01 Wing Warrior (31 page)

As if her little voice had broken some kind of spell, Cloud looked down at her, and wiped his stinging eyes. ‘She has remembered who she really is,’ he said.

‘Is she Mother?’

Cloud nodded solemnly. ‘The beginning of all dragons. I should have realised.’

‘Is she dying?’

‘I think so.’

‘But why?’

Cloud looked back at the dragon, clutching one hand to his chest. ‘She has been a terrible creature for many years. Now she knows just how terrible, and I think her heart has broken. Evil is blind. It is that way for a reason.’

He took a step towards the dragon, but then stopped, and looked instead at the small crumpled figure of his son, lying sprawled out in the dirt. He felt himself being pulled in two directions at once, and didn’t know what to do. How was one man supposed to suffer such loss and pain?

Mother had been his closest companion, a great and important part of his life. But Nimbus... Nimbus was his life.

He turned away from the dragon, and crouched beside his son.

Behind him, Cumulo stirred and got to his feet. He shook his head groggily. His scales were red, and puffs of hot smoke came out of his nose.

He looked at Mother, and a terrible wave of sadness rose inside him, casting a shadow over his heart. Then he saw the small body of Nimbus, limp and awkward in his father’s arms, not moving, not breathing; and the wave of sadness came crashing down, crushing his heart completely.

From the way Cloud was holding the fragile body to his chest, crying hopelessly, Cumulo already knew Nimbus was dead.

Strata came out of one of the nearby houses, from where she had watched the whole terrible ordeal, and she stood beside Cloud. Her eyes glistened wetly, but she refused to cry. For years she had hidden the truth about Cloud’s true identity, and she had told the same lies that he had told. She had supported his choices, and played the dutiful wife even though she knew his heart could never truly be hers; and now, because of the lies she had buried under more lies, her son was dead. Nimbus was dead, and it was as much her fault as it was Cloud’s.

What she felt as she looked at the brave and broken remains of her only son was beyond her abilities to express in actions or words, so she did nothing, and she said nothing.

And she fell apart alone.

‘He saved us all,’ Cumulo said, when it became apparent nobody else was going to speak.

Strata wiped her eyes with her sleeve. ‘He shouldn’t have had to,’ she said.

‘He chose to fight.’

‘But he didn’t choose to die.’

‘I’m sorry I couldn’t protect him.’

‘Protecting him wasn’t your responsibility.’ Her gaze darted towards Cloud. ‘This is what happens when parents fail their children.’

Cumulo paused thoughtfully. His head was sore, and his brain was still muddled, so the idea he was having took slightly longer to form into words than it might have done normally. ‘But Mother has returned,’ he said.

The golden dragon’s breathing was slow and awkward. Her eyes were closed. ‘She is dying too,’ Cloud said, coldly.

Cumulo padded over to Mother. ‘My Lady,’ he said quietly. ‘Mother, can you hear me?’

Mother opened one eye. ‘I can’t do it,’ she said. There was pain in her voice, and not just physical pain. There was the type of pain that can only be caused when a spirit is wounded. ‘I cannot do the thing you are about to ask of me.’

‘You are Mother, the first life force. You created all the dragons. You must be able to help him.’

The village was quiet. Cloud watched the two dragons talk as he cradled his son’s body in his strong arms.

‘I am the golden dragon. I have the power to bring new life... It is beyond my talents to restore a life that has been taken away.’

‘You must be able to help.’

‘I cannot.’ There was a pause, almost long enough for Cumulo to think that Mother had nothing more to say. Then she added, ‘But you are different.’

‘Me?’

‘When we were fighting, I saw it in you. I saw my children.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Somehow, you are all of them. All of my children that have gone before you.’

‘She’s right,’ Cloud said. ‘We did it. But we never expected it to happen this way.’

‘What do you mean?’ Cumulo repeated.

Cloud spoke softly, stroking the hair away from his son’s forehead. ‘After Mother vanished, the remaining dragons feared the worst. They worked together to produce a single egg. No dragon other than Mother had ever produced an egg, and we didn’t even know if it would work. Each dragon put a part of themselves into that egg, as a safeguard for the future.’

‘And that was my egg?’

‘You were gifted with a piece of each dragon’s memory, so that they would all live on through you. But somehow, because of what we did, you don’t just have their memories. You have their unique abilities too.’ He paused. When he finally spoke again, his words were barely even audible. ‘It doesn’t make any difference though. There was no dragon who could bring the dead back from the other side.’

Mother coughed violently, and her sad eyes rolled up under her eyelids.

‘Mother?’ Cumulo whispered.

There was a moment of silence, a moment that seemed as long as all the time there had ever been, then Mother coughed again and swivelled her great head to look at him.

‘I saw it when we fought. You have all the power possessed by dragons. They gave it all to you.’ She blinked carefully. ‘Come closer, I will tell you a story.’

Cumulo leaned nearer.

‘In my life, I have laid eleven eggs, and each has hatched into a dragon. All of those dragons were good at heart, if sometimes misguided, but there were two of which I was very proud.’ The ancient dragon paused, fighting for breath. ‘Earth was a beautiful green dragon, whose breath had the power to make dead things live again. But her power was limited to plants and trees.

‘Many years later there was another dragon. We called her Snake, because she had no wings. She was very young when she died. When I...’ There was another pause, pregnant with misery.

‘You mean, when Sorrow killed her,’ Cumulo said, helpfully.

Mother managed a grateful smile before she continued. ‘Snake had only just begun to learn her powers. She could heal the wounded, the sick and the dying. Hers was a great gift, and we believed that one day she would be able to do what Earth had only dreamed of, and bring dead people back to life.’

Cumulo simply stared at her, not quite comprehending what he had been told.

Mother’s breathing started to get heavier. ‘It will not be long now,’ she said. ‘Soon I will pass out of this world, so listen carefully. If you have the strength of all dragons, then you have Earth’s superior knowledge and you have Snake’s superior ability. If you are a combination of them both, and also every other dragon, then you are the greatest of all dragons. Eleven dragons in one body.’

Cumulo looked at Cloud, then at Nimbus. ‘Do you think I could do it?’ he asked Mother. ‘Could I bring him back?’

‘He’s your friend. If you cannot then no–one can.’

‘But how do I do it?’

‘That, you will have to figure out for yourself. Just promise me this, if you do figure it out, don’t bring me back.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I remember my life as Mother, bringing magic and life into the world, and I remember my life as Sorrow, bringing nothing but pain and suffering.’

‘I... understand.’

Mother smiled kindly, despite the pain. ‘Your friend is waiting,’ she said. And that was the last thing she ever said, before her heart stopped beating and her eyes went blank.

***

For a moment everything was silent. Nobody spoke. Nobody knew what to say.

There were tears streaming down Cumulo’s face. If he cried until forever, he would still have tears left to shed.

He looked at the fallen Wing Warrior.

Nimbus’s eyes were closed. There was blood in his hair, and down the side of his pale face. He looked strong, dignified. He looked every inch the hero he had always been destined to be.

He also looked dead.

‘I don’t know how to do this,’ Cumulo said.

He turned his thoughts inwards, trawling back through the half–formed memories the great dragons had given him, searching through the skills they had gifted him with before he was ever even hatched.

The inside of his head was still so murky, so dark and strange. The memory he needed, the small snippet of knowledge that could bring Nimbus back to life, was like a glimmering firefly in that gloom. Every time he tried to focus on it, it flew away; every time he drew near, he suddenly realised it was somewhere else entirely.

‘I don’t know how to make it work,’ he said. ‘I have no guide. I wish Mother was here.’

His scales were red.

He could smell the smoke in his own nostrils.

Nimbus was perfectly still, as a dead person was expected to be.

‘He’s so brave, and I’m going to let him down. I’m going to let everyone down.’

The colour of his scales thinned out into the cold blue of a midwinter morning.

He studied Nimbus’s face carefully.

The boy was at peace, and Cumulo suddenly doubted if bringing him back was the right thing to do. There were strange forces at work in the world, and Sorrow was just the beginning of the trouble. If Nimbus was brought back then he would have to assume the role of Wing Warrior, as was his destiny. He would have to stand against the evils of the world, risk his life time and time again. He would have to defend this land. Perhaps he would have to watch the people he loved die, and even faced with that horror, he would have to fight on. His work would never be done, and he would never be allowed a moment’s rest.

But he was resting now.

There would be other people who could fight the war that was coming. There would be...

Cumulo looked off into the West. There was nothing there now, but he could imagine there was. He could imagine the pain, and suffering, and death, and blood.

It would be a living nightmare.

Many people would stand up and fight, and many people would die. The people would look for a hero, but no hero would come.

Cumulo knew then, Nimbus should not die. This boy was the hero the world needed right now.

This boy.

This knight.

This Wing Warrior.

‘Stand away from the body,’ Cumulo said, and then he breathed into Nimbus’s mouth. Two long, slow breaths.

‘Please wake up,’ Sky whispered.

Glass gripped Cloud’s hand tightly. ‘It’s going to work,’ she said. ‘I told him he wasn’t supposed to go anywhere without me. I told him we had to stick together.’

Tidal remained silent, his lips drawn into a thin line. His eyes glittered in the harsh daylight, giving away none of his thoughts. Strata’s expression was equally unreadable.

Nimbus jolted upright with a gasp, sucking oxygen into lungs that had not been working for the last half an hour. The silence of death was utterly shattered as everyone in the crowd shrieked, and cried out, and burst into applause.

Sky broke down in floods of tears, slumping against Tidal, who gripped her firmly.

‘Told you,’ Glass whispered, her voice full of triumph. ‘I told you.’

‘How do you feel?’ Cumulo asked.

Nimbus ran a hand through his hair, and blinked his vision clear. ‘Alive,’ he said, shakily. ‘I feel alive.’

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Tidal sat on a rocky outcrop, not far from the broken remains of the pier, with his feet hanging out over the still ocean. The sunlight glimmered on the surface of the water, reflecting like gold, and a single white bird bobbed and weaved above him. The world was peaceful and still, so very different to the crazy world of just a few days ago.

He picked up a broken shard of rock and threw it out into the sea. It made a satisfying plop as it disappeared, deep down into the cold underwater realm where the terrible thing was.

‘Where are you?’ he muttered.

The white bird continued to circle in the sky. Two men on the beach were building a new boat, hammering and chopping and sawing. There were three more boats out on the water, each manned by fishermen who had not yet given up the search for those people who had gone missing during the tidal wave.

‘I know you’re out there,’ Tidal said. ‘You took a bite out of me. I know you’re real.’

He scratched his chest. His cuts were almost completely healed, but they itched a lot.

A single bubble rose to the surface of the water where he had thrown the rock. For a moment the bubble shimmered in the sunlight, and then it popped. It made a peculiar hissing noise.

‘I don’t know what you are, but you’re mine. I found you. Nimbus can have his dragon, Nimbus can be the Wing Warrior. But he’s not taking this away from me.’

Another bubble rose and popped. There was another strange hissing sound.

‘I will be a hero one day,’ Tidal said, confidently.

Another bubble.

Pop.

But no hiss this time. This time a gurgling, slimy voice. ‘Of course you will.’

Tidal’s heart started to thump in his chest. He pulled his feet up, just in case something should leap out of the water and grab his toes. ‘I knew you were there,’ he said.

He thought he caught sight of something large and snakelike moving in the deep.

A flurry of words came bubbling up. ‘I’m here. I’ve been waiting for you.’

‘You ate those fishermen,’ Tidal said.

‘I eat lots of things.’

‘You tried to eat me.’

‘If I had wanted to eat you, I would have.’

‘You bit me.’

‘That’s true. I needed to know who you were. There’s no better way to find out about someone than tasting their blood. Everything’s in the blood, you know.’

‘No, I don’t know.’

‘I’ve tasted your dreams, your fears, your hopes. I can help you.’

‘I’m going to stop speaking to you now.’

‘Why?’

‘Because you scare me.’

‘We could help each other.’

‘I don’t want to help you.’ Tidal stood. ‘I’m going.’

‘Okay. You run along now. Just remember, I’ll be waiting for you. If you change your mind, I’m always here.’