DragonLight (18 page)

His aura is in great disharmony. Underneath, there lies a steady rim of green that indicates undeveloped potential. Tieto showed me images of his colors undulating. That was the first time I’ve seen what Regidor talks about. Fascinating. Really, Bardon, I can’t begin to describe it.

“Try, Kale. And walk faster while you do. He’ll get away from us.”

I could see a murky line wash through his aura like a ripple coming up on the bank of a river. Then the brighter colors diluted the ugly ones.

“What you’re basically saying is that he is still untrustworthy.”

Yes, but listen to this. Tieto says that a new thread appeared in his aura after we spoke to Wulder in the meeting. And the former colors have been quick to either absorb or repel that new thread.

“A new thread means what?”

Tieto says that the thread is Wulder’s.

“So Holt has a new element to deal with. And a mighty influential element it is.”

Exactly!

They caught up with Holt outside the three front doors of The Goose and The Gander. Night had come to the city of Vendela. In this part of town, clean, well-lit streets did not see many scoundrels and scalawags. No one feared they might be accosted by a ruffian.

In the light of a street lantern, Kale looked at Holt Hoddack’s youthful face. He didn’t have the look of a hardhearted conman. But wasn’t that why he was so good at wheedling into people’s good graces and then taking advantage of their gullibility? What did her husband see in him that she could not? When had Bardon’s suspicions and skepticism turned to trust?

Bardon took her elbow as, without a word, Holt strolled away from them. They followed a dozen steps behind.

“I believe,” said Bardon quietly, “that Wulder has chosen Holt for this mission.”

“First, Toopka has a destiny, and now Holt has a mission.” Kale tsked. “Wulder never seems to follow what I would call a logical plan.”

“Yet we have enough experience now to look back on the events we have witnessed. From this perspective we are able to see that His design did indeed reflect a superior strategy.”

“Yes, but why use people of weak character? The chance of failure is increased a hundredfold.”

Bardon quoted, “I saw him fall and did not know / his knees and hands were used to sow / one more seed in Wulder’s field / of honor and great deeds.”

Kale pulled from what little she had learned of ancient literature. “That’s from Poltace, isn’t it?”

“No, Barnácee. But you were in the right time period.”

Holt turned out of the market streets and into a residential area. His steps slowed.

This neighborhood worked together to present a variety of flowers in ornate boxes and barrels at every corner and at intervals down each block. The night air lifted the sweet scents from flowers hidden in shadows. Kale breathed deeply and thought fondly of her garden at the castle.

Holt paused between two lampposts so that darkness hid his features. Kale and Bardon walked up to him and stopped.

“I have one more thing to tell you,” Holt said. “I haven’t figured out why yet, but the Followers have a prejudice against all things that fly. They eat the flesh of no bird. Flying insects are loathed. And, most importantly to you, dear Dragon Keeper, they scorn dragons.”

“That’s an odd custom.”

“Everything about them is peculiar, except for the hunger for power you can see if you look for it. I recognize that vice easily enough.”

“But these arbitrary likes and dislikes…?”

“Sometimes I think these things are what they use to gauge how firmly they hold power over their members. Sometimes I think their decrees reflect an arrogant attitude of laying down a law just because they can.” He took a deep breath. “And sometimes I think that the deviant edicts come from a deep source of evil. The machinations of such a perverse master are beyond what our minds can grasp. Only Wulder is wise enough to untangle their webs.”

“Do you really believe that, Holt?” asked Bardon.

“I do.”

“Then in the end, you will be all right.” Bardon rubbed his chin. “I have one more question for you.”

“Make it quick. I’m late as it is.”

“When I was in the village of Paladise, I saw a bird carved on each doorstep.”

“The Sellaran, an extinct bird they believe will rise again. They don’t say how, of course. But these birds were huge, and the Followers hope they will destroy what is left of the dragons.”

Kale clenched her fists. “That doesn’t make sense at all. The timing is wrong. Since the end of the war, we’ve had more dragons hatched than in the two hundred years before.” She looked at Bardon. “It would have made more sense to try to annihilate them when their numbers were at an all-time low.”

“None of what they do makes sense to me. Why single out dragons to abuse them?”

Holt fiddled restlessly with the strap of his backpack. “I don’t have time to debate the issue. I must be on my way.”

Kale hugged him. “The house you’re going to is close, is it not?”

“The next block.”

“I did listen to you back at the inn, Holt. I do realize how hard this will be.”

He patted her on the back and pushed her away. “Don’t worry. I’ll be deemed a sterling quality listener. Partly because they think they can get more money out of me, and more importantly, my father’s land. They don’t want to lose me. And partly because I am as good at a con as they are.”

Kale twisted her fingers together. “What if they decide they’ve made a mistake in bringing you into their fold?”

“The elders always say that their choice of listeners is infallible.”

Bardon scoffed. “They never choose someone who will fail?”

“They claim that.” Holt looked Bardon in the eye. “No one who has once made the commitment ever returns to a normal life. Their proof is in the fact that no one has ever returned from Paladise.”

         
22
         

L
ESSONS FOR
S
URVIVAL

Kale lay on her stomach with her hands folded on the blanket, and her chin resting on her knuckles. “Try again.”

Crispin spread his front legs apart and lowered his body until the grass tickled his chin. He set his eyes on the pile of twigs in front of him.

“Make a circle with your mouth,” coached Kale.

The red dragon pursed his lips.

“No, like this.” Kale puckered as if to whistle. “There has to be a hole for the air to go through.” She tooted a shrill note.

Crispin blew, but instead of the stream of fire they hoped for, a thin, reedy whistle issued from his mouth.

“Don’t be distressed. We can work through this problem. It’s merely frustrating, not the end of the world.” She massaged his side with a tiny circular pressure. “You’re going to have to analyze where the fire comes from when you flame by accident. That will increase your chances of being able to generate a blaze when you want to. Do you think you can remember to be more aware of what goes on when you hiccup?”

She waited for him to think it over and decide that he could try to be attentive to what was going on in his body. His hesitant tone didn’t inspire confidence in his Dragon Keeper.

“Fine.” She moved her fingertip from his side to the sensitive area under his front leg, and instead of stroking, she wiggled her nail against his skin.

Crispin collapsed in a fit of giggles. After a minute of writhing under her merciless tickling, he began to gasp. Tiny spurts of fire burst from his mouth. Kale carefully kept her hair, clothes, the blanket, and anything else that would easily scorch out of his range.

“Think, Crispin, where is it coming from?”

The dragon squirmed out of her reach and flopped over on his side, panting. Tiny bursts of flame accompanied each heave. As he rested, they diminished in size.

“Now, Crispin, now!” Kale urged. “Grab that teeny stream of fire. You can do it! Make it big. As big as you can!”

The red dragon hoisted himself to his feet, pulled in a huge lungful of air and blew. The blaze sputtered and went out.

“Wrong advice.” Regidor’s voice startled Kale.

She rolled over on her back and looked up, shielding her eyes from the morning sun. The meech dragon towered over her.

“I’ve never breathed fire, Reg. I can only guess how it’s done.”

“What? Librettowit has no books on the subject?” He offered Kale a hand, and she took it.

“I never thought to ask him.” Kale got to her feet and brushed her skirt. “Come, Crispin.” The dragon flew to perch on her shoulder. “Could you tell him how it’s done, Reg?”

“Certainly.”

Kale turned as the heavy fabric of Gilda’s dress announced her arrival.

She strode quickly to her husband’s side and took his arm. “I thought we’d be ready to go by now.”

“Now, my dear, how could we be ready, when you were not here to direct us?” Regidor patted her hand. “Did you enjoy your morning constitutional?”

Gilda scowled at the pile of sticks on the ground beside Kale’s blanket. “The fire’s not even started for morning tea?” She pointed a long finger. “Is this supposed to be a campfire? Even I can see it’s not constructed properly.”

“Crispin and I were just about to prepare the fire.” Regidor signaled to the minor dragon, and he flew to the meech’s head. Gilda stepped away.

Regidor did not comment on her sudden desertion but smiled pleasantly. “Gilda, my love, why don’t you make those mouthwatering biscuits that are such a marvel?”

“You know I don’t like to cook, especially with no stove. Why couldn’t Sir Dar come along? He positively hums with delight over a pot of stew.”

“He chose to escort Librettowit to his destination.”

“He can’t rejoin us soon enough for me. This entire expedition has started out badly. We’ve had unnecessary delays. We’ve had children added to our number. I detest these vermin that pass themselves off as minor dragons. How ridiculous! They’re nothing but pets. And that brute Brunstetter has come along.”

Kale had been briefly offended at the slur against her dragons, but the absurd charge against the noble urohm touched her funny bone. She choked on laughter at the picture of handsome and gallant Brunstetter somehow being touted as a grawlig. Gilda glared at her.

“I’m sorry, Gilda, but you just can’t call Lord Brunstetter a brute. Honestly, you can’t. He lives in a castle much finer than ours. He rules over a territory in Ordray. His family has been aristocracy for generations. He even dresses far more elegantly than most of Sir Dar’s court.”

Kale’s laughter had bubbled out as she eyed the only other adult female on their quest. Life was going to be very hard if Gilda didn’t face some facts. In spite of the danger of ruffling Regidor’s pride, Kale decided to continue. “And, Gilda, he is much more genteel in his behavior than you are.”

Gilda’s mouth dropped open, then snapped shut. She turned her angry eyes from Kale to her husband.

Regidor lifted Crispin from his perch on his bald head. “We fire dragons are going to start the campfire.”

He scooped up the small array of sticks with one hand and moved over to the site where a cook fire had been laid the night before.

Gilda tromped over to stand nose to nose with Kale. “You can’t have him.”

“What?”

“He’s mine, and you can’t have him.”

“What are you talking about?”

Kale’s eyes widened as she heard Gilda’s teeth grind.

Gilda spoke in a growl. “Don’t pretend. I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

“Gilda, I knew him before he hatched. I’m like his mother.”

For one second, Kale thought Regidor’s wife would spit on her. But Gilda spun away in a flurry of skirts.

Kale turned to Regidor to see if he had taken note of what had just passed between his wife and herself. He seemed oblivious, busy with the fire and coaxing Crispin to set a stick aflame.

Bardon and Brunstetter came trudging through the young woods with fishing poles and two strings of large lake giddinfish.

Their laughter ceased when Bardon looked into Kale’s eyes. In a moment, she poured out her confusion without saying a word. Brunstetter remained quiet, obviously aware that something was amiss.

Before Bardon could respond, the minor dragons came from every direction, screeching, squawking, and raising a ruckus.

Kale hissed. “Black dragons coming.”

Bardon dropped his pole and fish and ran the distance between him and Kale. “Into shelter for you.” He grabbed the blanket from the ground and hustled her toward the closest tent. He lifted the flap and thrust the blanket into her hands. “Wrap up in this for extra protection.”

Remembering the stings from before, Kale thought hiding was a good idea. She swathed herself in the heavy material and stretched out on the pallet she’d slept in. With frantic fingers, she made sure every part of her was covered, tucking in the edges of the blanket. A minute passed. She took shallow breaths and tried to ignore the sweat gathering on her back. She wished she were out in the open and seeing what was happening.

Oh, Bardon. This bond between us is so convenient. I’m watching through your eyes.

She heard him chortle.
“Now that you’re safe, your little friends have quit raising the alarm. Look, they’ve taken posts in the trees and are standing guard.”

As Bardon located each of the nine minor dragons, Kale saw them. This region had been burnt by fire dragons back in the war between Stox and Cropper. None of the trees were over five years old. The dragons looked like big, beautiful blossoms in the young branches.

Where’s Gilda?

Bardon’s gaze swept the campground. Regidor stood ready with Crispin on his shoulder. Brunstetter had abandoned his morning catch and drawn his sword. Toopka and Sittiponder hung back, remaining near the doorway to the huge tent they shared with the urohm.

“Sittiponder,” yelled Bardon, “take Toopka inside and make her stay there.”

The blind tumanhofer grabbed the doneel girl’s arm before she could slip away and tugged her into the tent.

“Gilda must be in her tent.”
Bardon paused.
“Do you hear them?”

A drone reached the camp from beyond the crest of the hill.

I don’t think I hear them directly, but I hear you hearing them.

The volume of the buzz increased. The sound produced a quiver along Bardon’s skin. Kale reacted with goose bumps.

Bardon, be careful. Remember their stings caused you to have a stakes relapse.

“They only stung me because I was defending you. Hopefully, they’ll pass over without even realizing you’re here.”

Bardon spotted the cloud as it came over the horizon. The swarm approached but looked like it would bypass the camp on the northern side by at least a hundred yards. The hum in the air continued to swell.

“I believe this swarm is bigger than the last one we saw.”

I think so too.

“They’ve changed directions, Kale. They’re coming this way.”

I see.
She squeezed her eyes closed, but the image in her mind reflected what Bardon saw. He watched the ominous cloud come nearer. She shivered.

“They may still go right over us.”

The drone increased in pitch to a whine. Bardon winced and covered his ears. They closed in on the camp, circled, and then attacked the tent where Kale hid.

From inside the tent, Kale heard the rapid thuds of the small bodies hitting the canvas. From Bardon’s perspective, she saw the beasts regroup to attack again. This time, fiery explosions shot from their tiny mouths. She smelled scorched cloth but knew the tent had not caught on fire. With determined concentration, she added a shield to the weave of the canvas, one she had first seen used by Sir Dar when attacked by grawligs many years before.

Brunstetter and Bardon swung their swords like boys playing stick-ball. They connected with the tiny targets, and oddly, the black dragons did not turn on their assailants. The beasts continued to focus on Kale. So far they had not penetrated her wizard’s armor.

Ha! I’m better prepared, you nasty little beasties. Last time I didn’t have time to think. This time I did my thinking beforehand.

Regidor threw fireballs, hitting the creatures above the tent as they recovered from their latest barrage against Kale’s frail canvas fortress. The minor dragons flew above and spat into the swarm. Crispin joined his comrades in the air. Kale cheered when she saw a stream of flame burst from the little red dragon’s mouth.

The incinerated black dragons fell to the ground. On impact, they burst like delicate china teacups, leaving small piles of ashes instead of evidence of bone and body.

As quickly as it had begun, the attack was over. The straggling remains of the swarm flew off together. Bardon gave the all clear, and Kale climbed out of her cocoon.

Gilda joined them outside the seared tent. “They only attacked Kale?”

Regidor put his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Yes.”

“Then perhaps we should send her home.”

“What?”

“She attracts trouble. We don’t need trouble to hinder our search for the meech colony.”

A low growl emanated from Regidor’s throat. “She stays.”

Gilda tossed her head and strolled back to her tent.

“It’s only the future of an entire race you are toying with, my dear husband.”

Regidor closed his eyes, sighed deeply, then turned to follow his wife.