this, and bring me up with you.”
“Don’t you want to see what’s up ahead?” Janner asked without taking his eyes from the cavern. “This—this is where the Maker walked with the First Fellows.”
Gnag caressed the stone. “Such power.”
“But—that could mean that . . .he’s in there.” It was a frightening thought, but the kind of frightening that made Janner want to see if it was true. He took a step further down the corridor, his flesh prickling with wonder. “I mean—what if it’s true?”
“Do what I tell you, boy, or I’ll have Murgah break your sister’s other leg. It’ll be done before you know it.”
With an effort, Janner pulled his eyes from the gold and green ahead. He looked back up at the entrance to where his siblings waited. If the Maker was truly in the Fane of Fire, and if he was who Janner believed him to be, then it was up to the Maker to stop Gnag. Janner didn’t know what else to do.
He took the stone—it was much heavier than he anticipated—and cradled it awkwardly as he climbed out. When he reached the top, the old Stone Keeper took it. Her face was still shrouded in shadow, but he saw by the glint of her black teeth that she was smiling.
“Fetch the Nameless One,” she said.
Janner paused. What was keeping them from shutting the door? If they repeated the ritual, then surely the door would shut, and Gnag would be trapped forever. Then the Maker could deal with him.
“Play,” Janner whispered to Leeli as he heaved himself out of the opening.
She and Kalmar understood at once. She began the melody as Kalmar traced the symbol in the air. Janner remembered enough of the strange words to speak the first of them, then some ancient memory took over.
The Stone Keepers shrieked as the chamber sang with old power. Amrah lunged for Leeli’s whistleharp, but it was too late. The circle of stone that had sunk away had begun to rise again.
Then Janner saw with a pang of defeat that Gnag hunched atop it, rising out of the Fane with a look of satisfaction.
Amrah jerked the whistleharp out of Leeli’s hands as the door settled into place with a thud. “You little wretch,” she said, all the sweetness in her voice replaced by seething hatred.
The light flashed, the music faded, and the children found themselves staring defiantly at Gnag and the two women in the gentle glow of the stolen stone.
“I thought you might try that,” Gnag said with a smile.
“You have you want. Now leave us alone,” Kalmar said.
“I have one more chore for you. After that, I’m finished with the Jewels of Anniera.”
“You’ll let us go?”
“I didn’t say that. I think I’d rather end you all. Or, of course, I could Fang you. All the way, that is,” he said with a look of contempt at Kalmar.
“We’d rather die,” Janner said.
“Good.” Gnag squirmed across the floor and Amrah picked him up. “Call the Fangs. We need to get to the sea.”
78
Gnag’s Plan
The Fangs bound the children’s hands and feet, then slung them over their shoulders just as Slarb had done with Leeli all those months ago in Glipwood.
When they emerged from the cellar, the sun was high, fighting its way through the smoke. It was Janner’s first real look at his ruined homeland, and it, along with Gnag’s possession of a new and greater melding stone, drove out what little hope remained in Janner’s heart.
Gnag had the stone. They had helped him get it. And Nia! She was captured, which meant that Oskar and Podo were as well—if they were alive at all. Ban Rona had fallen. Uncle Artham was an ocean away.
Janner felt his anger rising against not just Gnag but the Maker himself. If the Maker was a speaker of worlds, a benevolent lord of all that was, then why would he allow such misery, such relentless destruction of all that was good and true? Janner wanted to cry, but the heat of his anger burned away the tears. Besides, bouncing along on the shoulder of a stinky Green Fang made it hard to think clearly enough to grieve the way he wanted to. He resigned himself to defeat and stared listlessly at the Fang’s feet as they marched through the black mud.
“Take them to the ship,” Murgah said.
They were gagged and placed in a ratty carriage and driven back to the sea. They rode in silence for a long while, until the smell of saltwater cut through the smoke and grime and Fang stench.
Once they were on the ship, they were consigned to a dark cabin. A Grey Fang untied them and pointed to a bucket of water and a tray that held a bowl of gruel and several hunks of stale bread.
“Eat if you want.”
The Fang locked the door behind him, and for the first time since Janner’s birthday party, the three children were able to talk. Leeli told them Gnag’s story, about Bonifer and Madia and the twins. Janner remembered what Bonifer had said on the night Esben died.I did it for love. It was hard to believe, but all the puzzle pieces fit.
“What’s going to happen?” Leeli asked.
“Gnag wins.” Janner took a gulp of water and wiped his mouth. “And we helped him do it. Oryou did, at least.”
“What do you mean?” Leeli’s voice was small and weak.
“You played the song. You said we should just open the door for him.”
“He said he would torture Mama!” she shouted.
“He was probably going to torture her anyway. Only now he has exactly what he needs to do it right!”
“Janner—” The tone of Kalmar’s voice was a warning to ease off. Kalmar scooted closer to Leeli.
Janner ignored him. “Why were you so determined to open the Fane?” he demanded.
Leeli blinked back tears. “Because I thought—I thought—”
“What did you think?”
“I thought that if it was true that the Maker walked in the Fane of Fire, then maybe he would stop Gnag. Maybe he would be waiting in there for him and he might help us.”
Janner leaned his forehead against the door and sniffled. The Maker. Once again, he had failed them. “I thought the Maker would help us, too,” he said quietly. “But it looks like we’re on our own. If he’s real, he doesn’t care.”
“Don’t say that,” Kalmar said.
Janner looked up. “Why not?”
“Because we’re alive. And we’re together. We don’t know for sure what’s happened to Ban Rona, or to Mama or Grandpa. Maybe—maybe there’s still reason to hope.”
“Maybe there’s not.”
“But maybe thereis,” Kalmar said.
Janner sighed and plopped onto the cot. It was a pointless argument. The Maker would do what he would, and they would suffer for it.
The children sat in an uncomfortable silence until the door opened and a Green Fang grinned at the three of them. “Gnag needssss you, girl.”
It grabbed Leeli by the arm and yanked her out of the room. The boys called after her and beat the door, but it wouldn’t budge.
“What is he doing?” Kalmar asked.
“Whatever he wants,” Janner muttered.
They heard voices and footsteps on the deck. The ship rocked, but it wasn’t under sail. As far as Janner could tell, they were still at the dock.
Gnag’s possession of the new and greater stone gave Janner a terrible feeling, worse than despair or dread or even fear. It was a feeling of vast and inescapable emptiness, as if Gnag had found a way to open a portal into a great nothingness where Aerwiar itself didn’t exist, light didn’t exist—where even, perhaps, the Maker didn’t exist. He sensed in Gnag’s scheming the end of all things.
Janner was sweating and shivering at the thought, as if a fever had ambushed him. Angry as he was with the Maker, he prayed to him, begging him to be real, to have some
end in mind that would surprise them, Gnag most of all. But from his dark cabin on a ship docked on the shores of a blackened island, Janner couldn’t fathom it. Whatever Gnag was planning would be terrible in ways the world had never seen.
Then the brother’s heads whipped up. Leeli was playing her whistleharp. Janner and Kalmar held their ears to the door. After a few strains of the melody passed, Gnag’s voice cut through: “That’s not it. You can’t fool me, girl.” They heard Leeli crying.
Janner rattled the door handle in desperation.
“No! I won’t do it!” Leeli sobbed.
Footsteps thudded across the deck and stopped outside the door. The lock clicked and a Fang flung open the door, then several more Fangs rushed in and dragged the boys, kicking and screaming, from the cabin.
Leeli leaned on her crutch at the stern, weeping in the wind. Amrah stood behind her, gripping her shoulders. Gnag was still in Murgah’s arms, hugging a satchel to his chest.
“Now, Song Maiden of Anniera, you will play ‘Yurgen’s Tune,’ or I’ll have your brothers killed. Don’t think I won’t do it. They have served their purpose.”
“No,” Leeli cried. “If he comes he’ll kill us all.”
“I happen to know that he won’t,” Gnag said in a sickly sweet voice. “Now be a good girl.Play the song.” He held a hand out to the Fangs and Janner felt their grip tighten. A sword edge pressed against his throat.
“No! Wait!” Leeli screamed.
Leeli wiped her nose and looked at her brothers with a terrible sadness. She shook her head in resignation and raised the whistleharp.
“Good,” Gnag said. “Call him.”
She was trembling, so the whistleharp squeaked at first, but she found the melody and plucked the strings as she blew. The Fangs on the ship growled, and those not holding the boys covered their ears. The wind picked up and cleared the film of smoke away, allowing weak sunlight to bathe the deck of the ship.
Leeli finished the melody, but nothing happened.
“You,” Gnag said to a Bat Fang that dangled from the boom. “Fly me up there. Hurry up.”
The beast took Gnag from Murgah’s arms and flapped up above the mainmast, circling slowly. Gnag dangled from its arms and peered out at the gray sea.
“Play it again, girl!” Gnag shouted.
Leeli sighed and sent the melody out across the waves again.
“Look!” Gnag shouted. The Fangs, still agitated by the music, dragged Janner and Kalmar to the starboard rail and scanned the horizon. Janner spied a disturbance in the waters. The sea piled up like a hill, foam spreading out in its wake, as a massive form beneath the surface drove toward them.
“He comes, Murgah!” Gnag cried. The Fangs murmured with excitement.
The swell of water sped their way, and it wasn’t slowing. Janner braced himself for impact, thinking that Yurgen would ram the ship and kill them all.
“So much for Ships and Sharks,” he said to Kalmar, who nodded without taking his eyes from the coming wrath.
At the last moment the old dragon burst from the sea in a foamy blast and towered over the ship. His great bulk glistened in the smoky sunlight and trembled with fury. He swung his head from side to side and roared at the sky with all the power of the deep.
In their terror, the Fangs cowered and ran for cover, releasing Janner and Kalmar. Even Gnag the Nameless cringed as his Bat Fang struggled to stay aloft. Seawater rained down around them, and the ship heeled over sharply before righting itself and rocking in the sea.
Yurgen’s voice thundered in Janner’s mind.
What business have you with me?
79
The Dark Alliance
The Bat Fang clung to Gnag and bobbed in the air, its leather wings working hard to keep it aloft, while the ship below rocked in the dragon’s tide.
“King Yurgen!” Gnag cried. “I come bearing a great gift!”
The dragon turned his attention from Leeli and swung his head to inspect the withered old man dangling from the bat. Gnag’s milky arms were outstretched, gripping the leather satchel.Is he giving Yurgen the stone? Janner wondered. That was what Yurgen had wanted, according to the legend—a healing stone to save his wounded son. But that had been epochs ago, and the young dragon was long dead.
What gift? Who are you?
“I am Gnag the Nameless! From the Castle Throg.”
Throg. A deep rumble issued from the dragon’s chest. Yurgen knew of Throg, then. And he didn’t like it.Gnag the Nameless. I’ve heard of you. This age owes you its ruin.
Gnag bowed his head, as if it were a compliment. “Yes, King Yurgen. Yet it is not ruin I seek, but glory.”
The dragon narrowed his eyes and moved his head closer to Gnag. Yurgen cocked his head and issued a huff of hot breath from his nostrils.What glory do you seek?
“The glory of power. Of dominion. Of beauty. I am the rightful king of Anniera. You are the king of the Sunken Mountains. There was once an alliance between my kingdom and yours, and I would . . . unify us once again.”
“You’re no king!” Kalmar shouted.
“Silence him,” Gnag said, and a Grey Fang clamped a hand over Kal’s snout.
He is an Annieran of royal blood, or he wouldn’t hear my voice, boy. Yurgen glanced at Kalmar, Janner, and Leeli in turn. There was no question that the dragon remembered them. Janner suspected that Yurgen remembered everything.
There ignited in Janner’s chest a sensation of anger—as if boiling water had spilled out of Yurgen’s heart and burned his own. Kalmar whined, thrashing in the Fang’s grip. His eyes were wide with shock, and Janner knew that Kalmar beheld some inner vision Yurgen had shown him. Leeli crumpled to her knees and covered her face in her hands, wailing.
Janner didn’t understand what was happening. He strained to hear Yurgen’s thoughts, but they were shielded from him somehow.
The dragon turned his attention to Gnag again.I am weary of the affairs of men. They bring only murder and sorrow. I lost my son. My dragonkin have lost many young ones to men seeking GLORY. I want not glory, but the satisfaction of vengeance. Now that I have found it—Yurgen glanced at the Wingfeather children again—I would rest.
The satisfaction of vengeance? As Janner struggled to understand the old dragon’s meaning, a name floated to the front of his mind:Scale Raker.
Podo.
Images assaulted Kalmar’s mind. Yurgen’s memories became his own. He saw many sea dragons, lurking in the dark blue deep. Kalmar recognized Hulwen, the crippled young dragon they had met on theEnramere—the one whom Podo had wounded years ago—hovering nearby, her reddish fins gliding like wings in the water.
Far above, on the surface, there was some commotion that Yurgen didn’t understand. Kalmar knew by Yurgen’s memories that what he saw took place in the harbor at Ban Rona, where the dragons had long smelled Scale Raker’s nearness. The Podo-scent sharpened in Yurgen’s mind—Kalmar’s mind—and, leaving the other dragons behind, the great gray dragon swam to the surface and eased his head out of the sea, just enough to see what was happening in the city.
Kalmar saw through Yurgen’s eyes. Ban Rona was overrun with Fangs—Bat Fangs above, Grey Fangs in the streets, and Green Fangs slithering through the water and onto the shores. Hollowsfolk fought them bravely, but it was clear that the Fangs would soon destroy them all.
Then Yurgen’s attention fixed on one man. The man had one leg, white hair, and wielded a bone in one hand and a sword in the other. Podo. He stood near the waterfront beside a fat man with spectacles, and the dust of dead Fangs swirled around them both as they fought.
Kalmar heard, through Yurgen’s senses, the words shouted by the fat man.
“We have to summon the dragons, Podo! It’s our only hope!”
“Where’s Leeli?” Podo shouted. “She has to play the song!”
“They took her!”
“Theywhat?” Podo roared, spinning around on his stump to face Oskar.
“She was taken from the window
of the Great Library!” Oskar’s chin quivered and he pushed up his spectacles. “Podo, I’m sorry.”
“No!” Podo closed his eyes and hung his head. “No,” he repeated. “My Leeli.”
Oskar and Podo stood together amidst the battle, two tired old men beholding the destruction of their world. Hollowsfolk and Fangs strove about them, and the dogs growled and howled and fell by the hundreds, and above it all Rudric’s voice bellowed for bravery.
But the Fangs were too many.
“It’s over,” Oskar said, leaning on his sword.
Podo lifted his eyes and stared wearily out at the Fang-fraught bay, then at the Bat Fangs overhead. He seemed to have aged a hundred years in the space of a heartbeat, as if all his days and all his sorrows had caught up to him at once. Podo dusted two Grey Fangs as they rushed him, then set his gaze on the sea. The old pirate raised his sword in one hand, his legbone in the other.
“It’s not over,” he said through gritted teeth. “There’s always a way out.”
As the Green Fangs bubbled out of the water, Podo Helmer hacked his way seaward, forming a path of dust and destruction through which Oskar struggled to follow.
“Podo, no!” he cried.
“Ye said there was no other way!” Podo shouted over his shoulder as he swung sword and bone. “The dragons are our only hope.”
“Podo!” Oskar fell to his knees.
Podo Helmer, son of Skree, Strander of the East Bend, Pirate of the Symian Straits, husband of Wendolyn Igiby, father of the High Queen of the Shining Isle, and beloved grandfather of the Jewels of Anniera, waded knee-deep into the Dark Sea of Darkness to meet his doom.
“Help us!” Podo screamed, batting away Green Fangs as they slithered out of the sea. “Ye can have me if ye want, but for the Maker’s sake, help us!”
Kalmar shook his head and whined, wanting to cut off Yurgen’s memories, wanting to stop his grandfather from setting foot in the sea. But everything he saw had already happened. He was forced to watch as Podo strode deeper into the water, as he tossed his legbone and sword aside, as Yurgen roared and exploded out of the bay along with Hulwen and several more dragons.
The Warden and the Wolf King Page 36