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 haifling 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.
22
Coming Home
From the journal of Giogioni Wyvernspur:
The 25th of Ches, in the Year of the Shadows
Second Codicil by Olive Ruskettle
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.
I caught Thomas weeping over Jade's little silver spoon yesterday. It turns out that two weeks ago she bumped into him in the street, and besides lifting his purse, she'd also stolen his heart. After a whirlwind courtship, he'd introduced her to his closest confidant—Drone—with the results already described herein.
The mausoleum key was in Jade's bag, and I returned it to Drone but asked to keep the gifts he gave Jade as keepsakes. I gave Thomas the silver spoon.
Gaylyn begged me to sing at Amberlee's blessing next week. She's a hard woman to say no to. Drone has invited me to stay at Giogi's townhouse to keep the light in the window for him. After Amberlee's blessing, though, I think I'll leave Immersea. It's too lonely here without Jade.
The front door opened and slammed shut. Olive put down her pen. Thomas usually went in and out through the kitchen, and he never slammed doors. Cat and Dorath would still be up on Temple Hill at this time of the day. The parlor door opened.
"Heigh-ho, anyone about?"
"Giogi!" Olive cried, running to the young man who stood in the doorway. For a moment, she'd forgotten he was a human, well over six feet tall. She drew back before she embarrassed herself by hugging one of his legs. She held out her hand.
"Congratulations on your victory," she said, shaking his hand and smiling from ear to ear.
"Oh. Thanks. Where is everyone?"
"Thomas is shopping. Cat is out with Dorath. They'll be back in a while." Olive looked down at the nobleman's muddy, torn clothes and his scarred neck and his bruised and haggard face, covered with three days' worth of stubble. He looked like an adventurer. "You have just enough time to clean up."
"Good. I must be rather distressing to look at. I wouldn't want to worry anyone."
Olive laughed, "too late for that. What took you so long?"
Giogi's expression grew as distressed as his appearance. He shuddered as if from some fear. "I need a drink. Would you care to join me, Mistress Ruskettle?"
"But of course. You sit down. I'll pour."
Olive crossed to the tea table and unstoppered the brandy bottle. Thomas does such a good job keeping it full, she thought. She poured two tumblers full and carried them to the fireside, where Giogi slouched in an armchair, heedless of the grime he left on its arms. The nobleman took a hefty slug of the liquor. Olive sat on the ottoman at his feet.
"You want to talk about it?" she asked.
"Would you mind?" Giogi asked. "It's not the sort of thing I could tell anyone else, but you're so, well, worldly. I think it would upset my relatives, and I'm not sure Cat will understand how I feel."
"I'm always ready to listen to a friend," Olive assured him.
Giogi smiled gratefully. "It's two things, really. The first isn't that bad, but I used it as an excuse, trying not to think about the other. The wyvern shape takes a lot of ... fuel, I guess you could say. I was really hungry after I used it the first time. I was starving after—after the battle with Flattery. I was miles from the road, though, and nuts and berries weren't going to be enough, and it was cold out there. So I stayed a wyvern for the night and ate like a wyvern." Giogi shuddered.
"Uncooked meals can upset one's equilibrium," Olive said, thinking of sweetened oats.
Giogi laughed. "You have such a way with words. I guess that's why you're a bard."
"Among other things," Olive said. "Go on with your story," she encouraged.
"Well, I ate this wild pig, which was completely awful, all hairy and bony. Then I fell asleep. It was too cold to sleep out-of-doors as a human, so I stayed a wyvern.
"The next day, I kind of got lost. I thought I was north of the road to Dhedluk when I was really south. So I flew around as a wyvern for a long time before I found the road. Then I was hungry again. You know, Sudacar told me that my father was allowed to hunt in the king's woods unaccompanied. Now I realize he didn't go in with a bow and arrow. I ate this cow. I tried to get a deer first, but it dove into the woods where I couldn't follow. So I had to eat the cow. I shall have to go back and reimburse whoever it belonged to.
"Anyway, the guardian said I couldn't go all wyverny and forget I was human. I tried, though. I didn't want to be human, I think. I—you see—Mistress Ruskettle, have you ever killed anyone before?"
"Oh, that's it," Olive said with an understanding nod. "Well, yes. Not as many as you might think, but more than I really know for sure. The first two were a matter of life or death, but I was really too scared to know I was doing it."
"Yes!" Giogi said. "I was scared. Then it was over. But it doesn't change things. I killed a man. A man who was sort of a relative. I knew he was going to kill me, as he'd killed my father and all those elves and tried to kill my Uncle Drone, and who knows who else. I didn't think I'd ever kill anyone, and I guess I wanted to blame it on being a wyvern. I had to bite him as a wyvern to kill him. It's easy to kill things when you're a wyvern. Otherwise, you go hungry. I stayed a wyvern for a while so I wouldn't have to think about whether I'd have killed Flattery as a human being."
"What made you come back, then?" Olive asked.
"Well, the guardian was right. I'm not a wyvern. I kept thinking about things that made me human again. I had to think about killing Flattery as a human being. I think I had to kill him. I don't think I wanted to, but I made a decision anyway. It was more important protecting my family."
Giogi had another gulp of brandy. Then he asked, "Mistress Ruskettle, who was Flattery? What did he mean when he said Finder Wyvernspur made him? Is Finder really evil?"
Olive sighed. She'd seen this coming. "Nameless, that is, Finder Wyvernspur, is one of your ancestors. A grandson of Paton Wyvernspur, as near as I can tell. I went through the family histories while you were . . . out. There is a name crossed out in the list of Paton's grandchildren, so I think that must have been his name. He magically created Flattery as a copy of himself. I'm still wondering if he named Flattery, or if Flattery named himself, or if someone else named him. Finder was kind of arrogant. He wanted his songs and his name to live forever, absolutely untouched by time, unchanged by the flow of generations. An interesting idea, but not very workable.
"Anyway, in making Flattery, Nameless—Finder—was responsible for the deaths of two people. I don't know if the Harpers ever actually learned that Flattery had lived, or even if Finder knew, but they sentenced Finder to exile and suppressed his songs and made him forget his name. He didn't age in exile, but his experiences, when he was released, changed him. I'm sure he'd be appalled by what Flattery had become."
