DragonKnight

  “What do you see out there?”

  Bardon pushed aside thick vines that had completely covered the opening and peered out. A fine spray of water landing in cold droplets on his face startled him. A cascade of water flowed over the building from a narrow river. The water splashed in what looked like a deep pool at the base of the castle and then sped away in white-water rapids.

  “I can see the waterfall. It appears to plummet over the end of the castle. We’re at the front of the building, near the top.” He leaned out the window. “From the position of the sun, I’d say it’s late afternoon and we’re at the eastern end of the castle. There’s so much growth covering the walls, it’s hard to distinguish the mountain from the castle. Both are made out of the same type of stone. Who would build their home so that one end is perpetually wet?”

  “Let’s explore. We need to find Bromptotterpindosset. Perhaps we’ll discover the answer to other questions along the way.” Regidor motioned for Bardon to come out of the window and jump down. The meech dragon replaced him on the windowsill. “Let me try something,” he yelled.

  Bardon did not see his friend do anything, but the sound of the waterfall faded. The roar became distant, as if it were over a mountain ridge and in the next valley.

  Regidor jumped down, and Bardon climbed back into the window. The water still cascaded over the rocks and part of the castle.

  “What did you do?” asked Bardon, without having to shout.

  “I just repaired a sound barrier. I got to thinking that the people who lived here surely didn’t listen to that noise constantly.” Regidor gestured toward the window. “When I looked outside, I could see the fragmented barrier. It was a simple thing to bind up the loose ends.”

  He flashed his large and charming smile. “I have a great deal of practice with sound barriers. Smaller ones than this one, of course. But they came in handy with Toopka’s constant jabbering, Wizard Fenworth’s tendency to fuss, and Librettowit’s courting of Taylaminkadot.”

  “As I said before, old friend, you come in handy.” Bardon lowered the window and jumped down. “Our exploration of this oddity will be much more pleasant now that we can hear each other.”

  Bardon looked at the statuelike knights. “I wonder if they are aware we’re here.”

  “No, I wouldn’t think so.”

  “Do you think any of them resemble Kale?”

  Regidor’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, I, too, thought perhaps her missing father could be here.” He looked carefully at each o’rant’s face. “No, I can’t say that one looks like our Kale.”

  “We’d best get busy. We can’t do anything for the knights right now.”

  Over and over again, the empty rooms and the signs of neglect proved their assumption that the castle was deserted. They explored the upper floors and those below. The building consisted of seven floors and three turrets that extended two stories above the seventh floor.

  They thought it odd that the chambers seemed to be mostly for entertaining. On the ground floor, a grand ballroom stretched from one end of the structure to the other. A raised platform would have accommodated a small orchestra.

  A few smaller, out-of-the-way rooms might have been servant stations where maids and footmen stored supplies and prepared teacarts. But they saw no kitchen, no bedchambers, no laundry, nothing practical or designed for the background functioning of such a huge establishment.

  A storage basement sprawled under the entire structure, but aside from a few pieces of furniture, nothing was stored there. Large-leafed, rope-thick vines covered all the windows. Regidor called this lush ivy heirdosh and said it was poisonous if consumed.

  The doors to the outside would not open, even with Regidor’s wizardly help.

  “Warded, I suspect,” said the meech after another unsuccessful attempt to get out of the building and explore the grounds.

  “Isn’t it more customary to place a spell on the entryways to keep people out rather than to keep them in?” asked Bardon.

  Regidor raised both ridges over his eyes. “This whole setup is rather unusual.” He waved his forefeet at the area surrounding them. “Elaborate dining rooms, but no kitchen. Elegant soiree chambers, drawing rooms, salons, music rooms, and grand halls for entertaining hundreds of guests, but no bedchambers. No library, no study, no housekeeper’s quarters. It’s almost as if part of the castle is missing.” He furrowed his brow as he continued his list. “No stables, no wine cellar, no armory. As it is, this establishment could not function.”

  After exploring the part of the castle where the air was relatively dry, they ventured into the rooms where moisture clung to the walls and furnishings. Their feet slipped on a marble floor slick with a thin sheen of mud. Plants grew along the walls and cascaded across the floor as if nature had decided to take over the décor.

  When they came to what they thought would be the last wall of the castle, they found massive doors. Opening this giant portal revealed another section of castle directly behind the waterfall.

  Here they found servants’ quarters. Upon further exploration, they identified many different craft rooms where obviously things had been made to accommodate the needs of the people living in the castle. At one time, these halls had produced everything from linen and leather, garments and furniture, cheese and jerky, to horseshoes and armor.

  After they had walked from floor to floor, Regidor stopped and leaned against a wall. “This raises even more questions.”

  “Indeed,” said Bardon. “When was this castle inhabited? And by whom? I see evidence of urohms as well as o’rants, mariones, and tumanhofers.”

  “The herb room looked like it had been run by an adept emerlindian.”

  Bardon pointed in the direction of the halls holding looms. “Doneels had a hand in the weaving of fabric and fashioning clothes and jewelry.”

  “Where were the gardens for food, the pastures for the animals?” asked Regidor.

  “Was this fortress occupied five hundred years ago or five thousand?”

  Regidor tugged on the edge of a tapestry. “If it was five thousand years ago, why hasn’t it all disintegrated?”

  Bardon put his fists on his hips and slowly turned, surveying the room, still amazed by the overall grandeur of this deserted castle. “If it was only five hundred years ago, why are there no recorded histories, no legends passed down through the generations, and not even a mention of it in the ballads?”

  “What is the name of this castle?”

  “Why was it abandoned?”

  The two warriors looked at each other, shrugged, grinned, and said in unison, “We don’t know.”

  Bardon sighed. “We still have to find Bromptotterpindosset.”

  Regidor reached into his cape and pulled Glas’s diary from the hollow.

  “The map clearly shows the grawlig meeting field at the end of that burrow.”

  “It doesn’t show a castle?”

  “No castle.” Regidor shook his head without looking up.

  “We must have been in the wrong burrow all along, or we made a wrong turn.”

  Regidor studied the page in the diary and shook his head again as he contemplated what he saw. “There were not that many turns.”

  “You said Glas drew that map on hearsay.”

  Regidor nodded. “But there must be a tincture of truth to substantiate the drawing, or Glas would not have included it. He seems to have been a meticulous recorder of his explorations.” He snapped the small, leather-bound volume shut. “Let’s keep looking.”

  “Where and for what?”

  “For answers. I suspect,” he said, pointing to the west wall, “that there is another set of massive doors somewhere.”

  “That would lead us into the side of the mountain I could see from the window. It was a vine-covered, sheer cliff face.”

  Regidor held a finger in the air and started for the staircase they had climbed. “It looked like a vine-covered, sheer cliff face. Let’s retrace our steps to the doors that lead
back to the first part of the castle.”

  Bardon followed as Regidor bounded down the wide stairs at a rapid clip.

  Regidor called over his shoulder, his voice charged with enthusiasm. “I want to get on the outside of this castle and view it from that perspective.”

  When they reached the massive doors, Regidor walked directly across the great hall and began probing the thick layer of vines.

  Reluctantly, Bardon followed. He reached between the palm-sized leaves and heavy stems. His fingers touched smooth plaster. He moved over a foot and tried again. His fingertips brushed carved wood. Exploring with his hand, he came to the conclusion he had found the doors Regidor wanted.

  “Right here, Reg.”

  Bardon got out his knife and began chopping through the heavy vegetation even before the meech dragon confirmed his suspicion. The heavy vines were remarkably healthy. He used his blade to saw through some of the thicker branches. Regidor worked beside him, using a claw to sever each limb. By himself, Bardon would have worked several hours. With Regidor employing some wizard’s trick, in minutes they removed the vegetation barring their way.

  Regidor also opened the massive doors by some method Bardon did not quite perceive.

  In this wing they found the personal quarters of whoever had owned the castle. Bedchambers, a study and library, a solarium, a hothouse, and smaller parlors occupied three floors.

  “You will have to repair the sound barrier on this side of the castle, Regidor. I can barely hear myself.”

  “Let’s open a window, then.” Regidor’s voice came clearly into Bardon’s mind.

  The view, when they got the window opened and cleared, was exactly like what they’d seen from the other side.

  Bardon frowned and shouted. “This castle blends into the mountain so that you can’t tell it’s here.”

  “Makes our mysterious castle all the more mysterious.” Regidor looked outside. “The barrier is torn between here and the falls. I’ll repair it in a moment.” He turned to the back of the room. “We have windows on two sides instead of just one. Let’s see what is out there.”

  Now that they had experience opening the stubborn windows, it didn’t take long to throw open the sash. The first window they opened had let in the roar of the waterfall. This window let in the roar of grawligs at play.

  42

  VIEW FROM A TURRET

  “So, we’ve found them after all,” said Regidor as he slapped Bardon on the back.

  The squire squeezed to one side so his friend could lean out of the window and examine the courtyards.

  Regidor scowled. “I haven’t spotted Bromptotterpindosset, have you?”

  “Over there, by the fire pit,” Bardon said. “I hope that doesn’t indicate they’ve chosen him for their next meal.”

  “You can never tell with grawligs.” The meech jumped down from the windowsill. “We better find a way out of this castle so we can rescue him.”

  They dashed down the wide, curving staircase and tried the doors to the outside.

  “Warded,” said Regidor, “just like the doors in the other wing.”

  “Let’s try reaching the top of one of the turrets. You can fly out, and I can probably climb down those vines.”

  They sprinted back up the staircase and then climbed the twisted steps inside a small, stuffy tower. When they reached the top, they spotted a trapdoor in the ceiling. Bardon climbed the remaining steps built into the stone wall and felt around the edges for a latch. When he found nothing securing the square door, he put his shoulder to it. Surprised when it did not move, he tried again, grunting. The trapdoor did not give way.

  “Warded,” he said as he stepped off the ladder and onto the last platform at the top of the turret.

  Regidor reached up and placed his forefoot on the wood. “Yes, it’s warded. But the ward was cast from the ground floor. This is probably the weakest point, being farthest away from the origin. Let me try to break through.”

  Bardon waited. Twelve tiny windows spaced evenly around the circular wall gave him views in every direction. Out of one he saw the waterfall. Out of another he saw the opposite wing of the castle and had to look carefully to see that it was not just a sheer cliff face mostly covered with heavy vegetation. He saw the sun setting to the west. He saw the grawligs cavorting in the courtyard below, and he saw another stone mountainside behind their festivities.

  “Regidor, I believe there is yet another wing to this castle.”

  The meech dragon grunted. “Busy.”

  Bardon stared at the wall he suspected to be manmade and not nature’s cliff until he could make out a few of the windows. He looked at the skyline, and after some study, he could distinguish the turrets, a battlement, and twin towers.

  “That’s done,” said Regidor as he lifted the door.

  The hinges creaked, and dirt, dried leaves, and dead bugs rained down on their heads.

  “I’m glad I wasn’t looking up,” said Bardon.

  Regidor sputtered. “I was.” He stepped down and slapped at his clothes, knocking the debris away. “It has not been a good day for my wardrobe. Blood and dirt. Unacceptable embellishments to sophisticated attire.”

  Bardon blinked as Regidor’s apparel vibrated at enormous speed. When the activity ceased, the meech was clean.

  Regidor swept an open forefoot toward the ladder. “You may go first, Squire.”

  Bardon, in his grimy clothing, climbed out of the turret and peered over the chest-high wall. Regidor joined him. Below them the grawligs participated in a wild rumpus, beating drums, hooting in what might be considered a song, and dancing that consisted mostly of jumping up and down.

  “They’re certainly happy about something,” Bardon observed.

  “The simple pleasure of having stolen one of us away. After their humiliation in the ravine, they needed the exhilaration of pulling off some daring deed right beneath our noses.”

  “You sound as if you have studied them.”

  “Oh, we have. Wizard Cam Ayronn and I are writing a book on the mores and cultural structure of the lower races. Of course, so far our studies have only encompassed grawligs, ropma, and bisonbecks.”

  “Of course.” Bardon couldn’t contain the smile that broke out on his face. He knew he’d missed any chance he had of appearing serious.

  Regidor spotted his smirk and returned a haughty stare. The coldness of the meech dragon’s expression melted into a toothy grin. “Never mind, dear Bardon. You were not designed by Wulder to be an academician like Librettowit or Wizard Cam. You were not meant to be debonair like Sir Dar, or persistently friendly like N’Rae, or obnoxiously inquisitive like Ahnek.”

  “What was I meant to be, Regidor?”

  “You don’t know?”

  “You know I don’t. I’ve always known you see right through me. I don’t particularly understand why you still choose to be my friend.”

  Regidor now scanned the sky as if he expected to see something. “I suppose you’re talking about the facade you have created that gives the impression of being all-sufficient.”

  The smile dropped from Bardon’s face. He now had the serious expression he had wanted a moment ago to tease his friend.

  “I don’t know that Wulder made me with what it takes to be a knight, Regidor. My sabbatical was important. I needed to know if I had enough in me to fulfill the vow I would make to Paladin to follow Wulder.”

  Regidor leaned against a parapet and crossed his forelegs over his chest. “You are saying that Wulder made a mistake when He designed you?”

  “No, of course not.” Bardon looked away from his friend’s scrutiny and examined the western sky. The sun hovered over the horizon, displaying a red blaze of last-minute glory as it disappeared. “Of course it is I who am at fault. I have failed to recognize what Wulder wants me to do. I try to be something that is not in my nature to be.”

  He glanced back at his friend. The meech rolled his eyes and pushed away from the wall. “You have failed to
recognize that Wulder wants you to be the knight that is Sir Bardon, not Sir Dar. You are not like any of the heroes of our last quest. You are you.”

  Bardon looked away again.

  Regidor came and put his hand on Bardon’s shoulder. “You have also failed to recognize that Wulder fills you with what you need when you need it. What is within you at this moment is not sufficient to meet a need that will not arise until forty years hence.”

  The squire did not answer. Regidor’s words sounded as if they might apply to someone else but not to Bardon.

  Regidor clapped him on the shoulder. “Here comes my messenger.”

  Startled, Bardon looked to where Regidor pointed. A moonbird winged toward them and landed on the same parapet the meech had been leaning against. Bardon had seen kimens smaller than this large bird, whose feathers glowed white with an under-color of gray. Its head swiveled as it looked with piercing golden eyes, first at Regidor, then at Bardon, and back to the dragon. Its yellowish orange talons spread across the rock of the castle. It snapped its large beak together as if asking Regidor a question.

  Regidor gazed into the beautiful creature’s eyes for a long moment.

  I don’t suppose I should interrupt his commune with his bird friend, Bardon thought, but speaking of messages, it would be convenient to send a message to our party. “Good news—we’ve found the knights and our mapmaker.”

  I should tell Captain Anton to hold on for one more day. Technically, he should head back with our party in the morning. But we may be back with Bromptotterpindosset by midday.

  Regidor touched the moonbird lightly on the chest, and then the creature flew away.

  “Who was the message to?” asked Bardon.

  “Captain Anton. Actually, it will go to N’Rae, who will relay it to Captain Anton.”

  “And the message said we have found the knights and should return tomorrow sometime with our missing tumanhofer.” Bardon’s anger hummed beneath the words.

  Regidor’s head shot around so that the two stared at each other.

  “I see,” said Regidor. “Yes, you’re in charge of this expedition. I apologize. Kale’s always onto me for being too independent. She says she will someday have me write the definition of team in a notebook a hundred times.”