Dragonfire (7 page)

A fire had been lit in the hut. The smoke curled
up and out through an opening in the center of the roof. Dahl and Catryn stooped to enter through the doorway, then sank gratefully down onto straw mats beside the blaze.

The Sele left, but was back almost immediately with bowls of food and water. The food bowls were filled with what looked like uncooked grain. Catryn looked at it with dismay. Dry and unappetizing, it was as tasteless as it looked and stuck to the roof of Dahl’s mouth and the back of his throat; nevertheless, he forced himself to eat as much as he could, then washed it down with water.

“This tastes like straw,” Catryn muttered in disgust. She spat a particularly dry kernel out.

“It is food,” Dahl said. “It will give us nourishment.” His voice was dull and lifeless. In truth, he did not care what he ate. The finest food in the world would not have had any taste for him just then.

After they had finished, Dahl sat, staring into the fire. He deliberately made his mind go blank. He did not want to think about what had happened. About what was to come. Catryn, however, would not allow him that escape.

“What now?” she asked.

“I do not wish to speak about it,” he answered. In spite of the ointment, his cheek burned with an intensity that seemed to be eating into the very bone of his jaw. He raised his fingers to massage it, but
the pain was such that touch could not be borne.

“The Protector has been killed, you say. He can no longer help us. The horse has been sorely wounded. What are we to do now, Dahl?”

Dahl leaped to his feet. He strode as far away from her as the confining space allowed. “I know not what we are to do!” he cried. “Trouble me not about it tonight. I must sleep…” But even as he spoke, he knew he would not sleep again that night. A sickness was rising in his stomach. He whirled away from Catryn and stormed through the hut’s entrance and into the starlight of the alien night.

Morning brought no relief. A Sele ducked in with two more bowls of the dry grain. This time Catryn was hungry enough to eat without complaint. There was only water to drink, but it was pure and sweet. Dahl drank it gratefully.

Catryn was on her feet as soon as she had finished.

“I must see to the horse,” she said. She looked as if she would say more, but bit her lip to stop the words before they could tumble out.

Dahl remained seated, dazed with sleeplessness, staring into the blackened remains of their fire. The
morning air was cool and he shivered, but he made no move to pull on his cloak. He hardly even noticed when Catryn returned, but when she sank down onto the ground beside him and stared into the dead fire, equally wordless but obviously troubled, he was forced to acknowledge her.

“What is it?” he asked. “Is the horse no better?”

“It’s better,” she answered. “The bleeding has stopped and the Sele say it will mend, but it will be many days before it can travel. They say I must stay to nurse it. It seems to do better when I am with it.” She looked quickly at Dahl, obviously afraid her words would cause offense, but he did not react. “What shall we do, Dahl? Will you stay as well, or will you go on?”

Dahl looked away from her. He scuffed in the ashes with one toe. “How can I go on?” he said, his voice so low it could hardly be heard. “I know not what to do. I know not even how to find Daunus again.” He knew he should be facing this, making plans, but when he looked within himself for the strength to do it, he could find nothing but a great, hollow emptiness. He seemed paralyzed, unable to do anything, unable even to think.

“The Sele say they will lead you.”

“It’s useless. I can’t do it. I’ve failed.” Even the triumph he had felt at slaying the dragon was gone. Without the Protector, he was lost. Taun was lost.

“What do you plan on doing then? We cannot
stay here indefinitely. Are we to retrace our steps when the horse is well again and tell the Elders that we have given up? Without even trying?”

Her words stung Dahl to a response. “Without the Protector it is impossible!” Even to speak his name brought pain.

“He said he was to be our guide only. He said it was you who would save Taun.”

Dahl leaped to his feet, goaded finally to action.

“You speak so,” he exploded. “You speak of ‘we,’ but it is not you who must be the doer of the thing! It is not you who must fight dragons!”

Catryn leaped to her feet as well and faced him, eyes blazing. “When the horse is better, I will follow you. I will find you, and it would seem likely that I would have to fight, too. And I
will
! The Elders—they said I was to have my part in this.”

“And you fear not?” Dahl’s voice was scornful.

“Oh, yes,” Catryn answered. “I am afraid.” She dropped her eyes for a moment, then turned their glare back upon him. “More afraid than you can ever imagine. But I’m not afraid of
being
afraid.”

Her words struck deep into his heart. He knew how true they were. He
was
afraid, and he
was
afraid of the fear itself. A double burden—a double cowardice. And it was because of that fear now that he lashed out at her.

“You know nothing of what you speak. Besides, after I leave you here I will be killed, one way or
another, long before the horse is healed. You will not have to fight. You will only have to return to the Elders and ask for their help to return you to your own world.”

“That I will never do!” Catryn spat the words out. She was as taut with anger as a hissing cat. Even the wiry flames of her hair seemed to sizzle.

A small, discreet cough sounded in the doorway. A Sele entered.

“I beg your pardon,” it said to Dahl, “but I am to be your guide to Daunus. When do you wish to leave?”

“I am known as Sele the Plump,” the figure said, somewhat ruefully. A glance at its round shape explained the name with no need for further words. Nevertheless, it went on, patting its stomach. “Our race does not usually round out so. I am somewhat different.”

Dahl looked at it incredulously. This rotund, quill-less hedgehog was to take him to Daunus? Into the heart of danger?

As if sensing his thoughts, Sele the Plump spoke quickly. “The way to Daunus is normally dangerous, but there is a secret path, and none is so familiar
with it as I. I am somewhat different from the others, too, in that I have always been attracted to your lovely city. Most Sele have affection only for their own meadows and forests, and stay far away from your kind, but I have always been fascinated…I would always learn more, even though…” Its voice died away.

Dahl shifted his gaze back to Catryn. She stood silently, staring at him.

“Is it far?” he asked the Sele, stalling for time.

“By our way, two days.”

“When would we have to leave?”

“We will leave whenever you wish. All is in readiness.”

The sickness he had felt earlier rose again within him. He was awash with weakness. Helplessly, he looked at Catryn. She stared back without moving, without a word. She would give him no help. It was his decision, his alone to make. But how could he?

Suddenly, he saw Daunus again as he had seen it before, silent and doomed. He felt again the pain, the knowledge that this lost city had been the city of his parents. That it had once been a happy and beautiful place. The pain within him magnified itself a hundredfold as he envisioned the desolation of Daunus repeated over and over in every other city in Taun. And all because of one man—the man who had dared to take his place. He felt again the Protector’s touch on his shoulder. He remembered
all the nights of talk, of preparing. He remembered the Protector’s words:
You are the rightful ruler of Taun. They are your people. You must save them. My life is pledged to help you.
His life. Already given. Could he, Dahl, render that sacrifice useless?

“Let us leave now, then,” he said. His words came out harshly. “There is nothing to be gained by waiting.”

For a moment Catryn’s face crumpled, then she drew a ragged breath and pressed her lips tightly together.

“I will follow you, Dahl. I will.”

Dahl looked at her, but couldn’t find the words to answer. He nodded his head curtly. As he turned to follow the Sele, it was with the desolate certainty that he would never see her again.

Dahl and the Sele left within the hour. For provisions, they each carried a sack of grain and a flask of water. They traveled for most of the rest of the day, stopping only once for rest. The Sele munched contentedly on its grain, but Dahl didn’t have the stomach for any more of it. He contented himself with a long drink of water, wondering how the Sele had ever managed to put on so comfortable a layer of
padding on a diet of such food. Its girth didn’t seem to slow Sele the Plump down, however, and it set a fast pace. They followed a stream that meandered across the Sele’s meadow and cut down through the trees. By the end of the day, they had stopped descending and reached the valley floor.

“How much longer will we be?” Dahl asked, as the Sele finished yet another meal and settled back against a tree with a satisfied sigh and a slight burp.

“To Daunus? Another day, I should think. At least, we’ll get to the edge of the forest, where we can see it, by tomorrow night. It will take another little while to cross the plain to the city gates.”

“How shall we get in?” Dahl asked.

The Sele looked at him in surprise.

“We?” it echoed. “What do you mean,
we?
I go with you only until we are within sight of the city. No farther.”

Dahl stared at the Sele. “But I thought…I thought you would take me in.”

“No, not at all,” it answered. The sleek gray fur on its brow silvered and ruffled slightly. “We Sele never go into Daunus.”

“Why not?” Dahl asked.

To his surprise, the Sele became evasive. “As I said, we are not comfortable in cities. And the people of Daunus are no longer our friends. Things happen…”

“What happens?”

But the normally placid Sele only became even more nervous and agitated. It jumped to its feet and trotted over to the stream.

“We do not talk of that,” it said hurriedly, then plunged its head into the icy water up to the scruff of its neck and made a great business of shaking the water off and out of its ears.

They made camp that night under a tree. The Sele munched on its grain and almost immediately curled up to sleep. Dahl was bone weary. He tried to choke down some of the grain, but could manage only a little. He stared into the blackness of the forest around him, weighed down by the silence. The light of the two great stars and their innumerable smaller companions could not penetrate the thick branches of the trees above him here. Were they shining down on Catryn? In the meadow of the Sele there was no impediment to their light. Was she sitting outside their hut, staring up at the stars and wondering about him? Or tending to the horse?

His mind tripped over the thought of the horse, winged and magical. He had been certain the horse had been sent to help him conquer the Usurper, but how could it now? Perhaps it had only been meant to help him fight the dragon. Deep down, Dahl could not believe that to be true. The horse must have been destined for more than that. But now the horse was wounded—left behind. And Catryn, too. The Elders had said she had a part to play, but
he had had to leave her as well. Did that mean that his quest was doomed? That he had already failed?

No night noises distracted him. No scurryings, no scrabblings. It was as if all life waited, holding its breath, to see what would happen next. Whatever it was, Dahl dreaded it.

The next day passed in much the same way, but as the afternoon lengthened, Dahl noticed the Sele seemed to become more wary.

“We are close to Daunus,” the Sele said finally. It sniffed the air. “I can smell it.”

Dahl could sense no change at all in the forest, but suddenly they emerged from the trees as if stepping onto a stage. In front of them stretched the wide plain, and on the far edge of it—Daunus. Dahl took a few eager steps toward it, drawn to it irresistibly, but a sharp hiss from the Sele stopped him.

“Quick! Back into the trees! Someone comes!”

The Sele grabbed Dahl’s tunic and pulled at him frantically. They just had time to hide themselves behind a tree, when Dahl saw what had frightened the creature. A group of horsemen had emerged from the forest a little way from them and were
making their way toward the city. From their hiding place, Dahl and the Sele could hear the sound of laughter and raucous voices. It seemed to be a hunting party, for most of the men were armed with bows and arrows. Across the back of a pack horse lay the carcass of a large, deer-like animal. Behind one of the men another, smaller animal was trussed. Dahl stared, suddenly cold with horror. It couldn’t be!

The Sele beside him made a queer, muffled kind of sound, then turned quickly away from the sight of the gleaming silver-gray body.

“But…but that’s a Sele!” Dahl cried. “Don’t they know…? Do they think your kind are animals?”

“To them, we are. We are sport for their hunters. We are—food.”

It wasn’t until they had made camp for the night that Dahl could speak again. Neither he nor Sele the Plump had been able to eat. They sat, huddled together in the darkness and the silence—they had not dared make a fire this close to Daunus. Only then could Dahl bring himself to talk. Even so, he could not speak of what they had seen. The horror was too much with him.

“Tell me about your people,” he said. He stared at the Sele as if really seeing it for the first time.

I have been taking these people for granted, he realized. Taking their help and their concern as if it was my due—not even bothering to wonder about them. To think of what their help to me might cost them. Shame colored his cheeks and made the dragon’s scar burn even more fiercely.

“We have been here for a very long time,” the Sele said. Its voice was colorless, dead. All of its enthusiasm was gone. “Not I, of course. I am one of the newest. Sele the Parent was the first.”

“Where did he come from?” Dahl asked.

“We know not. Even he knows not. The Elders have told us that it is not time yet for us to know our origins, or our destiny. We have a purpose here, that much we have been told. So we wait. And, when we can, we help. In past years we knew your parents. Daunus was a warm and welcoming place to us then. We had much to do with your people. But since the Usurper appeared…Well, you saw. You are the first of your kind that we have had dealings with in all these years. The first of your kind I have ever spoken to. I was quite frightened of you when I first met you, as a matter of fact.” The Sele looked at Dahl with a wry smile, as if amused that such a boy could have inspired fear.

Dahl flushed even more deeply. “Have you families?” he asked quickly, to hide his embarrassment.
“We saw none while we were there.”

“We are all one family,” the Sele replied. “You saw all of us.”

“But I mean…” Now Dahl was confused. “Wives? Children?”

This time the Sele laughed outright. “No, Dahl,” it said. “We have no males, no females, no children. We are just—the Sele. Some of us have been here for longer than others, but we are all the same.” It seemed to sense Dahl’s next question. “We never die. Normally, that is,” it added quickly. There was a pause, then it went on. “When a Sele is killed, however, the Elders call for one of us to go to them. There, they cause the one to become two, and the dead Sele is replaced in the family. It is a very great honor to be so chosen.”

Dahl had many more questions, but held them back. He had troubled Sele the Plump enough. One question he had wanted to ask was “Do you love each other, as the people of my race do?” But remembering the Sele’s despair at the sight of its slain comrade, he had no need to ask it.