Two Renegade Realms (Realm Walkers Book 2) Page 8

“Not through this fog.” Bridger cleared his throat. “How’s Bixby?”

  Cantor looked down at her pale face. He pulled her closer. “Still sleeping.”

  “I could clear a bit of the fog if I blow out a flame.”

  “But if the other boat is right ahead of us, then you’d scorch our friends.” He looked around them. They’d entered the dense fog. The worrisome glow in the air isolated them. “Why can’t we hear them?”

  Cantor had no answer to his own question.

  Bridger snorted. “The air smells different here. Perhaps there’s some chemical that interrupts the flow of sound.”

  “I’ve never heard of anything like that, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.”

  “Remember all that noise we heard when the ward collapsed? Dukmee said that sound existed with nothing making it. Maybe this is the opposite. Something out there should make noise, but there is none.”

  “Interesting theory. Better than any I’ve come up with.” Cantor looked down. Bixby slept peacefully in his arms. “Bridger, could you stretch your neck so that you can see over the fog? If you can see the beacon, let’s head that way.”

  Cantor watched as Bridger’s neck grew longer and skinnier. The thick mist quickly swallowed his head. The dragon had taken his suggestion without a word of complaint. He appreciated that. Shapeshifting from one form to another was a talent, but Cantor knew it was easier on the dragon to shift wholly into another shape rather than half-shifting and maintaining parts of two forms. Bridger currently sustained his swan form, a feathered shape, and the elegant neck stretched like one of those giraffes they’d seen on Bondoran.

  A jolt beneath him alerted Cantor to Bridger’s forward movement. He must have seen the beacon. Cantor shifted Bixby in his lap. Her tiny frame barely covered his torso. He’d grown over the two years, and she’d stayed the same. Only to him, it felt as if she had shrunk. Surely, two years ago she’d been taller and sturdier.

  “Bridger, can you move any faster?”

  The dragon didn’t answer. He reached with his mind and could not find him.

  “This is ridiculous. I can see you. I can touch you. Why can’t I hear you? Can you hear me? Bridger!”

  He’d loosened his grip on Bixby. She started to slide off his lap, and he managed to catch her. As he pulled, he discovered a stem of the shimmering plant wrapped around her ankle. Reaching down, he grasped the tendril and tried to pry it loose.

  The vine tightened. Cantor pulled his knife and sliced the plant. He quickly unwound the part clinging to her leg. Another stem snaked up and entrapped his booted leg. He swung his blade before it tightened. As the plants invaded Bridger’s back, reaching and twisting and threatening, Cantor realized the dragon’s forward motion had stopped.

  “Bridger!” he yelled between flashing his knife through one green rope after another. “Bridger!”

  He gained footing on the saddle and dragged Bixby higher, away from the black water. That seemed to flummox the shining vines. They reached only a foot or so out of the lake. If they did not come in contact with Cantor or Bixby, they withdrew.

  Cantor peered up the column of Bridger’s neck. He could see it only so far before the glowing mist hid the rest.

  “If I climb his neck, I can find out what he’s doing, and why he can’t hear me, and why he’s stopped.” He harrumphed. He still held Bixby’s light body under one arm. “You’re no help, Bixby. You can’t even tell me if my ideas are worth trying.”

  He lowered her to the saddle. Pulling his heels closer to her body, he anchored her, hoping she wouldn’t slip while he looked in his hampers for a rope. Soon he had her lashed to the horn and pommel Bridger had provided. Now if the dragon didn’t shift to some other shape while he climbed, Bixby would be safe. Perhaps he could figure out what needed to be done.

  “Where’s Jesha?” His head whipped around. “Jesha!” Had the vines dragged her underwater? Surely not. She would have put up a fight. He would have heard her. He hoped. Losing Jesha would devastate Bridger, and Cantor admitted to himself he’d grown fond of the cat as well. But he didn’t have time to locate her using his mind. He had to hurry.

  He took one last look at Bixby. She looked secure.

  With a heavy sigh, he dug the toe of his boot into the soft flesh of Bridger’s neck. Using the feathers for handholds, he scaled the dragon’s neck through the fog. By the time he broke through the cloud at Bridger’s chin, his breath came in shallow pants. The climb had not troubled him, but the thick moist atmosphere clung to his airways.

  He coughed and cleared his throat. The first thing he saw, besides the swan’s bill, was the beacon. The light poured over the fog-covered lake for a few moments, then slid off to the side to disappear and reappear on the other side as it made its rotation.

  “Bridger.”

  The dragon jumped. “What are you doing up here?”

  “The question is what are you doing up here. You’ve stopped moving.”

  “I have?” He grumbled in his throat. “I have! Why did I stop?”

  “What do you remember?”

  “Looking at the light.”

  “We’ve got to move. Can you shorten your neck, extend your wings, and fly above this fog?”

  “Where’d this fog come from? My feet feel wet.”

  “The fog is over the light plants in the black lake. We’ve lost Dukmee and Neekoh and Jesha. Bixby is in some kind of deep sleep, and you’re confused.”

  “I can’t see you, you know,” said Bridger. “It’s strange to talk to you when you’re so close but I can’t see you. Could you climb on my nose and sit there?”

  “Right now your nose is a swan’s beak and isn’t big enough for me to sit on. And we have other things to do.”

  “Did you see the light? It’s coming around again.”

  “I did see the light. Maybe you’ve been looking at the light with too much focus.”

  “My feet still feel wet. My tail feels wet as well. And I think my stomach.”

  “Yes, your stomach is wet. We have to get out of here.” Cantor fought down the urge to shake his dragon. “Pay attention. I need you to fly over the fog. Bixby is down on your saddle. I’ve tied her on, but when you shift to being a dragon, please keep her safe.”

  “Bixby’s here? Why didn’t you say so?”

  “I did. It was practically the first thing I said. She’s asleep! I can’t wake her up!” His voice rose. “Dukmee and Neekoh are gone. So’s Jesha!”

  “Jesha is here somewhere. I can feel her. I feel Bixby too. And my wet feet. And tail. And stomach. The light is coming round again.”

  “Don’t look at it!”

  “You’re very cranky.”

  “I’m not having a good day, Bridger. Give me a little help here.”

  “All right. Hold on. I’m shifting.”

  Cantor hastily closed his eyes, but Bridger was so quick he almost didn’t need to. He felt the dragon’s neck thicken, making it hard to hang on. Then Bridger’s head sank to a reasonable height above his body. At the same time he extended his wings, flapped several times, and rose into the air.

  Cantor found himself straddling Bridger’s neck in front of the saddle. He turned carefully and sighed his relief at seeing Bixby in almost the exact position he’d left her in.

  “Prrowl!”

  Bixby’s skirts moved, and Jesha’s head surfaced. She pulled her elegant body from her hiding place and repositioned herself, stretched over the girl’s back. Her haughty gaze told Cantor she deplored his lack of control over her comfort.

  Bridger hummed, stretching out his word on one note. “Here —”

  “— comes the light again. I know, but don’t look straight at it.”

  “It’s a pretty light.”

  “I think it hypnotizes you.”

  “Oh.”

  “Just oh?”

  “Oh, dear. It’s hard not to look.”

  “Don’t look.”

  “Here comes —”

 
; “Bridger!”

  “I’m not looking.”

  “Can you see the shore? Focus on the shore.”

  “The other boat is there. Neekoh is standing beside it. I don’t see Dukmee.”

  The fog beneath them thinned. The black lake shimmered with light from the beacon, but no more plants glowed under the surface. Neekoh had bedecked the boat with bright orbs. Cantor pulled light globes from his hampers and positioned them around the saddle.

  In the new light, Bixby looked paler than ever. Cantor hoped Dukmee would have a cure for her unnatural slumber. He leaned to look around Bridger’s neck and his heart sank. Dukmee lay in a still heap in Neekoh’s skiff.

  BRIGHT VALLEY

  Cantor jumped off Bridger’s back as soon as the dragon’s feet hit the sand. Jesha followed with a cross mew as a final complaint about being on the lake. Above them, at the top of a round tower, the beacon still circled. A faint hum penetrated the silence. Cantor welcomed the sound after the unsettling stillness of the lake. He hurried to the skiff Neekoh had pulled completely out of the water.

  “He’s sleeping!” He bent over the boat and shook Dukmee. “What happened? What have you done? How long has he been like this?”

  Neekoh wrung his hands. “Since we were in the fog. It’s never been so thick before. I’ve never had problems. I was nervous. Really nervous. But we got to shore, safe and sound.”

  “If you call this safe and sound. Bixby’s out as well. Do you know how to wake them?”

  Bridger bent his neck to sniff Dukmee. “Maybe it was the toombalians.”

  “Why would the poisonous air affect only Dukmee and Bixby?” Cantor continued to shake the sleeping mage.

  “Well, you can’t deny they are both odd, and sometimes odd in the same way.” Bridger prodded Bixby with his snout. “They are both smarter than they should be, and they seem to know what people are feeling and why they feel that way. That’s odd.”

  “Queen Mazeline is odd that way too.”

  Cantor turned on Neekoh. “What do you know about this? Did you allow this to happen?”

  “No. It’s never happened before, as far as I know. But usually we’re down here alone, just one from the family Neekoh. All the stories I heard about our vigil never mentioned this.” He waved a hand over Dukmee. “But usually we’re down here alone. No outsiders like you, just our immediate family.”

  “You said that before.” Neekoh obviously wasn’t trained for emergencies. If Bixby were awake, she could read his aura. She’d seen nothing in the previous readings. She’d want him to be gracious. Cantor bit down his impatience.

  He put a hand on the young man’s shoulder to lend him a bit of emotional stability. “Let’s get them to Chomountain. I’m fairly certain the right hand of Primen will know what to do.” Cantor picked up Dukmee and started toward Bridger. “Bridger, can you carry two?”

  Neekoh followed him for a few feet, then turned to pace back and forth.

  Bridger shapeshifted to devise two body-sized sacks hanging over his back like saddlebags. He surrounded Bixby with one. “They should be fairly comfortable in those.”

  He wiggled as if his skin itched. “Take off the ropes. I’ll contract the covering to keep her safe.” He peered at Cantor. “We don’t want her slipping away. I missed her while we were on our own. Not to mention you need her influence. She’s good for you.”

  Cantor jogged around Bridger to get to the empty carrier. “All right, Bridger. I get your point. You’re happier with more than just me to keep you company.”

  “I do have Jesha. She’s a good companion.”

  Cantor didn’t answer. Bridger had tried this tack before. But Cantor wasn’t going to recognize Bridger as his constant just to satisfy the dragon’s whim. He still believed he should be allowed to pick his own dragon, even if he had grown accustomed to Bridger.

  Dukmee’s tall frame weighed little, and Cantor had no trouble maneuvering the mage, feet-first, into the sack.

  He returned to Bixby’s side, intent on taking off the ropes he’d used to secure her to the saddle. He glanced up to see what Neekoh was doing. The ward guard stood gazing across the lake, his eyes distant.

  “Is something wrong?” Cantor asked.

  Neekoh startled and turned to face him. “You realize that I have never seen Chomountain. I only know where he is. Until you broke the ward, there was no way to get in.”

  “But you can take us to the entrance?”

  “Yes, of course. That’s my job. Well, the rest of my job. The first part was just being here. I’m not sure about what is involved in the second part.” His pensive expression suddenly gave way to his normal cheerful appearance. “I’ll take you through the tunnel. That’s what I’ll do. No one in my family has ever taken anyone but one of our own to the entrance. This is something new. I shall be known as the Neekoh who guided the rescuers to Chomountain.”

  He gathered the light orbs from his skiff, placing them in a cloth bag at the stern of the boat. Bridger had taken care of the orbs Cantor had used. He redistributed them so that he was illuminated from head to tail. Cantor grinned but refrained from telling his constant that he looked like he belonged in a parade. Jesha sat on Bridger’s head between the dragon’s ears.

  With two lights attached to his clothing, Neekoh gestured for Bridger and Cantor to follow. They entered a tunnel unlike those on the other side of the lake. In these passageways, no marks made by the hand of man smoothed the walls or floor. No manmade lights brightened the route. Their orbs and globes illuminated the gray walls where flecks of minerals sparkled. Jesha prudently moved to ride between Bridger’s shoulders.

  The rock tubes were uniform in width, but varied in height. Cantor and Bridger walked carefully to avoid stubbing toes and falling forward. After a few whacks to their heads, they soon became adept at spotting low-hanging outcrops. Constantly looking down and up made Cantor’s neck hurt.

  Neekoh was short enough to charge through.

  “Neekoh,” Cantor called down the tunnel. “Slow down.”

  In a moment, their guide was back, facing them with a contrite expression. “I am so, so sorry. I’m excited. We’re going into the valley. We’ll see Chomountain. Everything will be different from this day forward.”

  “Don’t leave us behind, or it’ll be just you going into the valley.”

  Neekoh bobbed his head in eager agreement. Before they actually got to the last tunnel and the archway that led outside the mountain, the poor man had to return many times. He just couldn’t keep his feet moving at a sedate pace.

  Bridger stopped when they could see the light from outside. “Check on Bixby and Dukmee, Cantor. I thought I felt them twitching.”

  Cantor doubled back and squeezed between the dragon’s side and the rocks. “Bixby looks the same.”

  He pushed into the slim space on the other side. “Dukmee has shifted, but he’s still asleep.”

  Bridger grumbled and ambled forward. “Neekoh is coming back. I bet that little man has traveled twice as far as we have with all his backtracking.”

  “Probably.” The passage widened, and Cantor could walk beside the dragon. He placed a hand on the beast’s shoulder. “We are nearly at the end of this part of the journey. We’ll find Chomountain. He can wake Bixby and Dukmee. We’ll help him out of his trap, get his advice, and move on to the defense against the Lymen.”

  “Sounds like a good plan.” Bridger made a moue with his scaley dragon lips. “Nothing is likely to go wrong with such an unassuming agenda. No likelihood in that outline of events for mishaps, mischief, misfortune, and miscellaneous mayhem.”

  Cantor turned to give Bridger a disapproving stare. “Mmm? Are you quite finished with your sarcasm? It doesn’t suit you, you know?”

  “So you’ve said before. Yes, I am finished.”

  Neekoh stopped in his return trip and waited for them, his form bouncing and fidgeting in silhouette against the light from the cave entrance. Cantor couldn’t see his expression, but
he could imagine his silly grin.

  “I wonder what Neekoh will do now that he no longer has to guard the entrance to the valley.”

  Bridger exhaled a puff of smoke. “He’d be free to go to his village. All the Neekohs from here on out will live ordinary lives.” Again Bridger puffed smoke. “I wonder if they know how to do anything practical to support themselves.”

  Cantor batted a wispy cloud from in front of his face. “Why are you smoking?”

  “I don’t know.” Bridger cleared his throat and touched his neck with his hand. “It feels a bit ticklish.”

  “I hope you aren’t coming down with something. This mountain is bad for one’s health. First, Bixby and Dukmee succumb to some sleeping sickness, and now you’re catching cold.”

  Bridger dragged his feet, slowing down the pace. “I suppose Chomountain will be able to cure a sore throat.”

  “Let’s hope so.” Cantor scratched the dragon under his jaw in a place that Bridger always found comforting.

  They came up to Neekoh, who rubbed his hands together as if unable to contain his excited energy. “I can’t get through the archway without you. I tried, but it held me back.”

  Cantor scratched his head. “Are you sure that our being with you will allow you to enter?”

  “Of course! You broke the ward. You’ll be able to go through, and I’ll just go with you.”

  For a fleeting moment, doubt assailed Cantor’s peace of mind. Suppose they couldn’t get through. Suppose Chomountain wasn’t even in the valley. Suppose if he were in the valley, he chose not to help them.

  He quickened his stride. When they got to the entrance, he strode straight through onto a large stone shelf jutting from the mouth of the cave. Stopping at the edge, he looked back just as Bridger and Neekoh passed under the arch.

  Relieved, Cantor turned and raised his hand to shield his eyes as he surveyed the vast, lush valley before them.

  Green trees crowded most of the view. In spotted areas, massive blooms in bright colors stood out clearly against the dark, verdant backdrop. Rivers and streams crisscrossed the terrain. An outcropping of rock poked through the tree line, looking organized enough to be the remnants of a building. The cliffs on the opposite side had a similar appearance.