“Patience,” he said in a gravelly voice, “was never my virtue.”
He spied movement in the grass and froze as he eyed his quarry. His head darted out, and he seized another of the emerlindians.
Bardon swung his glass around and located the last man. He hid beneath an outcropping of rock. “Just have the nerve to stay there, and you might survive,” he advised the man who could not hear him.
The dragon smacked his lips. “Just in case you think I need my scale fliers to do my dirty work—” He roared again and spewed out a stream of fire that blasted the unit of Paladin’s army to his right. The men and equipment went up in flames. The nearest unit rushed in to pull survivors toward safety. The line of defense reacted by backing out of range and reforming. As he watched their movements, Mot Angra rumbled with laughter.
The sun sank behind the mountains. The two pyres lit the gory scene. Perhaps the wild creatures had been right in insisting on death rather than face this horror.
Mot Angra took a step forward and devastated another segment of Paladin’s army with the torch from his mouth. He sat back then and shook out his wings as if he’d done no more than blow sand off a plate.
Bardon’s instructions to his men had been to aim for the tender parts of the dragon’s face, his eyes, his nose, inside his ears. Can they get close enough for even a few lucky strikes?
The dragon stretched forth his neck and fed on the charred corpses left where they had fallen. He ate loudly, chomping and smacking his lips. With a body dangling from his mouth, he lifted his head and peered across the field.
Bardon turned to see what had caught his attention. Emerging from the line of warriors, a parade of sorts glowed. Dressed again in light, a group of kimens surrounded three figures in the center. Their clothing once again flashed hues of gold and silver.
Bardon lifted his glass to one eye. Toopka marched in the center. Her hands cupped the egglike stone Wulder had plucked from her chest, and she held it in front of her as if she were bringing a present. On one side, Sittiponder, with a face grim and resolute, accompanied her. He had a drawn sword, and the blade either gleamed on its own or reflected the light from the kimens. On the other side, Gilda towered over those around her. She also brandished a long shining sword.
Mot Angra tossed his charred meat in the air, caught it, and swallowed the tidbit. He then tilted his head and examined the approaching company. “Oh, ho! What is this? Do you send me martyrs? I have to warn you, I don’t believe in sacrifices to appease my appetite. I shall eat your fools, then ravage the rest of you.”
Toopka lifted her chin. “I bring you a gift.”
Remarkably, her voice boomed across the land, much as Mot Angra’s voice. Was it natural amplification? Bardon twisted his head and saw nothing that would magnify sound such as a backdrop of a solid cliff. Wizard Namee was present. Did he provide this amplification? Or was it Wulder? At the thought of Wulder actively participating in this spectacle, Bardon’s heart lifted.
Bardon felt his arm jostled. He looked down to find Kale at his side. Regidor stepped up beside him. Both wore grim expressions. The moon on Kale’s face showed her pale complexion. Her expression remained remarkably calm. The paintings on old Kondiganpress’s walls came to life as she blinked back a tear. What had the old tumanhofer said? Her duty in this confrontation was to watch.
“A gift?” mocked Mot Angra. “How droll! Do you bring me a golden toothpick to clean your brothers from my molars? Do you bring me a stove in which to cook them? Perhaps a set of cutlery so I may sit at a table and display my manners?”
“It is an egg.”
The dragon’s booming laughter shook the very earth beneath the feet of Paladin’s army. As he guffawed, Toopka and her entourage advanced.
When he drew ragged breaths and again focused on the marching oddity, he wheezed, “You grow dangerously close, little people.” He giggled. “And tall madam.”
“If you eat the egg willingly, Wulder will relieve you of your heartache, your sorrows, your pain, and give you beauty in return.”
“Wulder? Ah, Wulder has offered me similar propositions in the past. If I do this, He will do that. I’ll have none of it, little doll. You will be the beauty I devour, and my supposed suffering will continue. It does not bother me much.”
The egg in Toopka’s hand flashed a bright light at his words.
“You lie,” said Toopka. The kimens’ clothing lost the subtle yellow and gray of metallic coloring and blazed a white so pure Bardon blinked and squinted to see.
Toopka’s voice rang through the dazzling display. “Should you swallow the egg unwillingly, you will die.”
Mot Angra turned his face away from the glare. Toopka’s small force was now within a hundred yards of the beast.
“You tire me,” he growled. “I’ll eat you and spit out your egg.”
“I don’t think it’ll be that easy.”
Something in the childish tone reminded Bardon of the little girl Toopka weaseling an extra treat out of Taylaminkadot. He took a step forward, but both Kale and Regidor grabbed his arms.
“She must do this,” Kale whispered. “I finally recognize what I should have seen long ago. The egg is the light of this world, Truth.”
The dragon roared. Flame singed the air. His pointed incisors glimmered in the light of both death fires and a child’s hope. He gnashed his teeth and swung his head over the approaching force twice. On the third swing he opened his maw and snatched as many of the party as he could.
The watching crowd gasped. Most of the kimens had fallen, their light clothing extinguished.
Toopka, Sittiponder, and Gilda were gone.
Mot Angra stomped his feet, howled with his chin pointed to the stars, and steamed from his nostrils, his mouth, his ears, and even his eyes.
Bardon put his arm around Kale as tears streamed down his face. He looked at Regidor’s expression and felt his resignation to accept Wulder’s will. A flash of anger seared Bardon’s heart but quickly lost its heat. I cannot quote Your principles day in and day out and not trust Your hand to bring forth Your best for us. But it is hard, Wulder. It is hard.
The beast’s next scream, a keening yowl, made everyone cover their ears. Silence followed. Mot Angra’s black skin let off a vapor smelling of the sweetness that threatened to close their throats. Paladin ordered his men to place a cloth over the lower half of their faces. The instruction rippled through the units. Some saw their comrades with the white handkerchief from a distance and followed suit.
Labored breathing broke the quiet. The great beast crumpled to the ground as his legs gave out. He rolled on his side and struggled to pull air in and push it out. His skin continued to steam and then to disintegrate. Much as the scale fliers’ bodies turned to powder after death, the evil dragon turned from a solid mass to a mound of dark dust. Not even a rib curved into the air above the vestiges of the vile monster.
The wind picked up and blew the sickening odor away and dispersed the remains of Mot Angra. As the hill diminished, several lumps could be seen in the residue. The lumps moved and walked out of the dragon’s dirt.
A cheer went up among the forces of Paladin as the warriors realized the three sent by Wulder had survived.
Kale squeezed Bardon’s arm so hard he thought it would bruise. “They’re alive. Our champions have lived through death.”
Bardon blinked back new tears as Regidor left his side, running down the slope toward his wife.
Thinking of the many tranquil images of Kale’s face at the old tumanhofer’s home, Bardon asked, “Did you know this is the way it would end?”
She pressed her face against his chest. “This is what I hoped for.” She leaned back and gazed into his eyes.
Their thoughts mingled. Penn, home, too many dragons to count. Bardon kissed her forehead. “Soon, lady of mine. Soon we can take Penn home.”
The roar of the crowd claimed their attention. Two urohms hoisted Toopka and Sittiponder into the air and placed
them on their shoulders. Regidor and Gilda walked arm in arm behind them. An impromptu parade of clapping, cheering soldiers streamed behind the heroes as they progressed toward the hill where Paladin stood waiting. The kimens danced among them.
Music broke out. First indistinct and disjointed, but as more of the crowd joined in, the most popular of Wulder’s marching songs echoed throughout the throng. Those who did not wield an instrument sang gustily. When the surge of revelers reached the top, Paladin joined in the celebration, leading them on toward the camp.
It took hours for the joy to expel its last breath in a sigh of contentment and relief. The camp settled down, many of the warriors making the trek to the canyon and the village of Bility.
Bardon looked around the campfire where those he knew best had settled. Paladin gestured to Toopka, and the small doneel came to stand before him.
“You’ve done well, my little friend.”
She nodded.
“Tell me how you came to lead the march that destroyed Mot Angra.”
“You mean why did the others go with me?”
“Yes.”
“They’re all bigger than me, sir. I couldn’t really tell them what to do. And when they said they were coming, too, well, I kind of liked the idea of not going by myself. I knew because Wulder told me that I needed to get that egg into Mot Angra. But He never said I had to go alone.”
Paladin crooked a finger, and Sittiponder approached.
“Why did you decide to stand by Toopka’s side?”
“I could see it was my place. Wulder gave me my sight, and I knew He wouldn’t have done that right before this big thing was going to happen unless He wanted me to be right there to watch after Toopka.”
“Gilda?”
The stately meech disengaged herself from her husband’s arm and came forward. “I went as a representative of the meech.” She looked down at the ground. “Not because we have so much to offer this world, but because this world has offered us refuge.” She lifted her face and looked Paladin directly in the eye. “Before Toopka brought me back with the touch of that egg to my lips, I stood in a place where truth is vivid. To my sorrow, I can’t remember everything revealed to me there. But the promise that I would one day return stays with me.”
Paladin took her hand and kissed it.
Toopka tugged on his sleeve. “It was pretty when the kimen joined us, wasn’t it?”
Paladin scooped her into his arms. “It was spectacular.”
EPILOGUE
Kale nodded to the far end of the palatial room where Bardon stood, talking with several men. “Do you think Paladin is looking fat?”
Her mother’s peal of laughter caught the attention of everyone in the room.
“Mother,” Kale whispered, “don’t say anything outrageous.” She handed her mother a tiny baby wrapped in pink and took the one in blue.
Lyll smiled at those in attendance and held up her granddaughter as if showing off a prize. Two minor dragons switched places, one following the girl babe to Lyll’s shoulder, the other leapt to Kale’s back, then peered down at the nursing baby boy.
Lyll shooed the protector dragon to one side and proceeded to thump the babe’s little back. “You are the one who’s outrageous. Fat?” Her eyes examined the tallest man in the group with Bardon. “He’s certainly filled out some. Comfortably content, not fat, dear. We became accustomed to his looking wan and gaunt. Now he is healthy, robust.”
Paladin looked up and caught Lyll’s eye. She smiled and nodded. He responded in kind and went back to his conversation.
“Speaking of robust and healthy,” said Lady Lyll, “where is Penn? It’s his third birthday. You’d think he’d be in the middle of things.”
Kale looked around. “There’s no food here.” She let her mind reach out. “Fly says he’s following a servant carrying a platter of daggarts.”
A side door opened, and a line of uniformed maids bustled in and placed refreshments on a long table covered with a brightly patterned cloth.
“There he is,” said his proud grandmother.
“Where?”
“He just ducked under the table.”
In a minute the servants departed, leaving behind a scrumptious array of food. As soon as the door whisked shut, a little hand appeared, reaching from beneath the tablecloth and patting the serving space.
“Penn!” Kale whispered in exasperation.
Lyll just laughed.
The hand located a plate and pulled it closer to the edge. Fingers stretched and found a brown, crunchy daggart. Fly landed on the wrist of the thief and nipped her boy. Penn dropped his treasure and withdrew his hand. Fly flew under the table, and Kale heard her scold.
Lyll sighed. “Does Penn like being a big brother?”
Kale nodded with a rueful grin. “He says babies should come one at a time. Our babies’ hair is too black. Their eyes are too blue. They smell bad sometimes. They won’t play, and they don’t talk. Yet he absolutely adores them. He is glad they came for his big birthday party.”
“Is there something special he wants?” Grandma had a gleam in her eye. “He wants to see his Uncle Regidor and Aunt Gilda and, of course, Toopka and Uncle Dar.”
“Regidor visits frequently, does he not?”
“Yes, but Sir Dar does not. He felt the wanderlust and took Toopka to tour the world. They’ve been gone quite a long time.”
“They’ve promised to come?”
Kale nodded. “I’m going to sneak Penn a treat before he knocks something off the table or strangles Fly.”
She put the sleeping boy in the wide cradle and scooted over to the table.
“Come out, Penn.”
Sheepishly, her older son emerged. He made an awkward attempt to straighten his party clothes. Kale helped him tuck his shirt in.
“Do you want a daggart?”
“Yes, please.”
“All right. Next time, ask.” She picked up a small plate and, using tongs, selected several small treats.
“Who’s that, Mommy?”
“Where?”
“With Uncle Dar.”
Kale turned to the door where Sir Dar stood with a very winsome young lady doneel. “Oh my, she is pretty. I believe your uncle Dar is, at long last, caught.”
“He’s caught?”
“You can see it in his eye.”
“He’s got something caught in his eye?”
More interested in analyzing the affection between the two newcomers to the party, Kale responded to her inquisitive son without much thought. “He’s enamored.”
“Armored?”
Kale put the plate on the table. “Let’s go meet Uncle Dar’s lady-love.”
She took one of Penn’s hands, but not before the other one had reached back and snatched one of the daggarts.
Kale hurried across the room. “Sir Dar!” She leaned over to kiss him in her favorite spot of soft fur between his ears. “Who is your friend?”
The lady giggled, and the familiar sound shocked Kale. “Toopka?”
The doneel bobbed her lovely head. “It’s me.”
“How did you grow up in two years?”
“Two and a half since we saw you last, although I’ve really been grown for a year now.”
“I don’t understand.” Kale gasped. “You’re the woman in the story you told us. I assumed you were one of the children who witnessed the tragedy.”
“I was that woman. Wulder gave me a gift to carry in my heart and made me a child. The more time passed, the hazier my memory became of what actually happened.”
“You didn’t know what you carried next to your heart?”
“I knew He’d given me a gift, and I thought I had lost it.”
Paladin came from across the room, knelt before Toopka, and kissed both her cheeks. “I am glad to see you well.”
He stood and shook hands with Sir Dar. “I see you are content.”
“Content,” Kale’s mother whispered in her mind. “Content seems to
be the word of the hour.”
It’s a lovely word, Mother.
“Yes, I agree. The Tomes say, ‘Content as I am is far superior to content as I was or content as I am to be.’”
Bardon and Sir Kemry approached and greeted the old friends.
Bardon smiled down at the couple. “I hardly recognized you, Toopka.”
She giggled.
He pointed a finger at her. “That I recognize.”
Sir Kemry harrumphed. “I finally get to ask my question.” All eyes turned toward him. “Toopka, when did you know what to do with that egg?”
She shook her head. “I never really knew. But as if my steps were ordered, I just kept walking. Sittiponder went with me, but then, he always did. When we got closer to the battlefield, he pulled out his sword. But his old one had been replaced with a gleaming blade. Then kimens collected around me, and I still didn’t know where we were going. But I could hear Wulder’s voice. ‘Go. Do not fear. I go before you. I will open the evil one’s mouth and destroy him.’”
Several of the women who pressed near oohed at that statement.
“Then Gilda came to walk with me, and she’s so big, I thought everything would be all right.
“I heard Wulder laugh. He said, ‘Her size makes you confident? Child, you should see Your Creator in all His glory. Size?’ Then He laughed again, and I felt warm and safe.
“When we reached Mot Angra and he spoke, I opened my mouth and words came out. I was very surprised when he swallowed us. But inside the darkness, a fresh breeze blew. I could hear singing, and I held Gilda’s and Sittiponder’s hands. Then the darkness fell away like a mist settling on the ground.”
Her eyes opened in earnestness. “I’d do it again. It was so peaceful.” She frowned. “But I think it was wise not to tell me ahead of time what I was expected to do.”