DragonKnight (36 page)

         
47
         

O
NE
M
ORE
T
IME

“How are you feeling, Gilda?” asked Kale.

“Just tired.”

“You’re not bored anymore?”

She shook her head wistfully. “I’m too tired to be bored these days, Kale.”

“Are you frightened?”

“I’d say I was too tired to be frightened, but that isn’t true. I’m not frightened anymore, but it isn’t because of the nagging fatigue. It is because Paladin has taught me about Wulder. Because I understand.”

Kale nodded.

“And,” Gilda smiled the slow, lazy smile that relaxed her face and cast an aura of tranquility over her features, “I am very glad I met Regidor. We’ve traveled so many places. Do you know why he travels?”

Kale shook her head. “I’ve often resented his freedom to go places Cam and Fen would not let me go. And although Mother visits often, she never takes me with her to the places she goes.”

“Your mother still does very dangerous work for Paladin. She goes places where it is not safe for a young, inexperienced girl.”

“You’re younger than I am, Gilda, and so is Regidor. Everyone seems to forget that.”

“We are meech, dear Kale, and you know that makes a difference whether you want to acknowledge the fact or not.”

She’s right. Just look at her. She’s poised and unruffled and everything I am not. And actually, I would rather not be exactly like Gilda for all her sophistication. Being stuck in The Bogs is infinitely more entertaining than being stuck in a bottle. I’m happy with my lot.

Kale smiled and stretched and leaned back against the earthen wall of the burrow. “I know I’m not a meech. Fenworth often bemoans the fact that I don’t learn as quickly as Regidor.” She yawned. “Tell me about your travels and make it very interesting so I’ll stay awake.”

Gilda chortled, the laugh rattling deep in her throat. “I won’t need to work at that.” She reclined across a broad rock shelf where Regidor had set her bottle. “Where shall I begin? You know Regidor spent a great deal of time visiting weavers and tailors.”

“I used to think he was vain.”

“He enjoyed teasing you. When you scolded him for wasting his time, he secretly took pleasure in being able to mislead you. He searched for fabric suitable for his adventures and for clothes designed to help him blend into the general populace. It is difficult to be hairless, green, and scaly. It is also difficult to hide a tail and wings.”

Kale looked at her elegant friend who also disguised a tail and wings. Gilda used draped veils. Her dresses and swirling capes added to her exotic glamour.

“But Regidor travels for two other reasons,” continued Gilda. “He searches with a passion for information about the meech race. The question of where they came from troubles his peace of mind. Equally, he wants to know where the remnants of our race have gone.”

Kale nodded in understanding. “And the last reason he travels is you, isn’t it?”

“For me. He hopes to find a way to save me.” She shrugged as if the solution to her predicament was not all that important to her.

“Don’t you want to live, Gilda?” Kale asked.

“I suppose I do, but not with the zeal one might expect. I think it’s good that I’ve spent time with Wizard Fenworth.” Her face lit up with a much warmer expression than her usual serene smile. “Besides amusing me, he has instructed me in the gentle art of dying. Without anger or defiance. No desperate clinging to this realm with a fear of the next.”

“You wouldn’t fight to live?”

“Under certain circumstances. But those circumstances are not mine. I would only cause myself unhappiness to chafe under my situation. I would cause Regidor’s anguish to intensify. No, my desire is to enjoy each moment. And should I be granted an unexpected reprieve, I shall rejoice.”

Kale shook her head, her brown curls bouncing against her face as they swung back and forth. “I don’t think I could be so calm, Gilda. I just couldn’t resign myself to die without a fight.”

“That’s because your circumstances are not mine. I think Wulder expects you to fight and me to comply.”

Gilda soon returned to her bottle. The length of time she could spend outside had dwindled significantly over the three years since Risto had imprisoned her. Kale recognized that each time Gilda appeared outside her bottle, her vapor was less dense, her image less sharp.

Regidor took the next watch. Bardon the last.

In the morning they ate a simple meal.

“Regidor,” Bardon said as he swallowed the last bite of mullin, “we should send another message to N’Rae that we’ll be delayed.”

“N’Rae?” Kale frowned at the squire. “Didn’t you say a Captain Anton led your party in your absence? Why are you sending a message to a girl?”

“Because,” answered Bardon with excruciating patience, “Regidor delivers the message through an animal. You do remember that I told you N’Rae’s particular talent is the ability to communicate with animals?”

Kale hated the tone of voice Bardon used. It reminded her of their early acquaintance, when he was a snooty lehman at The Hall. At that time, he treated everyone with cold disdain. Irritation seeped into her voice. “I do remember you saying something about a chicken.”

“Children, children,” scolded Regidor as he laughed and tried to keep his face solemn. “Let’s not squabble. I’ll send a message to Captain Anton via N’Rae. Kale, would you send out your dragons to see if they can pick up a trail for us to follow? Preferably one that leads to Bromptotterpindosset. And, Squire Bardon…”

“Yes?” Bardon growled.

“I think it would be profitable if you were to busy yourself by being in charge. You could plan our attack, or devise a scheme to find our way back to the castle, or you might want to—”

“Regidor.” Bardon’s voice held no humor.

“Yes, my good friend?”

“Go find a crow to carry your message.”

“Yes.” He turned on his heel and headed for the burrow’s outer opening. “I believe now would be a good time to do that.”

It took the dragons less than an hour to locate the grawlig camp. Pat and Gymn came back with news of snoring ogres and one old tumanhofer trussed up again and spitting mad.

Kale recounted what her green dragon, Gymn, had reported. “Bromptotterpindosset has escaped the ropes binding his hands, but a great brute is lying across his legs, and he can’t get out from under him.

“Gymn says once we’ve moved the beast, Gymn and I will have to heal the tumanhofer’s legs.”

“Have they gone to sleep?” asked Bardon with concern.

“No.” Kale sighed over the clumsy, irrational behavior of these beasts. “The grawligs repeatedly dropped the mapmaker while using him to toss in a game of catch last night. His legs are bruised, but not broken. Perhaps an ankle is sprained. Gymn had a hard time assessing his condition, because the grawlig sleeping on Bromptotterpindosset thrashed around a bit.”

“Did Gymn say how many there are, and if any are awake?”

“Pat said there are forty-seven, and none of them is conscious. They drank brillum last night.”

“Sounds like a good time to go rescue our mapmaker.”

Regidor grunted. “One more time.”

They followed Pat and Gymn through the burrows. In these passageways, lightrocks illuminated the way.

Kale stifled a giggle as they came up to the cavern where the grawligs sprawled in piles like puppies. These troublesome ogres had celebrated their coup too well. The cacophony from their snores reverberated off the stone walls. Instead of sneaking in on tiptoe, the rescuers walked among the beasts as if they were scattered boulders. Wrinkling her nose and trying not to breathe, Kale followed Regidor. The rancid smell from the grawligs’ unwashed bodies made her want to gag.

Bromptotterpindosset opened his eyes, raised his head, and gave a slight nod in recognition of their arrival. He then let his head droop.

“Gymn,”
Kale called to the healing dragon, “
let’s get to work while Bardon and Regidor remove that beast.”
She pointed to the grawlig sprawled over the mapmaker’s lower half, pinning him to the ground.

Trying to keep her breathing shallow so as not to inhale the putrid smells from around her, she knelt beside the tumanhofer’s head, placing her hands on his neck and shoulder. Gymn came to rest on his chest. The hum of healing energy flowed in a circle from the small dragon, through the injured man and Kale, and back to Gymn. Bromptotterpindosset began to breathe easier, his color improved, and his expression lost the pinched look of one in pain.

Bardon and Regidor lifted the weighty grawlig and carried him a few feet to set him down among other unconscious grawligs. Kale and Gymn moved to the bruised legs and completed the healing. Bardon helped Bromptotterpindosset to his feet, and the four walked without incident out of the hotbed of trouble.

“That was too easy,” said Bardon as they followed the minor dragons flying toward fresh air. They soon stepped out of the cave and into sunshine.

“I’m not sure,” said Regidor, “that it is written as law that every endeavor must be fraught with danger.”

The tumanhofer remained silent. He had not spoken at all since they freed him and restored his health.

Kale watched him out of the corner of her eye. “Are you all right, Bromptotterpindosset?”

“I am,” he said and kept marching, his head down and his eyes on the path.

She turned to Bardon. “Where are we going?”

“Back to our camp to get the others. We’ve found the knights, but we must awaken them.”

Kale surveyed the area. “These are odd mountains.”

Bardon glanced around. “Why do you say that?”

She shrugged and grimaced. “I don’t really know, they just…I know.” She pointed to a mountain peak ahead. “That mountain”—she turned and pointed behind—“looks like that one.” She pointed in yet another direction. “And that one.”

The mapmaker stopped. His head came up with a jerk. He looked around, placed his hands on his hips, and looked around again. “We’re lost,” he muttered, his usually brusque manner subdued by despair.

“We follow the sun,” said Regidor. “The sun does not lie.”

         
48
         

L
OST IN
O
NE
P
LACE

The minor dragons grew sleepy almost as soon as they started the morning trek. One by one the little dragons crawled into their own pocket-dens in Kale’s cape.

“That’s unusual,” she told Bardon when even Filia, who loved to see new things, tucked herself up in her pocket to sleep.

He held a branch back so she could pass. “They’re used to rather a dull life in The Bogs. They’ll come out when they’ve rested.”

But the little dragons did not reappear.

Plenty of game, birds, and insects inhabited the area. But the creatures acted in a perplexing manner, seemingly unaware of the strangers. The meech dragon tried to summon birds so he could learn from them something about the land. They refused to come. Kale called to different animals, but none responded. After walking west for several hours, the four travelers came to an impenetrable forest.

Regidor started a fire to warm them as they tried to figure out where they were and how to get to where they wanted to be. The meech conjured up the ingredients, and in a short time, Kale sat stirring a pot of soup.

“Why don’t you just fix the meal?” Bromptotterpindosset asked Regidor. “I know wizards can produce banquets out of nothing.”

Regidor patted the tumanhofer on his broad shoulder. “That’s a misconception, Bromp. And besides, sometimes the preparation of a meal, with its smells and procedures, is comforting. Are you terribly hungry, sir?”

“No, I’m not. Not at all. I don’t know why we stopped. We should be covering more ground before the day slips away from us.”

“That’s just why we stopped. Our desire is to cover the right ground, and we seem to be getting nowhere.” Regidor pointed to the satchel that had been returned to the mapmaker. “Shall we look at your maps?”

The men settled down. Bromptotterpindosset sat on a long log, Regidor sat on a rock, and next to the tumanhofer sat Bardon with his back against the rough bark of the log.

Kale’s eyes scanned the bushes, trees, and undergrowth. Her mind wouldn’t rest but kept pondering what strange power lay over this region.

At times she had trouble hearing, and at others, she would hear one thing almost to the exclusion of the other natural noises. She heard a drummerbug until she thought she would go insane. When she mentioned it to Regidor, he said he didn’t hear it at all.

Kale stirred the bubbling liquid and sniffed the fragrance of onions and meat.
I find it odd that I’m not tired. Walking is my least favorite mode of transportation. And I’m not really hungry, either. Bromptotterpindosset doesn’t appear tired, and he said he wasn’t hungry.

She peered into the pot and frowned.
When did I put carrots in this soup? Regidor must have put them in. He likes carrots.

Bromptotterpindosset, Bardon, and Regidor pored over maps and the diary, trying to retrace their steps. They passed the different items to one another. As far as Kale could tell, they hadn’t resolved anything during their hour-long discussion. She listened to them speculate and wondered if she and Regidor could build a gateway, choosing a place to go.

Bardon pointed first to a spot on one of the maps and then to a mountain to the east. “If we came into this range of mountains from this direction, then that peak is this one on the map.”

Bromptotterpindosset shook his head. “That would mean the scale is wrong. We haven’t traveled nearly long enough to get from there to here.”

“There is the possibility that the map is wrong,” argued Bardon. “I don’t believe this area is recorded on any of these charts. None of the drawings match with the configuration of this range. Everything is just a bit off in either size or spacing.”

“I agree.” The mapmaker folded the map in his hand. “Could we have passed through a gateway without knowing as we traveled through the burrows?”

Bardon scrunched his face. “I’ve never been through a gateway that didn’t squeeze the breath out of me.”

“There was the large gateway made by the wizards to transport dragons and warriors to the Battle of Bartal Springs Lake,” said Regidor. “That one was less constricting.”

“Yes, but the sensation of sticking to air was the same. I don’t think we could walk through a gateway totally oblivious to making the passage.”

Regidor grunted. “Neither do I.”

Kale turned her mind away from the discussion. It seemed to her that they repeated the same argument in a cycle. Soon they would spread out the maps again and try to determine where they were. The minor dragons refused to come out, and she sensed their fear and confusion. Something was not right, but her little friends did not know what.

In the thicket not far from her, a squirrel picked up a nut, scampered along a rotted log, and buried his treasure.

Kale sat up, attending to the small details around her, and waited. Overhead, a bird took off from a limb. The branch shook and three leaves fell to the ground. Kale looked at the fallen leaves in the dirt. They lay in a rough triangular formation.

With her lips pressed together, she watched for more signs of life in these woods. A bee flew to a bush covered with small white flowers, then after a long pause, a bluebird brought a twig to the tree at her left. Her eyes turned to the sky and followed a cloud as it sailed past a mountain peak.

In the thicket not far from her, a squirrel picked up a nut, scampered along a rotted log, and buried his treasure.

Kale nodded her head and waited patiently for the three leaves to fall from the tree after the bird took to the air. They landed, making a triangle on the dirt. In due time, the bee came, and then the bluebird with his twig. She looked up to the mountain and saw the same cloud drift out of sight over the same mountain peak.

“We’re in an illusion,” she announced, loud and clear.

She closed her eyes for a moment, dreading what she might see when she looked at her three male companions.

They had the same discussion over and over, but they didn’t use the exact same words.

She turned her head and opened her eyes.

Bardon, Regidor, and the tumanhofer had stopped what they were doing and stared at her.

She sighed and smiled. “I’m so glad. I thought you might be part of the illusion as well. In which case, I would be alone. But you’re not repeating.”

Bromptotterpindosset glanced first at Bardon and then at Regidor. “Does anyone know what she’s talking about?”

“I think,” said Bardon as he stood, “these maps are useless in our present circumstances.” He moved toward Kale.

“What does he mean?” the tumanhofer asked Regidor.

Regidor rose to his feet and looked down at Bromptotterpindosset. “If this place is under a spell, the maps will not guide us out.”

The meech followed Bardon, and the mapmaker got up clumsily. “See here, I’ve been around the world, and there has never been a time when my maps failed me. Even if I couldn’t determine where we were by landmarks, the stars remain constant to the celestial charts. You, yourself, said the sun never lies.”

“Yes,” said Regidor over his shoulder, “but is that the sun?”

Bromptotterpindosset glanced at the sky and then sputtered, “Ridiculous! How could the sun not be the sun?”

Regidor ignored him. “Tell us what you’ve seen, Kale.”

She pointed to a limb above them. “That bird will take off, and three leaves will fall to the ground.” She pointed to the dirt. “They’ll come to rest there, making a triangle.”

The bird took to the air, and the leaves landed in the dirt just as Kale predicted.

“Next a bee flies among those white flowers, then a bluebird carries a twig to that tree.”

The three men watched the insect and the bird.

“Coincidence,” scoffed the tumanhofer.

Bardon and Regidor cast him disapproving glares.

“Next,” said Kale, “the cloud goes over the mountain peak.”

Bromptotterpindosset shifted in irritation. “Anyone can see which way the cloud is going.”

Kale ignored him. “Notice the three leaves are gone.”

They looked to where dirt lay in the cleared patch.

The cloud drifted out of sight.

“A squirrel will pick up that nut and bury it over there.”

“I’m convinced,” said Bardon as the squirrel flicked its tail and grabbed the nut.

“What does it mean?” asked the tumanhofer.

Regidor frowned at the shorter man. “It means we’re lost unless we can break the spell.”

Kale put her hand on Bardon’s arm. “We broke a similar illusion in Risto’s dungeon with music. Dar played his flute.”

Bardon reached inside his tunic and pulled out his small silver instrument. He played a few random notes. Nothing happened. He played a scale. Nothing. He played the first bars of a popular tune. Still nothing. He looked to Regidor. “Any ideas?”

“We could try interrupting the cycle.”

“It’s the bee’s turn to make an appearance,” said Kale.

Regidor stood ready beside the flowers and scooped the insect out of the air with his bare hand. He threw it to the ground and stepped on it.

“It didn’t sting you?” asked the tumanhofer.

“My forefeet are covered with very thick skin. But that’s beside the point. It didn’t try.”

A minute later, the bluebird flew by with a twig in its beak.

“So,” said Bardon, “the destruction of a bee did not disturb the order of the illusion.”

“What do we do now?” Bromptotterpindosset asked, while looking around nervously.

“I doubt that anything is going to attack us,” said Regidor.

The tumanhofer’s eyes snapped back to glare at the meech dragon. “I didn’t expect that something would. It’s just”—he shuddered—“this place is unsettling. Nothing’s real, isn’t that so?”

“Mostly,” said Regidor, patiently. “I believe the ground under our feet is real. It perhaps doesn’t look like this ground we see, but we are standing on something.”

“You’re a clever fellow,” said Bromptotterpindosset. “You’ll figure some way out.”

Regidor inclined his head but said nothing.

Kale wiped her hands on her britches. “Could we build a gateway, Reg? You and I have studied them and repaired them, and I helped make one. Bardon did too. Shall we try?”

“It will be difficult, if not impossible. One needs to know one’s exact location in order to begin.”

After two tries, they gave up.

“Don’t quit!” exclaimed the tumanhofer. “Get us out of here.”

“I don’t see why you’re so upset,” said Bardon. “Surely you’ve been in more dangerous situations than this.”

“I like to know where I am, that’s all.” The mapmaker’s eyes darted right and left. His eyes latched on the bee as it returned to the flowers. “Let’s burn a section. Maybe that will do the interrupting thing you tried to do by killing the bee.”

Bardon and Kale both looked to Regidor, waiting for the more proficient wizard to pass judgment on the idea.

“I don’t think we can get an illusion to catch fire. But I don’t mind giving it a try.”

“You got the fire to start to cook the soup.” Bromptotterpindosset whined, sounding as if he accused the meech of some kind of trickery.

“I used material from my hollows,” said Regidor with a sigh. “You didn’t see me gather any wood, did you?”

“Well, no,” he admitted. He glared at each of the others in turn and then grabbed a stick from the fire, holding the end that stuck out from the coals.

He poked the stick under a bush, but the branches sizzled to black and then reformed. He tried burning old leaves on the ground, but they did the same thing. In disgust, he threw the lighted branch down in the dirt. It burned for a minute and slowly went out.

Bromptotterpindosset sat down hard on the log. “We aren’t going to get out. We’ll die here. There’s no real food to eat after Regidor runs out of his supply. No water to drink, either. We’re trapped.”

Regidor sat down beside him. “We’re a long way from being dead, my friend. Wulder has not abandoned us.”

“Wulder? Wulder! You think a fable can help you?”

“Well, He has in the past.”

“I don’t believe in your Wulder. He does not exist.”