Two Renegade Realms (Realm Walkers Book 2) Read online

  “After our work in Gilead is done, we’ll go to Algore to recruit the gorus dragons.” Chomountain looked pleased with himself. “Everything is falling into place nicely. We’ll just watch the end of this bit of mayhem and then be on our way. Must see the ending, you know. How they get off the plane when their pods only go straight or down. Bound to be something clever at play.”

  FOREVER YIELDS CLUES

  Cantor, Bridger, Dukmee, and Chomountain resumed their seats. When Cantor saw that Rollygon aimed to stick to the mysterious realm walker, he didn’t object to Tegan wandering away. The newest member of their team pushed a chair over to an unoccupied side of their enclosure. There he sat with Rollygon right behind him. They watched something other than the invasion.

  Cantor knew he should investigate, but he liked having a break from Tegan’s company. And at least the man was leaving Bixby alone.

  At another segment of the enclosure, Bixby and Totobee-Rodolow studied the area of Richra where Ahma and Odem were held captive. The two other female dragons watched as well but didn’t seem as interested in the problem of setting his two mentors free.

  Cantor left the battle to join them.

  Bixby immediately gave him a welcoming smile. A weak smile due to the circumstances, but nevertheless he felt encouraged in seeing it. Her smile proved they weren’t mired in the hopelessness of their cause. Not yet, anyway.

  Ethelmin sidled closer at the sight of Cantor bending over Bixby’s chair. “How do we know what time it is when we look at something?” She waved at the scene before them. “This could be your Mama and Oder ten years ago or fifty years in the future.”

  Totobee-Rodolow gave the younger dragon a critical look. “Their names are Ahma and Odem, Ethelmin-Tahbeedow.” She lifted a fabricated eyebrow and continued in a syrupy tone with just an edge of pepper. “And had you been listening to Chomountain’s explanation, darling, you would have heard him say that we see what we are thinking about. We are not thinking about ten years ago or fifty years in the future. And frankly, young one, I doubt that you are thinking at all.”

  Cantor heard grinding of teeth as Ethelmin clamped her lips together. He wasn’t all that familiar with the hierarchy of mor dragon authority, but he did know that Totobee-Rodolow dwelt at the top of the ladder.

  The chastised dragon flounced off. Lupatzey looked as if she might follow, perhaps to offer sympathy, but one glance at Totobee-Rodolow changed her mind. Lupatzey edged forward.

  Cantor recognized she was trying to be as unobtrusive as possible and at the same time show how willing she was to pay more attention. He caught her eye and gave her an encouraging smile. Bixby’s smile had made him feel better. Perhaps he could do the same for Lupatzey.

  Cantor stayed long enough to get a good idea of the layout of the prison. Whoever had overseen its construction had connected unused mines and natural caverns. Guards stood at the entrances to the mountain and at checkpoints underground. Barracks above provided living space for off-duty men. One mess hall served them all. The guards carried prepared food down to the prisoners.

  “What’s keeping them there?” he wondered aloud. He focused on Totobee-Rodolow. “I have no idea how powerful the other realm walkers are, but both Ahma and Odem should be able to leave without much strain on their skills.”

  “There must be a ward around them. Or perhaps someone has taken their memories.” She looked over her shoulder at Chomountain and Tegan.

  Bixby nodded. “And on our first adventure together, Cantor and I rescued young men on Effram. They’d been forced into service to the king.”

  “Only we got there before they’d been put through the ritual that took away the lessons learned at their parents’ knees.”

  Totobee-Rodolow grinned. “My brother would not thank you for that.”

  Cantor frowned, but Bixby laughed. Her eyes squinted into half moons as they always did when amusement took over her face. “You’re right; Bridger was there. And so was Dukmee. They helped.”

  Bixby’s comment poked him in his antipathy for Bridger as a constant. To tell the truth, he no longer felt strongly about the dragon pushing himself into that position. On occasion, Bridger came in handy. Very handy. On quite a few occasions.

  He grunted, not willing to concede. Then Bixby’d quit harassing him, and he actually enjoyed her taunts. He gave her the response she expected. “I remember Bridger in a drugged sleep. That wasn’t very helpful.”

  Bixby scoffed. “Now who has selective memory?”

  Cantor watched with them for a while longer, then drifted over to Rollygon and Tegan.

  He stood beside the dragon and asked softly, “What are you looking at?”

  “This is Tegan’s life. He’s being very clever about retrieving information about his past.”

  “And?” Cantor nudged the dragon with his elbow.

  “Tegan remembers something, then pushes to what happened just before that. It’s amazing. Then he goes to the beginning of that memory and pushes back to what happened just before that.”

  “What have you learned?”

  “He’s not a spy.” The look Rollygon gave Cantor held a bit of reproach. “He’s a victim. And Errd Tos did the mind sweeping. However” — now the dragon looked proudly at Tegan — “it appears our Tegan has a very strong will, and most of their stuff didn’t work.”

  Cantor looked at the view before them. “Those are the same caverns where Ahma and Odem are being held.”

  “We’ve already been through his escape. He’s going backward now, bit by bit. I assume he wants to remember how he got in there.”

  “He’ll be an asset when we rescue my mentors.”

  “As will I.” Rollygon’s chest puffed out. “His memories are in my head as well. And I think he’ll take me as a constant. So far, it doesn’t look like he’s had one.”

  “Cantor,” said Dukmee. “You’ll want to see this.”

  He returned to his chair between Chomountain and Dukmee. Even before he settled, he saw why he’d been called over.

  The Lymen still marched across Derson and Zonvaner, but without the speed and with far less pillaging.

  “What’s happened?”

  Chomountain chortled. “I believe it’s gravity.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Cho pointed to a group of people on one side of a hill. They sorted through an odd assortment of items. Cantor decided it was a rummage sale. The marauders approached from the other side, and the citizens did not know their peril.

  Dukmee clasped his hands together and propped his chin on the knuckles. He made no effort to contain his grin. “Watch what happens when they run.”

  The enemy crested the rise and swarmed down the slope. The startled people stood frozen for a moment, then ran helter-skelter. Earlier, no one had been able to outrun the invaders. These villagers sprinted away, taking huge leaps with each stride. The Lymen, bodies bloated with overeating, stumbled in their efforts to catch up.

  Dukmee leaned forward. “At first, my thought was that it’s as if the Lymen carried a load. But it isn’t ‘as if,’ they do! They’ve gorged themselves every step of the way.”

  Cantor shook his head. The sight of the once fleet-footed Lymen barely keeping on their feet relieved some of the tension in his neck and shoulders. The sight was humorous, but also it showed the enemy had weaknesses. They’d discovered one.

  Gluttony! A weakness. But could they use this against them? Only after three-quarters of the plane had been looted. Three-quarters of a populace was too big a sacrifice.

  He continued to analyze the scene. “But our people are fast. Look at that woman carrying a child. She just jumped over a fence.”

  “Gravity,” said Cho with a smirk on his face.

  Cantor turned to Dukmee.

  Dukmee closed his eyes. When he opened them, the scene of the invasion had gone. Cantor saw in its place a depiction of the planes. He drew in a sharp breath of air. Not a depiction, but the actual planes.

&n
bsp; Lyme Major and Lyme Minor glided into the spaces between three planes. Ample room between the planes allowed them to move without impediment.

  Dukmee pointed to Lyme Major making its way between Richra and Derson. “The gravity from Lyme Major is offsetting our gravity. This counterforce lifts our people. It’s as if everything weighed less. I’ll bet without it, the invaders would be too heavy to move at all. Though they’ve eaten their way through their advantage and then some.”

  Bridger rubbed his hands together. “So our people are more agile, while the gluttons get their just desserts by being weighed down by their gluttony.”

  Dukmee glanced over at Cho. The right hand of Primen had relaxed, leaning back in his chair, eyes closed and a smile on his lips.

  Dukmee raised his eyebrows. He turned back to Cantor and Bridger. “I believe this will also answer our question of how they get back to their planes with pods that go only straight or down.”

  The planes followed their paths in an accelerated pace. As the invaders’ home planes moved toward the end of the interpass, the view changed to a close-up prospect of the raiders. The Lymen took their pods off their backs, unfolded them, and climbed in. As Lyme Major cleared the last land of Derson, the invaders lifted off. The gravity of Lyme Major pulled them higher, and at the same time, the plane itself veered lower, almost clipping the edge of Derson.

  With his eyes closed, Cho remarked, “I haven’t figured out why it does that. I’ll think on it after a sufficient rest. A fishing pole and a sunny bank would sure help me unravel the problem.” He opened one eye to peer at Bixby and Cantor. “I’d release the catch, of course. No fish dinners for a while.”

  A RESCUE

  The three dragons landed behind a ridge overlooking the entrance of the mine. Night clung to them. The heat of the day still made the damp air heavy. Copious vegetation in the form of winding vines snaked over and around everything in sight, and as the dragons settled among the foliage, the mountainous jungle quieted as if listening. Only the insects continued their monotonous rhythms. Slowly, the beasts of the dark returned to their tasks, having overcome the wariness stirred in them by the intrusion of dragons and men.

  Cantor signaled for everyone to stay down, using the pile of rocks and boulders as protection from the sharp eyes of the guards posted around the mine entrance. Chomountain had put him in charge of this rescue. Surprisingly, none of the others objected. Bixby and Totobee-Rodolow were as capable of this command as he was, and Richra was Bixby’s home. But she accepted his leadership with no sign of resentment.

  Bridger had been shrinking ever since they landed. He was the only dragon who could enter through the southern tunnels. Inside, tight corridors and tighter turns would trap the two dragons who could not shapeshift into anything but their standard forms.

  Jesha sat up with a plaintive yeow when the space between Bridger’s ears became too small for her comfort. She hopped off and leapt to Cantor’s shoulder.

  Using his thoughts to communicate, Cantor instructed his team to spread out, scouting for anyone who posed a threat. He didn’t want to risk speaking until they were sure no one lurked among the trees and shrouded boulders.

  In fifteen minutes, they gathered again with no reports of danger in the immediate vicinity.

  “One by one,” Cantor said quietly.

  The others nodded and went off in pairs to do their assigned tasks. He and Bridger, accompanied by the cat, went to the nearest entrance to the mine.

  Two guards stood at either side of the arched opening. Neither spoke. Bridger and Cantor crept close. Bridger took the closer side while Cantor took the long route to get in position on the other. The dense growth of plants aided their approach. Even within a couple feet of the edge, the verdant green shield hid them. However, certain bushes rustled at the slightest touch.

  Cantor had just reached his destination when a soft crackle from Bridger’s hiding spot alerted the guards. Both men straightened and turned toward the sound.

  Cantor allowed his moan to go from his thoughts to Bridger’s. “Your tail?”

  “Sorry.”

  Jesha sauntered out of their hiding place, sat down in the open area, and proceeded to clean her paws.

  “A cat,” said one of the men. He jutted out his bewhiskered chin. “I’ve never seen a cat around here before.”

  The other guard, taller by a head than his partner, took a step away from his post. “They used to have cats when the mines were worked. Cats and pigs and geese.”

  “For food?”

  “People don’t eat cats.”

  Jesha paused in her grooming, gave the men a brief glance, then started the meticulous bathing of her chest and stomach.

  The taller man moved farther away from the entrance and closer to the cat. His speech reached their ears even though he whispered. “For keeping pests away. Cats for the mice, rats, and insects. Pigs and geese for the snakes.”

  “Snakes?” The bearded guard remained firmly at his post. But his eyes searched the ground around the perimeter of the area where bushes could hide slithering creatures.

  “Yeah. They’d get in the caves and attack the workers.”

  With a swift look over his shoulder, the man still at his post took three giant steps away from the gaping black hole in the side of the mountain. “Pigs and geese eat snakes?”

  “Kill ’em. I don’t know if they eat ’em.” He crouched down in front of Jesha. “Nice kitty. Do you not have a home? You don’t look wild. Where’d you come from?”

  Cantor and Bridger slipped out of the bushes, sped across the opening behind the men, and dispatched them with a cloth soaked in Dukmee’s sleep potion. They trussed and gagged the two men with lengths of vine and dragged them into the thick undergrowth, out of sight.

  At least, Cantor dragged his man. He noticed that Bridger cradled his captive in his arms and settled him gently on the ground.

  When Cantor caught the dragon’s eye, he furrowed his brow to reveal his puzzlement.

  Bridger shrugged, and a sheepish grin revealed his teeth. “He was really nice to Jesha.”

  They entered the mine and saw the light a hundred yards away. According to the scouting done in the Observatory of the Universe, the lights were spaced evenly unless they marked a corner or a branching of tunnels. Those places had more than one lantern. Single men guarded strategic points in the many passages.

  Cantor and Bridger, with Jesha, skulked through the tunnels from the south entrance. According to their plan, Rollygon and Tegan entered on the west and worked their way toward the middle.

  In the camp above ground, Totobee-Rodolow and Bixby would first deepen the sleep of the men in the barracks, then slip over to the canteen and tamper with the foodstuffs. By the time the ladies finished tampering with his pantry, the unaware cook would be adding sleeping powder to almost anything he made.

  Cantor and Bridger met Tegan and Rollygon when they reached the last doorway at the same time.

  “Any trouble?” Cantor wanted to know.

  Tegan glanced at his companion. “Not all the passages were as wide as we thought. The assumption that manmade tunnels were more uniform was erroneous.”

  “A bust.” Rollygon sized Cantor up. “You wouldn’t have made it through some of those gaps.”

  “It wasn’t too bad.” Tegan shifted his eyes away from Rollygon and tried to hide a grin. “We only had to make detours twice.”

  The memory obviously embarrassed Rollygon. Cantor wanted to hear the rest of the story, but they had a mission to accomplish. Before he could urge his team on to the next phase, the dragon redirected the conversation.

  “How many did you put down?” asked Rollygon with a grin displaying his pointed teeth.

  “Seven.” Bridger’s smile stretched as wide as his friend’s.

  “Ha!” Rollygon nodded to Tegan. “I told you we had the better route. We nabbed eleven.”

  Bridger frowned. “Forty altogether. Eighteen between us. That means the women got
twenty-two.”

  Rollygon’s face lost none of his delight. He winked at Bridger. “Yeah, but their targets were asleep.”

  Cantor rolled his eyes. “Another goofy dragon.” He looked at Tegan. “Are you going to take Rollygon as your constant?”

  The realm walker gave his comrade a considering look. “I think he’s already taken me.”

  Cantor nodded. “It happened that way for me too.”

  “Are we going to stand out here and talk?” Bridger gestured toward the barred door. “Or open the door and rescue your Ahma and Odem?”

  “Bridger does a good job of picking locks.” Cantor saw the surprise wash over his constant’s face. “He can shapeshift his claw to match the insides of the lock.” He backed out of the way and allowed the dragon to step up to the job.

  Bridger made a show of holding out one claw and then another, seemingly contemplating which would be best for the job.

  Cantor cleared his throat. Loudly.

  Bridger took the hint and pushed one claw into the lock. He frowned.

  “Something wrong?” Cantor peered around his shoulder.

  Bridger shook his head and pulled the door open. “It isn’t locked.”

  “Pretty cocky of them,” said Tegan. “Sounds like what you told me about Chomountain’s imprisonment. No locks, just the idea in his head that he was home and had no need to go to any other place.”

  The room before them was dark and quiet. Quiet except for some heavy breathing, a few snorts, snoring, and an occasional half word spoken out of deep sleep. Cantor took a light from his hamper, and the others did the same. Jesha, whose eyes needed no help from artificial light, pranced in ahead of them.

  Cantor rushed in after her. The discipline that had brought him thus far in the guise of a cold leader in charge deserted him. Intense excitement tightly bound his chest. Contained longing threatened to burst its confines. He was going to find Ahma, and with her, Odem.

  Rollygon began counting the captives as soon as he came through the door. The others stayed behind. Bridger’s part was to keep watch for some stray jailer who might turn up unexpectedly. Tegan would wait for Cantor’s signal before waking the prisoners.