DragonQuest (8 page)

         
13
         

A
NOTHER
P
LAN

Kale ran her fingers through her hair, grabbing hold and pulling as if she could yank the answer out of her head.

“We have to get the water above the blimmets. If the tornado’s above them, maybe the wind won’t blow everyone to smithereens.”

“How? How? How?” Toopka hopped with each word.

“Stop jumping,” barked Regidor.

“Jumping!” said Kale. “Regidor, imagine the tornado jumping! Hopping in the air, like Toopka.” She clamped her hands on his shoulders and gave him a shake. “Think of the tornado jumping into the air over the field and hold that thought. Hold the tornado in the air.”

Kale grabbed on to the image with her mind. As soon as she touched the energy of the storm, she knew it had already weakened. Their skills were not developed, and their minds certainly were not disciplined for such a tremendous task.

“Oh, Wulder, help.”

Regidor squeezed her arm. His clawlike fingernails pricked her flesh. His voice came out in a gravelly whisper. “The tornado is above the field. The blimmets are almost directly below and tunneling upward.”

“Hold the tornado,” begged Kale. She felt the energy of the whirling storm seeping away from her. “We have to control the tornado. Wait until the blimmets break the surface, then release it.” She moaned. “It’s falling apart, unraveling.”

“Hold it, Kale! The blimmets are almost to the top.”

“It’s weakening. I can’t.”

“Just a few more seconds.”

Kale begged Wulder to take over.
I can’t do it. I’m not strong enough. Wulder, I can’t.

“Now!” screamed Regidor.

Kale collapsed on the floor and felt the tornado give way to a cloudburst.

“What’s happening?” cried Toopka.

Regidor gave a hoot of triumph. “The blimmets are drowning. As they come out of the dirt, they get hit full in the face with water, tons of it.”

“Tons?”

“Well, maybe not tons.” He looked at the tiny doneel with annoyance, and then his face relaxed into a jubilant grin. He grabbed Toopka and whirled her around the room, dancing a jig and hollering. His long tail knocked over smaller furniture, but the clatter only added to the joyful noise.

Kale took deep breaths and scooted to sit with her back against Fenworth’s chair. She reached with her mind and checked each of her comrades. Everyone was drenched but healthy. She even touched Fenworth, reassuring herself that he was alive, even though she could not delve into his thoughts.

They’re safe. Thank You, Wulder.

A frisson of fear gave her goose bumps.

“Regidor?”

The dragon skipped to her side and plopped down on the floor, sitting in his favorite position with his legs crossed.

“We did it, Kale.”

She shook her head. “Where are the mordakleeps?”

Regidor closed his eyes, and a puzzled expression wrinkled his scaly brow.

“They’re strong. Stronger than before. The hurt ones are well again. Uncut, unbruised.”

Kale dropped her head into her hands. Not wanting to listen, she slid her palms over her ears. She still heard Regidor’s deep voice.

“Everything is wet and
that
helps
them.
Fenworth is still working on the dehydration spell. It’s almost finished, and he’s going to cast it around their tails, one by one.”

Regidor grabbed Kale’s hand and pulled it away from her ear. “Listen, Kale. Fenworth knows we brought the rain. Listen, he’s mindspeaking to both of us.”

She inclined her head and heard the wizard’s crackling voice.

“Clever, that was. Unasked for, of course. Unneeded, for sure. But good thinking on your part if not exactly thought through. Now, children, let’s see if you can follow directions. I doubt it, but we’ll try. I’m altering this dehydration spell. Tricky business, throwing in a switcheroo at the last moment. But I’m a wizard, you know. Quite experienced at adaptation.

“Now listen carefully, my inexperienced but worthy apprentices. Think of each of us here. Not the mordakleeps, of course. Not the blimmets, either, come to think of it. But us! Think wet on the inside, dry on the outside. Normal in and out. Got that?”

Both apprentice wizards nodded as if the old man stood beside them.

“We can help, Kale.” Regidor squirmed closer to her side and threw his arm around her shoulders. “Fenworth says we can help.”

“Me too,” said Toopka and flung herself into Kale’s lap.

“Here goes,” said Regidor, his voice rising in excitement. “He’s going to release it.”

“Are we helping?” squealed Toopka.

“Yes!” shouted Kale and Regidor in unison.

Kale squeezed Toopka’s hand gently. “It’s kind of like mindspeaking. We’re all connected, and Wulder’s part of it too. He’s the biggest part. Do you feel it, Toopka?”

Before she could answer, a shiver zinged through the three huddled on the floor. With their arms around each other, the power sprang from one body to the next, linking them as it sped several times in a circle. Exhilaration filled Kale as the intensity ebbed away.

“He did it!” cried Regidor. “He dried up everything. The rain, the field, their clothes. The mordakleeps are dying.”

“Why?” asked Toopka. “Did he cut off their tails?”

“No. Their tails are shriveling and breaking off. The water’s all gone, and their tails have to be in water because mordakleeps have gills and breathe like fish. The gills are in the tails, but now the tails are on dry land. Oh yuck! Dead mordakleeps kind of drip into the ground.” He wrinkled his long squarish nose. “Their bodies lose their shape and dissolve into a mass of icky goo when they die.”

A giggle escaped Kale’s throat. A tear ran down her cheek. She remembered the last time she’d battled mordakleeps. The slimy creatures oozed into the forest floor, leaving noxious fumes behind.

Giddiness followed relief. Kale leaned her head back on the seat of Fenworth’s chair and laughed. Soon Regidor and Toopka joined her with wild cackling and hiccupped giggles. Kale tried to stand, but laughter weakened her knees. She collapsed in the big chair and wiped tears from her eyes. Toopka and Regidor rolled on the floor around her.

“Harrumph!” Wizard Fenworth stood in the door. His dry hair stood out wildly around his head. He clutched his hat in his hand and shook it at them. Minnows flew all over the room and flopped around wherever they landed. Fenworth frowned at the wiggling mess, waved his hand about in a distracted manner, and the tiny fish disappeared.

The old wizard refocused on the three youngsters, glaring fiercely. He started to shake his hat again, thought better of it, and instead shook the crooked branch he carried in the other hand.

“That’s my chair, and I have need of it. Away with you. What are you doing up? Sleep. No one sleeps at a decent hour anymore.” He stomped a foot. “I’ll have discipline from those under my care. An apprentice should show respect. Two apprentices should show twice as much respect. Out of my chair. Away to bed with all of you. You’d think this was a holiday.”

Kale heard Librettowit muttering behind Fenworth. The tumanhofer shoved the wizard unceremoniously to the side and forced his way into the room. Dar and Bardon followed, stopping to remove their boots caked with dried mud.

“Tut-tut, oh dear.” Fenworth peered into his hat, shook dried leaves from the crown, and placed it on the hook by the entryway. A couple of mice dropped from his cloak and scampered out the open door. “We’ve company here and more coming.”

“Who’s coming?” asked Toopka.

The wizard growled, glared at the child, and pointed his bony finger her way. Toopka’s small frame rose into the air and floated across the room, landing in the hammock she called her bed.

“Tut-tut. Tomorrow, child, tomorrow.”

The lights went out, and Kale found herself in her own bed with the cover tucked around her.

How did I get here? Fenworth! I’ll never sleep. I’m too excited. I want to talk to Dar. I even want to hear what Bardon has to say about the battle with the mordakleeps.

In the background, she heard Toopka. “We didn’t get a bedtime snack.”

Regidor’s voice rumbled from some distance away. “You ate before you went to bed the first time.”

“But this is the second time. We didn’t have a second bedtime snack to go with the second bedtime.”

“I’ll fix you a second bedtime snack in the morning. You can have it for breakfast.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Kale smiled and rolled over. She closed her tired eyes. They were suddenly too heavy to hold open. The adventure seemed like something from a book. But no, it was real. She and Regidor had done something spectacular.

It’s a shame I don’t know how we did it.

She rolled over and pulled the blanket up to her chin.

“I didn’t even get to say hello to Dar,” she grumbled and promptly fell asleep.

         
14
         

L
ESSON
O
NE

“Time!” Wizard Fenworth entered the room lined with bookcases and stood with his hands folded over his beard.

Just minutes before, the wizard had hushed their excited chatter and banished them to a library.

“Lessons first,” he’d said, quelling their desire to go over the spine-tingling details of the night before.

All the occupants of the room raised their heads from the books they held and stared at Fenworth. Librettowit looked annoyed. Excitement quickly registered on Toopka’s and Regidor’s faces, a bit of wariness on Dar’s and Bardon’s. Kale tried to touch the wizard’s mind to see if she could pick up a clue as to what he meant.

“Tut-tut, Kale.” He shook his head at her.

She looked down, slightly embarrassed but unrepentant.
He’s not really mad at me.

She heard his distinctive chuckle in her mind and looked up to see him wink in her direction. She smiled back.

Fenworth clapped his hands together and then rubbed them together vigorously. “What do you say? Shall we begin?”

Librettowit cleared his throat. “That depends, Fenworth. What is it you propose to begin? Preparations for noonmeal? A quest? The laundry? Research into the geographical structure of Mount Kordenavis?”

The wizard frowned. “At times, Wit, you are entirely too frivolous for a librarian. I refer to the apprenticeship, of course.”

“Of course.” The tumanhofer nodded and returned his attention to his book.

“Kale, Regidor, come.” The wizard grabbed the edge of his cloak and swirled it around him, turning in place. “Toopka and Bardon, you may accompany us.”

Toopka sprang to her feet, tossing her small book on the table in front of Regidor.

Bardon slowly stood. “I’m not a prospect for wizardry, sir. I’ve no talent.”

“No sense?”

“No sir. I said no talent.”

“No talent! No sense! Nonsense. Come, my boy. You may observe.”

Bardon closed his book,
Knights in Service,
and placed it carefully on Librettowit’s table.

“On your feet, Kale, Regidor. We depart.”

They followed Wizard Fenworth onto the wide branches serving as walkways around his tree castle. They had to trot to keep up with the old man’s long, purposeful stride. He led them to the front door and into the common room.

Kale leaned against the doorjamb and watched Fenworth, Toopka, Bardon, and Regidor. Bardon had immediately settled in one of the chairs in the sitting area. Regidor balanced on his toes, his attention riveted on the wizard. The wizard stood next to the worn kitchen table, patting his long beard. Toopka hopped onto a three-legged stool, put her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands. Her eyes were glued to the old wizard. Clearly, she thought this would be more interesting than Regidor’s lessons on reading.

“Regidor,” Fenworth commanded, “get us a bowl big enough to put our little doneel in.”

Toopka’s eyes widened, and she sat up straight, placing her hands demurely in her lap.

“Our first lesson in wizardry”—Fenworth looked purposely at Regidor and then at Kale—“will be transforming existing material supplied by Wulder into a different form.”

Toopka slid off her seat and edged toward the door.

“Stay, my little Toopka.” Fenworth bestowed upon her his most charming smile. “You will be needed.”

Toopka shook her head warily. “Librettowit’s gonna help me write my letters.”

“You told Regidor at breakfast you had learned them all.”

Toopka gulped, took a step closer to the door, and nodded. “All the capitals.” Her bobbing head stopped midmotion and became side-to-side denial. “I’m not doing very well with the small ones.”

Fenworth gestured for her to return to her seat. “Time enough for that later. You’ll learn a bit here, being in the thick of things.”

Fenworth perched on a high wooden stool and folded his arms into the sleeves of his loose silken robe. His face twitched in annoyance, and he brought out one hand. A gray mouse dangled by its tail from his long fingers. He leaned over, set the animal on the floor, and waved his hand in a wide circle over the cowering creature. “Begone!”

The mouse scurried away.

Fenworth resumed his posture on the stool, with his arms crossed and hidden in his robe. The color of the fabric shifted from red to orange to purple and settled in a blue darker than the evening sky. A myriad of twinkling stars dotted the robe. A few pinpoints of light dusted his shoulders, but as the material flowed to the ground, the stardust grew more dense until the hem glowed brightly with starshine.

“We will need,” said the wizard in solemn tones, “the fine powder ground from the annual grasses of the class of Triticum. And three ova of
Gallus domesticus.
”

Regidor narrowed his eyes. “We need flour and three eggs.”

Kale listened as Fenworth gave convoluted instructions and watched Regidor assemble the ingredients for an ordinary cake. She had seen women in River Away bake just such a cake.

Sighing, she relaxed against the frame of the door and let her gaze roam the room. Bardon soon picked up a book and didn’t even pretend to be interested in the cooking class. Regidor nodded seriously at Fenworth when given instructions, then winked at the doneel child at every chance. Kale moved quietly into the room and sat beside Toopka.

“He was just fooling.” Toopka gave her a toothy grin. “I’m not going to be part of the cake.”

Kale nodded. She couldn’t see that this baking had any wizardry to it. She watched all the more carefully to see how Wizard Fenworth might surprise them with a twist of magic in the making of one two-layered round cake. Nothing but the extravagant names he gave for ordinary baking powder, butter, sugar, and vanilla was any different from the way any marione mistress put together a cake for Sunday dinner.

While the cake baked in the old oven, Kale, Toopka, Wizard Fenworth, and Regidor sat around the table playing benders.

Toopka’s cards kept falling out of her hands. Regidor patiently helped her sort them and get them back in order.

“She’s won,” he said as he again helped rearrange her hand. “She has each of the seven high races and two wizards.”

“Two wizards, you say?” Fenworth rubbed the beard at his chin. “An excess. One wizard suffices for almost any task. Kale, take the cakes out and let them cool.”

The wizard rose from the table and put the cards back on the shelf. Standing over the cakes, he rubbed his hands together.

“Shall we have mallow or cream frosting?”

“Chocolate!” squealed Toopka.

“Very well.” He went over and sat in his large cushioned chair, nodding to Dar and Librettowit as they entered. “Dar, be a good fellow and teach them how to make frosting.”

Soon the wizard was snoring as the group around the table measured and stirred.

“Do we get to eat it when we finish?” asked Toopka.

“Of course we do,” said Regidor.

Librettowit shook his head. “Maybe not.”

Both Toopka and Regidor stopped to stare at the tumanhofer, disbelief written clearly on their young faces.

Librettowit cleared his throat. “Remember Fenworth said we had company and more company coming. He could intend this for our guests when they arrive.”

Toopka leaned across the table, eyes bright and a grin touching her black lips. “Who’s coming?”

Librettowit cast a sidelong glance at the sleeping wizard and lowered his voice. “He hasn’t said, but it stands to reason that if you’re about to embark on a dangerous quest, Paladin would send warriors.”

Bardon dropped his book in his lap and sat up with a jerk.

Fenworth’s snores ceased abruptly. Without opening his eyes, he spoke. “Supposition. What need have we of Paladin’s warriors? We have a wizard, two apprentice wizards, two strong, able men, and a librarian.”

“Not me,” objected Librettowit loudly. “Count me out. I’m staying with the books and the comfort of home. I’m not going questing.”

Kale remembered the fiasco of their attempt to create and control a tornado. The creating part had gone all right, but nothing afterward had gone as planned. “Pardon me, Wizard Fenworth, but I think your two apprentices are inexperienced.”

“Nonsense!” Fenworth stood, stretched, and turned to the table. He came across the room and stood, patting his beard. “Tut-tut, you have no confidence in yourselves. You’ve already had your first lesson in wizardry.”

Toopka’s face folded into a fierce scowl. “Baking a cake is wizardry?”

“Oh dear, oh dear, I see you don’t fully comprehend.”

“It’s just a cake,” said Toopka. Her words directly reflected Kale’s thoughts.

“Harrumph. Toopka, when you turn and look at the counter, what do you say then, dear little doneel?”

All eyes shifted to the plain wooden counter along the kitchen wall. There sat another cake, the exact duplicate of the one they had just made.

Fenworth’s eyes twinkled as he watched the expressions on their faces. “And then there’s the cake on the table in front of Bardon.”

Again, everyone in the room turned as one to see a third cake, which had appeared out of nowhere.

Regidor harrumphed. “That still doesn’t mean Kale and I can make cakes appear all around the room.”

“It doesn’t?” Fenworth tilted his gray head to one side as if considering the matter. He stood that way for almost a minute, long enough for a vine to shoot out a tendril from his beard. “Are you sure, Regidor?” He considered the young meech dragon. “Have you tried?”

Regidor’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. He shook his head slowly.

Fenworth clapped his hands together, a smile breaking across his wrinkled face. “That does it, then. You must try. Tut-tut. Can’t say you can’t until you’ve tried. Kale, come here and stand next to Regidor.”

Kale hurried across the room and stood shoulder to shoulder with her fellow apprentice.

Now he’s going to teach us!
She grinned at Dar across the room.

“Close your eyes, both of you,” commanded Fenworth. “Picture in your mind the milk and eggs being stirred into the flour and baking powder.

“A batter forms. Since this is one of Wulder’s principles, there is nothing you can do to stop this particular combination from turning into cake batter.”

Kale heard Bardon come to stand behind her. She inhaled the citrus smell of another o’rant. All her people carried the same tart fragrance.

Do all my people have an innate ability to perform wizardry? Could Bardon be an apprentice too?

“Tut-tut, your mind is wandering, Kale.”

Kale squelched the annoyance she felt. Bardon’s presence had distracted her. She paid strict attention to Wizard Fenworth’s deep, rough voice.

“Imagine pouring the mixture into pans and placing them in the oven. Yes, yes, that’s right. The heat causes the batter to rise and solidify, another handy edict from Wulder.

“Think, think, children. What comes next? Oh dear, oh dear, don’t jump ahead to the frosting, Regidor. Cool your cake.”

Kale heard Bardon expel a breath of air and felt the hair on the back of her head stir.

I will
not
let that bothersome lehman get me in trouble. I
will
pay attention to my teacher.

“Wizardry is all a matter of appreciating Wulder’s creation, taking the time to understand the intricacies of the universe and then applying that knowledge. Quite simple, really.

“Slowly, slowly, step by step. Wulder has established what will go together and what will not. You are merely following His directions.”

Toopka’s high-pitched squeal pierced the room. “Oh! Look! Look!”

Kale opened her eyes. Two more cakes sat on the table beside the first.

“Excellent!” Fenworth beamed and clapped his hands. “Enough wizard’s cake for company, I should say. Unless Paladin sends us more than one urohm.”