01 Wing Warrior (21 page)

Back home, Sky pushed open the front door, and poked her head inside. The house was quiet and cold. The hallway was shrouded in gloom.

‘Dad?’ she said, her voice hardly more than a whisper. ‘Are you home?’

There was no answer.

She listened carefully. No snoring. No singing. No sobbing. Perhaps he was already at the tavern, too drunk to care where she was, or even if she had been hurt in the attack.

‘Dad?’ She moved inside, closing the door behind her. As the latch clicked, there was a smash from the kitchen.

Her heart immediately started to pound, and she was almost overcome by the urge to run back out into the street.

Smashing was normally bad. Smashing normally meant he was angry.

‘Dad, are you okay?’

There was no answer, so she started through the hallway, her fists clenched tightly. There was another sound from the kitchen; maybe bowls being rattled together. Was her father trying to cook something?

She reached the kitchen door and stopped for a moment, one hand on the door handle, one hand clenched on the doorframe.

There was still time to turn around and leave. She was only going to be gone for a few hours. Her father might not even notice she wasn’t there. If she left him some porridge, or some bread and cheese, he might not even think to look for her.

She didn’t have to tell him what she was up to.

Why should she?

She sighed, shaking her head. She knew the answer to that question well enough. She had made him a promise. For all his faults, he was her dad, and she wasn’t about to break that promise.

The hinges creaked as she went in.

She could not hold back a yelp of surprise when she was confronted by something very different to what she had expected.

There was a creature sitting on the kitchen table. It was a fat thing, with many characteristics that were common to man; but it was small, perhaps no bigger than a cat. Its tummy was hanging out over the top of breeches that had been fashioned out of leaves, and its pudgy cheeks wobbled as it nattered away to itself in an unusual, squeaky voice. It was wearing a wooden bowl on its head, and was in the process of sticking its long tongue down the neck of an empty bottle. There were knives and forks and mixing bowls scattered over the floor, and there was flour everywhere, in which the creature had left its little footprints.

Sky stopped in the doorway. The creature turned to look at her with big eyes that spoke of a hidden and almost human intelligence. Its chubby fingers tightened around the neck of the bottle, and it made its mouth into something that was almost a smile, but which revealed too many sharp–looking teeth to be considered friendly.

‘What are you?’ Sky asked.

In response, the thing stood up, and with an unearthly giggle, hopped the gap between the table and the windowsill. Despite its portly physique, the creature moved with surprising agility, and it had disappeared into the bushes outside long before Sky crossed the distance to the window. The leaves rustled, and she heard the thing giggling and scrabbling for a little while as clods of mud flew up into the air. Then it was gone.

Sky realised she had been holding her breath, and she slowly exhaled before pulling the shutters closed and turning away from the window.

Knowing it would cause trouble if her father returned to see the kitchen in such a mess, she began to pick up all the discarded cutlery and bowls.

As she worked, she laughed quietly. She had just seen a legend in her kitchen. She didn’t know what it was, maybe a gnome or a goblin, but there was one thing she did know. She had been far less scared of it than she was of her father.

***

After the gnome had fled through the kitchen window, he headed back into the woods, excited to show off his new wooden hat to the rest of his family.

On his way home, he had to pass a clearing where a goblin hunting party was in the process of chasing down a badger.

The gnome hated goblins; they were stinky, untrustworthy little monsters who always cheated at cards. However, this particular gnome had already lost two brothers, one cousin, and a third aunt twice removed to badgers, so wasn’t fond of them either.

Finding a good spot halfway up a tree, the gnome settled down to watch the fight. The badger was of a good size and wasn’t shy about getting stuck in; and he was making the hunt into a fascinating spectator sport. Three goblins were already wounded and were staggering off into the undergrowth, but the badger was heavily outnumbered, and he couldn’t hope to last much longer.

Suddenly, there was a howl, and two wolves sprang into the clearing. The goblins scattered, screeching and waving their little arms in the air as they realised the fight had turned in the badger’s favour. The wolves ran among them, snatching up the slowest hunters and shaking them savagely.

The whole scene was incredibly gruesome, and the gnome applauded every time a goblin got mauled. He clapped so hard that he actually lost his balance and fell out of his tree. As he got to his feet, shaking his head groggily, he became aware of something waiting in the shadows: a giant stag that was silently surveying the carnage the wolves were causing.

The gnome had heard terrified whispers of this stag. He was called Sage, and by all accounts, he was the boss around these parts.

As the gnome was edging away, Sage turned to look at him; and even though the stag didn’t say anything, the gnome knew that it was time to leave. He scurried off, leaving the sounds of snarling wolves and yelping goblins far behind.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Gradually, the black smoke cleared, revealing a desolate and uninhabited landscape: A huge, seemingly endless wilderness of sharp, jagged stones and deep crevasses. There were no trees here, no plants, no animals, no people, and no dragon.

Nimbus was totally alone.

He blinked stupidly, looking around in complete bewilderment at this strange, alien environment. He felt like he had just woken from a dream, but had somehow managed to wake into a world that was less real than the dream had been.

Instinctively, he reached for the Wing Warrior sword, expecting it to be hanging from his waist.

But there was no sword. No sheath.

No armour.

He was dressed in some worn breeches and a leather tunic.

A moment of panic, a second of sheer terror at the prospect of being unarmed and unarmoured should the black dragon return, was almost immediately replaced with a sense of pure release.

In the armour, people would have expected him to be a hero; but in these clothes, he could just be plain old Nimbus again.

The sword was lying in the dirt, discarded like a piece of rubbish. He made no effort to pick it up. He wasn’t a Wing Warrior – he never had been – and the sword wasn’t for him. Better to leave it there for some real hero to find.

‘Glass?’ he called. The purple sky was entirely empty. As empty as he felt. ‘Glass?’

There was no response, only the mournful wail of the wind as it swooped across rocks and stones, and down into deep scar–like ravines.

Nimbus wrapped his arms around his chest and squinted into the horizon. There were no landmarks in this place. No distinguishing hills or trees or buildings. Everything looked the same. He could walk for a hundred miles and still feel like he hadn’t taken a step.

‘Well, I don’t know what you did, Glass, but you helped me get away from that dragon. I guess I owe you one.’ He took another look around the bleak landscape. ‘I just wish you could have told me where I’m supposed to go now.’

He sat on an angular finger of stone. Being as he didn’t know where he was, or where he should go, he figured that sitting down would be just as useful as anything else.

The wind continued to whoop and howl. He kicked his feet in the dirt, and tried his best not to listen to the moaning in the air.

Some hero he had turned out to be. He’d had the armour and the sword, but when it came down to it, he just wasn’t strong or brave enough. The dragon had pounded him without hardly needing to try.

‘I almost believed it was me,’ he whispered. ‘I almost convinced myself I could be the Wing Warrior.’

He shook his head in disbelief. How could he have been so stupid? He had put Glass’s life at risk by taking her out to the fort, and poor Cumulo had allowed himself to be captured because he believed Nimbus was going to save everyone. If it wasn’t so sad, he would have laughed. He couldn’t even save himself, let alone save his friends. And now he didn’t even know where he was.

The Wing Warrior sword glimmered faintly. It wanted to be picked up. But not again. Never again. He was finished with trying to be a hero. From now on, he was going to be a regular kid.

He looked around at the empty scenery.

As soon as he figured out a way home, he was going to be a regular kid.

The sky seemed to darken, and a figure appeared on the horizon. Another person? Perhaps someone who knew where the nearest town was?

‘More likely a hungry wolf looking for its next meal,’ Nimbus said, resting his chin in his hands. ‘Well, if he wants to eat me, he can do all the running. I’m not moving from this spot.’

The Wing Warrior sword continued to glow.

Black clouds gathered, piling up one behind the other to build a dark wall before eventually spilling over to spread across the sky like ink in a wishing well.

Nimbus was tired. He closed his eyes. Almost immediately he had the sense he was no longer alone, and when he opened his eyes again there was a man standing just a short distance away. The man was leaning against a gnarly wooden staff, and his face was almost completely obscured by the wide hood of his travelling cloak.

‘Sleeping?’ the man asked, in a voice that sounded young, but felt old.

Nimbus wiped his eyes and yawned. ‘No, not sleeping. I saw you on the horizon.’

‘Really?’

‘That was you, wasn’t it?’

‘It’s possible. Some people see me coming.’ The man approached; the end of his staff clicked on the stones. ‘Do you mind if I sit beside you?’ Without waiting for an answer, he sat. ‘I have been travelling for a long time. It’s good to sit down every once in a while. Good to catch your breath.’

Nimbus rubbed his chest. His lungs still burned with the memory of the dragon’s smoke. ‘I suppose so.’

‘Tell me, do you have a name?’

‘Nimbus.’

‘Like the cloud?’

‘I was named after my dad, but I’m nothing like him.’

‘Sometimes it’s hard to live up to the expectations of our parents.’

‘I don’t think my dad had any expectations of me. I think that’s probably the worst thing of all. I think he hid a lot of things from me, told me a lot of lies. He knew I wouldn’t be strong enough or brave enough to handle the truth.’

‘Sometimes parents can be cruel, can’t they?’ Nimbus caught a glimpse of the man’s mouth curling into a wicked smile. The rest of his face remained hidden by his hood. ‘But life can be cruel. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that, considering where we are.’

‘And where, exactly, are we?’

‘A limbo. A place between the world of the living and the world of the dead. This is the place where spirits wander if they are lost. A very sad place. Something terrible must have happened for you to be here.’

‘There was a dragon. I tried to...’ Nimbus almost laughed. ‘I tried to do something very silly.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that. It’s a terrible, tragic waste of life.’

‘What do you mean?’

There was another flicker of a smile, partially masked by the folds of the hood. ‘You don’t understand, do you? You’re dead, Nimbus. Or so close to it there’s barely any difference. The dragon killed you.’

Nimbus jumped up, although he felt more like he had been yanked up against his will by an icy hand that was firmly gripping his lower intestines. ‘It’s not possible,’ he gasped.

‘I’m afraid it is. You’re a wandering spirit now, trapped between your world and the other world, where the dead people are.’

‘No.’

‘Don’t worry. Denial is just the first step on your journey.’

‘No. I won’t believe this.’

‘Believe it, don’t believe it. It makes no difference in the end.’

‘It’s too soon.’

‘It’s always too soon. Just relax.’

‘How am I supposed to relax? You’ve just told me I’m dead.’

‘Or almost dead.’

‘How do you expect me to be calm? And who are you anyway? Why are you here?’

‘I’m a guide.’

‘What sort of guide?’ Suddenly Nimbus was wary of this man, and he had the urge to be anywhere other than where he was.

‘I’m here to help you, to guide you into the next world.’

‘But I’m not ready to go to the next world. I have to go back. There’s a dragon, and it’s going to hurt my friends.’

‘Your friends aren’t your concern any more.’

‘Yes they are. They’re always my concern. You have to help me, take me back.’

‘I can’t.’ The man got to his feet. ‘I’m afraid I don’t know the way. I can only guide you to the world of the dead. I have no knowledge of the living.’

‘This is crazy.’

‘It’s always a shock to find out you’ve been eaten by a dragon, but these things happen.’

‘You don’t understand. The dragon didn’t eat me.’

‘What makes you so sure?’

‘I don’t know. My sister, I think. I heard her voice. Somehow she was able to communicate with me.’

‘Only magic users, very powerful ones, have the power to talk to the spirits here. Is your sister a magic user?’

‘She... I...’ Nimbus chewed on his lip. ‘No.’

‘Then it was not your sister you heard. Sometimes the lost spirits here like to make fun of the newcomers, and give them hope where there is none. I’m sorry. It’s over for you. Please let me do my job.’

The man put a hand on Nimbus’s shoulder. His touch was as cold as a mountain stream. His face remained a mystery.

‘I can’t be dead,’ Nimbus whispered. ‘I need to be alive. Just for a little bit longer.’

‘Come with me. It will be okay. Once you are in your rightful place you will be able to look over your friends, as all of the dead can. It will be like you are still with them.’