Windcatcher: Book I of the Stone War Chronicles (27 page)

The small dragon often slept deeply during the travels, but Raylan made sure they stopped as often as possible. Now that they had crossed the mountain ridge toward the south side, the rain fell less frequently, making it easier to stay warm and to find dry wood for a fire. Richard had shown him how to quickly build a small, almost smokeless, fire. It provided Galirras with much-needed heat and gave them a chance to reheat the stones, before continuing again, southward.

He would wake Galirras to eat, after which Galirras would often fall asleep again, right away, drowsy with a satisfied stomach.

The landscape slowly changed while they were leaving the high-altitude mountains. The forests became slightly denser, but seemed more colorful than in the north. A ray of sunlight would often shine through the branches, or in a clearing, providing beautiful sceneries of light. As insects put on aerial shows, enjoying the sunlight, hungry birds were spotted, nosediving to feast on them. Other wildlife were seen more often, too; but somehow, the forest still looked empty.

With the constant pressure of their pursuers, they did not often have time to hunt for big game. With minimal time to hunt—and the fact that Galirras consumed at least five rabbit-sized servings, five times per day—it was difficult for Kevhin and Rohan to keep up with the demand for fresh kills.

While Galirras seemed stable and kept eating whatever was offered to him, Stephen had more and more difficulties. The fever had not left him alone, stalking him in his sleep. The cut on his leg was now festering, no matter how much they cleaned it.

“I do not think the moss paste is doing anything, anymore…maybe it never did,” said Xi’Lao, at the campfire on their third day.

“But the first day the swelling was almost completely gone, and the fever broke,” said Raylan. He had asked how things were going.

“I know…it must have been the cut that released the infection from his leg. Perhaps, if I had not put the paste on it…maybe it is my fault,” said Xi’Lao.

“We knew it was a long shot, and it might have been the fall from the wagon…I just wish we could do something to help him now…”

Stephen had not eaten anything since the day before. Drinking was quickly becoming a challenge, too. Richard sat behind Stephen during the travels, trying to prevent him from falling off the horse; but eventually, they had to stop and set up camp, in order to give Stephen some much-needed rest.

Raylan looked at the scout, twitching and turning under the blanket they put over him. His face had lost all its color again, and he was quickly losing his healthy curves. They tried to break the fever with clothes dipped in cold mountain water again, but it did not seem as effective as before.

That night, Raylan found himself, once again, watching over someone fighting for his life. He had just fed Galirras his last meal of the day and put him next to the fire, surrounded by warm stones. He picked up one of the drinking bowls and tried to make Stephen sit up to sip from the cup.

“Come on, Stephen, you need to drink.”

The scout did not seem to hear him. His eyes moved back and forth, rapidly, under his closed eyelids, as he softly murmured in his sleep.

“No…ah…let go…get….get away……”

“He’s been like that the entire evening. It sounds like something is chasing him in his dreams…” said Peadar, who took care of Stephen most of the night.

“Can you help me get him up? I really think he should drink something,” said Raylan. But the moment he touched Stephen’s shoulder, the scout shot up and clutched onto Raylan’s shirt.

Stephen’s eyes spread wide, staring straight at him. Raylan got the impression that his sick friend was not seeing him at all, or anyone else for that matter; but then, the scout spoke to him.

“They’re coming. The crumbling darkness is coming…Everyone……all…we’re all going to die. You must stop it, Raylan. You must…stop……the darkness…”

Stephen slumped again, back into his feverish dream. For a moment, Raylan forgot what he wanted to do. He took a moment and shook the eerie feeling that Stephen’s feverish rambling had given him, before he put the bowl to the scout’s lips, carefully trickling some water into his mouth.

“Get well soon,” said Raylan, before leaving the scout in the care of Peadar, and Xi’Lao, who came by to check on her patient.

With much to think about, sleep did not come easily. He must have found it somewhere during the night, however, because Raylan awoke at early light to some sort of commotion near Stephen’s bed.

He quickly got up to see what was going on, but as he approached the scout’s bed, he saw Xi’Lao shake her head at Gavin and softly close Stephen’s eyes with her fingers. This cold wilderness bed became their friend’s final resting place.

Raylan felt a lump in his throat. Ca’lek cursed the three gods of combat for taking one of them, again, after such a struggle. Raylan saw him stomp off, probably to cool off and to mourn in private. Everyone gathered around their fallen friend, and for a moment, there was no pursuit, no enemy trying to chase them down and capture them. They just mourned their friend with the respect he deserved.

After what happened to Regis, and due to the loss of the wagon, Gavin decided that Stephen would have his last resting place in these strange lands, under these foreign trees. Raylan and Richard prepared a grave, which they marked with a small pile of stones. The grave was simple and was made a part of the forest as much as possible. It was the only way to prevent anyone from discovering it and disturbing their friend’s peace.

With the final stones in place, they all found themselves silently lost in thoughts. It was the first time they had a moment to stop and reflect on their fallen comrades. Gently, Harwin’s deep voice sang the words they all knew. First softly but stronger along the way, the old warrior started a final goodbye…not only for this fallen friend in front of them, but for those lost along the way as well.

“Stretching fields, drifting clouds…”

Ca’lek, who returned to show his respects, joined Richard; their deep voices blended well.

“Beacon white on mountain side…”

“Watch over us, as we ride out…”

As the others followed their example, the song filled the sky as a message to guide the fallen home.

“A guiding light for all to see…”

“And should we fall far from your side…”

“Allow us all, to find our way…”

“Back to your warmth, where we will stay…”

“To rest our blades, hearts and souls…”

During the days after Stephen’s death, none of them spoke much. Raylan reflected on the mission they had been sent on. Why them? Why did the Empire not send their own squads with Xi’Lao? Was it a punishment? Did they not expect anyone to succeed? Were they all expendable…? What about Galirras? Would he be expendable, too?

But on the tenth day after the hatching, if one could call it that, Raylan’s thoughts were interrupted when Galirras unexpectedly opened his eyes. The group was still riding as it was in the middle of the day.

Raylan felt him stir in the sling, just before he heard Galirras’ voice inside his head.

“
What’s happening?
”

“We’re still riding. Go back to sleep.”

Ca’lek, who rode besides Raylan, looked at him, wondering what he was talking about.

“It’s Galirras,” he said, with a quick smile. “He’s awake.”

“
I smell horse.
”

Looking down into the sling, he said, “That’s because we’re on one.”

“
Can I eat it? I’m hungry.
”

“No…you can’t.”

“
Why not? It smells great, much better than those small things I ate earlier.
”

The horse neighed as if it fully understood that they were talking about it.

“Those small things are called birds, and we need the horses for our travels. Now just go back to sleep; we’ve still got a while to go. When we take our next break, I will wake you for your food.”

Raylan felt Galirras tuck his head against his side, and soon felt the little dragon relax again.

He was glad Galirras woke up by himself. Over the next few days, he woke up more often and stayed awake much longer. His scales darkened, a little, and lost its softness, somewhat. The scaled skin began to feel pleasantly warm to the touch—much warmer than his own skin—which meant Galirras more easily kept his own temperature up. Raylan and Peadar looked at his wing, multiple times, encouraging him to open it. Peadar was astounded how fast the swelling disappeared. The cuts Galirras received from his violent hatching were also healing at an incredible rate. Still, every time they moved his wing, Galirras complained that it was painful and he could not move it further.

According to Peadar, it looked fine and was healing great. Raylan wondered if the wing really still hurt, or if Galirras was afraid to stretch it out completely. If Galirras was in any pain, he did not let it ruin his appetite. The meat did him well, it seemed. Raylan swore he had already grown ten inches in length, in the last two days.

On the seventeenth day, they circled back, dodging two large patrols. Raylan had just made his fire, when Galirras got to his feet. He moved around, more and more, during the breaks—stretching his legs, walking around the fire, grooming himself. His talk became livelier, too. Raylan saw him turn his neck and nudge the wing that had been dislocated.

“How does it feel?” Raylan said, hoping the answer would be different today.

“It does not hurt much,”
said Galirras.

“Can you stretch it out?”

Galirras stretched his wing outward. The framework of bones moved outward as the thin membrane between them slowly unfolded. The yellow-brown color reflected the sunlight on his body’s scales, almost giving him a golden sparkle.

For a second, Raylan thought today would be the day his wing would go past the critical point, but Galirras flinched and tucked his wing back against his flank again.

“It will not go any further.”

“Come on, you just have to try. I know you can do it,” encouraged Raylan.

Once again, Galirras started to spread his wing. He slowed down when he reached the familiar point. Raylan saw the muscles trembling under his scales.

“That’s it, just a little further. You can do it.”

But the wing refolded abruptly, as Galirras whimpered.

“
It is no good. I will never be able to fly.
”

His head hung low as he lay down next to the fire.

“
Are Kevhin and Rohan back yet with my food?
” he asked, disgruntled.

“Not yet,” said Raylan. Noticing Galirras’ mood change, he added, “Perhaps…you should try to hunt some, for yourself.”

That got his attention. He saw Galirras’ head snap upward.

“
I can?
” he asked.

“Well, you seem to be moving around, better and better. I’m thinking it will help you build up more muscles. Sitting around, riding on a horse won’t help much, so why don’t we go and see if we can catch our own food.”

“
But how can I hunt without flying? It feels wrong to stay on the ground,
” said
Galirras, sulking slightly.

“I’m sure you’ll manage,” countered Raylan, “you got four legs, don’t you? With sharp talons, right? But okay, if you want to just sit here and wait for Kevhin and Rohan to get back, that’s fine by me.”

“
No, no, I’ll go!
” Galirras said quickly, as he got to his feet.

Raylan informed Gavin they would be going for a quick hunt. As he returned, Galirras paced on the spot, like an overly enthusiastic kid on his name-day.

“
What did he say? Can we go now?
” he asked.

“He’s fine with it, as long as we’re as quiet as possible,” he answered. But Galirras did not hear the last part, as he darted off ahead, between the trees. Raylan ran to catch up.

They spent some time moving amongst the trees. When Raylan finally caught up, he stressed the importance of keeping a low profile in the forest. Taking the task very serious, Galirras adjusted his movements. As Raylan followed him, Galirras seemed almost like a stalking cat. A very large cat, nonetheless, with a long neck and an even longer tail; but the elegance of his low movements was fascinating to watch.

Galirras attempted to chase down a couple of birds, but they were too quick to be taken by surprise by such a large predator.

During the small trip, Raylan saw the dragon’s movements improve before his eyes. Where the wobbly trampling of its talons scared away birds—or small game—in the beginning, Galirras had already figured out how to move his claws along spots that were more solid, making less noise. His movements became more precise and coordinated. Instinct took over.

Over the next few days, Raylan and Galirras went out hunting during each break. On the second day, Galirras came close to biting a tuff of fur from a rabbit’s tail. The day after that, another rabbit seemed to get away, as it ducked into a hole in the ground at the last second. But Galirras, annoyed that he had not caught anything the first two days, did not give up that easily. Digging wildly with his two front claws, he tore open the hole. Raylan clenched his hands, in anticipation.