DragonQuest Read online

  Brunstetter assigned the warriors. Three troops would enter Creemoor, each from a different direction, and trap a nest of spiders that had been located. Some spiders would go deep into the mountain and probably escape, but many would be destroyed.

  Following Leetu, Kale bumped into a small knot of kimens. They giggled and parted to let her through, watching her all the while. She frowned at them. They giggled more and scurried away. Kale tramped after Leetu. It happened again. A different group of kimens, but the same stares and laughter.

  “What’s the matter with the kimens?” Kale asked Leetu.

  Leetu put down her load, placed her hands on her hips, and looked around. All the kimens were engaged in the business at hand. “What do you mean?”

  Kale scanned the busy campground. No one stood idle, and no one stared her way. Still she protested. “The kimens have been coming by to look at me.”

  Leetu’s face tightened. She bent to pick up a bundle she intended to strap on Merlander’s saddle. Hoisting the load, she said, “I doubt it. Why would they want to look at you? That sounds rather ridiculous, doesn’t it?”

  Kale didn’t answer. It did seem ridiculous.

  Leetu nodded toward the bundle she held against the saddle. “Hold this while I strap it.”

  Kale stepped forward to help. She glanced over at a group of kimens dividing packages of food. No, they aren’t interested in me. Why would they be? I guess I just feel odd because of what happened this morning. What would I think of someone who had been lured away by an evil force? Does everybody think I’m some kind of bumpkin who falls for evil trickery?

  Kale picked up another pack and held it in place for Leetu.

  Suppose it wasn’t an evil force. Suppose Wizard Cam made me think my mother was calling me. Suppose he wanted me to look ridiculous.

  “Kale, grab another bundle,” Leetu snapped.

  As Kale held another parcel against the saddle, she searched through the crowd and found the short, damp wizard.

  He’s arguing with Fenworth. Fenworth doesn’t trust him. He’s probably here to sabotage our mission. If Paladin really sent him, why didn’t he come with Brunstetter?

  Kale glanced at the urohms. The giant men stood beside one of the major dragons, but they weren’t working.

  Now they’re staring at me. Nobody trusts me anymore, and it’s that wet wizard’s fault.

  Kale glared at the warriors. They immediately went back to work.

  A quiet voice entered her mind.

  “Come to me now, my dear Kale. Everyone’s busy. No one will notice you slip away.”

  Kale held the last pack in place while Leetu bound it. Then, instead of following the emerlindian across the camp, she strolled to the trees banking the stream. Gymn and Metta zoomed past her.

  I’m going for a walk, she told them. There are too many people here. I’m tired of their staring.

  The little dragons circled her head. She flinched and hurried her step.

  They do not like me. They think I’m evil.

  Their chirrups of alarm raked over Kale’s nerves. “Leave me alone. Go back. I want to go for a walk by myself. Is that so horrible?”

  Kale felt the hurt and bewilderment from the minor dragons. Their emotions only intensified the confusion in her heart. She wanted to yell or cry or do both. Instead, she kicked over a foot-high toadstool. She stomped into the forest, leaving behind the fluttering dragons, the warm sunshine, and the smell of wildflowers in the field.

  Armagot trees towered above her. Last year’s foliage crunched under her feet, cushioned by an accumulation of decomposed leaves underneath. The springy carpet released an earthy, pleasant fragrance. Sparse underbrush surrounded some of the older trees. Kale wondered if the tales were true that kimens lived in such trees with their doors hidden by the bushes.

  As the tree trunks grew more massive, the distance between the armagots increased. Eerie, diffused green light fell among dappled shadows on the forest floor. Kale slowed her steps.

  A squirrel scurried down a trunk, across an old log, and up another tree. A bird cooed. She walked deeper into the gathering of ancient armagot, hearing only the shush of her footsteps through the fallen foliage.

  “Mother?”

  I ought to turn back. She looked behind her. Walking through the leaves hadn’t left much of a path. Could I find my way? She stopped. Mother?

  “Here I am, Kale.”

  Kale sucked in a breath as the woman stepped onto the path.

  A cold smile crept over her mother’s beautiful face. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  Kale forced her voice to leave her throat. “You called me.”

  “Yes, it’s time to leave that riffraff with whom you travel.”

  Kale’s neck muscles and shoulders tightened. “They’re my friends.”

  Lyll Allerion gestured with an impatient wave for Kale to follow and started away without waiting. “They may be your friends, Kale, but you don’t have to follow them wherever they lead. Think for yourself for a change.”

  Kale hesitated.

  “Well, come on. I have to get you tucked away before my absence is discovered, and before your meddling comrades start looking for you.”

  Kale licked her lips. Do I want to go?

  She followed. Her mother’s heavy dress rustled. The blue and gold cloth of her elaborate gown shimmered. Each time her mother’s high headdress passed through thin shafts of light coming through the thick branches, the white material sparkled.

  Kale examined her own practical outfit and Lyll’s spotless attire. Well, Mother’s not exactly dressed appropriately for a hike in the woods. At least my breeches don’t look out of place.

  She hurried to catch up. “Where are we going?”

  “There’s a secret room in the castle tower. You’ll be safe there.”

  “Safe from what?”

  Lyll Allerion stopped so quickly Kale bumped into her. She stepped back, expecting her mother to have a few critical words about being touched by her grubby daughter. Instead, Lyll paused and leveled an inquisitive eye at Kale.

  “Risto, of course. What did you think?”

  Kale looked at the creamy white skin of her mother’s hand. Rings with glittering stones encircled each pale finger. The fingernails curved to delicate points.

  Kale clenched her dirty hands into balls and averted her eyes just enough to gaze past her mother to the woods beyond. A clear trail meandered into a thicker gathering of towering trees. A rising wind rustled the dry leaves on the ground and stirred up a spicy fragrance from the forest floor.

  Just beyond where Kale stood with her mother, a puff of air laid bare a small patch of dirt. Shadows fell over the path, darkening the soil as if it were wet.

  A hiss of movement reached Kale’s ears even as the wind eddied among the trees. Slithering out from behind a trunk, a vine grew at a phenomenal rate and headed for their feet.

  Kale opened her mouth to speak, but her mother’s cold expression stopped her. Lyll’s manicured fingers squeezed Kale’s arm, then released her.

  Her mother whirled around in a rustle of brocade and silk. “Come!”

  “Wait!” cried Kale. The path had become a bog.

  Her mother took one step and pitched forward, landing in a wallow of mud.

  “Oh!” Kale stepped over the thick vine, a vine that had not been there a moment before. Bewildered, she hovered at the edge of the muddy patch and reached to help the older woman in her courtly gown.

  Her mother planted her fists in the mud and pushed her face and shoulders up. “Don’t touch me!” She sprayed mud out of her mouth.

  Kale put her hands behind her back.

  Lyll raised up on her knees and struggled to her feet. She turned to face her daughter. Gray eyes glared out of her mud-coated face. Kale blinked and held still as if to avoid an attack from a wild animal.

  The woman’s gaze dropped to the vine.

  Without using her talent, Kale knew exactly what went thr
ough her mother’s mind. The vine didn’t belong. It didn’t match any plant growing in the forest.

  The sharp caw of a blackbird broke the silence. A large ebony crow swooped between Kale and Lyll. The bird flew directly at Lyll. She threw her hands in front of her face and leaned back. The abrupt movement unbalanced her, and she toppled backward. The bird roosted on a branch above.

  “Tut-tut. Oh dear. Tut-tut.” Twittering, it preened its shiny wing with a sharp yellow beak.

  Kale placed a hand on the pouch that carried the unhatched dragon egg. She felt a thrum from within, and a light, giddy feeling passed through her.

  Her mother sat up. The elaborate headdress sat at an odd angle on her head. Clean blue cloth ran down the sides of her dress between swaths of brown mud.

  Lyll once again struggled to her feet on her own. She stepped over the vine and brushed past Kale. Lifting her heavy skirts to keep from tripping, she walked away from the wallow.

  “Tut-tut.” The bird ruffled his feathers, swayed back and forth on yellow legs, and dipped his head. “Oh dear.”

  The egg under Kale’s hand buzzed. A giggle rose in her throat, and she clamped her free hand over her mouth.

  “Follow me, Kale.” Her mother’s command sent a shiver down her spine. The urge to laugh departed.

  She saw another rapidly growing vine snake through the trees and across her mother’s path. The woman, with her chin held high and her headdress wobbling precariously, did not see it. Once again, she landed flat on the forest floor. When she rose to her knees, leaves dotted her gown, stuck in the layer of mud adhering to her clothing.

  She screeched and stood. Turning, she impaled Kale with a wicked glare. “Come,” she bellowed and stomped her foot.

  Up from the ground where her foot had made its impact, a geyser sprang full force. The spray of water hit Lyll in the face, blasting off a streak of mud. She shook her fists in the air and again stomped a foot. Another geyser erupted. Lyll Allerion whirled in a fit of temper. With each stomp, a new jet of water spurted from the earth. She spun in a circle, shrieking unintelligible words of fury. The air around her crackled and spat sparks, and she was gone.

  The bower fell silent. Kale stared at the geysers as they quickly subsided, until the last bubble in the mud disappeared.

  She sighed, releasing the tension that had gripped her shoulders. Again the egg in the pouch responded with a peculiar thrum. With the corner of her lip twitching toward a smile, she remembered her mother’s second landing in the mud and the oozy brown glop on her face.

  She giggled.

  The hat had bobbled as her mother stood and pulled her feet out of the thick mire.

  Kale giggled a little louder, and the egg answered with a louder thrum.

  A sucking noise had accompanied each step her mother took.

  She laughed. She sat down on the thick carpet of old leaves and laughed until she cried.

  “Do you suppose she’s demented?” Fenworth’s scratchy voice startled Kale.

  “Oh no, I wouldn’t think so,” answered Cam. “I do believe her egg is about to hatch though.”

  Kale wiped the tears from her eyes and grinned up at the two wizards. Cam’s robes hung damply around him. A lizard darted in and out of Fenworth’s beard.

  The wizard’s words registered.

  “Hatch?” She opened the small red pouch and slipped the egg into her hand.

  A crack appeared. The wizards sat down with their backs to an armagot tree and discussed the elements needed for a variety of spells. Kale gazed at the egg as it teetered in her hand.

  A large piece of shell broke away, and the tiny dragon somersaulted out into her palm. His wet scales glistened in shades of yellow and orange. Kale frowned, trying to remember what the textbook had said about the talents of the orange and yellow. He rubbed his chin against the base of her thumb and then turned and wiggled on his back as if he needed a good scratch.

  “Laughter,” said Cam’s deep voice beside her. “His talent is laughter.”

  “His name is Dibl,” said Kale.

  “A good name.”

  “Of what use is laughter on a quest?” asked Kale.

  The dragon flipped over and put his small front legs down and proceeded to do a push-up. He stretched his chin high and yawned. His tiny eyes opened, and he gazed into Kale’s. The snap of connection secured their bond. Kale sighed with contentment. The little dragon’s lips pulled back, showing two rows of tiny pointed teeth.

  “He’s grinning!” said Kale.

  “So he is,” agreed Cam.

  Fenworth joined them.

  “Best thing to have on a quest,” he announced. “Never know when a good laugh will save the day. Glad you thought to bring him along, Kale.” He turned to the shorter, wetter wizard. “She’s my apprentice, you know. A bit impulsive, but trainable, I think.” He patted his beard, and a moth flew out. “Best we get on with this questing. Right, Cam? Can’t say I want to spend the rest of my life in this forest. Unpleasant place sprouts geysers and runaway vines.”

  The old wizard took a look at the dragon stretched out in Kale’s hand, then threw back his head and laughed.

  22

  A DIFFERENT DIRECTION

  As Kale and the wizards returned from the forest, the entire camp came out to greet them. The dragons knew of Dibl’s birth and spread the word. Paladin’s warriors from the seven high races greeted the small yellow and orange dragon with smiles, laughter, and songs of joy.

  Kale sat on a log by a small copse of slender heirnot trees. As the troops of soldiers filed past to look at the dragon, some admirers merely gazed upon Dibl curled in the palm of her hand. Some stretched out a finger to touch him lightly.

  As the afternoon progressed, the camp became quieter. Kale pulled her attention away from the newborn long enough to notice that most of the troops had departed. The huge greater dragons carrying supplies and men had spread their wings and lifted into the air with quiet grace.

  A shadow darkened her small spot at the edge of the meadow. She looked up to see Brunstetter looming over her. His massive fourteen-foot frame completely blocked the sun.

  Brunstetter’s handsome face always looked gentle to her. Laugh lines fanned out from his clear blue eyes across tanned cheeks. His lips often twitched with suppressed humor. And Kale had seen this giant man tenderly scoop up a wounded kimen with as much care as a mother lifting a hurting child.

  She smiled back at her friend. “Where have they gone, Lord Brunstetter?”

  “To their fighting positions.” His rumbling voice held a note of sorrow. “We engage the enemy tomorrow.”

  “Are you leaving too?”

  “In a few moments.” Brunstetter touched the tip of his finger to her cheek. “We shall not see each other for some time. I have a message from my heart to yours.”

  She blinked back sudden tears and nodded.

  “The gift of laughter before the storm strengthens our resolve. It is good that Dibl came to us now.” Brunstetter moved his hand to rest it like a cap over her head. “You, little Dragon Keeper, are important in Wulder’s plan. I would give you wisdom if it were like a gem to be plucked from one of my crowns. But I can only whisper caution. I can only say, ‘Be still when dark clouds threaten. Listen for the word of Wulder.’”

  He stroked Dibl, then stood and strode away to his magnificent dragon.

  The group around the campfire that night had dwindled to the same number as before the landing of reinforcements. The peaceful atmosphere occasionally bubbled with friendly laughter.

  Kale held the sleeping Dibl in her hand while Gymn lay curled around her neck. His tail flicked up to tickle her left cheek as he kept time to the music. Dar and Regidor had served a cold meal of field greens and sliced jimmin poultry, flavored with a spicy dressing. Now the two chefs played lighthearted tunes on various instruments from Dar’s pack.

  Toopka danced around them with Metta sometimes balancing on the little doneel’s head and sometimes doing he
r own aerial dance above the merrymakers.

  Leetu read a book, holding a lightrock to illuminate the text. Bardon, Librettowit, and Lee Ark played a game of benders. The two wizards rested against Merlander’s massive side and could be heard to say things like “Remember old Hoobenanny? I wonder where she is now.”

  Kale smiled. “I just thought of something funny, Gymn.”

  The green dragon stretched and lifted his chin to rub against her neck.

  “If Chief Councilman Meiger and his goodwife, Mistress Meiger, were here, they’d be scowling and harrumphing and muttering about all these people. Master Meiger would say any ninny knows that wizards don’t exist, and doneels and tumanhofers keep to themselves. Mistress Meiger would say emerlindians don’t speak a language anyone can understand, ’cept themselves.”

  Little Dibl rolled into a ball in her cupped hand and spun himself like a top until he twirled over the edge and fell into her lap.

  “Dibl thinks it’s funny too.” She lifted him up and held his cool body next to her face. She giggled. “I assumed the mariones in the village knew almost everything there was to know. Now that I’ve been questing, I see they knew next to nothing, just like me. I’d like to go back and show them who’s smarter now.”

  Quick as a flicker of flame, Dibl reached out and nipped her chin.

  “Ouch!” She jerked him away from her face. “Why’d you do that?”

  The little dragon gave a throaty growl.

  “What is he trying to tell me, Gymn?”

  The impression flowed into her from both dragons.

  “Mean-spirited?” She clamped her jaws together. “I think it would be fun.”

  This time Dibl bit her on the back of her thumb.

  “Stop that!” She switched the dragon to her other hand and put the tiny wound to her mouth. “You need to go to bed.”

  She slipped the dragon into the pocket that had once held his egg.

  For the second time that day, tears welled in her eyes. “I think we’re all tired.”

  Gymn jumped to safety as she shifted onto her side on the blanket pallet and determinedly closed her eyes.