Dark Wyng

  But he did try, when the light was fading and he could hear the Veng making what sounded like the hurr of a dragon asleep. He moved slower this time, keeping his breathing low and even as his fingers explored every small inflection in the sides of the pit. And he did get farther, but not far enough. Close to the opening, the rock smoothed out. To have any chance of completing the climb, he would have to swing over to the opposite wall, where the holds were better. The effort loosened up a fall of dirt. A patter of grains, no more, but enough to alert the guard. And so there came another flash like the first, followed by a plume of suffocating smoke. Ren rolled on the pit floor, choking. “What have I done?” he screamed in dragontongue, before the smoke had gotten too deep into his lungs and all he could do after that was cough.

  It was while he was retching that he stretched out a hand and his wrist found a shallow fund of water. Desperate to clear the irritation from his mouth, he knelt and scooped his hand into the puddle. But as he brought the wetness to his lips, Grystina came into his mind and said, Ren, beware.

  Ren paused. The water seeped through his fingers.

  Look above you, she said.

  Ren lifted his head.

  Pink-colored cinders were glowing on the rock the Veng had just flamed.

  “Fhosforent,” Ren muttered.

  The water runs with it, Grystina said. I cannot foretell the consequence if you drink it.

  Ren thought on this a moment. “Will it change me, like the dragons that mined it?”

  I do not know.

  Ren pooled more water in the palm of his hand. “Givnay knew how to control it,” he said, remembering the conversation he’d had with the disgraced Elder just before he died.

  He thought he could, Grystina said. It drove him to madness. Do not drink. I have a terrible sense of foreboding about this. Do you feel anything?

  “My bones are near broke and you ask me this?”

  I do not mean pain. A powerful presence lurks here. Something unnatural, beyond the shadows.

  Ren shook his head. He felt nought but fire in his throbbing joints, coupled with the burning urge for revenge. He staggered to his feet again. “I need to get out of here.”

  Not this way. Wait for Gabrial. He is sure to search for you.

  Ren tongued the water. “Don’t have time to wait for Gabrial.”

  No, Ren. The risk is too great. He felt her trying to constrict his throat. You saw what the fhosforent did to the Wearle. Remember, you are part dragon now.

  “Part dragon; more parts Kaal,” he said.

  And he drank a good mouthful of the water, and more.

  The result was not immediate, but it was not long coming. The world slowly began to spin, as if a dragon had pushed its tail into the pit, stirred the air, and turned the walls with it. Ren fell to his knees, a raft of broken i:mages flying through his mind. They were mostly of Gabrial, strutting back and forth, looking angry and confused. Some were of Grendel sheltering Gayl. Flashes of Gallen’s green head appeared too. All of it from a huge, high cave that looked out across an endless mountain range.

  “What’s happenin’?” he murmured, panting hard. It felt as if a window had been opened in his mind. A fine layer of scales began to glow along his arm.

  Gariffred, Grystina said excitedly. You see everything but Gariffred. You are looking through the drake’s eyes, Ren. Open yourself to it. Let your minds commingle. Then Gariffred will see what you have seen—the flight from the cave when the Veng took you. He may be able to i:mage your location for Gabrial.

  And she reached out, eager to contact her son. But as the memories of Ren’s abduction poured forth, a more commanding presence began to press the borders of his newfound awareness.

  Grystina quickly sensed the intrusion and immediately closed the link to Gariffred.

  Ren, a dark spirit is upon us, she warned.

  In the same breath, Ren felt his chest expanding as she instinctively tried to make him roar in his defense. But the incoming presence subdued it and almost split Ren’s head in two. Something sinister tore into his auma. It flashed through his body like a rush of dark water, exploring every last part of him. He felt it most along his scaly arm, which snapped back hard against the wall of the pit as if possessed by a will of its own. Ren squealed in pain as the vessels near the surface of his skin erupted and blood, both green and red, trickled down his arm, leaving glowing burn marks. The force within him raged with what seemed like indignation as if a creature like Ren could have no claim to the auma of dragons.

  Terrified, desperate, and knowing of nothing else to do, Ren closed his eyes and prayed to the Fathers for help. In an odd kind of way, the malevolent presence seemed to appreciate his right to do this. For half a heartbeat, the pressure eased. And in that single moment of time Ren’s mind leapt to another place, a shadow realm where deities and vapors and spirits roamed freely, waiting to be called into being once more, waiting to answer any hopeful prayer …

  It came first as a wind that howled around the pit, sucking up loose organic matter and spewing it into the open air. The dark force withdrew, though Ren had the feeling it was laughing still, as if Ren had drawn down a fate more deadly than the one the force had been planning for him.

  Aboveground, the guard padded forward, ready to teach Ren another lesson. What it saw made it shrink back in horror. A ghostly form was emerging from the pit. A vapor with no light glinting in its eyes. A thing that had been much whispered about since a group of Veng, this one included, had destroyed the living dragon this phantom had once been. A dragon whose heart had turned to stone, a heart that sat on a pillar in an eyrie not far from these very mines. The spirit of Gabrial’s friend and mentor.

  Per Grogan.

  What have you unleashed? Grystina said.

  She came rushing back as the darkness left Ren. At first he had no idea what he’d done. But that was fear he detected in Grystina. Fear from a dragon who had no bodily concerns. If this phantom could raise that effect in her, what was it doing to the Veng on the surface?

  Without hesitation, Ren began his third climb of the day. All the way up he had to close his eyes against the volley of grit falling back into the hole. On the surface, he could hear the Veng twisting and roaring in a terrible frenzy, scraping its spiked tail against the ground. It was still jerking left and right when Ren managed to poke his head clear of the hole. Straightway he was forced to duck as an outstretched wing scythed across the gap. In the flash of clear sky behind it, he saw the eerie figure of Grogan. The ghost was floating above the Veng, drawing its fire, tormenting it. The ground rumbled as the guard blew an arc of flame that colored the world bright orange for a moment. Blinded momentarily and curbed by the fumes, it was all Ren could do to maintain his grip. But as the haze began to clear, he could see that Grogan was completely unharmed. He had simply faded into the sky and rematerialized in another place, calling on the Veng to flame again.

  Run, said Grystina. The vapor will kill you. I cannot protect you from it.

  Ren scrabbled from the hole and hid behind a rock. “Kill? How?” The apparition was a mess of blunted fangs and bloodied forelegs—a gruesome reminder of Grogan’s horrific state when he’d died—but it clearly had neither substance nor fire. Physically, it was as useless as a twig against a sword. Ren could see no way it might injure the guard.

  But Grystina’s apprehension was still at a peak.

  Do not look at it, she counseled.

  But Ren did look. Until this point, Grogan had been a wraithlike shroud of common green. But now his lifeless eyes lit up and glowed a demonic shade of red. At the same time, he seemed to swell in size and swamp the space above the guard. So big did he become that his jaws looked capable of swallowing the Veng whole. Ren was certain he would see some ghostly fire burst forth. But instead of breathing out, Grogan breathed in. He seemed to be reaching into the Veng, as if he wanted to pull it inside out from the tip of the tail forward. The Veng emitted such a howl of terror that Ren winced and
momentarily felt sorry for it. He heard its claws grind and snap against the rocks. A spurt of dung squeezed out of the hole at the base of its tail and painted the land beneath it brown. One of its slanted eyes burst open, sending a trickle of amber goo running down its quivering neck.

  “GIVE ME MY HEART,” the apparition cried. Its voice rocked the sky like thunder.

  The Veng gurgled and slumped to one side.

  Run, Grystina urged. It has destroyed the Veng’s auma. It will do the same to you.

  Ren looked all around him. There were many rocks he could hide behind, but he would still be badly exposed from the air. His only hope, he thought, was to drop back into the pit and pray that Grogan ignored him or …

  “Can we phase?” he whispered. “Up there?”

  He looked at the high walls of the quarry. If he could make it to the top without being seen, there was a chance he could escape, or at least find a better hiding place.

  It is dangerous, Ren. This is not a game of seek. You have never tried to phase over such a height or distance. If you falter—

  “I die,” he said, ducking as Grogan peered around the quarry. “Which will be my fate anyway, if I don’t try.”

  Then concentrate fully, Grystina said. I:mage yourself to the top of the quarry. I will aid you all I can. But waver just once and Grogan will sense you.

  The vapor turned its head their way.

  He senses me anyway, Ren thought. “Do it,” he said, slipping closer to the ground. He huddled up and closed his eyes, picturing himself in the same position, behind a rock but outside the quarry.

  With a jerk he was gone. When next he opened his eyes, the mountains were an endless ripple of peaks and the air was sharp against his face. He scrabbled to his feet and peeped down into the quarry. Yes! He punched the air in triumph. He had phased perfectly. In the distance lay the Veng, slumped beside the hole.

  But where was Grogan?

  A sudden rush of air answered that. Grogan appeared full size in front of him, wings outstretched, jaws bleeding with shadowy saliva.

  Ren staggered back from the quarry edge, tripping and falling over loose shale. “I … I mean no harm on you,” he babbled, raising a hand to protect himself.

  “GIVE ME MY HEART,” Grogan said, wailing like a wind from another world. And he tried to do to Ren what he had done to the Veng. But although Ren felt the pulse of energy, it seemed to disperse to either side of him as if it had hit an invisible wall.

  He is trapped, said Grystina. His spirit haunts the place where he died, but no farther. Unless he can cross that barrier, you are safe.

  Breathing hard, Ren got to his feet.

  Leave, said Grystina. Run while you can. Other Veng will come. They will hunt you, Ren.

  Ren calmly dusted himself down. He stepped closer to Grogan, being careful not to be swept into his auma. “My name is Ren,” he said in dragontongue. “I would help you. I know where they hide your heart.”

  Grogan wailed again. The red eyes sharpened.

  “They hold it in a cave,” Ren said boldly. “A cave that was home to the traitor, Givnay. I know this because they took me there once.”

  That aggravated Grogan even more. He scratched and snapped at the edges of his realm, leaving misty streaks of blood in the air. “BRING ME GA … BRI … AL.”

  Ren shook his head. “Weren’t Gabrial who put you here.”

  The vapor thrashed its tail, making it explode in a cloud of many parts. The whole body formed again, green. “WHAT—ARE—YOU?”

  “I am Hom,” said Ren, “but the auma of dragons runs deep in me.” He held up his hand to show the star-shaped scar where Gariffred had bitten him. “Gabrial is sworn to me by blood, and I to him and his wearling kin. I will not see you set against them. But I mean to wound your spirit no further. I would wreak vengeance against those who harmed you. If I bring you your heart, will you join with me? Will you be at my call unto death? Against them?” He nodded at the stricken guard. “Your heart for the Veng. How say you, Grogan?”

  The vapor swirled. It tilted its head, perhaps unable to believe the arrogance of the creature standing in front of it.

  Growing ever more confident, Ren said, “I called you back to this world, spirit; I can send you to the other place again.”

  An idle boast, said Grystina. I beg you, leave.

  Grogan accepted the terms all the same. “MORE VENG FOR MY HEART. BRING IT SOON, HOM.”

  Ren thumped his breast. “This is my oath. Injure no other dragon until I return.”

  And he turned his back and walked away, striking out for the distant straggle of smoke that always rose from the sleeping mountain.

  Even before he had gone ten steps, Grystina was raising dire concerns. This is a perilous bond, she warned. If you fail this oath and the vapor breaks free, it will kill you for pleasure or haunt you always.

  “I won’t fail,” said Ren. “Gabrial will come. Find me a hiding place. Somewhere the Veng can’t sniff me out. One I can easily i:mage for Gariffred. The bond to the drake burns strong in me.”

  And when Gabrial is here, what then?

  “We join together, with others, and take the battle to Grynt and Gallen.”

  Battle?

  Ren smiled. He had thought long and hard about this. Lying in pain at the bottom of that pit had sharpened his base survival instincts. He was certain now that the dragon high command planned to kill him, or at least keep him prisoner until they were done trampling over this planet—but not if he could find a way to strike against them first.

  He extended his arms and turned a full circle. “These mountains are my home, my land,” he said. “I would share them in peace with any beast, including skalers—but not with those who would beat me or betray me. By the count of my fingers, there are three Veng left, including Gallen. We can defeat them with Grogan’s help.”

  Defeat them … ? You would fight the Veng?

  “Aye. Them, and Grynt too.”

  He felt Grystina rearing in his mind. No, Ren. This is the fhosforent in you. I cannot let you form a dark wyng.

  “A what?” he said. He was moving quickly away from the quarry, searching for a heap of dragon dung. He was an exposed target on the open mountains, easily visible to the dragons’ keen eyes. More so to their noses. But if he smeared his robe with their dung, it would hide his Hom scent. It had fooled them before; it would fool them again.

  Meanwhile, Grystina issued her warning. If dragons gather to fight the Prime, they are called a dark wyng. It is an unforgivable act of treachery. Grynt will kill you without hesitation if you rise up against him in that manner. Gabrial too, and any others you call.

  “Grynt wants me dead. What difference does it make?”

  If he wanted you dead, we would not be having this conversation.

  Ren raised his eyes to the sky. No sign of any roamers or changes of guard. He continued his search for dung. “Then what would you have me do?”

  Surrender.

  “Surrender? Nay.”

  Listen to me, Ren. It is the only way. Give yourself up. Tell them what happened when you drank the water. Tell them the fhosforent raised a dark spirit that made you bring Grogan back. Tell them what you saw him do to the Veng. They only have to commingle with your mind to know it’s true.

  “No. They imprisoned me when I had done no crime. I will not put myself in their claws again. We hide and call Gabrial.”

  Again I ask, what then?

  Ren knelt down and surveyed the land. “Then there is a change of order,” he said. “Then we take control of the Wearle.”

  “What do I have to do to make you understand that when I give an order I expect it to be OBEYED?”

  Prime Grynt was so close to Gabrial’s face that his words were almost indenting themselves across the blue’s jaw. Gabrial tried to look up to find Grendel, but she was under guard at the back of the eyrie, accused of being complicit in his actions, too far away for him to see. The two distressed wearlings had been taken
to healer Grymric’s cave, there to be given sleeping herbs to calm them, if necessary. The only others present with Grynt were Elder Gossana; De:allus Garodor; Veng Commander Gallen; and, bizarrely, a terrified male Hom, cowering in a ragged heap off to one side.

  “All I wanted to do—” Gabrial began.

  “All you wanted to do, all you have EVER wanted to do,” roared Grynt, “is disrupt the running of this Wearle. You were ordered to stay AWAY from the boy.”

  “And I have!” snapped Gabrial, wincing as his injured wing kinked. It had been a painful flight to the Prime dragon’s settle, one that Gallen had made more torturous by taking a longer route around than was necessary. “I admit I went to look for him, but I didn’t release him from that pit.”

  “Then what did?”

  Gabrial ground his teeth. “I don’t know. Maybe it wasn’t the wisest of moves to put Ren in the quarry where Grogan died.”

  Grynt raised a claw to keep Gallen quiet. “You expect me to believe that the spirit of a dead dragon mysteriously rose up, murdered a Veng, and let the boy walk free?”

  “The guard was frightened to death.”

  “And you know this how?”

  Gabrial roiled his wings in exasperation. “Gallen has seen the body. The De:allus and Gossana have looked over it as well. There were no signs of physical combat—just …”

  “The smell,” said Gossana, wrinkling her snout.

  “I didn’t kill it,” Gabrial insisted to Grynt. “I swear on the life of the wearlings. And I don’t believe Ren did it, either.”

  Grynt walked around to the other side of him. “It doesn’t matter what you believe. The facts are plain. Another Veng is dead, and the boy is our only suspect. He is now a dangerous fugitive. He will be hunted down and brought to justice. If he resists, he will be eradicated.”