01 Wing Warrior (5 page)

He would never be found. He would just wander around down here, lost in utter darkness, until he starved to death. Maybe one day, hundreds of years from now, somebody would find his crumbling bones and they would wonder why a boy had come down into the depths of the earth by himself.

They would probably decide it was because he was really, really stupid.

He paused. Looked ahead, looked back. Everything was the same. There were no landmarks. It was just nothing stretching on in every direction.

What if he had turned back on himself? If he turned around again, would he be heading in the opposite direction to the way out? There was no way of knowing.

‘Calm down,’ he said. ‘Think.’

He had to get to a wall; that’s what he had to do. If he could find the edge of the cavern, he would be able to follow it around until he reached the exit, even if he didn’t have any means of illumination. It was the best thing he had – the only thing he had – that was close to a plan.

He moved on, ignoring the voice in the back of his head that told him the cavern might be hundreds of miles around its perimeter with lots of little tunnels that were dead ends or ways deeper under the ground.

He didn’t like that voice. But that was okay. It was only a little voice. And if he concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, if he concentrated on not falling over, then the little voice was almost too quiet to be heard at all.

Left foot, right foot. Left foot, right foot. On and on, until the grey surface of the far wall came into sight.

Tears of relief sprang into his eyes, and he wiped them away quickly, feeling stupid and embarrassed even though there was nobody around to see.

The bats were silent.

The lantern–light danced across the wall inquisitively, almost playfully, picking out every nook and crevice to form an intricate pattern of light and dark.

As Nimbus moved nearer, marvelling at the way the darkness seemed to exist both inside and between each flare of light, a glimmer to his left drew his attention.

He moved the lantern around, instantly dispelling the illusion of patterns in the walls. The light enveloped and caressed the smooth edges of a beautifully polished suit of armour that was so shiny he could see his reflection in its surface.

It was truly magnificent armour, with red plates and metal gloves over a shimmering set of silver chainmail rings. The helmet had a face protector of iron bars like a dragon’s clenched teeth and was decorated with a crest shaped into outstretched dragon wings.

Nimbus had once seen a drawing of a suit of armour much like this one. He had never thought he would see one for real. His father didn’t even believe such armour existed.

‘Wing Warriors,’ he whispered.

His reflection smiled.

Nimbus had first found the armour the other night, and for some reason he had decided to keep his discovery a secret, even from Tidal who had been waiting for him back in the narrow tunnel. But it was a secret that had gnawed away at Nimbus ever since. Coming back – seeing the armour again – was the only thing he could think about; but having done so, he realised it still wasn’t enough. He wanted to take the armour out of the cave completely and hide it somewhere only he knew about.

But how?

There was the sound of a bat unfurling its wings, only louder, and something large and scaly moved in the dark. Nimbus turned around, but there was nothing there, only the vast empty space of the cavern reaching out of sight.

Something hissed.

Probably just his imagination.

He looked again at the armour, wondering how much it weighed, and whether he would be able to fit it in the narrow tunnel he had crawled through to get here. As he was thinking, the lantern–light fell on a second object: something he hadn’t noticed before.

His breath caught.

It was a diamond – the biggest diamond he had ever seen – and trapped within its many–faceted surfaces was the biggest, heaviest–looking sword he had ever seen. The end of the handle was carved into a growling dragon’s head, and the hilt and finger–guard had been shaped into a curled dragon’s tail. It had clearly been fashioned as a companion to the armour, which stood guard in stern, eternal silence.

Nimbus set the lantern on the ground. ‘This is incredible,’ he said.

It was by far the most exciting thing he had ever found. More exciting than his woodland fishing spot; even more exciting than the ruined castle beyond the woods.

He ran his hand over the smooth face of the diamond. It was warm.

How could it be so warm?

He leaned closer, and as his breath fogged the surface of the diamond a jagged crack appeared through it. The perfect shine of the blade inside grew brighter.

Nimbus stepped back, watching in awe as the crack got longer, zigzagging across the diamond and branching off in different directions.

‘This can’t be good,’ he said.

The diamond started to shake with invisible energy, and a huge line crazed down through its middle.

Nimbus backed up a little farther.

‘Not good at all.’

The diamond shattered, sending shiny flecks pinging and ricocheting off the walls as the sword hit the ground with a deafening clang.

‘Oops,’ Nimbus said.

Something huge shifted its weight in the darkness. ‘I was thinking the same thing,’ a deep, rumbling voice said.

‘Who said that?’ Nimbus squeaked, moving so his back was to the wall. His gaze darted around, trying to pinpoint the source of the voice. It was impossible to see anything beyond the faint glow of the lantern–light, but he could sense something moving heavily. There was the sound of a ship’s sail flapping in high winds, and a rush of cool, stale air.

Nimbus reached down and grabbed the handle of the sword. It was so heavy he could barely lift it.

‘Who’s there?’ he demanded.

No response.

He held the sword out, waving it threateningly – or at least as threateningly as he could – in the direction he thought the voice had come from.

‘Who’s there?’ he repeated.

The cavern suddenly seemed very full, as if something had sneaked in behind him through the narrow tunnel, and then expanded to occupy all the available space.

Two large, yellow eyes opened in the darkness.

Momentarily, Nimbus’s gaze flicked to the dragon–shaped handle of the sword he was holding.

‘Oh dear,’ he said.

The eyes started to move closer.

CHAPTER FIVE

People have always had great difficulty describing a dragon, probably because very few people have ever seen one; but Nimbus knew, as soon as the huge lumbering thing heaved its weight into the light, a dragon was exactly what it was.

It had a large head, fringed with jagged fins, and a pointed mouth of razor–sharp teeth from which a black, forked tongue would occasionally dart.

A glittering armour of red scales covered the dragon’s muscular body from the tip of its snout, down its long neck, and even to the end of its monstrous tail. Only the dragon’s folded, twitching wings were free from scales, and more than anything else it was the wings, so obviously immeasurably wide when they were fully extended, that made Nimbus feel so small.

And so terrified.

‘Stay away from me,’ he said, trying to sound brave even though his voice had shrunk to match the way he felt.

The dragon came closer. The five sharp, grasping digits of its two forward limbs were similar to fingers, suggesting this was a creature with two arms and two legs; but it used all four limbs in order to manoeuvre its immense bulk, moving in a way that was horribly similar to a gigantic lizard.

Nimbus tried to swallow, but realised he couldn’t. The air had started to smell like something was burning, and he had the feeling that any second now the something would be him.

‘You’re alone this time?’ the dragon rumbled, and the whole cavern shook.

‘I...’ Nimbus’s mouth was totally dry. The sword was shaking in his grasp uncontrollably. ‘Stand back.’

‘You are the one who was here the other day, aren’t you? The one the armour called to?’

‘I... You...’ Nimbus licked his lips. His back was pressed hard to the wall, and he wished he could sink right through the stone. ‘Where did you come from?’

The yellow eyes of the dragon flickered as its gaze turned upwards. ‘It’s a high ceiling.’

‘Don’t even think about eating me.’

The dragon tilted its head slightly. Ridges of scales moved in the light, and Nimbus could see that while the scales had at first appeared red, they now looked green.

‘I have no intention of eating you,’ the dragon said. ‘I don’t eat humans.’ The head moved closer, so it was only inches away from the point of Nimbus’s sword. ‘The bones get caught in my teeth.’

‘Well,’ Nimbus said, beginning to edge along the wall. ‘I can see I’ve interrupted you, and I’m sorry about that. So, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be on my way.’

The dragon moved one of its huge, clawed limbs, blocking any escape attempt Nimbus might have thought to try. ‘Going so soon? I’m not sure that’s entirely polite, after breaking my things.’

Nimbus looked at the chunks of glittering diamond scattered over the ground. ‘That was an accident,’ he said.

‘I think not. You are the one who came the other day, aren’t you?’

Nimbus nodded.

‘You are the one the armour called to.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You heard its voice, in the woods.’

‘No. That was just my friend, Tide, trying to scare me. That was all.’

‘It was the armour. It called your name. It wanted to be found.’

‘It’s just a suit of armour.’

The dragon laughed; a deep, booming laugh. Nimbus had the impression that from the tip of the dragon’s nose to the bottom of that laugh was surely a great distance indeed. ‘There is no such thing as just a suit of armour. All things have memory, and this armour has more than most. It wanted you to find it. I suppose that also means it wanted you to find me.’

‘Why?’

The dragon’s claws, each of which was almost as large as the sword Nimbus carried, scraped on the ground. ‘I was hoping you could tell me that.’

‘I didn’t even know dragons were real.’

‘Dragons? What is a dragon?’

‘Well...’ Nimbus paused, a smile creeping into the corner of his mouth. ‘You are. You’re a dragon.’

‘I am?’

‘Surely you must know that.’

‘I’ve lived in this cave my whole life, just me and the bats, and they’ve never told me what I am.’

‘Aren’t there any others down here?’

‘There is only me.’

Nimbus relaxed a little, lowering his sword. ‘Haven’t you ever been outside?’

‘What is outside?’

‘Outside. The opposite of inside. Haven’t you ever left this cave?’

‘No. I have to stay here.’

‘Why?’

‘To guard the armour.’

‘Why?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Then why do it?’

‘I’m not sure. It’s not clear. Nothing more than a dream. Just a voice in the eternalness of slumber. I was put here to guard that armour, and to wait for someone.’

Nimbus swallowed. ‘Me?’

‘Perhaps. You are Nimbus, aren’t you?’

‘I am. But how can you know who I am, when you don’t even know who you are?’

‘I have lots of memories. They are like old books in a library, covered in dust and long unused. Sometimes I can read the pages in those books, but other times the pages are smeared, or ripped out completely.’

‘Do you have a name?’

‘I am nameless.’ The dragon sounded sad, and its scales seemed to change colour once again. They shone pale blue in the dim lantern–light.

‘Everybody should have a name,’ Nimbus said.

‘Perhaps...’ The dragon paused. ‘Perhaps you could give me a name.’

Nimbus put down the sword. Not because he wanted to, but because he didn’t have the strength in his arms to hold it any longer. ‘Can you fly?’ he asked.

‘I have wings, and I do have some recollection of what the sky tastes like, although I am sure I have never seen it.’

‘Then I will name you Cumulo.’

‘Cumulo? I like that.’

‘Good. That’s settled then. Cumulo and Nimbus. Two friends.’ He looked carefully at Cumulo and his many sharp teeth. ‘Two friends who don’t eat each other,’ he added.

CHAPTER SIX

‘So is this Wing Warrior armour?’ Nimbus asked, examining the suit carefully.

‘Yes. It is the last surviving armour of the Wing Warriors,’ Cumulo said. ‘And the sword is the last surviving sword of the Wing Warriors.’

‘Who made it?’

‘The Wing Warriors. Obviously. Many years ago, in a very different time. All the crafts of men and dragons went into the armour’s creation.’

‘It’s magnificent.’

‘It is.’

‘So why’s it here? Why isn’t it in a museum or something?’

‘I don’t know, just as I do not know why I, myself, am here. I guess we were to be kept secret until such time as you were ready to find us, or we were ready to be found.’

‘Do you feel ready?’

‘No more so than I ever have, but something tells me that now is the time to be found. Something, some kind of spirit, has awoken in the armour. It knows who its master is. For whatever reason, you are destined to wear it.’

Every muscle and fibre in Nimbus’s body shivered, and something loathsome – a pit of fearful emotions – opened inside of him. He suddenly felt as if he was surrounded by dark phantasms that whispered of terrible adventures to come.

His mother had always said that when she was nervous she got butterflies fluttering around in her stomach. Nimbus didn’t have butterflies. Nimbus had flapping dragon wings.

‘Me?’ he said, his voice nothing more than a mouse–squeak.

Cumulo nodded.

‘No. Not me. Whatever you’re thinking, think again.’

‘It’s not my decision.’

‘No. It’s mine. And I’m not wearing that armour.’

‘We are the same, you and I. Until today, I did not know I was a dragon, but now I know, I cannot say I’m not.’

Nimbus ran his fingers over the armour’s breastplate. There were no dents or scars in the metal; it was almost as if it had never been worn before. ‘Who was its previous owner?’