Secrets of Moth (The Moth Saga, Book 3) (7 page)

"There it is, Bailey,"
he whispered as the dragon flew. "The light of our home. Don't
you— Bailey? Bailey! Get down!"

Sitting before him in the
saddle, Bailey was unbuckling herself and struggling to rise. Torin
grabbed her waist, trying to pull her back into the seat.

"Let go of me, Winky."
She wriggled herself free, placed her ankles under her backside, and
stretched out her arms. Slowly she began to rise.

"Bailey, you'll fall!"
Torin winced. "We're flying a mile above the world."

She grinned over her shoulder at
him. "And it's wonderful." With a single, fluid movement,
she rose to her feet in the saddle, stretched out her arms, and stood
upon the flying dragon. Her two golden braids flew behind her like
comet tails. She tossed back her head and laughed. "It's
wonderful, Torin! Stand up with me. Fly with me! I— Whoa!" She
wobbled, windmilled her arms for balance, and steadied herself.
"Almost fell there."

Torin grimaced. Sitting in the
saddle behind her, he held her ankles. "I'm holding you until
you sit down! You're going to get yourself killed."

Bailey shook her head, arms
stretched wide, head tossed back. She inhaled deeply, the wind
flowing around her. "It would take a silver arrow to kill me.
Stand with me, Torin! Stand up and feel the wind and see the sun."

He shook his head, wincing. The
dragon coiled as he flew, the wind gusted, and Torin clung to
Bailey's legs. "Sit down. Please."

She kicked her legs about,
tearing his grip off, and slowly raised her right foot, bringing it
to rest against her left knee. "Look at me, Torin! It's like
flying. Stand with me or I'll hop around and then surely fall."

"Don't you dare hop,
you'll—"

"Then stand with me!"
She looked down over her shoulder and grinned. "Hold onto me if
you're scared. I dare you, babyface. I dare you! If you don't stand,
I'll trumpet the news around Moth that Torin Babyface is the most
cowardly coward in both day and night. I'll— Whoa!" The wind
gusted, Bailey tilted, and her arms windmilled until she steadied
herself. She kept one foot raised, teetering on the other.

Torin grumbled. "If I
stand, you have to put both feet down."

"Deal."

Cursing with every vile word he
knew, Torin unbuckled himself. His heart thrashed madly. As he slowly
began to rise, he winced and held his breath. Damn Bailey could
always do this to him! Back home, she would dare him to swim across
the river, then laugh as he floundered and nearly drowned. She would
goad him until he climbed the maple tree in the village square, then
taunt him when he fell. And now this, the worst challenge of
all—standing on a damn flying dragon.

Barely daring to open his eyes,
Torin rose to his feet in the saddle and wrapped his arms around
Bailey's waist. They stood together, him rigid and clinging to her,
her with her arms outstretched and her head tossed back. Her flying
braids slapped his face, and she laughed.

"Look at the sun, Torin.
Look at the day. Isn't it beautiful?"

The dragon undulated beneath
them, scales rattling. The wind shrieked. Torin felt sick and his
head spun. He clung to Bailey, staring at her neck, not daring to
look anywhere else. "Can we sit down now?"

"Not until you look, Winky.
You're not looking. Don't make me hop." She leaned sideways,
revealing a view of the landscape and the dusk ahead.

Torin stared through wincing
eyes . . . and lost his breath. Through his head still spun, the
beauty pierced him. Sitting in the saddle, Bailey and the dragon's
horned head before him, had been one thing. Standing in open sky,
Torin felt like he himself were flying. The horizon spread before
him, curving and lit with orange and gold. Sunbeams pierced the
clouds. Distant forests rustled, and sheets of rain fell in the north
upon green hills. They stood in silence, watching.

Tianlong the dragon turned his
head and looked back at them. He grinned, revealing fangs. His red
beard billowed. "We land here, friends!" The dragon's voice
was deep and rumbling like boulders falling underground. "I am a
creature of darkness, and I cannot take you into the light. Hold on
tight!"

With a deep laugh, Tianlong
began to dive.

Torin winced and even Bailey
squeaked. Wobbling, they sat back down in the saddle as the dragon
descended. They were flying somewhere over the vast, lifeless plains
of the Qaelish empire, and beyond the dusk lay the rainforest of
Naya. No city, town, or village could be found for miles, according
to Torin's maps. Their journey would take them deep into the
jungle—to the ancient temple of Til Natay, to the number nine, and
to hope.

The wind whipped their hair as
Tianlong spiraled down. The dragon landed upon a hill, the dusk to
their west, the darkness of Eloria spreading to their east. When
Torin dismounted, knees wobbly, he found actual moss upon the
hill—the first greenery he'd seen in over a year.

Bailey dismounted too, wrapped
an arm around his neck, and rubbed her knuckles against his head.
"Torin old boy, you survived the flight. Now we travel on foot,
and I bet I'm a hundred times faster. And I'm not waiting for you to
catch up, snail."

He grumbled and shoved her off.
"I'm glad to see you're in a good mood. The night is burning,
Ferius is mustering new forces, and only our quest can save the
world. And you're having a laugh."

She shrugged and her grin
widened. She stretched out her arms as if she still stood upon a
flying dragon. "When the world is burning, that is the best time
to laugh."

Torin wondered. During their
stay in Asharo, capital of the Ilari empire, Bailey had seemed
sullen. Whenever he had invited her to join him and Koyee for a walk
or meal, Bailey would only grunt and claim to be busy practicing with
her sword. She had spent all her time locked in her chambers or
swinging her blade in a training yard, her eyes flashing and her lips
always frowning. As soon as they had left the city, her mood had
improved. She was the old Bailey again, the one he had grown up with.

The
open air and sunlight are good for her,
Torin thought, looking at his friend. She was now busy pulling their
supplies off the dragon's back. Asharo had been a city of bricks,
steel, and flame, enough to crush any spirit.

And yet the thought still
niggled at the back of his mind. Had it truly been the city that had
darkened Bailey's mood? What if it had been Koyee? Looking back, it
seemed that whenever Koyee was with them—especially when the young
Elorian took center stage, speaking of her plans—Bailey's mood had
run foulest.

"By Idar's blistered feet!"
Bailey said, glaring at him. "Winky, are you going to help, or
are you going to keep standing there like a lump of dirt?"

Torin shook his head clear of
thoughts. He stepped forward, reached across the dragon's back, and
helped untie the straps holding down their belongings. He slung 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, she snorted.
"Well then keep up! According to Koyee's book, the number nine
is all the way in Til Natay, a temple miles and miles from here. We
have to hurry."

He jumped over bulging tree
roots, raced around a boulder, and reached her. He leaped back as her
sword swung; she nearly sliced through him as well as the vines. They
kept moving through the rainforest.

Torin had grown up in the
northern, temperate valleys and hills of Arden, then spent over a
year in the night. Naya seemed to him just as strange as the endless
darkness. The canopy hid the sky, rustling and raining leaves. Vines
and bushes grew everywhere, tangling around him. Water dripped and
flowed and mist hung in the air. The insects were not the only
animals; frogs trilled in streams, birds of every color flew
overhead, and furry critters Torin had only read about in
bestiaries—monkeys, he thought they were called—hooted and swung
from branches above.

"Are you sure you know
where you're going?" Torin could barely see a dozen feet ahead;
the greenery obscured everything.

Bailey nodded. "Of course.
Koyee's book said that Til Natay rises at the end of the Great Nayan
Escarpment. We're walking atop that escarpment right now." She
smiled and took a deep, dreamy breath. "When I was a girl,
Grandpapa would say that the escarpment was the spine of an ancient
giant who had collapsed atop Naya. His blood seeped out, feeding the
rainforest which grew upon him." She pointed northward where the
land sloped down. "See how we're walking atop a cliff, moving
westward? Down there the forest is much lower. It rolls all the way
to the Sern River and to our own homeland of Arden." She turned
back west. "We just keep walking atop the hilly spine, and we'll
get there."

Torin groaned. "I don't see
an escarpment. I don't see west, north, or south. I just see, well .
. . trees everywhere."

She glowered at him. "That's
because you're an empty-headed, winky-eyed boy. If I shove you down
the escarpment, I bet you'll see it."

Torin groaned and made his way
over a slippery boulder. "That's assuming Tianlong dropped us
off at the right place. We could be walking atop an unrelated
mountain."

"An
escarpment
,
you woolhead, not a mountain. And the dragon did. Dragons always know
these things." She swung her sword, forcing him to leap back. "I
know a lot more about dragons than you do, Winky, so be quiet."

She was about to swing her sword
again when Torin caught her wrist. He stared at her, holding her
fast, planting both feet firmly on the ground. "You don't know
everything, Bailey."

Slowly, she turned her face
toward him. Her eyes narrowed and a dangerous light filled them. "Let
go of me."

He tightened his fingers around
her wrist. "You've spent the past few hours tugging me, twisting
my arm, and nearly lobbing off my head every time you cut a vine.
I've had enough. You don't know everything about dragons, and you
don't know everything about escarpments, and you don't—"