new position of power. His silver eyes widened, filling his circular eyebrows. “Well, well, clumsy man. Just look at you now.”
“Pull . . . me . . . up,” grunted Tamwyn, trying to wriggle up over the edge.
Henni tilted his head and, with his free hand, scratched his temple below the red headband he always wore. “Er, could you tell me why?”
“Why?” blustered Tamwyn, flailing desperately. “Because I’ll kill you if you don’t!”
“Kill me? Hoohoo, eeheeheehee. Sounds like fun.”
“It won’t be, I promise!”
Henni’s face turned somber. “No fun?” He heaved a sigh. “Oh well, then. What’s the point if it’s no fun?”
With that, he let go. Tamwyn cried out and plummeted backward, smashing into the rocks below, then rolling and bouncing until he finally came to a stop. He groaned and straightened his left leg, twisted beneath him. Weakly, he raised his head. Even through the spinning collage of brown cliffs, he could make out the face of the hoolah above him, grinning happily.
“You, you . . . little heap of dung!” He waved his clenched fist. “Just wait until I catch you. I’ll beat you, chop you, and feed you to a fire dragon! Then I’ll rip you out and do it all over again. And that’s just the beginning!”
“Eeheeheehahaha,” laughed Henni, “You were wrong again, clumsy man. This really is fun.”
Tamwyn’s eyes blazed. Then, hearing a tiny whimper from his tunic pocket, he pulled it open and peered inside. “Batty? You all right?”
“Noee no, manny man. Me’s having a very bumpsy-umpsy dream.”
“That,” growled Tamwyn, “was no dream. That was the hoolah.”
Within his pocket, a bright green glow expanded. Then out poked a scrawny, mouselike face with cupped ears, looking very angry indeed. “Batty Lad will teachy him a lesson, oh vessa yessa ya ya ya.”
Tamwyn worked his stiff neck and nodded. “Be my guest.”
With a flash of green from his eyes, Batty Lad lifted his crumpled wings and took off. He whizzed around the cliff for a moment before catching sight of Henni up on the ledge. The little fellow screeched wrathfully, then zoomed after him. Henni’s face looked suddenly worried before he disappeared up the slope.
A moment later, there was a very loud (and for Tamwyn, very satisfying) yelp of pain from the rocks above the ledge. The young man grinned in admiration. Whatever Batty Lad lacked in size, he surely made up for in zeal, at least when he was angry.
Slowly, he got up again, straightened his pack and sheaths, and started to climb back up to the overhanging ledge. The trudge seemed longer than ever, and the cliff steeper, but eventually he reached the spot. This time, however, he tried to work his way around the side of the ledge, cramming his feet into vertical notches in the rock. Bit by bit, he ascended, dragging himself up the sheer face.
Finally, with one last tug, he hauled himself past the barrier. A jutting edge scratched against his cheek, drawing blood, but he didn’t care. He’d made it! He pulled off his pack strap and collapsed against a smooth, gray boulder, panting heavily.
Looking to either side, he saw no sign of Henni anywhere. This only improved his mood. In addition, he’d arrived at a flatter area where the trunk seemed to bulge outward. Could it be that his days of hard climbing were almost over?
He swung his head around and looked at the terrain above him—and his brief moment of joy vanished. The cliffs swooped higher again, reaching endlessly upward, until at last they were swallowed by mist. There was nothing ahead of him but rock, rock, and more rock. No sign of the Sea, or the portal.
Then, to the west, a patch of mist opened. And he saw it—hardly more than a flash of blue, deeper than the color of sky, against a rim of brown shoreline. But that was all he needed.
Tamwyn blinked just to be sure. It was really there! So the Swaying Sea wasn’t out of reach after all. All he had to do was climb a bit
“Pull . . . me . . . up,” grunted Tamwyn, trying to wriggle up over the edge.
Henni tilted his head and, with his free hand, scratched his temple below the red headband he always wore. “Er, could you tell me why?”
“Why?” blustered Tamwyn, flailing desperately. “Because I’ll kill you if you don’t!”
“Kill me? Hoohoo, eeheeheehee. Sounds like fun.”
“It won’t be, I promise!”
Henni’s face turned somber. “No fun?” He heaved a sigh. “Oh well, then. What’s the point if it’s no fun?”
With that, he let go. Tamwyn cried out and plummeted backward, smashing into the rocks below, then rolling and bouncing until he finally came to a stop. He groaned and straightened his left leg, twisted beneath him. Weakly, he raised his head. Even through the spinning collage of brown cliffs, he could make out the face of the hoolah above him, grinning happily.
“You, you . . . little heap of dung!” He waved his clenched fist. “Just wait until I catch you. I’ll beat you, chop you, and feed you to a fire dragon! Then I’ll rip you out and do it all over again. And that’s just the beginning!”
“Eeheeheehahaha,” laughed Henni, “You were wrong again, clumsy man. This really is fun.”
Tamwyn’s eyes blazed. Then, hearing a tiny whimper from his tunic pocket, he pulled it open and peered inside. “Batty? You all right?”
“Noee no, manny man. Me’s having a very bumpsy-umpsy dream.”
“That,” growled Tamwyn, “was no dream. That was the hoolah.”
Within his pocket, a bright green glow expanded. Then out poked a scrawny, mouselike face with cupped ears, looking very angry indeed. “Batty Lad will teachy him a lesson, oh vessa yessa ya ya ya.”
Tamwyn worked his stiff neck and nodded. “Be my guest.”
With a flash of green from his eyes, Batty Lad lifted his crumpled wings and took off. He whizzed around the cliff for a moment before catching sight of Henni up on the ledge. The little fellow screeched wrathfully, then zoomed after him. Henni’s face looked suddenly worried before he disappeared up the slope.
A moment later, there was a very loud (and for Tamwyn, very satisfying) yelp of pain from the rocks above the ledge. The young man grinned in admiration. Whatever Batty Lad lacked in size, he surely made up for in zeal, at least when he was angry.
Slowly, he got up again, straightened his pack and sheaths, and started to climb back up to the overhanging ledge. The trudge seemed longer than ever, and the cliff steeper, but eventually he reached the spot. This time, however, he tried to work his way around the side of the ledge, cramming his feet into vertical notches in the rock. Bit by bit, he ascended, dragging himself up the sheer face.
Finally, with one last tug, he hauled himself past the barrier. A jutting edge scratched against his cheek, drawing blood, but he didn’t care. He’d made it! He pulled off his pack strap and collapsed against a smooth, gray boulder, panting heavily.
Looking to either side, he saw no sign of Henni anywhere. This only improved his mood. In addition, he’d arrived at a flatter area where the trunk seemed to bulge outward. Could it be that his days of hard climbing were almost over?
He swung his head around and looked at the terrain above him—and his brief moment of joy vanished. The cliffs swooped higher again, reaching endlessly upward, until at last they were swallowed by mist. There was nothing ahead of him but rock, rock, and more rock. No sign of the Sea, or the portal.
Then, to the west, a patch of mist opened. And he saw it—hardly more than a flash of blue, deeper than the color of sky, against a rim of brown shoreline. But that was all he needed.
Tamwyn blinked just to be sure. It was really there! So the Swaying Sea wasn’t out of reach after all. All he had to do was climb a bit
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