Кейт Новак - The Wyvern's Spur

“Steele, no!” Julia screamed.

“Watch this, Sister, dear,” he said gleefully. He pushed open the broken window’s casement and spread his arms wide.

“Fluff-fluff,” Cat whispered just as the Wyvernspur leaped from the tower.

Aunt Dorath and Frefford dashed to the window. “He’s just floating down!” Frefford gasped.

“What?” Julia cried. “Then it works? The spur works?”

Cat bolted for the door and dashed down the outer staircase. Behind her she could hear Aunt Dorath shout, “Frefford, get down after Steele! Get that cursed thing away from him!”

Cat felt dizzy and sick, but she was not going to let an insane kobold-torturer get away with her prize. Because of her spell, Steele was falling with the resistance of a feather, so it would take him at least a minute to reach the ground.

The mage raced from the manor house and rushed to the corner tower. She stood at the base of the tower as Steele drifted toward her. He was still cackling about the power of the spur and flapping his arms, oblivious to the fact that he was really falling.

When his feet touched the earth and he was finally released from her feather fall spell, he wheeled to face her, his eyes wide with crazed rage. “Die!” he shrieked, swiping in her direction with his hand cramped like an animal claw, although he was not close enough to actually reach her.

Cat sprinkled sand over an imaginary baby in her arms and whispered, “Lullaby, Steele.”

The Wyvernspur slid fast asleep, into the slush and mud. Cat pounced on him and tore the spur from his hands.

All this time, she thought, I was expecting some shiny piece of metal, something that can be attached to a boot and used as a prod. What does the spur turn out to be? A disgusting piece of shriveled, mummified—ugh—someone actually slashed it off a wyvern’s foot.

A shadow fell across her and the snoozing Steele.

Frefford stood over her, offering a hand to help her up.

“I’m taking this to Giogi,” Cat muttered, backing away from Frefford on her knees.

“Well, now, it would be foolish for me to argue with such a battle-hardened and powerful spell-caster, wouldn’t it?” Frefford said, grinning as he looked her up and down.

Cat was suddenly aware of how comical she must appear, with her gown scorched by fire and covered with mud and a lump the size of an egg on the side of her head. Despite herself, she laughed. She held her hand out and let Frefford pull her to her feet.

“I have a horse saddled and waiting in the stable,” the nobleman said. “Bronder,” he hailed a passing servant, “have Sash bring out Poppy, and be quick about it.”

The servant scurried off to the stable.

Cat studied Frefford with amazement. “You really aren’t interested in possessing the spur, are you?” she asked.

Frefford shrugged. “You heard Gaylyn. Giogi’s the only one who can use it. Aunt Dorath doesn’t want him to, but that’s really for Giogi to decide, isn’t it?”

Cat felt dizzy for a moment and touched the lump on her forehead. Far above them, Dorath shouted down, “Frefford? Did you get it?”

“How’s your head?” Frefford asked, ignoring his aunt.

“If it were a horse, I’d have to put it to sleep,” Cat groused. “I didn’t know I had the spur,” she explained. “Someone else gave it to me. I thought it was something else …” Her voice trailed off.

“Are you sure you’re up to riding?” Frefford asked.

“Yes,” Cat insisted. “Why are you being so nice and understanding about this?” she asked.

Frefford grinned. “You could turn out to be a relative someday. We Wyvernspurs stick together, don’t you know.”

“How did you know—” Cat bit back her words. He didn’t know she was a Wyvernspur. He was thinking of her in terms of Giogi. She could feel the blood rushing to her face.

“You’re sure you feel up to riding? You look a little flushed,” Frefford teased.

“You don’t understand,” she said. “This is serious. There’s a wizard, Flattery. He killed your Uncle Drone. He’ll kill Giogi to get the spur from him. He doesn’t even want Giogi visiting the Temple of Selûne to find out anything about it.”

“Once Giogi has the spur, I don’t think anyone will be able to take it from him,” Frefford said calmly. “It will be a simple matter for him to bring this Flattery to justice. As for the Temple of Selûne—Giogi’s already there by now. You could join him. Mother Lleddew serves a lovely tea in the open air.”

Frefford pointed northwest over the fields. “The temple’s on Spring Hill—that big hill there. There’s a shortcut to the west side of town if you follow the footpath down the north slope of this hill instead of the road into town,” Frefford explained. “The road to the temple comes before the road to the graveyard.”

A stableboy, leading a chestnut mare with a black snip, approached Frefford. His Lordship helped the mage into the sidesaddle and handed her the reins. “It’s a nice day for a ride, but you’d better hurry before Aunt Dorath gets down here,” he said and smacked the horse into a trot.

Cat bounced out of the castle’s front gate feeling nauseated. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been on a horse. Before she’d been kidnapped in Zhentil Keep, she guessed. Has riding unsettled me this much before? she wondered.

Once outside the castle walls, Cat followed the path that Frefford had recommended. From the hillside, she could look out across most of the Wyvernspur lands. A dark gray cloud loomed over Spring Hill. Huge birds of death circled beneath the cloud.

Vultures in for the kill, Cat thought, her queasy stomach turning to ice.

Fearing she might already be too late, Cat urged her horse into a canter, but the sensation of being unbalanced as the beast sped down the hill was too unpleasant. She slowed the horse to a walk. Her heart was pounding hard, but she still didn’t know what she was going to do.

Ruskettle lied about the amulet of protection. Flattery could be watching me this very moment. I could take him the spur, but if Ruskettle did tell the truth about seeing a dark crystal being stolen from Flattery’s pocket, he has nothing to offer me—except my miserable life.

If I take the spur to Giogi, though, can he really use it to defeat Flattery? Or, if not, can he at least weaken Flattery enough to give me an opportunity to search for the memory crystal in case Flattery does still have it?

An eerie keening wafted across the fields. Cat looked up at Spring Hill. A brilliant white light flickered at the top. A moment later, a shimmering fog rolled down from the hilltop. Cat kept her eyes on the hilltop, still letting her horse plod along. When she saw the bolt of white light shoot from the hilltop, though, her fear for Giogi outweighed her fear of falling off the horse. She kicked it into a trot, and then into a gallop.

Olive held the brake just enough to keep the carriage from passing out of the shimmering fog, taking advantage of the protection it offered them. Undead lay on either side of the road, unmoving. The fog stopped at the bottom of the hill.

The carriage squelched through the field road. Olive spotted a large brown bear clawing at something out in the tall grass, but she had no desire to investigate any closer. She presumed it was one of Mother Lleddew’s chums taking care of an undead creature that had managed to escape the fog.

Olive looked over at Giogi with concern. He was leaning back with his eyes closed. He was pale and bruised and bleeding. “You don’t look so good,” she said. She tied the reins up, letting the horses set their own pace down the road, and turned to check the nobleman’s wounds.

“I don’t think I was cut out to be an adventurer,” Giogi muttered. “It hurts too much.”