Кейт Новак - The Wyvern's Spur

Olive squinted through the telescope at the tiny, retreating figures of Giogi, Flattery, and the few flying minions he had left. The minions were already no more than a collection of motes in the glass.

Drone was balanced precariously on the tower roof, chanting some very powerful spell from a scroll. Mother Lleddew was in courtyard below, praying some powerful prayer from another scroll. Their chants intermixed in a toneless song of magic.

Olive looked up at the flying fortress looming over the castle. Suddenly it began to shake then levitate upward very, very quickly, so that it looked as if it were shrinking.

The halfling could hear Drone jumping up and down, shouting, “Look at it go!” and Cat trying to keep him calm enough so that he didn’t slip off the tower and break his fool neck.

Drone slid down the kudzu vine and back into the room, still chuckling. Cat followed.

“Did you see that?” Drone asked.

“You made it fly higher,” Olive said.

“No, no, no. You don’t understand how gravity works. I made it fall up.”

“Nothing falls up,” Olive said.

“Hee, hee, hee,” Drone wheezed. “Not without powerful magic, at any rate.”

“Will it fall back down?” Olive asked.

“Oh, I hope so,” Drone said.

“But then it will destroy the town,” Olive objected.

“Burn up as it falls. Be quite a spectacular meteor.”

“What?”

“Don’t worry about it, Mistress Ruskettle.”

At the window, Cat fidgeted nervously. Mother Lleddew was casting some sort of scrying spell so they knew what happened in Giogi’s battle with Flattery. Cat didn’t want to miss anything. “Are we finished?” the enchantress asked impatiently.

“Don’t you snap at me, girl,” Drone told her. “You owe me twenty-seven scrolls. You’ll work off every one of them, too.”

Cat looked at the floor.

“Oh, stop that. Don’t mope. I hate it when pretty girls mope. I suppose we’re finished. Lleddew should have her scrying spell set up by now. Let’s go watch the show. Don’t want to miss Giogi beating the stuffing out of the villain.” His voice was light, but Olive could see the worry lines in the old man’s face tighten as he spoke.

My arms are going to fall off, Giogi thought. Wings, not arms, he corrected himself. The cold wind streaming over his scales whistled in his ears. Behind him he heard Flattery’s dragon-shape pumping its leathery wings, and he knew that the undead must still be with him. Undead fly as fast as dragons—and faster than me, he realized.

This has to be far enough, the transformed Wyvernspur thought.

Giogi rolled and banked to the south, then east, back toward Immersea and his pursuers. Flattery climbed, positioning himself for a dive down on Giogi.

He’s still silhouetted against the moon, Giogi thought. He hasn’t got any instinct for this kind of fighting. Giogi slowed as the attackers closed the gap between them.

The wyvern waited until the dragon and the undead cloud and mist shapes were almost on top of him, then he pulled up, baring his belly and the scarf-wrapped stone to his pursuers.

All right, finder’s stone, Giogi thought, squinting his eyes nearly shut, keep those undead from me.

The finder’s stone flared into light as bright as daylight. The wraiths and specters flying with Flattery scattered across the night sky like spooked pigeons. Flattery—momentarily blinded—pulled up.

Giogi banked around again. He was below but behind the dragon now. He increased his altitude while Flattery shook off the effects of the bright light. The wyvern positioned himself above the dragon, careful not to cast his own shadow on his prey.

Flattery tried climbing, too, but Giogi was already diving on him. Flattery tried to swerve, but he moved too slowly for the plummeting wyvern.

Giogi’s talons closed on the back of the dragon’s neck and he stabbed at the dragon’s throat with his stinger. It was like striking the pillar in the crypt. Flattery’s scales were as hard as stone. Giogi stabbed again and again, uncertain whether he was doing any damage. The dragon did not cry out, so he doubted it.

They lost altitude, then an updraft caught in both their beating wings and they soared, locked in combat. Flattery raked one of his foreclaws back and upward along the wyvern’s neck, clawing a gash in Giogi’s scales. Pain shot along Giogi’s very long neck, and his flesh burned from the cold wind blowing on it. In a rage, the wyvern began stabbing faster at the dragon’s neck until his tail muscles twitched.

The dragon had all four claws free to use, while Giogi’s two claws were occupied hanging onto his prey. His tail seemed unable to penetrate any scales within its reach. Still, Flattery was in an awkward position for clawing, even though he had managed it. Giogi could not afford to let go, lest Flattery get a hold on him with his mouth facing the wyvern. Dragons could breathe deadly things, not to mention bite and swallow.

Flattery clawed up along Giogi’s throat again, and the wyvern began to feel moisture around his neck. He was bleeding. He felt colder than before. In pain and anger, he bit down on Flattery’s blue-plated neck.

Shocked by his action, Giogi ceased suddenly. He couldn’t bring himself to chew his opponent.

Flattery’s back claw caught and tore one of Giogi’s beating wings. The pain of the tear drove Giogi to frenzy. He sunk his teeth into Flattery’s neck again and shook it, like a dog baiting a bull. One of the blue dragon’s neck plate’s came loose, and Giogi tasted blood. He pulled his head up and thunked his tail in the spot. He did it again.

Flattery screeched with pain at last. Then Giogi noticed they were both dropping in the sky. He flapped his wings, but he could feel the tear widening with the effort.

Giogi folded his wings and became a dead weight, his stinger still embedded in Flattery’s throat.

The added weight of the wyvern was too much for Flattery to support. Unable to fly together, the gigantic creatures fell faster. The dragon tried to twist in Giogi’s grip, to break away, but the grip of the talons was too firm, and the daggerlike stinger kept jabbing him. The ground, covered in a thick forest, came up to meet them.

Flattery tried to somersault, to dislodge Giogi, and they both began spinning as they plummeted.

At the last moment, one of the gigantic creatures pulled away from the other. Its shadowy form spread its great batlike wings and swooped low, skimming the treetops and gliding swiftly to the north.

The other gigantic form smashed into the trees with an impact that rattled cottages miles away. The woods rumbled with the sound of the crash, and all the wildlife within was silent. Then, softly, the spring peepers began to sing again.

From the journal of Giogioni Wyvernspur :

Three days have passed since the events I described in the previous codicil to this volume, and Giogioni has still not returned to Immersea. I’m beginning to wonder if Mother Lleddew didn’t peer into her scrying font and see what she wanted to see: Giogioni soaring away from his battle with Flattery, when that may not have happened at all.

Perhaps she confused the wyvern with the dragon. I’ve tried to suggest this to Dorath and Cat, but they vehemently refuse to believe Giogioni might be lost to them forever. They ride up to the House of the Lady daily to consult with Lleddew, who tells them Giogioni will return when he’s ready.

Dorath has become very attached to Cat as a consequence of their common anxiety, and Drone is quite pleased to have drafted the enchantress into his service as an assistant, now that Gaylyn’s time is occupied with Amberlee. Cat, while very unhappy with Giogi’s absence, seems content comforting and helping his relatives.