Chapter Five-Oh Great, Now You've Made Him Angry
The Wendigo was not happy.
In fact, he was very, very mad.
He had been a normal level of mad ever since he learned that the Dreamer was going to destroy the world, (No fair! He had been planning to destroy the world as soon as his GoGiveMoneyToMe got enough money to buy a death ray. And now that it was almost full, the Dreamer just steals the show? It was INFURIATING.) but that madness had escalated when the Wayward Company tried to fly through his lair. They didn't even wipe their feet on the cloud doorstep, for Clearsight's sake. After all, the Wendigo may have been a monster, but he's not THAT kind of monster.
So the Wendigo had been really, really mad when he first saw the Company. But the anger got even worse when the Company totally forgot about him-they just left him to go play around with Icewings, like, COME ON, he was clearly the superior threat here, why won't someone just PAY ATTENTION TO HIM-
Anyways, long story short, the Wendigo was mad. Which is why perhaps he was right to smash his tail into the Icewing's pirate ship, splitting it down the middle-I mean, how else could you get the Company's attention? Even the end of the world wasn't enough to stop them from fussing over love triangles and the mystery of the fourth wall.
The huge, lightning-tipped tail crashed into the boat. With the creaking groan of a dying whale, the boat splintered ominously.
Down on the boat, Chimichanga screamed. "The thing's gonna capsize! I knew it! I knew dragons weren't meant to go in the ocean!"
"Hey!" said a Seawing that had been flying by and overheard him. "How dare-"
SNAP!
The two sides of the boat split apart, flying into the air and taking the Icewing pirates and Wayward Company with them. For one moment everything seemed frozen in time, almost as if the world had gone into slow motion-and then time smashed back to normal.
Bill hit the waves with all the majesty of a bellyfloping Nightwing. It knocked the wind out of him, and for one terrifying moment he inhaled seawater instead of air, but it was fine. Things were fine. He was alive. Probably.
Kicking his now-sore legs, Bill swam to the surface and shot out, shivering. Even for an Icewing this was getting uncomfortably cold. And the Company probably had it worse, since they weren't-
Wait! The Company! Suffering swordfish, he had completely forgotten them! Again! And also all those Icewings and that one Seawing and all those other background characters-where had they gone? Were they all right?
Bill turned in a circle, looking around for a glimpse of yellow or green or brown or even blue. Heck, he would even take Frank at this point, he just needed to know that someone was alive-
Claws grabbed Bill's tail, and he yelped. "Hey! Wyvern, that-"
"Who by all the moons is Wyvern?"
Bill turned around. It was not Wyvern.
Guillemot was a lot more angry than he had been on the boat. His hat was missing, and he was even more drenched in seawater than before, if that were possible. Clearly he was sick of playing nice.
"If you want to get out of here alive, sir," he sneered, "I suggest coming with me."
Bill hesitated. "But-my friends-"
"Are most likely dead by now!" Guillemot snapped.
Bill gave a little squeak. Was he crying? He couldn't tell, all this water felt the same…
After a moment Guillemot's hard expression melted a bit. "Listen...I know it's rough, but it's the truth. That boat was their only chance of making it out alive, and now that it's gone…" He shrugged. "You'd need a miracle to get out of this if you weren't an Icewing."
"But what if we do get a miracle?" Bill protested. "The Company's been incredibly lucky before, surely it can happen again…"
"Even if there was a chance, there's no time to go look for them. I know how to get out of here, but it's just gonna get harder the longer we stay. If you want to get out of this alive...you need to come with me."
"Uh...I...I…" Bill stammered. "I don't-I can't-"
"Time's a-wastin'."
Around them, thunder boomed and lightning illuminated the sky. It looked like Guillemot was right; in the ever-darkening clouds, not a speck of color could be seen. So finally, Bill gave in.
"Fine. But if the storm clears early-"
"Sure, sure. Now come with me, sir-it's time to get you home."
So they began to fly-if you could call being dragged by your tail like a kite in the air flying. And then out of nowhere a squawk:
"Hey, Bill!"
It was the penguins-Bill had completely forgotten about them with all the emotional drama going on. He felt around on his back-yep, somehow, miraculously, the pack was completely unharmed, all the penguins safe inside.
"Are you guys okay in there?" he called out.
"Sure we are!" replied one of them, Bill couldn't tell over the storm. "What were you doing up there? One second things were fine, then everything exploded then we were in the water and now this weird sentimental music's playing? What did we miss?"
There was music playing? Now that Bill listened, the penguins were right-some kind of soft piano-ish music was going in the background of all this, the sort of music you'd expect at a soap opera (a very popular form of opera in which people talked about silly problems and evil twins and all the advertising was for shampoo and soap bars) or a bar where people go to be sad and mope about how horrible their lives are.
At this point Bill hardly registered the music, however-there were more important things at hand like not falling into the ocean. And as for what the penguins missed…
"It's the same as usual out here," he said to the penguins. "We almost died and the Company is lost in the storm and now I'm going to meet my mom but with enough luck I hope everything will be okay."
"Flippers crossed," added Antony.
In truth, Bill was really, really worried about the Company's safety. In the moment leaving them felt like a good idea, but now it seemed incredibly, remarkably, scale-searingly stupid.
He should go back, he decided. It was the right thing to do. He should never have left the Company in the first place, and if he was quick, maybe he could find them before they died horrible watery deaths…
But it was too late. A shape was rising in the now-slowing rain, a huge pointy shape glimmering with snowflakes and windows and snooty, snooty faces. Now Bill really wanted to go back-he could tell that nothing good was going to come out of this shape, and it was time to turn tail and get away as fast as dragonly possible…
"You know what, Guillemot," he said, his voice cracking horribly, "I don't think this is a good idea after all...Maybe it would be better if I turned back and look for my friends and you could have my mom meet up with me there-"
"Too late, kid." retorted Guillemot, and suddenly Bill became aware of how hard his claws gripped, how fast he was flying, that greedy look in his eyes…
"We're here. Welcome to the Icewing Palace."
With a jerk Guillemot pulled into a dive, giving Bill no choice but to dive along with him. They flew around to a halt at the front of the palace-and while Guillemot's landing was clean and smooth, Bill landed headfirst in the snow.
Shaking the cold off his scales, Bill sat up and gasped. Inches from his face was the pointiest spear he had ever seen.
Next to him, Guillemot grinned. "Welcome home."
Meanwhile, five hundred miles away (give or take a kilometer) the other members of the Wayward Company coughed and gasped as they dragged themselves up a hard, rocky beach. There was Wyvern, her spear bent in two, Enchilada and Chimichanga supporting Bread, faint with exhaustion, Lantern, choking up more seawater than you would've thought possible for such a small dragon, and Butter, her butterfly wings wrinkly, antennas tangled, and longing for a nap.
Once she was far away enough from the water, Butter rolled onto her back and sighed. "We're alive. It's a miracle."
"You can say that again," said Enchilada.
"Too tired to."
"Fair enough."
They laid there for a moment in silence. What are you supposed to say after narrowly avoiding death by killer wind monster?
Eventually Wyvern spoke. "I can't believe it...we spent so much time looking for him...after all that...Bill's just gone."
"Gone as in gone or gone as in dead?" asked Chimichanga. "They mean two very different things."
"I don't know...what are the chances of all seven of us surviving in a storm like that?"
"Well, we survived, didn't we?" said Lantern. "I'd say that's pretty remarkable. If we could do it, why couldn't he?"
Wyvern gave him a stony glare. "I'm being serious."
Lantern sat up and returned the glare. "So am I. And I'm serious when I say I think he's still alive."
"Listen," said Enchilada, also sitting up and moving in between the two, "Even if he is alive, the Gulf covers hundreds of miles of beaches, and he could've washed up on any one of them. How are we supposed to find him?"
For a moment Lantern faltered, then the vigor returned just as before."I...guess we'll just have to search the entire Gulf, then."
"That's madness!" called Bread from where he lay prostrate a few feet away. "It'll be long, it'll be dangerous-we could die looking for him!"
"Well, what do you want to do, huh?" snapped Lantern. "Just give up and let him die?"
"He might already be dead!"
"GUYS!"
All five dragons turned towards the source of the noise. It was Butter, and she was not very happy.
"Now is not the time for fighting!" she shouted. "Here we are, bickering like children while somewhere far away Bill could be injured, or sick, or captured by pirates…." Butter took a breath. She was calming down now. "Anyways….Arguing isn't going to help anything. If we want to find Bill, we need to calm down, stop fighting, and start looking."
The rest of the company stared at her in amazement. It was not often that one saw Butter lose her temper.
"Thanks, Butter," Wyvern said gruffly. "If you hadn't intervened I probably would've tackled someone by now."
Butter smiled. "What are friends for, if not to prevent other friends from horribly maiming each other?"
"Agreed." said the others.
Lantern stood up, the exhaustion from the storm apparently forgotten. "So, now that that's over-Hey, hold it, does anyone hear wing beats?"
And for the second time that day (or week, Butter wasn't sure how much time had passed in the Gulf,) the point of a sword found the base of Butter's neck.
"Wayward Company, you are under arrest by order of Queen Ruby for trespassing, larceny, making a mess at the restaurant Swordtail's Delight and just being annoyances in general."
Slowly, Butter turned around. An entire squadron of Skywing soldiers stood before them, spears out, teeth bared. They were each holding a poster with seven very familiar dragons on them.
Of course.
Slowly, cautiously, the soldiers began to surround the Company. Butter didn't try to fight back-she was so stiff from the seawater she could hardly move.
(Lantern and Wyvern did try to fight, but with their weapons broken and their bodies worn out from flying...you can guess how that went.)
And so, for the first time in their adventure, (or I'm pretty sure it's the first time, the timeline's kinda loopy) the Wayward Company found themselves at the mercy of the law. Looking back on it, Butter would always remember one part very vividly-not the rusty metal clamps attached to her wings, not the orders of the soldiers to get backup-no, it was a phrase Enchilada said right before she blacked out:
"Well, out of the frying pan, into the fiery inferno of doom. This ought to be fun."
A/N: Hello again! That's right, I'm back (for now!) I know it's been a few...dozen weeks since I last posted, sorry about that-actually, I completely forgot I had this story until a few days ago. My how time flies when you're in a pandemic! Anyways, whoever reads this, (Does anyone read this? Am I just posting into a void?) I hope you enjoy it-stay safe and buy gold. Farewell!
