02 Unicorn Rider (4 page)

***

Sorrow’s attack had devastated Flint Lock Fort, leaving behind nothing but a poisonous ruin littered with the wounded and sick soldiers who had almost died defending it. However, much had happened in the last two months to repair the damage the black dragon had caused; and while the fort was far from fully operational, it was at least starting to resemble the mighty structure it once had been.

The basic shape of the stronghold had been rebuilt, but it was still wrapped in an outer layer of wooden and metal scaffolding over which swarmed hundreds of stonemasons and carpenters. Even the watchtowers had started to take shape, reaching tall but incomplete into the sky.

Finally, it was starting to feel like the soldiers stationed there were protecting something more than a graveyard.

Clay stood on the western wall of the keep, staring at the distant spires of the Sanguine Mountains. He was coming to the end of a long, tiring night watch. While the fort was being repaired it was at its weakest, and if any enemy was waiting for an opportunity to invade, then now was the time. As such, the soldiers had been ordered to be extra vigilant, and every watch was a physical and mental drain that left them exhausted beyond belief.

The night watches were the worst. At night you didn’t just have to keep an eye out for invaders, you also had to keep an eye out for pesky gnomes who had a tendency to sneak around in the dark stealing the packed lunches of unwary guards.

Clay stifled a yawn behind one hand and blinked his vision clear. Far above him, two masons were hanging on a wooden platform on one of the towers. The repetitive heavy sounds of their hammers and chisels punctuated an otherwise eerily calm morning.

As he often did when he was on guard duty, Clay found himself thinking about Hawk.

Clay had been with Hawk when Sorrow attacked the fort. They had fought side by side, and they had fallen to the dragon’s poison at the same time.

Even now, Clay shuddered at the thought of the cloying darkness that had filled his lungs with death and his mind with nightmares.

When he closed his eyes, he could still see the face of the creature that had come to him in those nightmares; the creature that was neither man nor beast: Crow, the Guide. Clay knew that many of the other soldiers had experienced similar nightmares during their illness, and on the bleakest nights, when the wind howled and despair roamed freely, the fort echoed with the screams of once–brave men and women waking from the horror of their own memories.

Clay was not surprised that Hawk had not recovered from the trauma of that day. Many soldiers had been unable to return to their duty, and despite new recruits from Crystal Shine, the fort was still in desperate need of more troops.

He kept his gaze fixed on the mountain range that had concealed the terrible secret of Sorrow’s existence. What else was out there, just beyond sight? Was Crow real or just a hallucination brought on by fever? Did he hide out there, in some loathsome hole, breeding new monsters to unleash upon the world?

Clay gripped his spear tightly.

In the far distance of the wilderness, two human–shaped silhouettes appeared. The masons continued to hammer, breaking into quiet laughter over some private joke. Clay sighed. If Hawk was still here he would be laughing too. They were always picking on each other, poking fun and having a good time. But things were different now.

Sorrow had done more than break down the fort. Men and friendships had been broken just as easily.

The silhouettes continued their steady advance across the Western Borders, and now Clay could see they were soldiers. Both were wearing plumed helmets that covered their faces, silver breastplates, gloves, and flowing black capes. They both had long swords belted at their waists. It was quite apparent they were not dressed for travelling. They were dressed for war.

Clay glanced at the alarm bell on the far side of the wall. Should he ring it? There were only two of them, after all. They were hardly likely to storm the fort.

The soldiers stopped, not far from the fortress wall, and looked up at Clay. ‘Who goes there?’ he called.

There was no response.

‘I ask again, who goes there?’

Still no response.

There was something unnatural about the way the two soldiers were standing, and their complete silence; and as he waited for an answer to his question, a sense of unease crept up on Clay. He headed along the wall to the alarm. If these soldiers would not talk to him, then they would have to talk to the garrison commander.

With one hand on the alarm, Clay glanced over the ramparts.

The soldiers were gone.

The laughter of the stonemasons had been replaced by an unsettling scuttling sound that grew louder and more menacing. Listening to that sound, Clay was reminded of the bony clatter of a crab’s limbs in the stony recesses of a rock pool. The thought of a gigantic crab clawing its way up the walls of the fortress caused a wave of stomach–churning terror to surge through him, and he swallowed hard, expecting the worst.

Then the scuttling stopped, and one of the masons high up on the tower started hammering again.

With a sinking feeling in his gut, Clay realised the two mysterious soldiers were now standing on the battlements, watching him. But how could that be possible? Nobody was capable of scaling the walls of the fortress in a matter of seconds without a rope or ladder.

One of the soldiers pulled a knife and threw it. Clay ducked, shielding his face with his arm. The knife swished past his left cheek, clattering away over the wall; and then that horrible scuttling sound started again.

Before Clay could gather his senses, one of the soldiers had disappeared from sight.

Trying to stop his hand from shaking, Clay put aside his spear and drew his sword. The blade made a wet, silvery noise as it slid out of its sheath. ‘Where did your friend go?’ he asked.

The remaining soldier drew his own sword and took a faltering step nearer. His motions were stiff and awkward, as if he was learning to walk for the first time. At the same time, there was a low hiss by Clay’s ear that froze the blood in his veins.

Somehow, the second soldier had managed to get behind him, and was now crouched on the battlements. His sword was drawn. His cloak writhed and twitched unnaturally. No eyes were visible behind the visor of his helmet.

‘Who are you?’ Clay asked, trying to keep the squeak of panic out of his voice.

The soldier came out of his crouch.

Clay braced himself.

High up the tower, the stonemasons continued to hammer and chisel and laugh at each other’s jokes, totally oblivious to the clash of sword on sword from the wall below.

CHAPTER FOUR

Sky, Tidal, and Hawk left the beach together, heading to the village square where the archery competition was going to be held as part of the annual Landmark derby day celebrations.

Landmark, being a village predominantly populated with farmers and fishermen, was not traditionally known for its archers; but since Hawk had decided to live there, a number of people had taken up an interest in the use of ranged weaponry. Hawk had even started teaching some of the more promising children, as a means to acquire the money for the room he was renting at the inn.

The mayor had not initially approved of Hawk’s efforts to educate the villagers in new methods of combat, but Captain Obsidian of the Landmark garrison had argued that in such difficult times it certainly wouldn’t be a bad thing for more people to know how to defend themselves.

Obsidian’s assistance in convincing the mayor of the benefit of the archery lessons had probably been the only thing that had stopped Hawk returning to Flint Lock out of a sense of duty. By teaching, he still felt like he was doing his part. It made it easier for him to turn his back on the life of a soldier.

Only at night, when his pupils had gone and he was alone in his room, did he have to face the crushing truth of what he had become. A disgraced warrior.

A coward.

‘Are you okay?’ Sky asked.

Hawk allowed a careful smile to play around his mouth, disguising his true feelings. ‘I’m fine.’

‘You looked like you were thinking about something.’

‘I was just concentrating on the competition. Some of the children I’m teaching are taking part.’ He forced a laugh. ‘It would look bad if any of them beat me, wouldn’t it?’

‘You know all about looking bad, don’t you?’ Tidal chuckled. There was a glint in his eye that was playful in the same way a kitten believes that torturing a wounded mouse is playful. ‘It never looks good when a soldier abandons his post.’

‘Shut up, Tide,’ Sky snapped.

‘I’m just saying.’

‘Well, stop saying.’

‘It’s okay,’ Hawk said. ‘Tidal has a right to his opinion. Even his opinion of me.’ He grabbed Tidal’s ear and gave it a twist. ‘Just like I have the right to give him a good thump, if he doesn’t watch his mouth.’

As they approached the square, a cheer rose up from the crowd of villagers already gathered there for the contest.

‘The dragon! The dragon returns!’ someone shouted.

‘And he’s got the children,’ someone else said.

The towering form of Cumulo came lumbering into view and the crowd burst into applause. The dragon flashed his teeth in a brilliant but slightly frightening smile. The children clinging to his back waved happily, enjoying the attention immensely.

‘Nim’s back,’ Sky said.

The ground trembled beneath the weight of each of the dragon’s heavy footfalls, and the birds nesting in the thatched roofs of nearby houses leapt into the air in startled, twittering clouds. Hawk stopped in his tracks. The colour drained from his face.

‘Hawk?’ Tidal said, looking at him seriously.

Hawk gripped his bow to his chest. His hands were trembling. His mouth flapped open and closed uselessly.

‘Hawk?’ Tidal said, grabbing Hawk’s arm roughly. ‘What’s wrong with you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’

Hawk pulled away from Tidal, shaking his head. His throat worked like he was swallowing, but no sounds came out.

‘It’s Cumulo,’ Sky said. ‘He’s like this every time Cumulo’s around. Remember what I said about breathing, Hawk.’

‘Dragon,’ Hawk hissed.

‘He’s got a yellow streak a mile wide,’ Tidal sneered.

Without another word, Hawk turned and walked back towards the beach with his head hanging and his shoulders hunched around his ears.

‘Maybe you should follow him?’ Sky said.

‘Me? Why me?’

‘I’d go myself, but... you know? Nim’s back.’

‘Hawk will be fine. He just needs to be alone. He’ll be back in time for the competition. He wouldn’t want to miss the chance to show what he can do with that bow of his.’

‘He’s really afraid of Cumulo. I wish there was something we could do to help.’

‘I’m not sure even the finest surgeons in Crystal Shine are capable of putting someone’s spine back in.’ Tidal snorted a cruel laugh, clearly under the illusion that he was much funnier than Sky thought he was.

‘He needs us,’ she said, as Hawk disappeared from view beyond the rocky outcrops on the beach.

‘Hawk’s seventeen. He’s a man. We should be looking to him for help and support, not the other way around.’

‘You’re a jerk, Tide. Are you going to speak with him or not?’

Tidal watched the crowd that had gathered around Cumulo. He couldn’t see Nimbus anywhere, but the Wing Warrior was never far from his dragon. ‘You want to see Nimbus that badly?’ he asked, sourly.

‘He’s my friend.’

‘Do you really believe that this time he might actually grace you with a few moments of his precious time? I mean, when was the last time you even spoke to him? He’s been away for days, and then he comes back and within minutes he’s racing off to the Forbidden Woods to find those dumb kids. He doesn’t have time for us... for you... any more.’

‘He has a lot of responsibility as a Wing Warrior. A lot of people to protect.’

‘Whatever. You waste your time trying to talk to him, if you want. I’ll speak with Hawk.’

‘Will you be nice?’

‘I don’t know about that.’

She folded her arms. Her expression was stern. ‘Tide. Please?’

‘I’ll try my best. If it will make you happy.’

Sky’s expression softened considerably. ‘Thank you.’

***

By the time Sky reached the square, Cumulo was giving rides up and down the street and the village was alive with giggling and cheering. It was hard to believe this was the same place where Nimbus and the black dragon, Sorrow, had fought in deadly combat. The world had become dangerous, yet even now, with creatures of darkness springing up on all sides, Landmark felt safe.

She pushed her way into the throng of people, looking for Nimbus or Cloud. There was no sign of either of them.

‘Cumulo,’ she called, but he was too far away to hear her over the laughing and shouting of the other children.

She stamped her feet in frustration. Where was he? Why was he never around any more?

A dark shape passed across the face of the sun, travelling at speed. By the time Sky looked, the shape was already disappearing into the clouds. It could have been anything.

Once upon a time she had wished she was a bird, so that she could fly away. These days, it was all too apparent how far beyond her reach the sky really was.

Her thoughts were interrupted as she caught sight of a tall, gangly man with an unkempt beard and tattered clothes moving towards her through the press of bodies. She groaned to herself, but put on her best smile.

‘Hello, Dad,’ she said.

‘Where have you been?’ he asked. His voice was harsh. His eyes were cold and difficult to read.

‘At the beach,’ she said.

‘You were gone this morning before I got up. I heard about these children that had gone missing. I thought...’ He paused. Cumulo was allowing a small girl to swing on his neck energetically. ‘I didn’t know where you were.’

‘I’m okay, Dad. I was watching Hawk train for the archery competition.’