01 Wing Warrior (13 page)

‘I say, hello there.’

His gaze was drawn, for no apparent reason, to the broken tower. The door was open, revealing only darkness inside. Black clouds appeared from nowhere, rolling over the face of the sun and casting the world in temporary shades of grey.

Inside the tower, something moved.

‘Hello?’ Cumulo said.

‘Well, look at that. You speak. And I thought I’d seen just about everything,’ the voice said.

‘Who’s there?’ Cumulo asked, straining his eyes to peer into the darkness. It was strange. His eyesight was good enough to see in even the blackest places, but no matter how hard he looked he could not see anybody inside the tower.

‘My name is Captain Spectre of the seventy–third archers regiment, master of the watchtower.’

‘Are you in the tower?’

‘I am.’

‘Come into the light, I cannot see you.’

‘You don’t need light to see me, Mr Dragon, you need belief.’

Cumulo padded towards the doorway. Nearby birds scattered. ‘Belief?’ he said.

‘What is it a dragon believes in?’

Cumulo shrugged. ‘I believe in everything.’

The air just inside the mouth of the tower doorway shimmered, and suddenly a man was standing there. He was dressed in full chainmail armour with a silver helmet. His visor was pulled down over his face so all that could be seen was his mouth and jaw. He gleamed with a magical light, and although he was now perfectly visible, there was something about him that made him look like he wasn’t actually there. At first Cumulo thought this might have been because the man didn’t appear to have any shadow; but the more Cumulo looked, the more he got the impression that it was the shadow he could see and it was the body that was missing.

‘Do you see me, Mr Dragon?’ the man asked.

‘I do.’

‘Excellent, you wouldn’t believe how many people can’t see me.’ He paused, then laughed. His voice sounded distant and timeless. ‘Actually, you probably would.’

‘Who are you?’

‘I told you, I’m Captain Spectre of the seventy–third archers regiment, master of the watchtower. Who are you?’

‘I’m Cumulo. The dragon.’

‘A talking dragon. That’s smashing. So, Mr Cumulo, what are you doing in my tower?’

‘I needed a place to stay.’

‘On the run, are you?’

‘Something like that.’

‘Indeed. Can’t imagine you can just go walking around the place. Might cause a bit of a fright.’

‘You aren’t afraid of me.’

‘True. But ghosts don’t have anything to fear from the living.’

‘You’re a ghost?’

Spectre leaned against the doorframe. ‘Afraid so. I’m dead as a doornail, have been for years. Me and all my men.’

‘That’s terrible.’

‘Oh, it’s not so bad. Things haven’t really changed that much from when we were alive. The tower’s a little draughtier now half of it’s fallen down, but that’s it.’

‘How long have you been dead?’

‘Not really sure. Quite a while, I should think. But you tend to stop counting the days after the first two or three hundred.’

‘What happened?’ Cumulo asked, sitting down. ‘Do you remember how you got this way?’

‘I’ve often thought about that. As far as I can figure it, I went to sleep as normal, and woke up... well, didn’t wake up... dead. It’s the same for everyone else too.’

‘How horrible. Didn’t anybody come to find out what had happened to you all?’

‘Oh yes, lots of people came. But...’ Spectre shook his head. ‘Somehow our bodies were moved.’

‘So they thought you’d vanished?’

‘That’s right. I tried to get a few people to notice me, threw some plates and things, but that just scared them away. Nobody comes here now, they all think it’s haunted.’

‘It is.’

‘I suppose so.’

‘Is there anything I can do to help?’

‘Kind of you to ask, Old Boy, but I don’t think so. Not unless you happen to know where our bodies are. If we knew where they were, maybe we could...’ He gestured with one hand. ‘You know, shuffle off. Go into the light. Whatever it is people are supposed to do once they’re dead.’

Cumulo scratched his nose with one claw. ‘I’ll certainly keep an eye out for them.’

‘Excellent. You’re a true gentleman.’

‘Do you mind me using your tower for a few days?’

‘Not at all. It’s nice to have someone new about the place. Especially someone who can see us. The men will be delighted.’

‘I only see you.’

‘Oh, the others are around here somewhere. Now, tell me more about you. Have you always been able to talk?’

Cumulo thought hard, trying to see if the answer to the question existed somewhere in one of his memories. ‘We can all talk,’ he said, eventually. ‘The Wing Warriors taught us how, but most dragons choose not to.’

‘Really, that is a revelation. The last of the dragons disappeared from the world when I was still a child, before the great magical battles destroyed much of our lands. I never got to see one, and I never really thought I would. It’s such a thrill.’

‘You were alive when the dragons were still alive?’

‘Oh yes. Although I never saw one, I would often listen to the stories of people who had.’

‘What were they like?’

Spectre’s thin mouth twitched into a shape that was similar to, but not quite, a smile. It could most accurately be described, for obvious reasons, as a ghost of a smile. ‘From what I can gather, they were a lot like you.’

‘Really?’ Cumulo grinned toothily.

‘Of course, after they were gone, war broke out. Those were terrible times. It felt like the whole world was being torn apart. Every village and every city was looking out for itself. Nobody knew who to trust. Wizards and sorcerers from all the corners of the land were drawn together, and the results were terrifying.’ He chuckled. ‘You never knew if one day you might wake up as a frog.’

‘Did you fight?’

‘There was little room in that war for those of us with no magical power. Whole armies could march on a single wizard and be reduced to terrified children before a sword was drawn. We used to sit in our homes and watch as the magic set fire to the sky. It never would have happened if the dragons had been alive.’

‘I would never have allowed it to happen,’ Cumulo said.

‘I was only eleven at the time. I lived with my mother and father in a small village just north of Crystal Shine. We avoided much of the conflict, but there was this one day...’ Spectre wrapped his fingers around the hilt of the sword in his sheath. ‘It was early, still morning. My father had risked the journey to Crystal Shine in the hope of finding work. A man, a dark force of evil, came into our house. He was a magic user of the worst kind, a thing they called the necromancer. He had a pale face and deep burning eyes filled with hatred for all mankind.’

‘What happened?’

‘I don’t know why he had chosen to come into our home. He was all in black, and he seemed twenty feet tall. He crackled with magical energy powerful enough to bring the mountains crashing down, and all his anger was directed at my mother. He didn’t see me until it was too late. I rose up with my father’s hunting knife and stabbed him between the shoulder blades.’

‘Did you..?’

‘Kill him? No. He was too powerful to be killed with a knife, but the attack took him by surprise and hurt him badly. He staggered out into the street, screaming horribly, and the other villagers threw stones at him until he ran away. It was a victory long talked about, and earned me a place in Crystal Shine’s Military Academy where I learned the ways of combat and became the captain you see before you now.’ Spectre looked down at his feet. His mouth was serious. ‘But I will never forget the look in the necromancer’s eyes as he fled the village.’

‘Why?’

‘He looked directly at me, and his eyes were pure fury, the kind of fury that can destroy the strongest of men. At that moment I knew, one day he would come back to get me.’

‘Did he?’

‘I don’t know.’

A crack appeared in the clouds, and a tiny sliver of golden sunlight filtered through.

‘You must tell me more of the time of dragons,’ Cumulo said.

‘I will,’ Spectre said, ‘but not now.’

‘Why not?’

‘I don’t wish to alarm you, but soldiers are approaching. And they don’t look friendly.’

Cumulo looked behind him. Six horsemen were charging down into the ruins with their swords drawn. ‘I have to go,’ he said, stretching his wings. ‘I have to find Nim.’

‘Aren’t you going to fight them?’

‘I can’t risk any confrontation. Not yet. Not until I’ve seen Nim.’

‘But I’ve always wanted to see a dragon... you know?’ Spectre gestured aimlessly with one hand. ‘Do what dragons do.’

‘Perhaps another time.’

Cumulo took one last look at the approaching soldiers. The leading rider had someone else sitting in the saddle with him: A young boy with his hands bound together. As the horse galloped, the boy bobbed up and down and his head slumped forwards. Even though Cumulo could not see the boy’s face, he instantly recognised him.

‘Nimbus?’

Cumulo drew himself up to his full height. The clouds broke apart. Sunlight glittered on his blood red scales and sharp claws.

‘Right,’ he growled menacingly. ‘If it’s a fight they want, it’s a fight they’ll get.’

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Nimbus’s capture, and the subsequent attack on Cumulo, was down to a series of unfortunate misunderstandings that started several hours earlier when the mayor of Landmark realised Onyx was missing from his stable. Such misunderstandings are frequent among humans and can usually be quickly resolved with the minimum of fuss. However, in some circumstances fuss is unavoidable, especially in circumstances involving people who actually quite like a bit of fuss.

The first misunderstanding was on the part of the mayor, who made the very reasonable assumption Onyx had been stolen rather than borrowed.

After assuming he had been robbed, the mayor immediately raised the alarm. He ran to the garrison and frantically bashed on the door until it was opened by a bleary–eyed soldier. ‘Get up,’ the mayor demanded, barging inside. ‘Get up, all of you. My horse is missing.’

The soldier scratched his neck and wrinkled his nose. He may have managed to get out of bed, but he certainly wasn’t awake enough to fully understand the orders being barked at him. ‘Ugh?’ he asked, which was about the closest thing he could manage to a real word.

‘No time to explain,’ the mayor said, flapping his arms.

The other soldiers were filing out of the bunk room, rubbing their faces and yawning. None of them were fully dressed and not one of them had his sword. Captain Obsidian, the garrison’s senior officer, was the last to come in. He looked more tired than the others, but not tired in a way that suggested he had just woken. He looked tired in a way that suggested he had never slept.

‘What’s going on?’ he asked.

‘My horse,’ the mayor snapped. ‘My horse, my horse, my horse.’ He stamped his feet to make his point.

‘Is there a problem with your horse?’ Obsidian asked, sarcastically.

‘Aren’t you listening to me?’ the mayor screamed. ‘Am I speaking in a foreign language?’ He grabbed the soldier who had opened the door, shaking him vigorously. ‘Can you see my lips moving? Can you hear the words coming out of my mouth?’

The soldier looked at Obsidian. Obsidian shrugged.

‘My horse is missing,’ the mayor said, releasing the soldier and stomping around the room like a caged tiger. He kicked a wall, just for good measure, and then had to pretend he hadn’t hurt his toe.

‘Right,’ Obsidian said. His voice was calm, but hard–edged. ‘Why don’t you sit down, Mr Mayor? Private Silver, get the men ready. Light arms only.’

The recently shaken soldier, who was now looking a little more awake, saluted smartly and led the other men back into the bunk room. Obsidian took a seat by the window and motioned for the mayor to sit next to him.

The mayor sat.

The morning sunlight was creeping through the grey streets, turning the world every shade of yellow. It was light without warmth.

‘Right then.’ Obsidian put his fingers together in a steeple. His expression was grim. ‘Mr Mayor. Let’s have a little chat about priorities, shall we?’

‘Priorities?’

‘Yes. To be more specific, let’s chat about my priorities.’

‘Priorities?’

Obsidian sighed heavily. ‘Is it the word or the concept you’re having difficulty with?’

‘Now look here, Soldier...’ The mayor wagged his finger.

‘No, Mr Mayor. You look here. Yesterday a tidal wave struck this village. People went missing. Good people. People I know. People we all know.’

‘It was terrible,’ the mayor said.

‘Yes, it was terrible. It’s the greatest tragedy this village has known in years, perhaps the greatest ever.’

‘It was terrible,’ the mayor repeated.

‘On your orders, I then sent three of my men into the woods. They never came back.’ Obsidian clenched his fists. His mouth remained straight and serious as a knife edge. ‘My men have been searching the beaches, dredging the ocean for bodies. They’re tired. I’m tired. And now your horse has gone.’

‘He was stolen.’

The captain drew a deep breath. ‘And now, only now, you decide to come down here and scream and stamp your feet.’

‘It’s a good horse.’

‘And they were good people.’

‘What are you suggesting?’

‘If I didn’t know better, I might think you cared more about your horse than those missing villagers and my missing men.’

‘Nonsense.’

‘Whether it’s true or not, finding your horse is not my priority. I am very busy right now.’

The mayor stood, clearing his throat carefully. ‘Soldier, I don’t like your tone,’ he said.

‘And I don’t like yours.’

‘Do I have to remind you who is mayor in this village?’

‘Oh no, Mr Mayor. We’re all well aware of that.’

The mayor paused, trying to decide if he had just been insulted. ‘Right,’ he said, undecidedly. ‘That’s good. Just make sure you remember it. Now, what are we going to do about my horse?’

‘I thought I’d made myself clear. Your horse is not my priority. My missing men are.’