01 Wing Warrior (30 page)

‘Who are we following?’ he asked, but Cloud couldn’t hear him.

Then he was standing with Cloud on a mountain road in the rain.

There was no sign of what they were hunting.

‘She’s gone,’ Cloud said, talking to the wind and the rain because there was no–one else to hear. ‘I followed her all this time, and now she’s gone.’ He looked into the sky. ‘I am sorry, I let her escape. You all died for nothing. I failed.’

The rain fell harder. Cloud made fists with his hands and hung his head. ‘I will make the fortress,’ he said. ‘I will hide the dragon egg, and I will watch the West. If Sorrow ever comes back, I’ll be ready for her, and I will make her pay for this.’

Slowly, the world changed again.

Nimbus was under the ground, deep in the earth. He could hear harsh breathing in the darkness and he knew it was the breathing of Sorrow. She was hurt, weak from the fight with the Wing Warriors.

And she was not alone.

There was someone else with her, stroking her snout, whispering soothingly to her.

‘Everything will be okay. You did well. You have rid the world of the dragons. And we can wait. We can wait as long as it takes. You and I, we are the same. We are forever.’

In that moment Nimbus understood what the sword was showing him.

It was showing him what he had already been told, but had never fully comprehended the importance of.

It was showing him it knew everything that had ever happened.

It was showing him it knew the history of every creature there had ever been, even the secret histories that nobody else could know.

It was showing him how he could win.

He jolted upright.

For a moment he was completely confused, then he realised he was sitting in his own bed. The Wing Warrior sword was clenched in his trembling right hand. The armour was neatly stacked nearby, and in it he thought he could see reflections that were not his own. His sheets were soaked with sweat.

‘Glass?’ he said, already knowing she wasn’t there to hear him.

Outside, Sorrow and Cumulo snapped and spat at each other.

Nimbus struggled out of bed, put on the armour, and once more, perhaps for the last time ever, he was a Wing Warrior.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Cumulo flew up, twisted in midair, then dropped on Sorrow with all his uncaged fury. Sorrow had already anticipated the move and ducked to the left, snapping her teeth down on one of Cumulo’s wings.

Cumulo yelped and pulled back, feeling the skin of his wing tearing. Instantly the colour of his scales seemed to change from light blue to a much deeper blue with flecks of silver–lining. He took a deep breath, to fire another stream of ice and snow, but instead a hot flash of lightning leapt from his jaws, scorching Sorrow’s toes. ‘How are you doing that?’ she said. ‘How can you breathe ice and lightning?’

Cumulo grinned cheekily, and then pounced forwards, shifting his weight at the last second to barrel into Sorrow’s left side. They fell together, rolling and spinning and clawing. Dust and black smoke spewed around them.

After what seemed to Cumulo like a lifetime of painful nips and scrapes, they drew apart, and as they did so, Sorrow lashed out vengefully. Her claws raked along Cumulo’s body, breaking off several of his scales. The broken scales immediately turned grey, shrivelling up and crumbling to dust.

‘This can’t go on much longer,’ Sorrow said. ‘You will lose.’

Cumulo moved back to a safe distance. His side was bleeding. The skin of his torn wing flapped loosely. He could barely catch his breath.

‘I’ve got plenty of fight left in me yet,’ he gasped. It was a lie, pure and simple; but he couldn’t let Sorrow know how tired he was. He couldn’t show any weakness.

Cloud, Obsidian, and the children watched silently from near the broken remains of a house. Their eyes were wide and scared.

‘You are prepared to die for those people, aren’t you?’ Sorrow said.

Cumulo blinked. He didn’t reply. He didn’t need to.

Wordlessly, almost silently, Sorrow launched across the square, butting into Cumulo with her sharp head. He turned away from the blow, losing his balance. Sorrow took the chance to wrap her arms and tail around him in a powerful grip, and then she flew up. Cumulo struggled to the last, but Sorrow’s grip was unbreakable as she somersaulted in the air and then drove him into the earth with every ounce of strength she had.

For what seemed like a very long time indeed, she sat on top of Cumulo, breathing in his face as the dust settled.

Cumulo didn’t move. His eyes were closed.

Slowly, Sorrow unfurled her body, stretching out her wings and tail elaborately. ‘What fun,’ she purred. ‘It’s been such a long time since I had a good fight.’

She clambered down from Cumulo, looking around the village for the next thing to destroy.

She had expected at this point for a ragtag mob of villagers to rush out and stab at her with pitchforks, or perhaps for Obsidian and Cloud to make one last brave defence in which they would most certainly be killed. What she hadn’t expected was a fully armoured Wing Warrior to be standing at the edge of the square.

‘I thought I killed you,’ she said, slightly annoyed.

The Wing Warrior put down the visor of his helmet with one gloved hand. In the other hand, despite its obvious weight, he was holding the Wing Warrior sword. The blade of the sword glowed brightly.

‘You’re different,’ Sorrow said. ‘Bigger somehow. Strong enough to carry the sword.’

‘Yes, I’m different,’ the Wing Warrior said.

‘It’s no matter. I beat you once, I can do so again.’

‘Let’s find out.’

Sorrow’s wings snapped closed. She champed her mouth hungrily. ‘I’m going to enjoy this,’ she said, and rushed at the Wing Warrior.

Casually, without any apparent urgency, the Wing Warrior drew a line in the dust with the blade of the sword, took a few paces back, and braced himself.

His heart was thundering painfully. The dragon’s black clouds fell over him. He held his breath. He was only going to get one shot at this. He had to do it right.

As Sorrow crossed the line in the dust, the Wing Warrior sword flashed brightly, and the Wing Warrior angled the light into her face. She reared up with a scream, pawing at her eyes, exposing her underbelly. The Wing Warrior knew this was his only chance, and he ducked under the dragon’s flailing limbs, driving the blade of the sword deep between two of her thick, black scales and leaving it there.

Sorrow howled, swinging her claws wildly and catching the Wing Warrior around the side of the head, knocking off his helmet. The Wing Warrior – who without his helmet was just Nimbus, just a boy – staggered under the force of the blow and dropped into the dirt. His vision swam out of focus. ‘Got you,’ he grinned, through a mouth of blood.

‘Got me?’ Sorrow laughed. ‘You think sticking me with this little sword can kill me?’

‘No,’ Nimbus said. ‘But the sword was glowing. The sword has something to show you. Something you forgot.’

Sorrow shook her head. ‘I think I hit you a bit too hard. You’re talking in riddles.’

Nimbus let his eyelids flick closed. ‘You’ll see,’ he muttered, as he fell unconscious. ‘You’ll see it all.’

Sorrow looked at the crushed body of the little boy. ‘Silly,’ she growled.

She plodded across the square. Cloud put his arm around Glass protectively. Similarly, Tidal put his arm around Sky. But while Cloud stared down the approaching dragon defiantly, Tidal looked away, gritted his teeth, and hoped that what happened next wouldn’t hurt too much.

‘I’m scared,’ Glass whispered.

‘It’s okay,’ Cloud said. ‘I’m here. Don’t be afraid.’

Sorrow was almost on top of them now, all snarling menace and sharp teeth. Her claws flexed; her neck arched.

Captain Obsidian, who was barely able to see straight, and whose ears were still ringing from when he had been blown off his horse, prepared himself for a desperate last stand. ‘Are you fit enough to fight along with me?’ he asked Cloud.

‘I don’t think there will be any need for that,’ Cloud said.

Sorrow hissed, her head shot forward, and then she stopped. A light come on behind her eyes, and she recoiled in fear from something that wasn’t even there.

‘No,’ she snarled. ‘No.’

‘What’s happening?’ Obsidian asked.

Cloud smiled grimly. ‘The Wing Warrior sword gives whoever holds it the power of infinite vision. Sometimes it shows you what you have no wish to see.’

Sorrow shrunk away, saying over and over again, ‘No, no, no.’ The sword in her belly glowed with memories. It glowed with images of what had been, what was, and what might yet come to pass; and those images gradually took shape in the shadowy recesses of her mind, unfolding like a play she had no choice but to watch.

In the play, Cloud was sleeping in a temple at the top of a mountain while Sorrow watched him.

But in the play she wasn’t called Sorrow; and in the play her scales weren’t black.

It was cold, but Sorrow liked the cold. Everything smelled fresh and crisp, like new snow, and there was sleet in the air. It was calm and quiet, but Sorrow felt a deep despair in her heart.

Recently there had been a change in the magic forces of the world. Evil energy – more than there had ever been before – was growing like poisoned ivy in the far reaches of the land. Sorrow had felt it happening slowly, over the course of many years, and now she had a sense that the ivy was ready to stretch its vines into the world of man, choking all that was good.

The dragons and the Wing Warriors had protected the lands of men for a long time, and they had often thought there was no threat they could not overcome; but Sorrow knew this threat was different. This threat could destroy them all.

Still feeling sad, like something was dying inside her, Sorrow walked out onto the balcony of the temple. As she left, she took one last look at Cloud, little realising it would be the last time she ever saw him as a friend. There were thin streaks of cloud in the pale sky. There were no birds.

‘What is this terrible thing that is coming to us?’ Sorrow asked, looking at her golden claws.

‘That would be me,’ a handsome man standing at the edge of the balcony said.

‘Who are you?’ Sorrow asked, more intrigued than alarmed by the stranger’s presence.

‘I am Crow,’ the man said.

‘You are a very magical thing,’ Sorrow said.

‘I am a necromancer. I channel living energy into death. There is no other like me.’

‘Why did you come here?’

‘I am building an army. It is almost complete, except for the two most important pieces. I need a general, and I need a messenger.’

‘What kind of messenger?’

‘There are storm clouds before the storm, there are the living before the dead. I need a figurehead, a banner bearer who will announce my arrival to the world.’

Sorrow flexed her golden wings. ‘And who will be this banner bearer you require?’

‘You will, of course.’

‘I’m afraid that is impossible.’

‘Perhaps I can convince you otherwise?’

‘You cannot.’

Crow moved quickly, without seeming to move his legs at all, and appeared right next to Sorrow. She barely had time to be surprised before he had thrust a vicious black dagger into her belly, sticking it between two of her golden scales.

Sorrow jolted, spasmed horribly, and dropped to the ground.

‘The blade I have just stabbed you with has a poison on it,’ Crow said. ‘It is a very rare poison, and takes a very long time to make. It has taken me many years to produce enough for this encounter with you.’

Sorrow tried to scream, to make some sound to warn Cloud of what was happening, but she couldn’t. It felt like somebody had stolen her voice.

Crow smiled with wicked delight as he continued. ‘The poison will fill your body, and then you will be able to breathe a thick smoky poison of your own.’

‘You can’t do this,’ Sorrow gasped. Her beautiful golden claws were turning black.

‘Furthermore, once this poison has finished running through your blood, you will completely forget your life here. You will be truly evil, and a puppet under my control. Then I will turn you on your dragon friends, and you will destroy everything you love.’

‘But why? Why me?’

‘You must understand, you are the perfect subject. I am the necromancer. I turn good into evil, and day into night. You are Mother, the first dragon, the mother of all dragons. You were life, and now you will be death.’

Sorrow coughed and wheezed, and her last kind thoughts dissolved like whispers in the wind, heard briefly then forgotten.

‘Now,’ Crow said, triumphantly, ‘you will be Madam Sorrow.’

Sorrow stood. Her eyes were red, and her tongue flickered. ‘I am Madam Sorrow,’ she said.

Then the play finished, the curtain fell, and Sorrow was back in the village of Landmark.

But she wasn’t called Sorrow any more, and her scales weren’t black.

Cloud’s breath caught in his throat, and a complicated series of emotions swelled within him: Love, hate, despair, happiness, anger. An ugly human mess of feelings, all directed at the golden–scaled dragon before him. ‘I don’t understand,’ he gasped.

But he did understand. He understood all too well. Sorrow had not defeated Mother.

Sorrow was Mother.

The dragon groaned and slumped in the dust. Her golden sides rose and fell in time with her heavy breathing.

As he looked on helplessly, a deep needling pain found its way through Cloud’s ribcage and began stitching the dragon’s suffering to his own thundering heart.

‘What happened to her?’ Sky asked.

Cloud shook his head. There were tears in his eyes, and a hurt so deep inside that he did not think there was any blade in the world sharp enough to cut it out.

‘What’s going on, Cloud?’ Tidal said.

The mighty dragon’s eyes closed. Her wings twitched and then collapsed in on themselves. Her great strength had failed her completely.

‘I thought she was gone,’ Cloud whispered. ‘All this time.’

Glass tugged at his hand. ‘What happened to her, Daddy?’