DragonSpell

  “Breathe!” shouted Dar. She barely heard him over a thunderous rushing noise in her ears.

  Pressure built in her chest, and her lungs felt coated with fire. Her eyes stung, tearing up, blurring her vision.

  “Breathe!” Dar repeated.

  He sprang to her side and thumped her on the back between the shoulder blades. Kale coughed and drew gulps of air through her mouth and into her lungs. Her breathing came rapidly and took a minute or two to regain a natural rhythm. Dar guided her to a log and had her sit.

  Gradually, she noticed the rich and varied greens of trees and underbrush and the lush display of giant wildflowers on prolific vines. The vivid colors made her blink. The roar in her ears separated into birdsong—sharp caws, twitters, chirps, whistles, and melodious trills. A legion of forest insects added to the din.

  “We’ll eat our noonday meal here,” said Leetu, lowering her pack to the ground. “After a little rest, we’ll begin our trek to The Bogs.”

  “Where are we?” asked Kale.

  “Fairren Forest,” answered Dar. “About five miles west of Bedderman’s Bog. Granny Noon wouldn’t put us down in the swamp. Too easy to step right out of the gateway into something nasty.” Dar chortled. “Or even someone nasty.”

  “What kind of creatures live there?”

  “Not as many flesh-eaters as you would think.”

  “Dar!” Kale heard Leetu’s reprimand given directly to the doneel’s mind.

  His response was muffled as he ducked his head and rummaged in his pack, “Well, it isn’t completely terror-free. But there’s a good chance we won’t be accosted by gruesome bisonbecks or odious mordakleeps.”

  “Dar…” Leetu glared at the little doneel.

  “What?” He spread his hands in a gesture of innocence.

  “Eat your lunch,” she commanded.

  “Fine, if you see no reason to worry about bisonbecks who do the bidding of Risto”—he sat down on a log and pulled out his lunch—“or mordakleeps who team up with anything nasty and currently have a wonderful working relationship with that same evil wizard Risto, then why should I worry? Why should we warn Kale?”

  Leetu’s scowl turned darker.

  Dar lifted his sandwich to his mouth, but had one more thing to say before he bit into it. “Actually, I agree with you. Worrying now over an encounter that might occur later would only ruin our digestion.”

  Leetu threw her hands in the air in a gesture of exasperation. She turned away from the doneel and faced Kale.

  “Just eat,” she commanded. “We have a long way to go. It isn’t necessary to conjure up visions of disaster. Paladin has equipped us to handle whatever comes.”

  The emerlindian sat down and pulled out a book as well as a packet of food. She glared once more at Dar, who chewed contentedly without showing the least concern that he had upset the leader of their expedition.

  Kale reached into the left-hand hollow inside her cape and pulled out one of the packets Granny Noon had provided. When she opened the bundle wrapped in a gauzy cloth, she found a sandwich made of tasty jimmin poultry. The lettuce popped with freshness when she bit into it, and tomato juice ran down her chin.

  Her stomach rumbled in appreciation, but her mind dwelt on something other than her hunger. She firmly ignored Dar’s hints at danger. She didn’t want to think about whether or not he was teasing. Or how much was teasing and how much was real. The fact that she had “overheard” Leetu admonish Dar was much more comforting to think about.

  I heard Leetu mindspeak to Dar. She called his name, sharp and angry. I heard the tone as well as the words, and it was definitely with my mind and not my ears. She wasn’t mindspeaking to me, but to Dar. I didn’t know I could listen like that to another’s conversation.

  Probably, I couldn’t before.

  Granny Noon said my talent would develop by being around Leetu. I guess this is the kind of thing she meant would happen.

  Kale watched the emerlindian turn the pages of her book while she ate.

  I wonder if I can listen to Leetu’s mind while she reads.

  Kale chewed her own sandwich slowly as she reached with her mind to Leetu. For an instant, printed words flashed in her mind. The page from Leetu’s book blurred, and Kale saw Leetu’s thoughts, images of mighty urohm soldiers mounted on gigantic horses moving in formation across a plain. In the distance, a dozen dragons flew in a line with one shimmering silver beast in the lead. Their destination was a bleak mountain range of obsidian black and ash gray. Storms shrouded the crater tops. The roiling clouds sent jagged bolts of green and purple lightning across the sky in all directions, accompanied by a menacing rumble of thunder.

  Kale knew this was the ancient legend of the Battle of Ordray. She had heard the tale once in the tavern and had no idea what the army looked like. Nor could she imagine the landscape of the great conflict on her own.

  Leetu’s imagination, fed by her knowledge of the race of urohms, formed the pictures Kale viewed. Leetu had also seen the Valley of Collumna. The beauty of the flowered meadows ended abruptly at the foot of the dark ridge of mountains. Kale closed her eyes and took in all the details Leetu summoned up as she read her book.

  The leader of the urohm forces, Corne, sat with the diminutive kimen, Ezthra, before him on the neck of his war-horse. A few days before, Ezthra had arrived with an urgent plea.

  Kale relished the story as she partook of Leetu’s imagination. This was one of the most exciting accounts of Wulder’s directly intervening on behalf of His people. The kimens’ request and the urohms’ response had earned Wulder’s pleasure, and His reward was astonishing. Kale leaned forward and forgot to eat as Leetu continued to read.

  When Ezthra first arrived, frazzled by fear and exhausted by a long, treacherous journey, he told Corne and the other urohm leaders his tale. The kimens, the smallest of the seven high races, had suffered through three dry years. A bisonbeck slave of Pretender had sought out the kimen high council and delivered an ultimatum. Pretender, through his messenger, revealed he had control of their weather, and unless they pledged allegiance to him, he would rain fire from the sky to finish the destruction of their forests and grasslands.

  The kimens doubted Pretender’s claim. Wulder commanded wind and rain and sun. They sent back a defiant reply.

  Two kimens discreetly followed the bisonbeck to spy and bring back news.

  One returned.

  He reported to Ezthra and the other elders. The spy had no news concerning Pretender’s claim to have gained control over the elements of weather. But he had seen armies of bisonbecks ready to descend upon the kimens. He’d crept into the field tent of a commander and listened to their plans to capture and enslave the kimens, destroy their homes, and stamp out their culture.

  Bisonbecks, the most intelligent of the seven low races brought forth from Pretender’s evil mind, were a hideous enemy. Rock-hard of muscle, thick-skinned like a crocodile melon, known for strength and endurance, the bisonbecks added an unholy rage in battle to their formidable ability to wipe out anyone who opposed them. What chance did the gentle, peace-loving kimen people have against them?

  Kale had seen a few kimens. They used to come into River Away. She always marveled at the tiny creatures and had to stop herself from staring. Kimens stood a little over two feet high in delicate bodies that were sometimes lifted by a strong breeze so they appeared to fly.

  In Leetu’s book the storyteller explained that the kimens could hide, but that would be their only defense. In hiding, they would most likely prolong their existence. However, with bisonbecks occupying their lands, the kimens would be caught one by one. Those who remained free would bear untold hardships and slowly starve. If Pretender did rain fire upon them, the kimens would most certainly perish.

  Pretender had in no way threatened the urohms. The storyteller made that clear as he related the legend. Corne stood up and spoke for his people. His compassionate response to the plight of the kimens provided the lyrics to many t
avern songs. The urohms would not stand by in safety behind the black ridges of Dormanscz. The urohms would not allow one of the seven high races to suffer and expire.

  They sharpened their wood-cutting axes to take into battle. They brought out their hunting weapons, made more arrows, and honed the edges of their small blades. Wives and daughters sewed makeshift armor out of thick leather hides. In three days they were ready to march against impossible odds.

  As the men slept a final night in their homes with their families, Wulder came among them and increased the size of these valiant people to match the compassion of their hearts. They arose in the morning as warriors twelve-to fourteen-feet tall with new fighting skills breathed into their minds and souls.

  Their clothing, livestock, and weapons had increased in size as well, but their homes and furnishings remained the same. Even today, the urohms build all but their beds on a smaller scale to remind themselves of the mighty gift bestowed upon them.

  The legend unfolded on Leetu’s pages. Kale relished the march across the Valley of Collumna. In the air, Wizard Dayen rode a regal dragon. He and eleven other wizards under the authority of Paladin had been summoned to flank the ground warriors. Even with this unexpected reinforcement, the battle undertaken proved to be costly.

  Kale anxiously awaited Leetu’s turning of the page. The hazy memory of the legend Kale had heard several years before came to life with Leetu’s reading. She saw the awakening urohms’ bewilderment and then felt their new courage as they realized Wulder had given them an extraordinary gift for battle. When the urohm leader Corne first spotted the battalion of regal dragons coming to join their forces, Kale thrilled with his expectations and rising hopes.

  The images stopped. Kale opened her eyes to see Leetu had laid her book in her lap. The emerlindian glared at Kale.

  I’m sorry! Shame washed over Kale. She’d been eavesdropping. Sneaky. Stealing Leetu’s pleasure. It wasn’t sharing; it was trespassing. Despicable. “I’m sorry.”

  Leetu closed the book with a snap, jumped to her feet, and strode away to a large trang-a-nog tree. She slapped her hand against the smooth green bark and stood rigid, staring into the junglelike woodland.

  Kale looked over to Dar and saw him watching Leetu. He turned back to Kale. “What happened?” he asked quietly.

  “I have offended her. She is justly angry with me.”

  Dar sat back against a tree, relaxed, and apparently examined the fabric of his linen shirt.

  He doesn’t care. Why should he?

  Loneliness shrouded Kale’s heart. Frustration, too. She wasn’t very good at this questing business. Not any better at being comrades.

  Dar cleared his throat, looked speculatively at Leetu, and then addressed Kale in a voice that could be heard by both of the girls.

  “It is hard to win back the trust of a friend. But we live by the code of Paladin, and Leetu, although young, is well versed in his way.”

  What should I do?

  “You’ve said you are sorry. Wait.” Kale heard his words clearly but could not take pleasure in another step of progress in her mindspeaking abilities.

  Kale waited, her half-eaten sandwich forgotten in her hand. Leetu stood as a statue. Only the breeze lifting strands of her wispy white hair and pushing against the cloth of her tunic proved she had not turned to stone.

  Eventually, her shoulders moved as she took several deep breaths. She turned, and Kale was relieved to see the ominous, cold expression had relaxed on the emerlindian’s face. She stood as Leetu walked purposefully across the forest glade. Kale swallowed back another hasty apology when Leetu stopped two feet in front of her.

  “I owe you an apology,” Leetu began, and Kale caught her breath. She started to interrupt, but Leetu held up a hand. “Yes, it is I who must apologize, though I will wrest one from you, as well.

  “Granny Noon reprimanded me on being lax in my obligation to you. She is right, as usual.”

  Leetu shook her head slowly and shrugged. “I’ve never seen myself as an instructor, and when given this assignment, I agreed with my lips but not with my heart.” She looked away from Kale and then back. Leetu focused on Kale’s face, deliberately making eye contact. “Just now I was angry because you experimented with your untrained talent and intruded on my privacy. Had I taken the time to guide you, this would not have happened. I apologize.”

  Kale stood looking at the emerlindian’s colorless face. Her eyes were earnest. Her pale lips twisted in a slight grimace, showing her distaste for this conversation.

  Dar tugged at Kale’s sleeve. She jumped a little. She had not seen him come close.

  “Accept,” he urged her.

  Kale nodded and looked back to the leader of their quest. “I accept.”

  Leetu let out a sigh. “Now for the intrusion. You have realized, have you not, the error of seeking the thoughts of a comrade to idle the time away?”

  “Yes,” said Kale. “It made me feel awful when I realized what I’d done. I am sorry, Leetu.”

  “Fine. Finish your sandwich as we walk. Dar can lead. You and I will discuss etiquette, among other fine points of your talent. Dar, keep an eye out for mordakleeps. Rumor has it they’ve been spotted near waterways farther and farther from the swamps.”

  12

  SHADOW IN THE BOGS

  The first thing Kale noticed as they went from Fairren Forest into The Midways, an area surrounding The Bogs, was the change in the scent of the air. Fairren Forest had smelled fresh with a breeze carrying the fragrance of tropical flowers. Now warm air lifted a musty smell of rich humus from the black ground beneath their feet. Not a whisper of wind cooled the sweat on their faces as the three stepped over hummocks and around knots of tumpgrass.

  The trees in Fairren Forest had been alive with brightly colored birds and small furry animals of so many types Kale had only been able to name one or two. Dar offered to tell her the names of all the plants and animals, but Leetu hushed him.

  “On another trip, Dar,” the emerlindian had said. “Now Kale and I must work to equip her for this journey.”

  Leetu did not get distracted during the uncomfortable hike in the sweltering afternoon sun. She drilled Kale on the contents of her cape hollows, making sure Kale knew the identity and use of all the things Granny Noon had provided. Leetu also put Kale through some exercises in mind conversation, inserting from time to time the proper way to do things in a mindspeaking society.

  Kale and Leetu communicated exclusively through mindspeaking. Leetu apologized to Dar, saying they did not mean to talk behind his back, but she wanted to give Kale as much practice as possible. Where Leetu had been negligent before, now she was conscientious, to the point Kale’s head ached from all the mental exercise.

  Bedderman’s Bog began as abruptly as Fairren Forest had ended. After they had crossed the wide-open space of The Midways, the land dipped, and marshy patches squished under their boots. Kale gladly accepted the hazardous swamp as a reason to concentrate on where she put her feet instead of Leetu’s lessons.

  Massive swamp trees surrounded them. Their roots, partially entrenched in mud and murky water, made up a portion of the travelers’ walkway. When the soggy ground gave no footing, Dar led them across the roots humped above the water like steppingstones.

  In Fairren Forest, the vines had been crowded with thick green leaves. In The Bogs, large swamp vines with sparse, pale leaves roped around tree trunks. Tangles of thin, willowy vines draped over all the larger branches in gray-green clouds that looked like dripping foam. Dar said it was moss and burned well in a campfire.

  Leetu took over the lead. As gracefully as she had climbed a tree before the grawlig attack, the emerlindian stepped from root to root and hillock to hillock. Dar adroitly followed. Kale, at the end of the procession again, hoped she would not land face first in the marshy water.

  As Kale passed under a cluster of low-hanging moss, she heard a hiccup behind her. She turned abruptly, caught her foot on a vine, and sat down h
ard on the root of a cygnot tree. As much as the knobby wood hurt her backside, her main concern was the hiccup she heard again. She looked toward the sound, heard a definite hiss, and thought a shadow moved among the shifting shades of green a few feet away.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Dar just behind her.

  “I thought I saw something.”

  “So you sat down to watch for whatever it is?”

  Kale took hold of a vine roped around a tree and pulled herself to her feet. Balancing on the root, she still stared at the trailing moss.

  “Kale.” Dar tugged at her sleeve.

  “What?”

  “There’s nothing there.”

  “I heard a hiccup.”

  “A hiccup?”

  “Two, and a hiss.”

  “Two hiccups and a hiss.” He put a hand in the crook of her arm and pulled her around to face the direction they should be going. “Come on, Kale. It was probably a beater frog.”

  “I saw something move, and it was too tall to be a frog.”

  “Okay.” Dar’s tone said he was going to be patient. “Use your mind. Reach out and see if there is anything besides Leetu Bends and myself close by.”

  “I don’t think I know how to do that.”

  Dar shrugged and started after Leetu.

  “Wait,” Kale called, and he stopped. “Couldn’t you smell something? I mean, you smelled the grawligs coming.”

  “Everything in this swamp smells the same.” Dar wrinkled his nose.

  “Well, I suppose I’d smell a grawlig. Nothing can disguise the smell of a grawlig. But right now, Kale, all I smell is wet and mildew and stagnant water and decaying vegetation.”

  Kale sniffed the air and looked around. “It doesn’t smell that bad.”