01 Wing Warrior (17 page)

Nimbus didn’t stop around after that; he turned and ran, feeling more like a coward with every step that took him farther from the battle.

He did not look back when he heard Captain Obsidian scream at his men to charge. He did not even look back when the air started to crackle, and a searing blast of heat roared out from the ruins.

He put his head down and kept running.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

When the sun had finally set, and the sky had turned from gold, to red, to purple, and finally to black, Nimbus emerged from his hiding place among the roots of the old oak tree under the embankment.

The world was full of shadows, but none so dark as the one that was cast over his heart as he headed back to the ruins.

He was aching and bruised, but those little physical hurts paled into insignificance compared to the hurt he felt when he closed his eyes and imagined heaps of injured soldiers, or one dead dragon with Obsidian’s sword stuck in its belly.

He held his breath as he moved among the stones, expecting the worst.

The ruins were deadly quiet, glistening in the starlight.

Empty.

He stopped on the spot where he had last seen Cumulo. The ground was blackened and scorched, as if from a terrible burst of fire. The surrounding stones and bricks were similarly charred. The unpleasant smell of burning was everywhere.

‘Oh no,’ Nimbus said, as he walked around the remains of the battle ground. ‘Oh, Cumulo. What have you done?’

There were broken bits of sword and armour on the ground. The swords were no longer shining; the armour was no longer silver–white. Everything was covered in a fine layer of ash. There was no sign of the soldiers anywhere, and no sign of Cumulo. It was almost as if everyone had been burned away completely.

Nimbus put his head in his hands. He was too tired and cold and scared to stop himself from crying, and within moments the tears were streaming down his face. Giant sobs shook through his chest uncontrollably.

He had ruined everything. He should have tried harder to convince Obsidian that Cumulo was innocent. He should have stuck around rather than running away like a coward. He should have done so many things differently to the way he had.

Cumulo had believed Nimbus was a hero, and Nimbus had let him down.

‘Is there really time for that, Soldier?’ a voice asked, from somewhere over by the shattered remains of the watchtower.

Nimbus looked up. There was nobody there. ‘Hello?’ he said.

‘They took him, you know?’

Nimbus couldn’t see anybody, but there could have been any number of people hiding in the darkness beyond the tower doorway. ‘Who are you?’ he said.

Laughter echoed around the ruins. ‘I think you really mean where am I, don’t you?’

‘Okay, where are you?’

‘I’m right here.’

‘I can’t see you.’

‘I get that a lot.’

‘Why can’t I see you?’

‘Because you’re not looking hard enough.’

Nimbus stuck his head through the tower doorway. There was nothing inside except the first three steps of a broken spiral staircase that led nowhere. ‘Hello?’ he said.

‘Hello.’

The voice was so close to his ear, Nimbus nearly jumped clean out of his skin. His heart raced as he backed away from the door. He still couldn’t see anyone.

‘Are you invisible?’ he asked.

The bodiless voice chuckled. ‘I guess I am to you.’

‘Why?’

‘Because you don’t believe enough. Now your friend... he could see me just fine.’

‘My friend?’

‘The dragon. I would have thought, with a friend like that, you would have been able to see me too.’

Nimbus peered back inside the tower, squinting hard. There was definitely nobody in there, but the air seemed a little bit thicker just by the stairs, like it wasn’t quite as see–through as air really should be. ‘Are you sat on the stairs?’ he asked.

‘Actually, I am.’

‘Why can’t I see you?’

‘I told you, you don’t believe enough.’

‘I don’t believe enough in what?’

‘Gosh, I don’t know. Life, I suppose. You don’t believe enough in magic. And you certainly don’t believe enough in yourself. I bet you don’t even believe in ghosts, do you?’

‘Of course not.’

‘And yet, here you are talking to one.’

‘You’re not a ghost.’

‘And that’s my point.’

‘If you were really a ghost, I’d be more afraid of you.’

‘What makes you think that?’

‘Because ghosts are supposed to be scary.’

‘That’s a pretty broad generalisation, especially from someone who doesn’t even believe in ghosts.’

Nimbus sat on a rock and kicked his heels in the dirt. ‘It’s not easy to believe,’ he said. ‘Especially not when you have to believe the kinds of things I’m being asked to believe.’

‘And what is it, exactly, you are being asked to believe?’

Nimbus wiped his nose with the back of his hand. ‘I’m being asked to believe I’m a hero.’

‘Oh, well no–one believes they’re a hero. But that doesn’t mean they’re not heroic, does it?’

‘Some hero I turned out to be. I let the dark magic destroy Flint Lock. I got arrested for stealing the mayor’s horse. My sister was taken away by soldiers. Cumulo’s gone. And now there’s all this... I don’t know what happened to the people here, but it looks like they got all burned up, and if that’s true, then Cumulo’s as bad as the other dragon.’

‘Well, that’s something, isn’t it? You’re not prepared to believe in me, or you, but you’re prepared to believe your dragon friend did something as terrible as burning up those soldiers. If you ask me, you believe in all the wrong things.’

Nimbus sniffed. ‘Do you know Cumulo?’

‘We were having a nice chat before all the fighting started. I suppose I won’t see him again. Not now they’ve taken him away.’

‘Who?’

‘The soldiers.’

‘But, I thought...’

‘I know very well what you thought, and you should be ashamed for thinking it.’

‘But...’

‘But, nothing. That dragon kept those knights busy just long enough for you to escape, then he surrendered.’

Nimbus felt fresh tears welling up in his eyes. ‘Poor Cumulo.’

‘Indeed, poor Cumulo. He was in a real situation, and no doubt about it. He was so angry he accidentally went and breathed fire all over the place.’

‘Did he hurt anyone?’

‘No. But that was when he realised he might, so he let them win. He’s very brave.’

‘He is.’

‘And he believes in you. From what I can see, that would be the bravest thing of all.’

‘You don’t understand. I’m lost without him. I don’t know what to do.’

‘You’re going to do exactly what you need to do, exactly what he would do in your situation.’

‘And what’s that?’

‘Do I really need to tell you?’

Nimbus drew a deep breath. The air was still hot and smelled of baked earth. ‘I’m going to rescue him,’ he said. ‘I don’t know how, but I’m going to rescue him.’

‘Spoken like a true hero.’

Nimbus lowered his head and closed his eyes. He could feel the blood thumping in his ears. The shadow of his destiny loomed over him: a tragic curse he couldn’t outrun no matter how much he wished to. ‘I don’t think I can do this on my own.’

‘But you aren’t on your own, are you?’

‘I’m the only one here.’

‘Not strictly true. Your dragon friend hid the armour here.’

For just the briefest moment Nimbus thought he could see the shimmering silhouette of a man sitting on the stairs. ‘The armour?’ he said, in a barely audible voice.

‘It’s enchanted armour, isn’t it? Blessed with the knowledge of the Wing Warriors. If you wear that armour, then you are no longer one small boy, you are an army. When you fight in that armour, the ancient spirits of those who came before will fight with you.’

‘The armour is too big for me.’

‘Then grow into it.’

Nimbus thought for a moment. He was just a boy, not particularly brave or clever or strong. Certainly nothing at all like his father, and not even anything like Tidal. How was he supposed to wear the armour of a Wing Warrior? How was he supposed to find and rescue Cumulo?

Eventually, he stood. ‘What’s your name?’ he asked.

‘Captain Spectre of the seventy–third archers regiment, master of the watchtower,’ the voice said, proudly.

‘Well, Captain Spectre. I’m out of time and options. I have to rescue my friend, and that means I need to be prepared. Where did he hide the armour?’

‘In the storehouse, with the sword.’

Nimbus smiled wearily and trudged over to the wrecked remains of the storehouse with his shoulders hunched up around his ears.

‘Good luck,’ Captain Spectre shouted, and then Nimbus was perfectly alone.

***

It was darker in the storehouse than it was outside, but Nimbus had no trouble finding the Wing Warrior sword; the blade shone in the gloom as though the light of a flickering candle had been trapped inside. The armour was piled up in the corner, looking very heavy and not at all like something comfortable to wear.

Nimbus sat down.

The light from the sword reflected on the armour, making the shapes of stern faces in its polished surfaces.

Blessed with the knowledge of the Wing Warriors, Spectre had said. Ancient spirits.

The sword shone brighter.

Nimbus picked it up.

Suddenly there was a brilliant flash: A painful explosion inside his head. The world around him stuttered, swam out of focus, and then melted away into blackness completely.

For a moment he was blind and deaf, and he was seized by panic at the thought of being trapped in silent darkness for the rest of his life; but the fear lasted for only a second, and then he was overcome with a sense of unearthly calm and weightlessness. He was floating in a vast ocean far from everything and everyone he knew. Nothing could touch him here.

Nothing could hurt him.

Slowly, as if he was learning to use his eyes for the first time, images began to form out of the darkness. He realised he wasn’t blind at all. He could actually see farther than he had ever been able to see before.

He could see across oceans, deserts, forests, and mountains. He could see across the whole land, down inside caves, and up to the tip of the tallest towers. He could even see across time.

For just a second he was everywhere and nowhere, part of the past, the present, the future, and he felt the urge to throw up. He closed his eyes, clenched his fists, and held his breath. The sensation of needing to vomit passed, and when he opened his eyes again, he could see his father.

‘Dad?’

His father was moving silently through a dark cavern, with a sword in one hand and a spear in the other. He looked powerful and heroic, and not at all like the miller Nimbus had always thought him to be. The stale air was full of the terrible high–pitched giggling of goblins, and the nasty scuttling of their little feet.

‘Dad?’

His father did not look up.

‘Dad, there are goblins here. We have to get out.’

‘Wait there,’ Cloud said.

‘Why?’ Nimbus asked, before realising his father was not speaking to him at all, but was actually talking to three soldiers who were cowering a short distance behind him.

‘They’ve realised we’re not in the dungeon any more,’ one of the soldiers whispered. ‘They know we’ve been rescued.’

‘They won’t rest until they’ve hunted us down,’ Cloud said. ‘You’re all too weak and hungry to fight. Go on ahead, and I’ll hold them off for as long as I can.’

‘There are hundreds of them.’

‘I know.’

‘You’ll be eaten.’

‘I appreciate the vote of confidence. Now go. Quickly.’

The soldiers scampered off. The creepy, echoing shrieks of the goblins were getting louder.

‘Dad?’ Nimbus said, his chest tightening with panic at the thought of an untidy horde of goblin warriors seething through the tunnels towards them. ‘Dad, I’m scared.’

Still his father would not respond to his calls. Instead, a huge shape lumbered out of the darkness; a massive bulk of glimmering scales and claws. Nimbus was caught off guard by the sudden appearance of the menacing form, and screamed, raising his sword defensively.

‘It’s good to see you too,’ the gigantic thing said.

‘Cumulo!’ Nimbus cried. ‘Cumulo, you’re okay!’

‘I see you found the sword.’

‘What happened? I picked it up, and now I’m here. And why are you here?’ He looked at his father, who was pressed with his back to the cavern wall, waiting for the approaching goblins. ‘And why is my dad here? What’s going on?’

Cumulo grinned, and licked his nostrils with a flick of his lizard–like tongue. ‘Actually, I’m not here, and neither are you. Your father isn’t here either, although he is there.’

‘That doesn’t make any sense.’

‘It is the power of the sword. When it needs to show you something, it will.’

‘So where am I?’

‘I should imagine you are still sitting in the storehouse where I hid the armour.’

‘And where are you?’

‘I’m in a dungeon in Crystal Shine. I’ve been locked up.’

‘And my dad?’

‘He’s in the goblin stronghold. He went to rescue those soldiers you just saw.’

‘But...’

‘I know it’s all a bit confusing. I don’t really understand it myself. I only know what my memories tell me, and you know what they’re like. But I know the sword you carry is more than just a weapon. The Wing Warriors were guardians, protectors of this whole land, and it was important for them to know of any danger. They created magical swords that would, on occasion, grant those who carried them infinite vision. The power to see all that has happened, all that is happening, and sometimes even the things yet to happen.’

‘So, the reason Dad can’t hear me is because we aren’t in the same place?’

‘You’re sitting in a ruined storehouse, and he’s miles away under the ground. You can see this stronghold, as clearly as if you were standing in it, but you aren’t really here.’

‘But you aren’t here either, and you can hear me.’

‘Oh, that’s different. I’m a dragon.’