Two Renegade Realms (Realm Walkers Book 2) Read online

  Other books by Donita K. Paul

  Realm Walkers series

  1 | One Realm Beyond

  ZONDERVAN

  Two Renegade Realms

  Copyright © 2015 by Donita K. Paul

  ePub Edition © December 2014: ISBN 978-0-310-73584-7

  Requests for information should be addressed to:

  Zondervan, 3900 Sparks Dr. SE, Grand Rapids, Michigan 49546

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Paul, Donita K.

  Two renegade realms / Donita K. Paul.

  pages cm. — (Realms walkers ; book 2)

  Summary: “Cantor, Bixby, and Dukmee must band together to find the storied realm walker Chomountain after the devastating attack by the corrupt Realm Walkers Guild; however, the great wizard is not as he once was” — Provided by publisher.

  ISBN 978-0-310-73581-6 (pbk.)

  ISBN 978-0-310-73584-7 (epub)

  [1. Space and time — Fiction. 2. Adventure and adventurers — Fiction. 3. Best friends — Fiction. 4. Friendship — Fiction. 5. Dragons — Fiction. 6. Wizards — Fiction. 7. Shapeshifting — Fiction. 8. Christian life — Fiction. 9. Fantasy.] I. Title.

  PZ7.P278344Two 2014

  [Fic] — dc23

  2014032685

  All Scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from The Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.® Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.

  Any Internet addresses (websites, blogs, etc.) and telephone numbers in this book are offered as a resource. They are not intended in any way to be or imply an endorsement by Zondervan, nor does Zondervan vouch for the content of these sites and numbers for the life of this book.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means — electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other — except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.

  The author is represented by the literary agency of Alive Communications, Inc., 7680 Goddard Street, Suite 200, Colorado Springs, CO 80920, www.alivecommunications.com

  Cover design: Kris Nelson

  Cover illustration: Steve Rawlings

  Interior design: David Conn

  14 15 16 17 18 19 20 /DCI/ 19 18 17 16 15 14 13 12 11 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  CONTENTS

  PROLOGUE

  1. TUNNELS

  2. OLD FRIENDS

  3. ORRERIES

  4. FOOD FOR THOUGHT

  5. AWAKENING

  6. WHAT’S NEEDED

  7. UNEXPECTED COMPANY

  8. SIDE TRIP?

  9. THE OUTSIDE OF THE OTHER SIDE

  10. INTO THE DARK

  11. STILL IN THE DARK

  12. SNAG

  13. BRIGHT VALLEY

  14. TROUT

  15. NO PLACE LIKE TROUT’S HOME

  16. COMPANY

  17. WHAT DO WE KNOW?

  18. A PATIENT

  19. WARNING

  20. END AND BEGINNING

  21. CHOMOUNTAIN

  22. SORTING THINGS OUT

  23. SORTING OTHER THINGS OUT

  24. A FLOOD AND A GLOBE

  25. I HEARD YOU COMING

  26. A LONG NIGHT

  27. KABOOM!

  28. INITIAL PREPARATIONS

  29. GATHERING FORCES

  30. CHO’S SURPRISES

  31. A TRIP TO EFFRAM

  32. PLANS FOR DEFENSE

  33. FINDING HELP

  34. FIVE DRAGONS — FIVE BARRELS

  35. THE BEAST

  36. DRAGON FIGHT

  37. THE FIRST STONE

  38. HIGTRAP ONCE AGAIN

  39. OH NO, NOT AGAIN!

  40. A TEGAN ENCOUNTER

  41. FINDING THE RIGHT CLUES

  42. ANOTHER ROOM

  43. WITHIN FOREVER

  44. GATHERING TO BE DONE

  45. FOREVER YIELDS CLUES

  46. A RESCUE

  47. OH MY, OH MY, OH MY!

  48. LINE OF DEFENSE

  49. CASTING ROCKS

  50. ALWAYS A FLY

  PROLOGUE

  You’re Cantor D’Ahma, aren’t you?” The soft, feminine voice turned him from the dusty bookshelves.

  His light globe didn’t reach into the darkness between the library stacks, but a swish of fabric and a slight movement gave away the speaker’s position. She stepped into the circle of illumination, and Cantor bowed deeply.

  “Your Highness.”

  Bixby’s mother came forward and put a hand on Cantor’s arm. She squeezed it gently. “You’ve grown in the two years since I saw you last.”

  “I apologize for my hasty departure.”

  “Bixby was quite upset.”

  “I haven’t seen her since.” Though he’d looked for her in every village and city and realm he and Bridger had visited. Their paths had never crossed.

  The queen wrapped her arm around his and serenely moved him toward the exit.

  Cantor let her lead him. Being rude to the queen of Richra wasn’t diplomatic. Even he, without the extensive and formal training of a Realm Walker, knew that. He bent to hear her next comment.

  “Well, that was two years ago. I told her at the time why you left so abruptly.”

  Cantor furrowed his brow. That was interesting. He didn’t know himself why he had been in such a hurry.

  A buzz in his ear gained his attention. She was probably probing his mind, but he did nothing to put up a guard.

  Queen Mazeline patted his arm. “I told her you had been through your first big battle, that you weren’t satisfied with the results, and you needed time to discover it was not your personal failure.”

  Cantor swallowed the harrumph that rose to his throat. Yes, those had been his feelings, though he’d never been able to put them into words. In fact, he’d avoided even thinking about those days.

  The warmth of the queen’s arm on his spread a soothing peace through him as he listened to her sort out and label the quagmire of emotions he had kept at bay.

  “You were injured, dear boy, and not a life-threatening, heroic wound, but small cuts and scratches and bruises. You didn’t have a full measure of your worth, and therefore your pride was jeopardized. You believed that your inconsequential injuries showed you had not been engaged in a proper defense of those in your care.”

  Cantor spit the distasteful word from his mouth. “Pride. Primen loathes a haughty head.”

  “That’s right, dear, and only experience teaches humility. Everyone is born with that particular vice.”

  Cantor chewed on these words for a few moments as they climbed the stairs to the ground level of the library. He believed her assessment was correct. Bixby had said her mother had the ability to reveal a person’s heart. She also said the revelation could be quite uncomfortable.

  They approached the door, and Cantor saw Jesha sitting in the sunshine on the wide marble step outside. Her tail wrapped around her feet, making her look like a splotchy statue of a regal cat. As Bridger said, Jesha sat for effect more than comfort in public. In private, she could be most undignified, sprawling in contortionist poses on whatever took her fancy. In fact, Bridger’s current position at the bottom of the steps was reminiscent of Jesha at her most unguarded; his feet and tail spilled out onto the cobblestone street.

  “You had to go.” The queen’s voice startled him after the silence in the hushed atmosphere of the grand foyer. “You had to jump into worthwhile activity to drive away the feelings of inadequacy.”

  He opened the glass door and follo
wed her out into the beautiful day. Cantor knew from an earlier exploration that the street before them ran around the palace wall, then to colorful artisan shops, staid museums, the courthouse, quiet restaurants, and a music shop complete with a string quartet playing out front.

  The town was nothing like the small villages Cantor was used to. The only animal-pulled vehicles allowed in this area were the royal coaches. The street had a few handcarts in view. One sold flowers, and another sold cool drinks in pretty colors.

  Before the palace, people strolled. Even the children and dogs walked with decorum. The harmony of pastel colors and elegant movement made a pretty scene.

  Bixby had explained that the flowering bushes in planters along the walkway infused the air with a calming fragrance. In other words, everyone was drugged. Cantor dismissed the staged tableau and addressed the queen. “I went to continue my search for Ahma and Odem.”

  Queen Mazeline nodded. Nothing disturbed her serenity.

  At the sound of hoofbeats, Cantor’s glance moved toward the library at the side of the palace. The wooden wheels of a small trap clattered on the cobblestone street as it turned the corner. Pulled by two guprada horses and driven by a small man in livery, it approached the bottom of the wide marble steps and stopped.

  Bridger, roused from a nap, sprang to his feet and looked quickly around. Once he'd collected himself, he bowed to the queen. His court manners outshone Cantor’s, but the dragon’s clumsiness usually spoiled his elegant poise. Cantor felt a grin tug at the corner of his mouth. He’d grown fond of Bridger.

  The queen nodded at the dragon then continued her helpful evaluation of Cantor’s previous state of emotions. “Your search for Ahma and Odem was your duty. I would not have thought of you doing anything else. But now another cause must take precedence. And perhaps you will locate your mentors in your pursuit of the information the king requests you to obtain.”

  She turned a dazzling smile on him. For a moment, Cantor saw the distinct beauty of her daughter, Bixby, reflected in her features. He missed Bixby with a sudden clench of his heart.

  The queen’s eyebrows arched. “Bixby is on the same mission, has been for over a year. Perhaps she is the one you will discover first.”

  She let go of his arm and floated down the stairs with one more command tossed over her shoulder in the guise of polite social niceties. “Join us in the palace for tea this afternoon, Cantor. And bring your dragon constant. The king will give his counsel. He probably will tell you to remind Bixby she is supposed to send reports. And I shall tell you to remind her that her mother does need a letter from her. Just once in a while, not daily. Not an arduous demand.”

  TUNNELS

  On his stomach, with his arms above his head, Cantor D’Ahma twisted his large frame and forced his broad shoulders along the narrow passage. A light globe rattled within his wire-cage hat. The bobbling motion sent light and shadow flickering across rough rock walls.

  “You coming?” The dragon’s voice echoed a bit as it traveled the length of the tunnel.

  “Sure.” He grunted. “As soon as I wiggle through this rock wormhole you’ve lured me into.” He made little effort to keep the annoyance out of his voice. How, after three years, he was still plagued by Bridger’s bumbling ineptitude and ridiculous expectations, only Primen knew.

  Cantor’s voice rumbled low in his chest and then rolled down the passageway with a heavy resonance. “You’d better have measured these gaps properly, or you’ll be off to find miners to chip me out.”

  “You haven’t grown any more this month, have you?” Bridger asked. “You should be able to make it if your circumference isn’t any larger than it was two weeks ago.”

  “I thought we decided I wasn’t growing so rapidly now.”

  “We, the brains, decided that. I don’t know about you, the body.” Bridger’s voice echoed enough to make Cantor concentrate. With effort, he deciphered the words rolling over each other.

  “Yeah, well, this tunnel is a bit snug.” Cantor latched onto niches in the wall with his outstretched hands and toed the rough surface behind him. With another grunt, he heaved himself forward an inch. The next shove was more successful, and the one after that broke him free of his wedged position. He squirmed onward until the tunnel opened into a cave.

  With a hearty sigh, he rose up on his elbows and surveyed the open space, noting the low ceiling.

  He’d seen cabins bigger than this cave. And he’d seen prettier caves. No layered colors of sedimentary rocks striped the walls, no crystals, no unusual geological formations. Just a hollow expansion of the natural tunnels he and Bridger were exploring.

  In the middle of this ordinary stone room, his mor dragon sat on a colorful, cushy chair, conveniently provided by his own shape-shifted wings and tail. Bridger liked his comforts. Jesha, the dragon’s cat, curled at his feet, slumbering.

  With barely a glance at the incongruous scene, Cantor elbowed farther into the cavern, swung his long legs around, and sat up. He eyed the uninspiring room. “I’m beginning to think we’ve got the wrong mountain.”

  The dragon nodded, looking thoughtful and wise. Cantor almost rolled his eyes. Bridger could be legitimately thoughtful, but wise only happened by chance.

  “Could be we are in the wrong mountain. But do you really want to go back to that council library on Derson? Three weeks reading through dusty tomes is enough for me. Plus, the place was creepy. I always thought someone was watching us.”

  A small shudder ran over Cantor. They’d spent those weeks oscillating between spikes of fear whenever someone seemed close to identifying them and the mind-numbing boredom of searching through ancient texts for anything that could help them find the Library of Lyme. The King of Richra insisted that this ancient library be found, and supposedly, the only way to find it was to delve through libraries that were merely old, not ancient. It had been the last of a series of similar stops as the pair sought to avert the disaster that would occur when Lyme Major and Lyme Minor intersected their planar stack.

  “In my opinion,” Bridger continued, “it’s a waste of time to try to find another likely hidden place for the oar-REE-ree.” He paused, licking his lips and wrinkling his nose as he attempted to pronounce the tongue-twisting word. “Oarry-ree, no, or-er-ree. Another likely place for its library to be hidden.”

  Cantor cleared his throat and pronounced the word slowly in its parts and then as normally spoken. “OAR-rare-ree. Orrery.”

  Bridger nodded. “Yes, that. And the library that explains it.” He picked up Jesha and stroked her soft and colorful fur. “We kind of like these dry tunnels and caves. But you want us to go back to that dusty, smelly, spooky dungeon-like place with council spies probably lurking among the book stacks?”

  Cantor dug into his pocket and pulled out a flat hamper. “No, I’d rather eat.” He thrust his hand into the sagging sack, thinking about sausages, and pulled out a foot-and-a-half-long salami. He tried to think of what other foodstuffs he had stored in this convenient access to another dimension.

  “Ah,” said the dragon. As he sprang up, his body transformed to his normal shape. “It’s always good to eat.” He carried the cat with him and sat down beside Cantor. “But perhaps your increased appetite means you aren’t finished growing after all.”

  Cantor handed a loaf of bread to the dragon, then reached into the long, flat bag again. He groaned as he drew out a large hunk of very yellow cheese.

  Bridger smacked his lips and took the cheese as well. “I thought you liked this cheddar.”

  Cantor looked up at the dragon and quirked an eyebrow. Jesha’s nose quivered at the scent of one of her favorite foods.

  “You groaned,” Bridger said.

  “That was for the growing. In the last two years, I’ve gained fifteen inches in height. From five foot six to six foot nine. My feet are colossal. If my chest were made out of wood, I’d button my shirts over a barrel. And my voice sounds as if I’m deep inside that barrel.”

 
“Your singing has improved nicely,” Bridger pointed out. A mouthful of bread did nothing to deter his speaking.

  “My singing was all right the way it was. I’m a cantor.”

  “Not officially. You’re named Cantor, but you don’t hold a position in the sanctuary.”

  Cantor shrugged, took a swig from his flagon, corked it, and took an enormous bite out of a second loaf of bread from the hamper. He then put a saucer down and filled it from a small bottle of milk. Jesha jumped down to lap at the creamy liquid as Cantor put the bottle back into the hamper.

  Cantor gestured to the cave around them. “We’ve seen no sign of life. No writing on the walls. No implements left behind. Nothing to say, ‘Hey! People have been here before you.’ ”

  Bridger cocked his head and held up one digit. He whispered, “Did you hear that?”

  Cantor closed his eyes and concentrated, fine-tuning his gift of enhanced hearing. “No.”

  The dragon shrugged. “I don’t hear it now either.”

  “What was it?”

  Before Bridger could answer, his eyes opened wider. “There it is again. That sound.”

  Cantor heard it as well, a scrape of something hard against another hard surface. At the next noise — a human voice, a female human voice — he stood up.

  The low ceiling. He’d forgotten. Eyes watering, he squatted and rubbed the crown of his head, glad he hadn’t hollered and given away their presence to the owners of the mysterious voices.

  Still rubbing his tender scalp, he pointed to the second of the tunnels in the walls of the cave. “That way.”

  Bridger stuffed the remainder of his bread and cheese into his mouth and approached the entrance of a tunnel they had yet to explore. He nodded, and around the wad of half-chewed snack, he said, “I hear two voices — one man and one woman.”

  Cantor puzzled over this new development. Wisdom demanded a look at the situation before allowing this man and woman to know they had company. He spoke softly. “I can’t make out what they’re saying, can you?”

  Bridger shook his head. “There’s too much echoing in and out of all the tunnels and caves.”

  “That may deceive us as to where the voices originate.” Cantor slapped the dragon on his scaly shoulder. “Let’s go explore.”