his
pack over his back. It bulged full of supplies for the journey: jars
of mushrooms, smoked sausages, skins of wine, a tinderbox, knives and
sharpening stones, and a bundle of maps. Next he buckled his new
sword to his hip, a katana the Elorians had gifted him, its hilt
wrapped in black silk. Finally he grabbed his walking stick and stood
ready for the journey. Bailey stood at his side, carrying a similar
pack and her own weapons: her old longsword, her bow, and a quiver of
arrows.
"My pack is larger than
yours, Winky," she said. "You didn't pack enough supplies."
He rolled his eyes. "Merciful
Idar. Everything is a competition with you, isn't it?"
Hovering three feet aboveground,
the dragon turned his head toward them. His red eyes gleamed. His
scaly body undulated behind him like a standard in the wind, and his
beard flowed down to the ground.
"Here we part, children of
sunlight," said Tianlong. "I am a warrior of darkness; in
sunlight, you must fight alone. I do not know your quest, but I will
think of you in the shadows of the night. I pray we meet again."
Torin placed his hand on the
dragon's scaly brow. He bowed his head. "Goodbye, Tianlong,
noble friend. Goodbye, last dragon of Ilar, and may your wisdom
forever guide the night. May—"
"Move it, poet!"
Bailey said, shoving Torin aside. She wrapped her arms around the
dragon's head, squeezing him in an embrace, and kissed his snout.
"Goodbye, Tianlong old boy. Don't worry about the babyface. I'll
watch over him." She pulled back and patted the dragon's cheek.
"Now go on, fly! Get out of here before he gets poetic again."
With a grunt and a chuckle,
Tianlong soared into the sky, spun toward the east, and flew into the
darkness. Torin watched him leave for a moment, feeling strangely
sad. For two long years, he had dreamed of returning home to
sunlight. Now he felt that Nightside was a place of wonder and
magic—of shining crystal towers, fish that glowed with inner lights,
wise mystics with gleaming eyes, and dragons like those from the
pages of storybooks. He left that wonder here in the shadows. He left
Koyee and all her noble people of the shadow. And there Tianlong flew
away, a last whisper of magic gone into—
"Winky!"
Baily grabbed his arm and tugged. "By the light, what's gotten
into you? Come on !
We have no time to gape at the stars; you've been doing that for
ages. We've got a piece of clock to find."
Torin sighed as he stumbled
downhill after her. He had fought in battles and slain men. He had
made love to Koyee in a hospice of the plague. He had dueled Ferius,
the Demon of Daylight, and flown upon a dragon. Yet in the sight of
the sun, to Bailey he was just a humble boy again.
"Fine!" He wrenched
his arm free. "Slow down, all right?"
"Never. Keep up or be left
behind." She tramped downhill toward the dusk.
He followed, pack bouncing
across his back and his sword banging against his thigh. They headed
across a valley. Moss gave way to grass and grass to shrubs. The sun
appeared over the horizon, and they stepped into its light.
* * * * *
They trudged through the brush,
lashing their swords at vegetation, slapping at mosquitoes, and
sweating in the heat of sunlight.
"I thought I missed
Dayside." Torin spat out an insect that flew into his mouth.
"Idar damn it! I forgot about the bugs and the heat." He
sighed. "I miss the night already."
Bailey swiped her sword, cutting
through hanging vines, and climbed over a fallen log. "Not me.
Too cold back there. Too cold and lifeless." Sweat dampened her
shirt, burrs covered her cloak, and mud rose to her knees. "Give
me light, heat, and life all around me."
A
second insect flew into Torin's eye. He cursed, blinked it free, and
slapped another critter that landed on his cheek. "Life all over us, more like. I swear, I— Bailey!" She was rushing ahead,
disappearing into the brush. He called after her. "Bailey, I
told you, slow down. If we separate here, we'd never find each
other."
Somewhere ahead,
pack over his back. It bulged full of supplies for the journey: jars
of mushrooms, smoked sausages, skins of wine, a tinderbox, knives and
sharpening stones, and a bundle of maps. Next he buckled his new
sword to his hip, a katana the Elorians had gifted him, its hilt
wrapped in black silk. Finally he grabbed his walking stick and stood
ready for the journey. Bailey stood at his side, carrying a similar
pack and her own weapons: her old longsword, her bow, and a quiver of
arrows.
"My pack is larger than
yours, Winky," she said. "You didn't pack enough supplies."
He rolled his eyes. "Merciful
Idar. Everything is a competition with you, isn't it?"
Hovering three feet aboveground,
the dragon turned his head toward them. His red eyes gleamed. His
scaly body undulated behind him like a standard in the wind, and his
beard flowed down to the ground.
"Here we part, children of
sunlight," said Tianlong. "I am a warrior of darkness; in
sunlight, you must fight alone. I do not know your quest, but I will
think of you in the shadows of the night. I pray we meet again."
Torin placed his hand on the
dragon's scaly brow. He bowed his head. "Goodbye, Tianlong,
noble friend. Goodbye, last dragon of Ilar, and may your wisdom
forever guide the night. May—"
"Move it, poet!"
Bailey said, shoving Torin aside. She wrapped her arms around the
dragon's head, squeezing him in an embrace, and kissed his snout.
"Goodbye, Tianlong old boy. Don't worry about the babyface. I'll
watch over him." She pulled back and patted the dragon's cheek.
"Now go on, fly! Get out of here before he gets poetic again."
With a grunt and a chuckle,
Tianlong soared into the sky, spun toward the east, and flew into the
darkness. Torin watched him leave for a moment, feeling strangely
sad. For two long years, he had dreamed of returning home to
sunlight. Now he felt that Nightside was a place of wonder and
magic—of shining crystal towers, fish that glowed with inner lights,
wise mystics with gleaming eyes, and dragons like those from the
pages of storybooks. He left that wonder here in the shadows. He left
Koyee and all her noble people of the shadow. And there Tianlong flew
away, a last whisper of magic gone into—
"Winky!"
Baily grabbed his arm and tugged. "By the light, what's gotten
into you? Come on !
We have no time to gape at the stars; you've been doing that for
ages. We've got a piece of clock to find."
Torin sighed as he stumbled
downhill after her. He had fought in battles and slain men. He had
made love to Koyee in a hospice of the plague. He had dueled Ferius,
the Demon of Daylight, and flown upon a dragon. Yet in the sight of
the sun, to Bailey he was just a humble boy again.
"Fine!" He wrenched
his arm free. "Slow down, all right?"
"Never. Keep up or be left
behind." She tramped downhill toward the dusk.
He followed, pack bouncing
across his back and his sword banging against his thigh. They headed
across a valley. Moss gave way to grass and grass to shrubs. The sun
appeared over the horizon, and they stepped into its light.
* * * * *
They trudged through the brush,
lashing their swords at vegetation, slapping at mosquitoes, and
sweating in the heat of sunlight.
"I thought I missed
Dayside." Torin spat out an insect that flew into his mouth.
"Idar damn it! I forgot about the bugs and the heat." He
sighed. "I miss the night already."
Bailey swiped her sword, cutting
through hanging vines, and climbed over a fallen log. "Not me.
Too cold back there. Too cold and lifeless." Sweat dampened her
shirt, burrs covered her cloak, and mud rose to her knees. "Give
me light, heat, and life all around me."
A
second insect flew into Torin's eye. He cursed, blinked it free, and
slapped another critter that landed on his cheek. "Life all over us, more like. I swear, I— Bailey!" She was rushing ahead,
disappearing into the brush. He called after her. "Bailey, I
told you, slow down. If we separate here, we'd never find each
other."
Somewhere ahead,
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