03 Sky Knight (4 page)

‘As you wish.’ Cumulo twisted up through the foggy heart of a cloud. Even in the limited light given off by the moon and stars, the ugly spike of Serpent’s Coil loomed visibly on the horizon. ‘I suppose that such concerns matter less to one of the ageless.’

‘Ageless?’

‘Your father is immortal, one who will live until such time as a fatal wound is inflicted upon his body. All Wing Warrior’s were blessed as such, because of their exposure to the dragons.’

‘You mean, I’m ageless too?’

‘I don’t really know what you are, Nim. You were born to an immortal man and a mortal woman. You have already died, and you have been raised as a zombie.’

‘Please don’t use that word.’

‘You are what you are.’

‘Even so, I don’t like it. It makes me sound unnatural. I’d rather not think about it.’

‘You have also been in my presence for some time. Your lifespan may already have been dramatically increased.’

‘Then, I might be immortal now?’ Nimbus had a strange feeling in his stomach, like his insides were being tied in knots. His heart pounded. ‘But everyone I know...’

‘You will always have me.’

‘But, Mum. Sky.’ His head was spinning. ‘What about Glass?’

‘I’m sorry, Nim. You are a Wing Warrior. You take on the title, and everything that goes with it.’

‘I’m going to be sick.’

‘Think about what you have, not what you might lose. Now that Carnelian is gone, and the last Wing Warrior sword has been destroyed, no–one can predict the future.’

Clouds and stars and black shadows whipped past them as the island drew nearer. Nimbus held on tight, and tried not to think about a life in which he had to experience the heartache of loss over and over again, living for all time in hopeless isolation, watching as his family and friends turn to dust around him. ‘Is there any way to stop it?’ he whispered.

‘You are what you are, Nim. But you have experienced death already. You have a spirit that yearns to break free from your body. Who knows if you will experience agelessness as your father does. Whatever happens, now is not the time to dwell on it.’

‘I never really thought about all the things I must do, what I stand for and how it will affect my life.’

‘You should look on the bright side. Crow might kill you yet.’

Nimbus smiled, despite the heaviness in his heart. ‘Well, that’s something to look forward to, isn’t it?’ Below them, a glistening, humped shape broke the surface of the foaming waves; but it vanished below the spume before Nimbus could see exactly what it was. ‘Hey, Cumulo, how big can fishes get?’

Cumulo thought about it, rooting through the dusty memories stored in dark recesses of his mind by dragons that had died long before he ever lived. He pulled out tattered, half–formed images of creatures with scales like diamonds, with teeth like spears, and with eyes as black and deep as wells: creatures that could crush a mountain in their coils, and swallow boats whole.

‘They can get big,’ Cumulo said.

Suddenly, there was a terrible roaring noise, and something came rushing out of the sea in a fountain of blinding, white spray.

‘Pull up,’ Nimbus screamed.

Cumulo lurched violently, attempting to avoid the danger from below; but the suddenness of the motion caught Nimbus unprepared and he lost his grip. He scrabbled to grab hold of something – a wing, a limb, anything – but it was too late.

As he fell, he could see a hideous creature with a long body wrapping itself around Cumulo. The dragon was thrashing violently in the grip of the larger animal, and as he squirmed he fired gouts of flames that illuminated the conflict in flickering shades of red.

‘Cumulo,’ Nimbus shouted, and that was all before he was swallowed by the surging waves of the Everlasting Ocean.

Cold water rushed into his lungs, and the world became a confusion of bubbles and seaweed. Which way was up? Which was down?

He began to flail and kick his legs, desperate to make it back to the surface for one last lungful of air; but he was trapped in the heavy plates of the Wing Warrior armour, and it was hopeless to fight against the will of the ocean.

Already he could feel the strength being sapped from his body.

He was sinking.

Down and down. Deeper and deeper.

The water pushed on him, pressing on his shoulders until he had no energy left to retaliate.

For a second he entertained the idea that perhaps it was not possible for a zombie to drown, but he knew he was fooling himself. ‘You can still be hurt,’ Captain Spectre had told him, ‘you can still die.’

Perhaps he was a zombie; but a zombie was not eternal.

Perhaps he was ageless; but ageless was not the same as invincible.

He could still die.

Even now he could feel his spirit untangling itself from the shackles of his body and being sucked away.

Down.

Deeper.

Into the darkness beyond darkness.

Into death.

CHAPTER FOUR

Gradually, the purple gloom of the night transformed into the sombre blue of the early morning.

Sky stood in the village square and watched the thin line of villagers carting their meagre possessions away. The people had been leaving for the last two hours, taking pots, pans, fish, racks of lamb, loaves of bread, blankets and rugs. Whole lives, whole family histories, had been loaded on the backs of donkeys, or in rickety wooden barrows. Most of the garrison soldiers had also gone, and now only Captain Obsidian, Private Meadow, and Private Silver remained, watching as the village broke itself apart around them.

‘It’s going well,’ Meadow said to Obsidian. ‘You should probably join the caravan. They will need you on the road.’

Obsidian clapped Meadow on the shoulder. ‘You are right. Hawk and his young students are all brave, and I have no doubt they will do everything in their power to protect our people, but I fear we have too few soldiers for this journey.’

‘Be safe, Captain,’ Private Silver said. ‘Where–ever we end up, we will need a strong leader. If Nimbus cannot be there, and Cloud is indisposed, the villagers will turn to you.’

Obsidian tried to smile, but the expression seemed ill–suited for his tired features. ‘I have left Onyx stabled at the garrison. He is the fastest horse, and the only one I can trust to get you away from here when the time comes.’

‘But, Onyx was Cloud’s horse. I couldn’t take him. I’m just...’

‘Overdue for a promotion, Private, that’s what you are. Just look after Onyx for me. And make sure you are long gone from here before that army arrives, regardless of who you may have to leave behind.’

‘Yes, Captain,’ Silver said, saluting smartly.

‘Yes, Captain,’ Meadow said.

Obsidian touched two fingers to his brow in a salute of his own, and then strode away, attaching himself to the column of refugees. Within moments he was lost from view among the pack horses, bleating sheep, and terrified people.

‘Do you think we will ever come back here?’ Sky asked.

‘Who knows?’ Silver said. ‘There may be nothing for us to come back to. Or perhaps it will only be a matter of days until Lord Nimbus finds some way to destroy Crow.’

Sky shook her head and laughed. No matter how many times she heard Nimbus being referred to as a lord, she could never get used to it.

‘It must be strange for you,’ Silver said. ‘Seeing your friend become a legend.’

Sky shrugged.

‘Don’t worry, Lass. He’s always going to need people around him who know and love him. Maybe now, more than ever.’

‘Love him? I don’t... I mean... That’s a bit much.’

‘You should think about moving out of the village. Is your father ready?’

A donkey brayed, agitated by the press of jostling bodies gathered about it, and someone in the crowd cursed as they dropped their pack and scattered apples in the mud.

‘My father is meeting me here,’ Sky said. ‘How long will you and Private Meadow remain after we have gone?’

‘As long as we can. Long enough, I am sure, to see our young Wing Warrior returned safe and sound from his little jaunt out to Serpent’s Coil. What was he expecting to find out there anyway?’

‘Just someone we used to know. Someone we miss.’ Sky glanced towards the beach. The shadows of birds flickered in the grim, cloud–streaked sky. ‘What will you do while you are here?’

‘All we can. Any families that remain, we will try to convince to leave. Beyond that, we will watch the advance of Crow’s army, and cross our fingers.’

‘There are families staying?’

Private Meadow shuffled his feet awkwardly. ‘Some people find it difficult to leave their homes behind.’

‘Who is staying?’

‘Lord Nimbus’s mother, for one. She is refusing to move until her husband returns.’

‘But that might never happen.’

‘We spoke to her,’ Private Silver said. ‘We tried.’

Sky watched the villagers as they trudged past, bowed double under the weight of packs stuffed full of the lives they could not bring themselves to leave behind. Everyone looked so sad, but yet so full of determination. They all wanted to survive. At the cost of everything else, they wanted to see the sunrise.

It just didn’t make sense that Strata would give up now. Not after everything that had happened to her family.

‘I have to speak to her,’ Sky said, dashing up the street to Nimbus’s house.

The building was shrouded in gloom: There was no light at the windows, and no sign of life within. The door was hanging open, revealing nothing but darkness beyond.

Sky stepped into the kitchen and was immediately struck by how cold it felt. ‘Strata?’ she said.

‘In here,’ came a voice from the next room.

Strata was sitting before the fireplace in a wicker chair, staring intently at the charcoal–black hearth.

‘Are you okay?’ Sky asked, from the doorway. ‘Why is it so cold in here?’

‘Don’t come any nearer,’ Strata said. ‘I have company.’

In the far corner of the room, where the shadows were deepest, a cloaked shape moved. Sky became acutely aware of an awkward, rasping breathing, like a dog in need of water. The strength instantly drained out of her legs, and she gripped the doorframe for support. ‘Who’s here?’ she asked.

‘It’s okay,’ Strata said. ‘Just don’t come any closer. There are some things you should not see.’

The shape in the corner shifted again, and each minute adjustment was accompanied by a dusty, grating sound that sent shivers down Sky’s spine.

‘I heard... Private Silver...’ Sky swallowed carefully, trying to keep the tremble out of her voice. ‘They said you weren’t going to go. The soldiers, I mean. They’re right outside the house.’ Her gaze darted to that sinister corner, where the outline of something vaguely human continued to pose and then rearrange itself. ‘If I shouted, they would all rush in here right now,’ she added.

‘We don’t need soldiers,’ Strata said. ‘And you don’t need to worry. I have decided not to stay here any longer.’

‘But they said you were going to wait. For Cloud.’

‘Cloud isn’t coming back,’ the thing in the corner croaked. ‘Cloud has been taken prisoner. He is safe. Alive. But he will not come back.’

Sky moved into the room, pulling the door closed behind her. ‘Who are you?’ she said. ‘What do you want?’

‘Sky,’ Strata warned. ‘This is not something you want to get involved in. Go outside, and wait for me there.’

‘I’m not leaving you.’

‘Brave girl,’ the thing in the corner said, and it reached out one arm towards her. The square of light from the window fell on the outstretched limb, revealing a clawing, fleshless hand. The bony fingers twitched, beckoning Sky closer. ‘Come nearer, so that I might see you better.’

Sky’s stomach flip–flopped horribly, and she swallowed her revulsion at the thought of those fingers touching her. When she tried to speak, she found her voice had failed her and no sound came out.

‘Ah, perhaps you are not so brave, after all,’ the thing said.

Sky’s mouth flapped hopelessly.

‘Come on, you were doing so well in the face of the unknown. Now you can see the nature of the beast, what have you to fear?’

‘Who are you?’ Sky asked.

‘No–one of any importance. Not any more, at least. Just someone who got to spend a little quality time with Cloud.’

‘He’s on our side, Sky. Just don’t look at him. It’s better that way,’ Strata said.

‘Charming,’ the thing said.

‘Who are you?’ Sky asked again. ‘Why have you come here? How do you know about Cloud?’

‘So many questions, so little time. My name, if it is really of any consequence, is Sulphur. I’m afraid Strata is right, I am quite ghastly to behold at the moment, but unfortunately I’m dead. This,’ he gestured with his skeletal hands, ‘is not my body. But without one to call my own, I’m having to make do. If I’m honest, it doesn’t really suit me.’

‘You’re a ghost?’

‘A ghost, in a skeleton, to be precise. I’m haunting these old bones. It allows me to get out of the keep for a while.’

‘The keep? You mean Flint Lock?’

‘Yes, I was there with Cloud. We shared a cell. He’s a splendid fellow.’

‘What happened to him?’

Sulphur drew his hands into the folds of his cloak, and bowed his head. ‘He was poisoned by a hydra, and moved to Crystal Shine. What happened after that, I cannot say.’

‘Then Crow has control of Crystal Shine?’

‘One can only assume.’

‘And you came here to tell us this?’

Sulphur laughed. It was a dry, uncomfortable sound, similar to the sound made by the lid of a stone sarcophagus being dragged open after many hundreds of years. ‘When I was alive, I did many things for which I am sorry. I am afraid that my reasons for being here are entirely selfish ones.’ He leaned forwards, and the hood of his cloak slipped slightly to reveal the gleam of a white skull beneath. ‘I am here seeking forgiveness for my crimes.’

‘One good turn deserves another?’

‘Yes, something like that. I want, need, to be forgiven. I can’t spend forever as the monster you see before you. I had hoped that by bringing Strata news of her husband’s survival, I would be allowed to leave, to head off to the place where all the other spirits go once they are at peace.’ He held up his skeleton hands, wriggling the fingers. ‘It appears this one small act is not enough, so instead, I will walk out of here the way I walked in, and hope that in time I can find some other way to prove myself.’