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  She wanted to talk to Dar, ask him some things. How far? How soon? Would the mordakleeps be there? But her tongue wouldn’t form the questions. As soon as she curled up on the moonbeam cape and pulled it around her like a gray cocoon, she fell asleep.

  Kale opened her eyes to a misty morning. Hazy sunlight filtered through the branches above. A small creature scuttled across her shoulder and down her back. The tread of the animal raced down her leg and back up. As it reached her thigh, Kale sat up with a jerk. She relaxed when she saw it was Gymn. He scurried in another direction, made a leap, and caught a bug. He chewed only a second before he swallowed and then went in pursuit of more breakfast. He never ventured more than a couple of feet away from Kale.

  The aroma of sweet porridge drew Kale’s attention. Steam from Dar’s cooking pot swirled around his hand as he stirred with a long-handled wooden spoon.

  Kale rubbed sleep from her eyes and crossed her legs.

  We should get up and move. But Dar’s fixing breakfast, and there’s no hurrying him. She sniffed the air and smiled as she watched him. He’d say, “Doneels take their meals seriously.” And, “You can’t expect to think and act your best on an empty stomach.” I know a lot about him and how he’ll act. I think I know more about how he’ll act in a crisis than I know what I’ll do. I’m willing to sit here and wait for him to produce some delicacy. I do want to find Leetu, but I’m afraid of what we’ll find with her.

  Her stomach rumbled. Oats fortified with dried parnot fruit tantalized her nose with a savory odor.

  “I had a dream last night,” she said, trying to get her mind off food.

  “An interesting dream?” Dar lifted his stirring spoon to his lips and tasted.

  “I don’t know.”

  He took a pinch of white powder from an open packet beside the small cookstove and dropped the grains into the pot. He stirred slowly.

  “What was it about?”

  “A dragon.”

  “A meech?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never seen a meech. This dragon is larger than Merlander, though.”

  Dar nodded. “Not a meech.”

  Kale tilted her head and thought. “It’s funny, Dar. I can still see her. It’s kind of like the dream is still going on, even though I’m awake.”

  Dar’s ears perked up, and he stopped stirring. “What is the dragon doing?”

  “Nothing much. She’s sad and lonely. She’s wounded.”

  “Where is she?”

  “In a barn.”

  “What else is in the barn?”

  “Nothing. I mean, no animals, no hay. It’s empty. The gray boards in the walls have gaps so I can see outside. The air is cool and dark and damp.”

  “That’s not a dream, Kale.” Dar sounded excited. “You’ve connected with a dragon. Don’t lose her.”

  “Lose her? How can I keep from losing her? I don’t know how I got her. Or even what it means when you say I connected with her.”

  Dar dished up lumpy porridge into a bowl, stuck a spoon in it, and hurried over to serve Kale. “Eat this. We have to go.”

  Something about his expression worried Kale. “To find Leetu, right?”

  “No, to find that dragon.”

  “Leetu is more important.”

  Dar hurried back to his cookstove. He extinguished the flame as he ate hasty bites of breakfast straight from the pot.

  “Bigger than Merlander, you said. She can probably carry both of us. Kale, if we find this dragon, we can fly to where Leetu is, and just as important as getting to her in time is being able to get away once we rescue her. And we need to get away fast. Doesn’t a dragon sound pretty convenient for this type of mission?”

  “But she’s wounded.”

  “You have a healing dragon.”

  A dozen more arguments popped into Kale’s head. They didn’t know for sure where Leetu was or where the dragon was. What if Leetu died while they made this detour to find a dragon who might not want to help them?

  She opened her mouth to speak, but Dar interrupted her before she got out one word.

  “What’s her name?”

  Kale stared at him, surprised that she knew the answer. She swallowed hard. What was going on? “Celisse.”

  Dar whooped and made a leap into the air. “She knows you’re coming, Kale. She’s given you her name. What’s she doing now?”

  Gymn slowly settled on Kale’s knee. He stretched out with his body along her thigh. His legs and tail went limp, and he closed his eyes. Kale took one finger and gently stroked his back. He sighed and rolled over. His swollen belly looked like a round pomegranate. Obviously he’d found enough insects to make him content. Kale looked at Gymn, but in her mind a large shadowy image hovered behind the minor dragon. A massive, placid female dragon swayed her head back and forth.

  “She’s humming,” Kale answered Dar’s question.

  Soon after they began their trek, they had to descend to the swamp. The cygnot forest thinned at the edge of The Bogs. Kale followed Dar, hopping from one root curved up out of the water to the next until they began to find patches of sodden earth and then dry land. Dar and Kale came out of Bedderman’s Bog and clambered up the embankment. Muggy fog blanketed The Midways.

  “Which way?” asked Dar.

  Kale nodded one direction. “Leetu is there.” She turned and nodded in another direction, not quite opposite. “Celisse is there.”

  “Which one is closer?”

  “The dragon.”

  “Let’s go then.” Dar started off, wading through the tall, dew-drenched grass. He disappeared into the cloud hovering on the ground.

  Kale planted her feet and didn’t budge. “We can’t even see where we’re going.”

  She heard him stop. He muttered something under his breath and came back.

  “It doesn’t much matter if we can see or not,” he said. “It’s not like we know where we’re going. We don’t have to look for landmarks. We just have to follow your instincts. You will take us to the dragon, and then you will take us to Leetu.”

  Kale started to object, then swallowed the words that came to her mouth. Dar was right. For this one time, she had to lead.

  “This is my destiny,” she whispered.

  “This is only the beginning, and we’re going to miss it if you keep lally-gagging. Come on.”

  They marched through the field until they came to a road.

  “Which way?” asked Dar.

  Kale clearly felt the wounded dragon’s misery and nodded toward Celisse.

  Several miles later, the morning mist had still not burned off. Kale took hold of Dar’s sleeve and slowed to a stop.

  “We’re close, Dar,” she whispered, “but there are other creatures here.”

  “Animals? A barn should mean there are animals around.”

  “These aren’t farm animals.”

  “Then protect yourself before you reach into their minds.”

  “What?” Kale’s fingers dug into Dar’s arm. “Reach into their minds? No.”

  “Would you rather walk into a trap?”

  Kale was silent.

  Dar put a hand on her arm. “Do you remember the words Granny Noon told you?”

  She nodded.

  “Say them.”

  “I stand under Wulder’s authority.”

  “Go ahead then,” Dar urged her.

  Kale sank to her knees and concentrated. She felt a malevolent force batter her mind, but she repeated the words, I stand under Wulder’s authority.

  “Four,” she told Dar. “Bisonbeck men. They are to guard the dragon and not let her escape.” Kale gasped. “Oh Dar, they shoot her. Twice a day, they shoot her with a poison arrow. They come in with a big, ugly crossbow and shoot her while she’s still helpless from the last arrow. It keeps her docile. Wizard Risto is coming to enslave her with his magic. Tonight. He’ll be there tonight.”

  Kale then turned her mind to Celisse, deliberately allowing herself to touch the dragon’s feelings.
She recoiled from the encounter. “Oh, Dar. She’s so sick she can hardly move. I’m glad we came to rescue her.”

  “Concentrate on the bisonbecks, Kale,” Dar ordered. “Do you know where they are standing guard?”

  Kale nodded, her eyes still closed. “One in front, one in back. The other two are sitting by a burned building, a house.”

  She opened her eyes to watch Dar as he thought. His serious expression told her he was plotting out what they would do. His mustache twitched. His ears lay back flat against the top of his head, almost disappearing in his mane of hair. She waited patiently.

  After a while he nodded, rubbed his hands together, and then turned to look into her face.

  “You will sneak into the barn.”

  Kale felt her eyebrows rise. A lump formed in her throat.

  Dar patted her shoulder. “You’ll be fine. Whenever you get scared just stop and be still. The cape will hide you.”

  She allowed her head to bob up and down slowly in agreement, but she couldn’t work up any enthusiasm for his plan.

  Dar continued. “Once you’re inside the barn, you and Gymn will heal her.”

  “You mean Gymn will heal her.”

  “No, I mean you and Gymn.” He let out an exasperated sigh. “Gymn is small and young. Celisse is big and wounded…and poisoned. With your talent, you will magnify Gymn’s gift and be a part of the circle that heals Celisse.”

  “Oh.” Kale wanted to ask a dozen questions, but she feared she wouldn’t understand the answers. Maybe she would understand better after she’d been in the barn, been part of the healing, and escaped with Celisse and Gymn.

  At the beginning of their journey into Bedderman’s Bog, while she had listened to Leetu explain a hundred different things, she had found all of it together boggled her mind. But at the same time, her simple o’rant mind accepted small things easily if she ignored the overwhelming bulk of ideas. Then as she understood the small things, the larger things began to make sense. As an o’rant slave in a marione village, she had never felt her mind was very useful. Now she began to wonder if her mind was just different, not inferior.

  Dar continued explaining his plan. “After you have told Celisse what we’re going to do, mindspeak to me that you’re ready. I’ll create a distraction, you open the barn door, and you and the dragons fly out. Simple.”

  “Simple,” Kale repeated, a squeak breaking the word in two.

  Dar clapped her on the shoulder like he would a comrade-in-arms.

  “Nothing to it.”

  “Nothing to it,” repeated Kale, and this time the words barely rasped out of her throat.

  “Fine, then. Let’s go,” said Dar. “We want to do this before the sun burns off the mist.”

  Kale looked at him with wide eyes. She didn’t want to do this before or after the sun burned off the mist.

  18

  THE DRAGON’S LAIR

  They may not see me in this cape, but they for sure will hear my heart thumping.

  Fog obscured everything beyond two feet in front of Kale’s nose. She didn’t feel invisible and therefore safe. She felt as if someone could sneak up on her out of the hazy surroundings.

  Tall, sun-bleached stalks clustered behind her in a field where the corn had been stripped from the plants and the poles left to wither and die. Her head jerked every time she heard a faint rustling in the dried leaves. In the eerie half-light, Kale could not see how far the old cornfield stretched out behind her in acres and acres of cold soil. She knew the dead corn went on for miles. She’d walked around this field, petrified ever since she left Dar’s side. There might not be one living creature hidden among the dry stalks, or there could be thousands. Kale shivered.

  Dar had not let her come through the field. He said the noise she’d make as her footsteps crackled on the old foliage would give her away. That started her thinking about who, or what, was out there to hear. While she circled the farmer’s harvested land, she took care every step of the way to make no noise. She’d listened for evil beings prowling around the countryside, looking for easy prey.

  Looking for someone like me. Easy prey. That’s what I am. Gullible, too. I shouldn’t have let that crazy doneel talk me into this.

  Surprised that she’d made it this far, Kale wasn’t about to let herself get caught now. She knew the barn was close, because from where she stood, she knew exactly where the riding dragon was. She hesitated at the edge of the barnyard, close to the dragon, but also just as close to the four guards.

  Kale cocked her head and listened, holding her breath. Her ears strained to pick out a sound, hopefully a normal sound. Did she just hear a whisper in the field? She waited. Nothing. Pent-up breath eased out between her teeth.

  Inside his pocket-den, Gymn wiggled.

  You just be patient. I’m not ready to step into the open.

  The moonbeam cape covered her from neck to toes. She pulled the hood up and let the filmy material drop in front of her face. Blinking, she discovered she could see more clearly through the light fabric.

  I should have worn the hood all along. Why didn’t someone tell me the moonbeam cloth would make me see better? Dar or Leetu? Or Granny Noon? They probably forgot how little I know.

  She moved her head slowly, looking at every feature of the open space. Cornstalks stood as if looking over her shoulder. A rutted road ran past her into the shrouded horizon.

  With trembling fingers, she fastened all the buttons on her moonbeam cape.

  I hope I really am invisible.

  Two long slits enabled her to reach through the sides of the cape, but she didn’t want her arms exposed. She pulled them inside and wrapped them around her middle, trying to hold the butterflies in her stomach still.

  Gymn wiggled again.

  I’m not asking your opinion, Gymn. Your job is to be quiet and stay out of the way until it is time to heal Celisse. My job is to help Celisse escape.

  Kale rubbed her hands together. The cold came from her fear within, not the damp air without. She would have to be brave.

  Her foot responded sluggishly as she tried to take a step. She was so close. The barn, hidden under a blanket of moist air, housed Celisse. Kale felt the dragon waiting for her. Two bisonbeck men dozed by a smoldering fire. She smelled fresh smoke as well as an acrid odor rising from the burnt timbers of the house and charred furniture.

  One man paced behind the barn, pivoting with military precision as he reached the vacant pigsty and striding back to the empty corncrib where he turned again. Kale knew his thoughts were on battle. He resented guarding a barn. The other guard stood stock-still and thought of food—lots of food…and rich wine and sweet mead…and a certain barmaid.

  Kale hoped he concentrated on that maid’s green eyes and smiling lips and didn’t notice one o’rant girl creeping up to the barn.

  As she tiptoed into the farmyard, Kale peered into the grounded cloud and finally saw a dark building loom in the mist. She moved silently, following a railed fence. The barn stood gray and battered, its huge front doors closed. Two openings into the hayloft gaped as square black holes. To Kale, they looked like sinister eyes watching her movements.

  The front peak of the roof displayed a weather vane tilted at an awkward angle as if it had received a blow. The roof curved down on both sides to about six feet from the dirt, then went off in straight lines to stop abruptly over ramshackle side walls. Here, a normal-sized door offered Kale an entry into the dragon’s prison.

  Gratefully, she saw that the heavy wooden doors that allowed wagons and animals entrance to the barn swung outward. The metal brackets that would have held the bar to bolt the door were empty.

  These bisonbecks must be pretty confident their prisoner is too sick to break out.

  Kale could see the man guarding the front. His massive dark shape leaned against a wagon some distance across the barnyard. He shifted. She heard armor grate, hard leather creak, and boots shuffle in the dirt. His head remained still, his eyes facing front.
Kale inched to the edge of the barn. Only three more feet and she would be at the smaller door.

  I hope it isn’t locked.

  I hope the hinges are oiled.

  I hope the guard doesn’t see me.

  She sighed.

  I hope I don’t die of fright.

  She put a foot forward. The guard suddenly stood at attention. Kale lost her nerve. She froze. She felt Gymn stiffen in her pocket.

  The warrior flexed his shoulder muscles, bent his head to one side until his ear almost touched his metal armor. He straightened his neck and tipped his head the other direction. Then he marched in place for a minute, lifting his knees high. At no time did his attention leave the barn.

  This isn’t going to work. He doesn’t see me now, but when I move to the door, he will. I need Dar to create a distraction. But if he raises a ruckus now, then he’ll have to do it again later. And it might not work a second time, and that’s when Celisse and I will be ready to come out of the barn.

  Kale watched the guard as he returned to his casual stance, still conscientiously observing the old wooden structure.

  Suppose I mindspeak to that guard and tell him to go somewhere. No. Why would he follow my orders? Maybe I could make him think it’s his idea. Oh, I don’t know what to do.

  She went over the mind exercises Leetu had drilled into her head.

  A picture! I’ll create a picture of something crawling on the other side of the wagon. And a sound! He’ll go look.

  Kale imagined a man, a young, strong marione man. As she filled in the details, she realized she was picturing Bolley, one of the best fighters in River Away. When satisfied with the vividness of her image, she projected it to the guard’s mind and, at the same time, imagined the sound of a rock scraping against metal. Only the soldier would hear the created sound.

  Kale nearly bounced with delight when the guard crouched. He lifted his battle-ax to a ready position and stealthily crept to the end of the wagon, looked, and then moved around the corner beyond Kale’s vision. She scooted to the door and pushed with her shoulder. The door opened with only a slight protest of rusty hinges. She bolted into the barn and eased the door shut.