Dragon Rescue (18 page)

“Turn back,” agreed Murdan. “Head down for that line of trees there. The firs will again provide us some protection. We can wait it out for days, if need be. Damnation!”

The passengers, even sour Plume, did what they could to brush the fast-accumulating snow from the Dragon’s body and as far out on his wings as they could safely reach, but it continued to fall and to cling, fast and thick.

Hoarling took advantage of the terrain to slip down between the walls of the lower pass, barely skimming over a knife-sharp ridge, and plunged into the forest beside a frozen tarn beyond and below that.

He touched down lightly on what appeared to be a clear place...and skidded wildly out of control, spinning end for end across the ice of the snow-hidden lake.

With a frustrated screech Hoarling plowed into a stand of cedar and bare poplar saplings on the lakeshore, upsetting and tumbling his passengers head over heels into a deep, soft drift—which broke their falls and prevented serious injury on the jagged rocks beneath.

Chapter Twelve

Change in the Weather

“Ho!” shouted Furbetrance Constable. “Ha! Hoy!”

Tom was dozing between the younger Dragon’s foremost pair of ears.

“What?” he sputtered, coming wide awake instantly. “Whatd’you see?”

Furbetrance pointed a slender emerald foreclaw down and away to the front as he flew into upper Overhall Vale.

“Something’s going on down home,” the huge beast rumbled.

Tom peered ahead, leaning out over the beast’s scaly brow to see better. There was tall and beautiful Overhall Castle on its narrow, steep-sided ridge, its three slender towers almost scraping storm clouds scudding low against the winter-grim background of the Snow Mountains.

He made out tiny figures dashing about on the crenellated battlements. As he watched, archers on the foregate barbican loosed a cloud of orange-feathered arrows at unseen targets on the ground.

Their targets, he then realized, were wallowing white-clad warriors in the deep snowdrifts below the castle’s barbican foregate. Orange arrows peppered their ranks, and in a moment the attackers fell back beyond bow range. Tom could hear their shouts, screams, and their officers’ bellowed orders.

“Northmen?” he asked. “Attacking Overhall, it seems.”

“Rellings, for sure,” agreed Furbetrance, remembering at the last moment not to nod—it would have thrown his passenger about were he to do so. “Shake ‘em up a bit, shall we? Ho!”

Without waiting for Tom to agree, he veered and slipped into a roaring dive, spurting a stream of acrid black smoke and white-hot fire from both nostrils. The sight, Tom said to Manda later, must have been like a steam locomotive plummeting out of the gray overcast, hissing at the top of its whistle, belching fire and steam. Manda said she understood—although she had absolutely no idea what a “locomotive” might be.

The Dragon swept low across the Rellings’ ragged battle line on the hill below Foregate, blinding the startled Northmen with his smoke and fury and scorching their fur hoods and frosted eyebrows if they tried to stand against his sudden assault.

A few white-clad warriors crouched in the deep snow, covering their heads with round iron bucklers. Some managed to raise their short, heavy swords briefly. Bucklers and swords suddenly glowed red from the heat of the Dragon’s breath. The Rellings dropped the incandescent metal and turned as one to retreat headlong down the hillside, across the half-frozen stream and into the trees on the far side.

Most of the attackers took one look at the awesome apparition plunging by low overhead, dropped shields, swords, and all discipline—

and fled as fast as the snow would allow.

“That’ll keep ‘em off our necks for a few hours at least,” snorted the Dragon, puffing triumphantly as he pulled out of his flat dive scant feet from the ground. He shot aloft once again and banked toward the high walls of Overhall, where the archers on the battlements were waving their arms and cheering.

“Here’s my very own Dragon champion!” cried the delighted Manda, running to meet them across the lower courtyard.

Furbetrance landed as lightly as a bit of fluff on the courtyard cobbles, ending his descent with a deep bow that allowed Tom to slip from his saddle and sweep his radiant wife into his arms.

King Eduard arrived somewhat out of breath. He was followed closely by the Queen, the Princess Royal in Rosemary’s arms, the three Ffallmar children, and most of the royal and Overhall servants, all clapping and shouting with pleased relief.

“They attacked first at dawn,” explained the King, embracing his son-in-law in turn. “Just a probe, I think, to see if we were defended strongly.”

“And we were! We were!” shouted young Eddie of Ffallmar, giving Furbetrance a vigorous hug about the right ankle. “We saw them coming across the snowy fields from Sprend! You beat them off, for sure, Furbie!”

“Try to keep
him
in bed at such a time!” sighed his mother. “He’s just like his father! Ready either to talk or fight.”

“Who are these wicked people, pray?” Beatrix asked.

“Rellings, I surmise, ma’am,” said Furbetrance. “Northmen, at any rate. Any word from Lexor? Where’s Murdan?”

The King shepherded them all into Great Hall, promising news as soon as they were out of the dampness and chill. Graham rushed up to report the attackers had fallen back beyond the edge of the forest on the slopes opposite the gate. They were milling about in confusion, he added gleefully.

“A good time to hit ‘em back,” he said. “Permission to sally, sire?”

“Of course!” said Eduard Ten. “Don’t wait for me to say. We’ll dispatch the Dragon to help you send them packing for good.”

The old soldier dashed off, bawling for his Guardsmen to assemble at the sally port.

“Murdan is captured,” Manda told Tom. “No word has been heard from Lexor except that they’re holding fast under Walden.”

“Good for Walden!” said Tom.

“Have you yet found my baby?” asked the Queen, clutching Tom’s arm. “We have heard nothing since you left Knollwater.”

“Lady Queen,” said the Librarian, “we know where he is and he appears to be safe and sound.”

“Thank goodness!” cried the royal mother, running to her husband’s side. “Will he be soon saved?”

“We’ve a problem getting close enough to the rogue Dragon—who is certainly an enchanted Arbitrance Constable”

“Oh, no! It
was
Furbetrance and Retruance’s father as they said!”

cried the King. “How terrible!”

Tom quickly described the search, ending with stalemate on the edge of Sinking Marsh. The Queen was somewhat reassured by the White Heron’s report she’d seen Ednoll happily playing ball with his captor.

“We need some assistance—Retruance, Furbetrance, and I—getting him out of the Dragon’s hands...er...claws,” Tom finished. “We’d hoped to find Murdan here. As Arbitrance’s own Companion we think he can be of the most help.”

“But we don’t know where the Lord Historian is!” groaned the King, chewing on a royal knuckle. “He’s imprisoned by the Relling War Leader, somewhere. If he were free, I think he would send word, or come to us here.”

“Give him a while yet, sire,” Tom urged. “He’ll find a way to get word to us. But he doesn’t have a Dragon to fly him about as I do.”

rs

Five hours later Graham’s troop and Furbetrance returned to Overhall, covered with wet snow and mud and filled with grim satisfaction.

“We ran them hard as far as Fallow Fields, beyond Sprend,” the good Captain reported. “They left most of their supplies and war gear behind, the better to run from us...and from Furbetrance.”

“They’ve probably never gone up against a fire-breathing Dragon before,” Furbetrance admitted, rather pleased with himself. “We took a few of their officers prisoner, Lord King. They may be able to give us useful information once they’re thawed out a bit in Murdan’s gaol cells.”

“Put them up in Aftertower,” directed Eduard Ten. “Give them hot food and warm blankets and let them dry out a bit. I’ll question them later in the evening.”

After dinner—quite a gala affair, for the residents of Overhall had experienced siege and conquest before and were delighted to be so easily out of immediate danger—and a brief, grim session with the captive Relling officers, the King called his close advisers together in Murdan’s study atop Foretower.

A roaring fire drove most of the evening’s chill from the cozy, book-lined room. Servants passed around mugs of hot, mulled cider, and a kitchen boy crouched at the fender, popping drifts of corn in a wire basket.

Bushels of the hot popcorn were passed to Furbetrance, standing outside in the bailey with his head through the Historian’s balcony door so he could hear and talk—and eat—most easily.

“The prisoners didn’t know all that much,” Eduard began the discussion. “They were sent against Overhall by someone known as Grand Blizzardmaker...”

“That’s not what they called him, actually,” said Tom, laughing.

“But present company is too delicate to hear what they really did name their War Leader!”

“Yes, well, that’s better left unreported, as you say,” the King said with a guffaw. “They were ordered to invest Overhall and tie up as much of our midland militia as possible. They knew Murdan was prisoner, but not where he’s held, I’m afraid. They claim they expect Lexor to fall within a few days. Fortunately, that plan is about to be forestalled. Ffallmar and his troops should be on the scene at Lexor by now—or will be very shortly. I’m ready to entertain ideas and plans for what our next steps should be.”

Everyone looked to Tom to speak first. After trying politely to defer to Manda, who shook her head firmly, and to Furbetrance, who merely grunted and helped himself to more hot, buttered popcorn, the Librarian turned to his royal father-in-law.

“These are our needs, sir. Drive the Rellings from around Lexor and out of the kingdom entirely, as quickly as possible. The history of Carolna I’ve read tells me that Carolnans seldom fight in wintertime.

Northmen, unfortunately, seem to consider Carolna winters as almost summerish.”

“They came prepared and trained to fight here in the south all season, the prisoners claimed,” Eduard agreed. “This estimate is confirmed by Captain Graham, who’s fought them before, it seems.”

“That’s correct, sire,” said the Overhall Captain. “As has His Majesty, for that matter.”

“We beat them very badly twenty years back,” said Eduard Ten, grinning at the memory. “But they were merely raiding over our border then. Not a full-scale invasion with intent to conquer and hold.”

“Which underlines my point,” Tom resumed. “We must strike instantly, for not only do they outnumber us, but they’re experienced wintertime fighters, while we’re not.”

“Point well taken,” agreed the monarch of Carolna. “Go on, my son.”

Tom blushed with pleasure. Eduard’s approval meant much.

“Murdan, then. We must somehow find and rescue him. That’s priority number two.”

All nodded agreement.

“I can’t see how to do it, since we have no information where he is being held—if he is being held at all,” Furbetrance pointed out.

“That’s the problem, isn’t it?” asked Manda. “We need intelligence as to my uncle’s whereabouts.”

Tom nodded at his wife’s words.

“Last, there is the Prince Royal and the enchanted Arbitrance. In that we are better prepared to act decisively. We know where the child and his captor are. Furbetrance believes, and Retruance also, that the help of another Companion should be enough to distract their papa while someone dashes into his lair to bring the child out safely.”

“Which explains why I am here,” said the younger Constable, trying not to sound too self-conscious. “I have...It is my pleasure and honor...er...I never thought this would be so difficult!”

“Say it,” Tom urged, and the King nodded encouragingly.

“Manda...Princess Alix Amanda Trusslo, will you do me the supreme honor...?” Furbetrance began again, blushing brightly crimson about the cheeks.

“Yes, Furbetrance!” Manda said.

“Eh? Well! You mean...you will?”

“I’d be perfectly proud to be your very own Companion” said the Princess.

Running to the balcony door, she flung her arms about the Dragon’s muzzle—or as much of it as her arms could encompass. “It’s been ever my dream, believe me, since I was a tiny girl all alone at Morningside!”

“Well,
well!”
mumbled Furbetrance, turning even brighter red.

“So, we are pledged, then?”

“Of course!” cried Manda. “We are Companion and Mount, hence-forth. I do so declare it!”

Everyone laughed and applauded, especially Tom.

“Like proposing marriage,” he commented to his father-in-law.

“Should I be jealous, do you think?”

“None of it!” the King laughed out loud. “After all, you
are
a Companion yourself, my boy! This is both meet and just, as the old phi-losophers used to say. Congratulations, beloved daughter!”

When the meeting eventually resumed, after everyone had given their joyous congratulations to Manda and to Furbetrance, Tom faced the King once more.

“I suggest the following, sir. Manda, Furbetrance, and I should return at once to rescue Prince Royal Ednoll from Sinking Marsh and forestall poor old Arbitrance from doing any more harm to anyone.

Arcolas confirms that Murdan is best suited to disenchant his own Mount, but if Murdan isn’t available, we’ll have to ensnare Arbitrance somehow and hold him until Murdan is found. Can we do that?” he asked Furbetrance.

“My brother and I will have the great advantage of Companions, and Papa will not. We can control him...at least for a while,” answered Furbetrance with a nod.

“The next move must be to rescue Murdan, then,” Tom continued. “To do that, we must move quickly against the Rellings and hope to force them to reveal where they’re holding our Historian.”

“Difficult, dangerous, and time consuming,” Eduard commented.

“So it must begin at once, yes.”

“Begun without help of either Dragon, however,” Tom reminded him. “At least until we can rescue Ednoll.”