First Hero (3 page)
Authors: Adam Blade
Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Action & Adventure, #General, #Fantasy & Magic, #Legends; Myths; Fables
I
can feel Tanner’s determination fighting with his fear. He steers me in a wide path, behind a copse of trees, and only a wing’s length over the ground. I understand: He means to attack the raiders from behind, before they have a chance to muster their defenses.
We swoop over a low rise, and there they are. The marching columns with their backs to us. My feathers are alive with flame.
Tanner clung to Firepos as she let out a furious shriek and dove at one of the army’s varkule outriders. Tanner drew his sword. At the last second, sensing danger, the varkule’s head snapped around.
Tanner leaned out from Firepos as far as he dared and, as he passed by, slashed his sword across the rider’s chest. The enemy fell with a scream, rolling and tumbling in the dirt.
Adrenaline rushed through Tanner’s veins, and he had no time to dwell on what he had just done.
The rear elements of the army broke ranks with anxious shouts. Tanner let out a yell of triumph as Firepos seized up two crossbowmen in her talons. He heard their cries as she dropped them into the midst of the leading column of spearmen. Men sprawled on the ground, limbs snapping like twigs. The Dragon Warrior wheeled around on his stallion. “Hold firm!” he bellowed.
Many sprinted into the trees on either side of the road. Others crouched and lifted their crossbows, firing wildly at Firepos. A company of spearmen grouped together and pointed their weapons aloft so Firepos couldn’t get close.
The varkules reared, but their riders brought them under control. Tanner looped away, readying himself for another pass. He could hear the crackle of flames as his Beast gathered a fireball in her talons. That would soon put them to flight.
As he steered Firepos to face the enemy again, he saw the Dragon Warrior dismount and lay a hand on his stallion’s mane. He seemed to whisper something quietly in its ear.
“What’s he doing?” Tanner muttered.
The stallion shook its mane as if shaking off a swarm of angry wasps. It lifted its head and snorted. The sound carried all the way to Tanner. It reared up on its hind legs, but instead of falling back to the ground, the creature stayed perfectly balanced. Its forelegs started to expand and lengthen. Tanner felt his mouth turn dry. This was no ordinary horse.
The hind legs thickened, growing as wide as tree stumps beneath the horse’s massive body. The rear hooves swelled and hardened into bronze, and the front hooves twisted into claws.
Weapons
, Tanner thought.
It’s growing weapons!
Lips folded back and shrank. Eyes, alight with intelligence, shifted in its head so that the horse’s face looked grotesquely human. The creature’s chest heaved and Tanner saw that its glossy coat now stretched across a body more like a man’s. Muscles flexed as it raised a hooked claw into the air, slicing.
“It’s a Beast!” Tanner shouted over the wind.
The fire in my heart flickers as I see him. It is true, then: Varlot exists. In all my days, I’ve never seen him. They say that Varlot kills without conscience, that he cares nothing for the world around him — that he even refuses a Chosen Rider. So what is he doing with the Dragon Warrior? We have a new enemy, Tanner and I.
Firepos shivered, sending Tanner a message. A name seeped into his consciousness:
Varlot
. So that was the name of the Beast.
The stallion’s glossy coat hardened into scales — a cracked layer of bronze covering his entire body. The enemy soldiers gathered in their ranks behind the towering Horse Beast.
Firepos sent another message:
Don’t be afraid.
“I’m not. I can do this,” Tanner muttered, hoping he sounded braver than he felt, but knowing there was no way to fool Firepos.
If I behave like a brave warrior, perhaps I’ll become one
, he thought to himself.
There was no time left for thinking. The flame bird screeched, blasting a fireball that streaked through the sky like a comet.
Varlot arched back his arms, exposing his chest, threw back his head, and roared. The fireball smashed into his armor in an explosion of fire and brimstone. When the smoke cleared, the Beast was still standing, his armor untarnished. He swiped a claw in Tanner’s direction, sending out a bellow of defiance.
A spear flashed up from below. Tanner yanked Firepos’s feathers, and she darted sideways. The weapon sailed past, but another caught her wing and sent her spinning. Firepos screeched. Tanner gritted his teeth and hung on as the world blurred. When the Beast righted herself, he saw more spearmen taking aim.
“That was too close!” he called to Firepos, pulling her out of range.
Below, the soldiers were regrouping. The Dragon Warrior was directing them down the main road to the village, led by two varkule outriders and Varlot. The Dragon Warrior watched, and then headed off with a few soldiers along the track that led to Tanner’s grandmother’s cottage. Why was the Dragon Warrior splitting up his forces?
Tanner didn’t know whether to follow the main attack, or defend his grandmother. Did he care more for the hundreds of villagers, or the only family he had left? He sensed the Flame Beast waiting for him to make his decision. He glanced after the soldiers, then back toward the Dragon Warrior. Every second he hesitated, danger was edging closer to innocent lives.
Take me down
, he urged Firepos, directing his Beast toward the heart of the village. Even as they moved through the air, Tanner still didn’t know if he’d made the right decision.
His loyal Beast dipped her beak and dove, shooting fireballs into the path of the marching army. They smashed onto the ground, throwing up clods of earth and billowing smoke. Soldiers screamed, engulfed in flames, rolling on the ground to extinguish them.
I am a killer
, Tanner thought with horror.
A few days ago I was just a baker’s apprentice. Now I have blood on my hands.
Pushing this feeling aside, Tanner steered Firepos through the rising black columns and watched the army scatter in disarray. Then he bore down on the enemy Beast. When they were fifty paces away, flying low above the ground, Tanner swung his leg over Firepos’s back in a move they’d practiced a thousand times before. He jumped, hit the ground, and rolled to a halt.
As he leaped up, he saw Firepos descend onto Varlot, raking at his armor, piercing it with her sharp talons. The Beast flailed, but Firepos bravely clung on.
Varlot’s eyes glitter with hunger for my blood, but he shall face a fight like no other. He swipes his claws at me, just missing my beak. Enough! I dart around his body, arching my wings to catch the slightest eddy of air that lifts me above his head, just out of reach. Varlot’s mind is closed to me; I cannot read his thoughts. Whoever tamed him has given him the ability to close his mind to other Beasts.
The sun momentarily blinds Varlot, and I take my chance, darting in with my beak to slice at his eyes. Varlot cries out, his chest heaving, and he staggers. My enemy falls to the ground. He hasn’t the heart to face Firepos the Flame Bird!
Firepos hovered above Varlot. The Dragon Warrior’s Beast reared up onto his hind legs and drew his head back, his chest widening as he roared with fury. Claws swiped out at Firepos, but she ducked and swerved in the air, her feathered coat shimmering. The army was marching toward the village, brandishing their glinting weapons.
“Firepos!” Tanner shouted. “Go to the village. Protect them!”
The flame bird screeched and banked away, flying toward Forton. She clutched a fireball in her talons, ready to attack.
Tanner sprinted down the track toward his grandmother’s cottage. He had to get there before the soldiers. He took a shortcut between the trees, leaping over fallen logs and hidden ditches.
Why did the Dragon Warrior come this way? And what will he do when he finds Grandmother?
Branches and leaves lashed his face as he charged between the trees.
A scream cut through the air and Tanner’s heart skipped a beat.
A
s Tanner raced toward the cottage, he spotted his grandmother. She stood in the doorway, gripping the ax he used for chopping wood. At her feet a soldier was curled up in the dirt, clutching a hand to his neck. Blood poured out between his fingers as he gazed up at Esme, horrified.
A snarling varkule loomed over her, its rider keeping a firm grip on the reins. The hair along the animal’s spine stood erect and his ears were flattened back against his huge head as he snapped his jaws at Esme. Tanner saw her lip curl with disgust at the smell. Beside the animal stood the Dragon Warrior, flanked by three more enemy soldiers, all armed with curved blades.
“Give in, you old witch,” one of them taunted.
She glanced down at the bleeding man who was crawling away from her. “Give in?” she said incredulously. “Come here and say that! I’ll split your skull open, too.”
The soldier lunged at her angrily.
“Leave her alone!” shouted Tanner, drawing his sword. He ran to his grandmother’s side, leaping over the injured soldier, who tried to grab his ankles.
“Ah, more peasants to sport with,” smirked the varkule rider.
Esme glared at him. “Tanner, get behind me,” she snapped, raising her ax.
Rage boiled inside Tanner, and he stepped forward, slashing at the varkule’s chest. The animal reared up and threw off his rider, who cried out as he fell to the ground. Leaping to his feet, the soldier pointed his spear at Tanner.
But the soldier didn’t have time to attack — the bleeding varkule lunged, ferocious jaws tearing at Tanner’s tunic. Tanner darted to the right, avoiding a second fierce snap of those deadly teeth. The varkule’s fur bristled with hostility. His rider called out an order and the varkule hesitated, spit dripping over Tanner. The animal backed away, licking his gums. Tanner could feel his hands trembling as he held his sword out before him.
The soldier held his cloak against his mount’s wound. “You’ll pay for this, boy!”
“Enough!” said a gravelly voice. The Dragon Warrior approached. Tanner saw swirling grooves cut into the surface of the warrior’s armor, lined with gold. His face was still covered by the heavy dragon helmet, but now Tanner could see bright eyes staring through the visor.
The Dragon Warrior drew a deep breath into his nostrils, the distorted sound snorting through the visor. “She’s hiding something. The Mask of Death is close. I can smell it.” He took off his helmet and looked at Tanner’s grandmother, who still stood in the doorway with the ax. His voice softened. “Come out, old woman. I want to talk to you.” Esme hesitantly took a step forward.
With lightning speed, the Dragon Warrior grabbed her ax in one hand and her throat in the other, pulling her face close to his. “You know where it is,” he said. “I see it in your eyes.”
Esme’s eyes blazed defiantly at the soldiers surrounding her. “Your breath is worse than the varkule’s,” she said.
“Tell us,” said the Dragon Warrior. “Or die.”
“She doesn’t know where —” Tanner began.
“I’ll never tell you,” Esme spat.
The soldiers reach the village. The gate proves no obstacle to the charging varkules. The soldiers run down the roads and alleys to the center. The defenders of Forton, under the command of Simon, are assembled in the square. Carts have been overturned and the villagers stand behind them, archers and crossbowmen with their weapons leveled, spears and swords gripped.
A volley of arrows cuts down the first enemy wave, but other soldiers storm the square, jumping over their fallen comrades and clambering over the barricades with bloodthirsty cries. Brutal hand-to-hand combat begins, and the villagers fall back under the disciplined fury of the raiders. I cannot use my fireballs — innocent people will be hurt. I swoop down, grasp a soldier in my talons, and fling him into his comrades.
More villagers run out of doorways, striking with whatever weapons they can find. A boy shoots his hunting bow, the arrow bursting through an enemy’s thigh. As blood pours down the soldier’s leg, he slashes out angrily with his sword. The cobbles are already slick with blood.
The ground seems to shake and everyone looks up. Varlot strides into the square, and the timber walls of the buildings shudder. The villagers are shocked and afraid. I screech, trying to tell them to run away. They can’t face a creature of this size. But Simon waves his arm to keep them in line.
“As I thought,” said the Dragon Warrior to Tanner’s grandmother, letting her go. “Then I will have to
make
you tell me.”
“You’ll be rotting in your grave before I tell you anything,” shouted Esme.
The Dragon Warrior gave a small nod, and the soldiers advanced. Tanner swung his sword, but the blow was parried by a spear, and the blade was thrown from his hand. A soldier gripped Tanner’s throat and tripped him backward. White light filled his eyes as his head slammed into the hard ground. He felt cold iron across his throat. A knife.
“You will tell us,” the Dragon Warrior said. “Or it’s the boy’s blood we’ll spill.”
“All right,” Esme said despairingly. “Don’t hurt him!”
Tanner twisted his neck and saw his grandmother wringing her hands.
“Well?” said the Dragon Warrior.
“Promise you won’t harm my grandson.”
“You have my word,” the Dragon Warrior said. “Give me the mask, and he will live.”
“Don’t do it!” shouted Tanner.
His grandmother was pale, breathing heavily. “It’s under the floorboards,” she said. “Behind the chest in the kitchen.”
The Dragon Warrior nodded to one of his men, who ran inside the cottage. Tanner heard him throwing the chest aside. Where was Firepos?
I need you now.
He sent a message out to his Beast, closing his eyes in concentration.
I sweep down, hurling a fireball at Varlot’s head. He lifts his armored arm and the flames smash across it, making him roar. He stumbles backward in pain. I pound him again, and the fireball breaks over his back, knocking him to his knees. I can hold him off for a time, but not for long.
Screams rise up from the square. The enemy is being held, but brave men and women are lying wounded or dead. The invaders are relentless in their ferocity. The owner rushes out from the bakery where Tanner works.
“Cowards!” he shouts at the soldiers. He grasps a long wooden pole ending in a metal shovel and thrusts it into the neck of an enemy soldier. The man collapses, clutching at his throat. But two soldiers leap on the baker, and he falls against a wall. They stab him, and he groans his last breath.
Pain shoots up my wing. I drop, almost hitting a thatched roof, but pull clear, despite the agony. Another arrow thuds into my belly. I see a soldier with a long-bow, aiming another arrow at me. He shoots.
I dip my wing and dodge the shaft. I am wounded, but not enough to stop me. Gathering a fireball, I fling it toward the soldier. The thatch blazes and he falls through into the cottage below with a scream.
Tanner needs me! I feel it like the pain of the arrows, but deeper.
The soldier came running out of the house. In his hands, he held a piece of sackcloth.
“I’ve found it, General Gor!” he said. “But —”
So that’s his name
, thought Tanner.
“Give it to me!” General Gor said. He snatched the object from the soldier’s hand, and crouched down. He tipped out the contents onto the ground.
“What’s this?” he bellowed.
“I tried to tell you, sir ….”
Tanner managed to catch a glimpse of what had been in the sack. It was only a piece of the mask — an eye socket, part of the upper brow with a twisted horn, and a loose piece of jowl. He remembered it well.
Gor thrust the fragment into Esme’s face. “Where is the rest of it?” he barked, spittle flying from his lips.
Esme paused, and her eyes met Tanner’s. The look lasted only a heartbeat, but it spoke more than words. She shook her head. “That’s all I have.”
Gor turned and looked at Tanner with narrowed eyes. His lips curled into a thin smile.
“Then you are no more use to me,” he muttered. He swiveled around, driving his sword through Esme’s midriff. The point, dripping gore, burst from her back. Grandmother Esme let out a choking cry and crumpled to the ground. Tanner writhed beneath the dagger blade, tears misting his eyes, until he found his voice.
“No!” he cried, and the word turned into a howl of despair.
Gor turned to his men as he tugged his sword free. “The fun’s over. We have what we need.”
A soldier swung his foot hard into Tanner’s ribs. He grunted and rolled into a ball. With his face in the dirt, he watched the boots of the enemy soldiers march away.
Coughing and clutching his side, Tanner crawled across the ground. “Grandmother?” he whimpered.
She was half sitting against the steps, her lips pulled back in a grimace of pain and her hands trying to stanch the flow of blood from her stomach.
He pressed a fold of her shawl over the wound, but blood darkened it at once. He could feel her pulse pumping blood from her body. Tanner gently brushed the hair from his grandmother’s eyes and supported her head with his arm.
“I’ll bind your wound,” he said, trying to reassure her, trying not to let his own fear frighten her. “You’ll have to tell me the right herbs to use.”
“Too late for herbs, boy.” His grandmother’s face twisted with pain. Blood pulsed faster from her wound, soaking the shawl. She held up one knotty hand to stroke Tanner’s cheek. “The messages I saw in the bones are clear to me now,” she went on, every word an effort. “A creature of great evil is directing Gor. It wants the Mask of Death. It must not find it! Death and ruin will befall the land ….” Blood stained her teeth, and coughing racked her body.
Overwhelmed with grief, Tanner could find no words to comfort her. All he could do was gaze helplessly as her face drained of color, his hand clasping her fragile fingers.
He heard a rustle from behind some nearby bushes.
Has Firepos come?
he wondered. But the Beast didn’t show herself.
Esme gathered the last of her strength. “You must fight.” Her voice was so weak that Tanner had to bend close to hear. “Go to Colweir.”
“Colweir?” It was a town to the east. He knew nobody there.
She fumbled for Tanner’s hand and gripped it with surprising strength. Her blood felt sticky against his fingers.
“Find … the Mapmaker,” she hissed.
Tanner felt as if his limbs were on fire, and darkness swirled over his eyes. It was as though the past was repeating itself: first his father, now his grandmother. Her grip loosened and her hand fell away from him. Her head was suddenly heavy in his hand.
Esme was dead.
