DragonFire (24 page)

Bardon shifted in his seat, wishing his bones did not ache so. “That doesn’t sound too comfortable for the kimens.”

“You’re in charge of their security, Sir Bardon. Set up a periphery and guard it well. Perhaps build a holding pen you can drive the grawligs into when they attack.”

“Yes sir.”

“Are you all right?” Dar cocked an eyebrow at his comrade.

“I’m fine.”

         
36
         

I
N THE
C
ANYON

Kale put her back to one wall of the narrow gorge, and her father positioned himself against the other wall. The minor dragons came out of their pocket-dens to help in the upcoming battle. Ardeo illuminated the area enough for Kale and her father to advance without falling over rocks along the path. They edged forward, sidestepping against the base of the cliffs.

“This is our strategy,” said Sir Kemry. “You take the six immature spiders.”

“Me?” Kale’s voice squeaked. She cleared her throat.

“Yes. Throw a blanket of light over them, much like you did for our bisonbeck friends back there.”

“All right.” She congratulated herself that she sounded confident.

“Draw the spiders together so that eventually you have them under one covering. Maintaining a shield will be easier for you when it is one rather than six. Reverse the flow of the energy. Instead of things hitting the outside and being reflected, when the creatures strike the inside wall, their momentum will bounce back at them. Any questions so far?”

“No. Well, yes. What do you want the minor dragons to do?”

“What they do best.”

“Spit.”

“Yes, spit. And tell them not to get entrapped in your light barrier.” He paused for a moment, and Kale knew he was reevaluating the combat zone ahead. He nodded. “They haven’t changed positions. Once you get all six of your targets under one radiant shell, squeeze them together by decreasing the size of the holding pen. Hopefully, they will become agitated and fight among themselves.”

Kale thought the plan sounded solid, but she had to admit approaching the giant insects made her nervous. “Shouldn’t we be sneaking up on the spiders?”

“They already know we’re here and are waiting. But they don’t know we know they know. If we were to stop talking, they might come investigate, and we want to use their instinct to ambush us to our advantage.”

“Right.” Kale inched along the wall. She put her sword away, knowing she’d rather have her hands empty while she controlled the light shield. It didn’t make much sense, since she used her mind to manipulate the energy particles. But she did use her body to channel energy, and sometimes she used her hands and arms because it felt comfortable to act out what she configured mentally.

“Father?”

“Yes?”

“What are you going to be doing?”

He chuckled. “Taking a vacation. No. I am going to cast a fireball on the spider that will be closest to you when we come upon them. Be careful you don’t get caught by surprise. It should be a nice toasty explosion.”

Kale laughed. “I’ve seen one before, thrown by Wizard Fenworth.”

“Ahem. Well, I daresay mine will be a little more defined around the edges. If I remember, his used to splat on the target.”

“It did, indeed, splat.”

“After I have annihilated the first spider, I’ll lengthen my sword and battle the second.”

“Sounds like a good strategy.”

“We’re almost there.” He hefted a shiny black orb in his hand. It began to glow. “We’ll soon know.”

Sir Kemry stepped into the middle of the passageway, took three more paces, and threw his fireball to a space ahead of Kale. She shielded her eyes, then lost no time in propelling six light nets over the immature spiders.

The fire consumed the ambushing spider, burned out in a matter of seconds, and left a charred carcass that crumbled into a black pile of ash. Kale stepped around it and focused on bringing the six separate bubbles of light together. Through trial and error, she discovered she could move one to join another and then move that one more easily to swallow up a third. The larger the circumference of the barrier, the easier it was to manipulate. She worked alone. All of the minor dragons bombarded the larger Creemoor spider with their acidic saliva.

The brief battle ended as Kale hoped it would. Sir Kemry vanquished the spider and joined her to help tighten the container that trapped the smaller spiders. The crowded spiders began to clash. They snapped at one another with pincers. Kale turned away as one beast tore off the leg of another.

“All right. That’s enough.” She thickened the opaque quality of the light until she could see nothing but faint shadows. Then she and the others waited until lack of movement within indicated the fracas had ended.

“Do you suppose they’re all dead?” Kale asked her father.

“Maybe.” He continued to be vigilant, eyes on the light shield, chin jutted forward.

Kale knew that he was monitoring more than the isolated spiders. They didn’t want to be attacked from behind while their attention focused on the captives. She did a mental reconnaissance, but her hold on the container slipped. It would be best for her to concentrate on one thing.

“Do you think we can lower the shield?” she asked.

“I think that would be a good plan, but be prepared to slay any who may have survived. Wait a moment. I want to put a protective shield in front of us. No sense in being poisoned after the fight is finished.”

He worked for a full three minutes weaving a protective wall. Kale noted he used a technique similar to binding the edge of a gateway. The process enthralled her, as this method offered more possibilities than the one she had been taught. When he finished, he put his hands on his hips as he inspected his handiwork.

“That should hold,” he said. “Kale, let the little beasties go.”

First, Kale thinned the light so they could see the shapes within the enclosure. Two still twitched.

When she let the barrier drop, Sir Kemry pitched a fireball into the spiders’ midst and incinerated them all.

“I wish all conflicts went so well,” he said as he cleaned his sword with a cloth. “Shall we go on and face our next challenge? Or do you need a rest?”

Kale tilted her head and scrutinized her father. The exertion of channeling energy had worn her down. Gathering the force to develop a fireball, contain it until dispensed, and minimize the collateral damage required a great deal of fortitude. Building the reflective shield to protect them drained her father further.

If one were not a wizard, one had no idea how much strength performing “magic” entailed. Magic involved recollection of minute details, envisioning a shift in actual circumstances, then the ordering of many small pieces of the puzzle. Finally, the release of the created force required timing. And if the wizard accidentally bumped up against one of Wulder’s irrefutable laws, the “spell” could backfire and injure the instigator. Fenworth used to call these conflicting components H-2-oil.

“H-2-oil,” Kale said.

“What?”

“Fenworth used to say, ‘H-2-oil, water and oil do not mix.’ He was warning Regidor and me not to try to do something that Wulder did not allow.”

Sir Kemry sheathed his sword and spread his hands in a questioning gesture. “And that applies to what in this situation?”

Kale shook her head, her hair slipping out of its binding. “Nothing really, except that I’m very tired. I don’t know if I could handle another attack without some rest.”

“Fine, then. We shall set up a protective shell around us, snuggle down into some warm blankets, set a dragon to watch, and sleep.”

“Oh, Father, that sounds first-rate.”

Kale fixed supper out of food she had packed in her hollow. Sir Kemry produced blankets, pillows, and a pair of thick body-length cushions out of his. After they ate, he played a few sweet melodies on his flute. Metta sang, and they all relaxed. Tomorrow would be soon enough to face the trials and tribulations Burner Stox had in store for them. The minor dragons would guard the camp during the night.

Kale slept almost as soon as her head rested upon the pillow. She dreamed of Bardon, Sir Dar, and Regidor. The men sang in a tavern and didn’t miss her at all. In her next dream, her mother and Toopka played benders and didn’t notice that her chair was empty. Finally, Kale roused herself from slumber to get away from her pining to be with the other members of her family.

She rubbed her eyes. She should be able to see the skylights, but something obscured the stars and moon. Had clouds gathered while they slept? She sensed she was alone, yet her father should be within reach, and five dragons should be cuddled close to her. The sixth one guarded them. Or did he?

Kale remembered Leetu Bends’s description of being inside a mordakleep. Her breath caught in her throat. Where was she?

         
37
         

G
RAWLIG
B
RAWL

Bardon stood watching as men built sturdy walls out of log poles. Izz glided through the trees. He watched her coming and noted her dress of a yellow hue. The lighter color indicated hope.

“I have a plan,” she said without preamble. “The other kimens and I have been discussing our predicament.”

“I’m willing to listen. This enclosure will hold the grawligs for a short time. If the brutes become frenzied, I’m afraid they’ll be able to break out.”

“Yes. We thought so too.” Izz waved at a group of men who were covering a finished wall with branches, camouflaging the trap. “The ogres will race in, you’ll swing the gate shut, then what will happen?”

“I’ve asked Lady Allerion to work on something that would either sedate them or extinguish this mad desire they have to annihilate all kimens.”

“We want you to leave them to us after you have them trapped.”

Bardon jerked. A sharp pain stabbed his temple, and the ache in his neck and shoulders reminded him he still had a fever. “I’d like to know what you’re planning. I can’t hand over a half dozen wild monsters set on killing you. For some reason, that doesn’t sound like you would come out alive. Please explain to me the part I must be missing.”

“From what I understand,” said Izz, “the grawligs hunt us because of our scent. What do you suppose would happen if we shot them with our arrows? Our arrows would be like small darts to the grawligs, but they smell of us. And we will rub the arrows in our hair to make sure the scent is strong.”

A devious smile lifted the corners of Bardon’s mouth. If they were plotting against the bisonbecks, the plan would not work. But grawligs were known for their lack of intelligence.

“It’s a good plan, Izz. Tell your friends we’re grateful for their help. You realize if something goes wrong, your people will be in the middle of the chaos.”

The truth of that statement settled on the little woman’s face. “Our whole race is in danger.” Her shoulders squared. “We can do this.”

By the time the men finished with the enclosure and tested the swinging gate that would trap the grawligs, Bardon felt like he’d been in battle for a day and spent the night rowing a boat across turbulent waters. Sweat soaked his clothing. His head spun with every step he took.

“Would you bring me a drink, Lo Kyl?”

“Another one, sir? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” He ruined the declaration by succumbing to a coughing fit. The soldier ran to get his drink.

Bardon lay on his cot, thinking that he should send for Kale and Gymn. Not that she would be able to come, even if he did locate her. But Lady Allerion’s herbal tea had done nothing to alleviate his misery. “Or maybe it did.” He groaned. “Maybe I’d be dead if I hadn’t swallowed that awful concoction.”

Sir Dar snored in the cot across the room. Bardon tossed his covers aside and turned over. Cold air hit his feet, and he scrambled to straighten the blankets.

“Sir!” a voice barked outside the door. “We’ve reports that grawligs are closing in on the trap.”

“Good!” Bardon sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the cot. He made the move too quickly. Clutching the side of the bed, he waited a moment for a wave of dizziness to pass.

He managed to get out of the tent right behind Dar. The little doneel scurried toward the dragon field. Both officers mounted their dragons and flew into the star-studded sky.

Greer immediately cross-examined his rider.

Bardon huffed.
There’s nothing wrong with me but a sore throat and headache…Yes, I’m fit enough for this mission. Quit nagging me.

Bardon and Dar circled low and saw the small band of grawligs crashing through the woods, headed for their trap. The dragon riders landed in a field on the opposite side of the trees, then jogged to the enclosure and climbed to the lookout platform above. The crude structure had half-walls around the sides except for the entrance at the top of the ladder.

Four kimens stood with their bows ready. The fifth kimen ran in circles within the enclosure. The baying of the grawligs drew nearer. Bardon shook, trying to release the tension all in one shake rather than shiver continuously.

The mountain ogres smashed through the last break the men had constructed. As they entered the trap, the lone kimen on the ground scurried up the wall to safety. Soldiers pushed the gate closed behind the grawligs. The kimens let loose with a barrage of arrows.

The grawligs froze in bewilderment, then spun back and forth, trying to figure out what had happened. Some slapped at the pricks caused by the tiny arrows.

Just as the words formed in Bardon’s mind that their trick was not working, a grawlig growled and attacked one of his comrades.

Izz turned to the back of the platform. “I’m not staying to watch this.” She disappeared over the edge, and the other kimens trailed behind her.

The noise from below reminded Bardon of stray dogs in an alley, fighting over a scrap of meat. Occasionally, he heard an oath, but for the most part there were no words, just animal grunts, snarls, and yelps.

“Go back to headquarters,” said Dar. “You look awful. Take some more of that tea Lady Allerion gave you and sleep.”

Bardon rose from his crouching position, clenching his jaw to hold back a moan. The aches had intensified in the cold treetop. “You wouldn’t call it tea if you’d had a sip.”

Dar, with his face turned away from the savage contest going on below, managed a chuckle. His expression turned somber. “Go home. Sleep. The men and I will clean up after this is over.”

Bardon thought of the climb down the ladder made of tree branches, the tramp through the woods, and the ride back to camp on Greer. He shivered, pulled a wool blanket out of his knapsack, and curled up on the rough floor of the lookout platform.

Sir Dar watched him make his bed. “Well, if you are determined to stay, I’m going.” He pulled a wad out of his carrier. “Here’s my blanket to add to yours.”

Dar gave orders to some men about the procedure he wanted followed. Within minutes Bardon fell into a deep sleep and heard no more.

Something bumped against his leg. “Oh, excuse me,” said a soft, high voice.

Bardon stirred and heard grawligs below. He sat up.

“I’m sorry,” said a kimen. “I tripped over you. They sent word for us to come back.”

Bardon shook the haze from his mind and leaned over to view the mayhem below. A marione lehman passed beneath on the outside of the barricades.

“Soldier, report!”

The man snapped to attention and looked around.

“Up here.”

The soldier lifted his gaze to the lookout platform. “Three more grawligs, sir. We’re having trouble getting them into the pen. They smell the kimen on the dead brutes and are confused.”

Bardon released the man. “About your business, soldier.” He turned to the five kimens waiting with their arrows notched. “Shoot arrows into the trap far away from the door. See if we can lure them in.”

The little warriors shot. The strings pinged, and the arrows swished through the air.

“Five more,” said Bardon.

The kimens complied.

One grawlig stumbled through the opening. He pulled in air through his nose and gave a roar. The other two ogres lurched into the trap. The door swung shut as the kimens drew bead on the milling monsters. Less than a minute after they had delivered the scented arrows, the grawligs turned on one another.

Bardon sank to the floor, his back against the lookout’s wall. “We should set this sort of trap up in other parts of Trese.”

“You’re sick.” Izz place her hand on his forehead. She turned to speak to one of her comrades.

Bardon heard what sounded like birds chirping to one another.
Birds wouldn’t be singing in the middle of the night. They certainly wouldn’t be this close to a grawlig brawl.

“Drink this,” a voice commanded.

Bardon sipped.

“Lie down.”

He allowed his body to collapse. Something squirmed beside him.

“Not on me.”

Another voice drifted through the fog of his mind. “What do you think is wrong with him?”

“I think he has stakes.”

“That’s a childhood disease.”

“Not if you get it as an adult.”

“He’s pretty sick, isn’t he?”

“He’s deathly ill.”

Bardon tried to open his mouth.
I’ll be fine. Just let me sleep.