Dragon Wing

26

Bane watched the three elves propel themselves hand over hand across the ropes, their thin, shapely legs grasping it with heels and knees. Beneath them was nothing but empty air and, far below, the dark and awesome, perpetually raging storm. The elves were expert at boarding, however, and did not pause or look down. Reaching the deck of the small dragonship, they swung their legs over the sides and landed lightly on their feet. Having never seen elves before, the prince studied them as intently as they were ignoring him. The elves were nearly the same height as average humans, but their slender bodies made them appear taller. Their features were delicate, yet hard and cold, as if they had been carved out of marble. Smooth-muscled, they were extremely well-coordinated and walked with ease and grace even on the listing ship. Their skin was nut-brown, their hair and eyebrows white, tinted with silver that glistened in the sun. They wore what appeared to be vests and short skirts made like finely stitched tapestries, decorated with fanciful pictures of birds and flowers and animals. Humans often made fun of the elves’ bright-colored garb—to their regret, most discovering too late that it was, in reality, elven armor. Elven wizards possess the power to magically enhance ordinary silken thread, making it as hard and tough as steel.

The elf who appeared to be the leader motioned the other two to look around the ship. One ran aft, staring over the side at the wings, possibly to assess the damage that had caused this ship to tumble out of control. The other ran back to the stern.

The elves were armed, but they didn’t carry their weapons in hand. They were, after all, on a ship made by their own kind.

Seeing his men deployed, the elven commander finally deigned to notice the child.

“What is a human brat doing on board a ship of my people?” The commander stared down his long aquiline nose at the boy. “And where is the captain of this vessel?”

He spoke human well, but with a twist to his mouth, as if the words tasted bad and he was glad to be rid of them. His voice was lilting and musical, his tone imperious and condescending. Bane was angry, but knew how to hide it.

“I am crown prince of Volkaran and Uylandia. King Stephen is my father.” Bane thought it best to begin this way, at least until he had the elves convinced that he was someone important. Then he would tell them the truth, tell them that he was of truly great importance—greater than they could imagine. The elf captain was keeping one eye on his men, giving Bane half his attention. “So, my people have captured a human princeling, have they? I don’t know what they think they’ll get for you.”

“An evil man captured me,” Bane said, tears coming readily to his eyes. “He was going to murder me. But you’ve rescued me! You’ll be heroes. Take me to your king, that I may extend my thanks. This could be the beginning of the peace between our people.”

The elf who had been inspecting the wings returned, his report on his lips. Overhearing the boy’s speech, he looked at his captain. Both laughed simultaneously.

Bane sucked in his breath. Never in his life had anyone laughed at him! What was happening? The enchantment should be working. He was positive Trian hadn’t been able to break the spell. Why wasn’t his enchantment working on the elves?

And then Bane saw the talismans. Worn around the elves’ necks, the talismans were created by the elven wizards to protect their people against human war magic. Bane didn’t understand this, but he knew a warding talisman when he saw it and knew that, inadvertently, it was shielding the elves from the enchantment.

Before he could react, the captain grabbed hold of him and tossed him through the air like a bag of garbage. He was caught by the other elf, whose strength belied the slender body. The elf captain gave a careless command, and the elf, holding the boy at arm’s length as if he were a skunk, walked over to the ship’s rail.

Bane did not speak elven, but he understood the command given by the elf captain’s gesture.

He was to be tossed overboard.

Bane tried to scream, fear choked off his breath. He fought and struggled. The elf held him by the scruff of the neck and seemed to be highly amused at the child’s frantic efforts to free himself. Bane possessed the power of magic, but he was untrained, not having been brought up in his father’s house. He could feel magic run through him like adrenaline, he lacked the knowledge to make it work.

There was someone who could tell him, however.

Bane grasped hold of the feather amulet. “Father!”

“He can’t help you now,” laughed the elf.

“Father!” Bane cried again.

“I was right,” said the elf captain to his cohort. “There is someone else aboard—the brat’s father. Go search.” He gestured to the third elf, who came running back from the stern.

“Go ahead, get rid of the little bastard,” the captain grunted. The elf holding Bane held the boy over the rail and then dropped him. Bane tumbled through the air. He sucked in his breath to let it out in a howl of terror, when a voice commanded him abruptly to be silent. The voice came as it always did to the child, speaking words that he heard in his mind, words audible only to himself.

“You have the ability to save yourself, Bane. But first you must conquer fear.”

Falling rapidly, seeing below him floating pieces of debris from the elven ship and below that the black clouds of the Maelstrom, Bane went stiff and rigid with fright.

“I ... I can’t, father,” he whimpered.

“If you can’t, then you will die, which will be all to the best. I have no use for a son who is a coward.”

All his short life, Bane had striven to please the man who spoke to him through the amulet, the man who was his true father. To win the powerful wizard’s approval was his dearest wish.

“Shut your eyes,” was Sinistrad’s next command.

Bane did so.

“Now we are going to work the magic. Think to yourself that you are lighter than the air. Your body is not solid flesh, but airy, buoyant. Your bones are hollow, like a bird’s.”

The prince wanted to laugh, but something inside told him if he did so he would never be able to control it and would drop to his death. Swallowing the wild, hysterical giggling, he tried to do as his father commanded. It seemed ludicrous. His eyes wouldn’t slay shut, but kept flying open to watch in panic-stricken desperation for a bit of debris to cling to until he could be rescued. The wind rushing past made his eyes tear, however, and he couldn’t see clearly. A sob welled up in his throat.

“Bane!” Sinistrad’s voice flicked through the child’s mind like a whip. Gulping, Bane squinched his eyes tightly shut and tried to picture himself a bird.

At first it was difficult and seemed impossible. Generations of wizards long dead plus the boy’s own inherent skill and intelligence came to Bane’s aid. The trick was to banish reality, to convince the mind that its body did not weigh sixty-some rock, that it weighed nothing or less than nothing. It was a skill most young human wizards must study years to attain, yet Bane was having to learn it in seconds. Mother birds teach the young to fly by tossing them out of the nest. Bane was acquiring the art of magic in the same way. Shock and sheer terror jolted his natural talent into taking over and saving him. My flesh is made of cloud. My blood is fine mist. My bones are hollow and filled with air.

A tingling sensation spread through the prince’s body. It seemed as if the magic was changing him into a cloud, for he felt weightless and airy. As this feeling increased, so did his confidence in the illusion he was spinning around himself, and the magic in turn increased, growing stronger and more powerful. Opening his eyes, Bane saw to his delight that he was no longer falling. Lighter than a snowflake, he was drifting in the sky.

“I’ve done it! I’ve done it!” He laughed gleefully, flapping his arms like a bird.

“Concentrate!” Sinistrad snapped. “This is not play! Break the concentration and you lose the power!”

Bane sobered. His father’s words had not affected him so much as the sudden frightening sensation he’d experienced of growing heavier again. Resolutely he set his mind to its task of keeping him afloat among the wispy clouds.

“What do I do now, father?” he asked, more subdued.

“Remain where you are for the moment. The elves will rescue you.”

“But they tried to kill me!”

“Yes, but now they will see that you possess the power and they will want to take you to their wizards. That will lead you to their court. You may as well spend some time there before you return to me. You might gather useful information.”

Bane gazed upward, trying to see what was happening on the ship. All that was visible to him from his angle was the underside of the hull and the half-spread wings. The dragonship was still falling, however. Bane relaxed, floating in the air, and waited for it to come to him.