Dark Wyng by Chris d'Lacey

Author:Chris d'Lacey
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.
Published: 2017-03-22T04:00:00+00:00

In general, dragons flew in all weathers. Some conditions they actively welcomed. Snow, for instance, cooled their wing joints and enabled them to take on water if they needed to, especially on longer journeys. And though extremes of temperature were never ideal, dragons could adapt to either state. During winter, their scales provided a thermal barrier against the cold, but were equally effective at deflecting the heat of the Ki:meran sun. When lifted by just a few degrees, the scales could be slid back minimally to ventilate softer tissues beneath. Rarely did a dragon look at the skies and decide it would be unwise to fly.

But lightning. That was a different issue. If a bolt were to hit, the charge could traverse the entire body network, disrupting navigational aids and weakening the seams along the framework of the wings. It was by all accounts an uncomfortable experience, one to be avoided wherever possible. But Gabrial had never heard tell of a dragon being frightened of a strike. Wearlings, maybe. But not a grown adult like Goodle.

Grendel explained how his fear had come about. “I’m two turns older than him,” she said, “but our family settles were close. When we were young, we sometimes played together. One day, we were flying through a deep-ridged valley, practicing rolls and other tricks, when we were caught in a storm and a bolt struck Goodle directly on a wing. He was a slow developer and his wings were weak. It burned a hole in the canopy and he lost control. He spiraled down and struck his head on a rock. He tumbled, unconscious, into a river. When I reached him, his head was underwater. He was too heavy to lift, but I was able to support him and keep his head up. I had to wait for the storm to blow out before any of our wyng could respond to my calls.”

“You saved his life.”

“I suppose so, yes. We never speak of it, of course, because no dragon, especially a male, wants to be reminded of a fall like that. But it left a scar in his mind. Look at him. See how anxious he is?”

Goodle was paddling his feet, quaking to the rhythm of the rolling thunder. He did look very uneasy.

“So what’s the plan?”

“We bring him inside, away from the edge.”

Gabrial looked bemused. “How’s that going to help? Anyway, he can’t leave his post. What if Gallen or one of the search team flies by?”

“They’ll see you, a blue dragon, huddled up in the rain and assume that all is well. If you keep your head down and draw your chest in, you and Goodle are virtually identical. It’s only a precaution anyway; they’re not likely to fly in this. Even the Veng don’t enjoy lightning.”

“So we swap positions. Then what?”

“We let him sleep the storm out.”

“Sleep? You want me to cuff him?”

“No, Gabrial. I don’t want you to cuff him. What is it with males that they always want to hit things? I’m Fissian, remember.

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