Dragons of the Valley

  “Thank you very much.” He tipped his hat to Gus. “It was a delightful ride, and I will give your message to Prince Jayrus. I understand your irritation, and all is forgiven.”

  The dragon spread her wings and took off.

  Hollee shouted, “Thank you, good-bye, good-bye!”

  “This way,” said Fenworth, and she followed him into the undergrowth of a small wood. Only a few paces into the stand of trees, Fenworth entered a dark cave. Warm air dampened Hollee’s skin. Fenworth muttered about moisture, humidity, mold, mildew, mugginess, dankness, and clamminess.

  As they traveled farther into the recesses of the island, the path sloped steeply. Someone had positioned lightrocks along the walls. The stone walk shimmered with a wet coating, but there were no slippery spots.

  They turned a corner, and the floor leveled. Ahead, Hollee saw a different light from the blue glow of lightrocks.

  “Do you suppose that’s his cave?” she asked Fenworth.

  A voice came from in front of them. “It is most certainly his, and you have awakened him.”

  “Sorry, Sir Sage,” Hollee called out.

  “Ah, the voice of a kimen. And one I don’t know. Welcome, child.”

  “I am traveling with Wizard Fenworth, an ancient wizard from Amara, on the other side of the world.”

  “He is welcome as well. Perhaps he has Arbaneous Topicalee in one of his hollows?”

  “I do,” said the wizard. “Are you in need of a little pick-me-up?”

  “I am in need of a larger pick-me-up than you are capable of supplying. It all comes from being old.”

  “I know the feeling.”

  They reached the entry to the cave. Hollee blinked rapidly at the brightness of many colored lightrocks covering the walls. “Ooh, this is beautiful.”

  “Thank you, child. It’s home.”

  “I’ve never talked to a dragon before. I mean one that talked back. I don’t mean talked back as in sassiness. I mean talked back out loud.”

  “You need not be nervous. What is your name?”

  “Hollee from the Starling Forest.”

  “I spent some of my youth in your forest.”

  Hollee heard something crinkling, and as her eyes adjusted to the dazzling light, she saw that Sage was moving. Every time he shifted his body, his reddish skin rumpled and made a scrunching noise. She was surprised he was so small. Small for a dragon. His size matched that of a draft horse, but his skin hung on him in a baggy sort of way, and he didn’t look nearly as majestic as one of the huge horses.

  “Welcome, Wizard Fenworth.”

  “Thank you. May I have permission to use your name?”

  “You may, and I am delighted that you remember dragon protocol. I also appreciate that you have worn your formal attire into my humble and humid home.”

  Fenworth bowed. “Sage, I come to reveal that I have trespassed under your valley. I ask your pardon and hope to enlist your aid. May I tell you more of the importance of our project?”

  “Yes, you may, and have a seat. I apologize that I have no refreshments to offer you.”

  “But I have the Arbaneous Topicalee. May I place some before you?”

  “Certainly.”

  Fenworth opened his robe and delved within one of the hollows. He pulled out a thick purple slab that looked like a giant beast’s dried tongue.

  “What is that?” Hollee asked with her nose wrinkled. She caught a whiff of a pleasant odor, and her face relaxed.

  “It is Bane bark, pulverized, mixed with a bit of pica, and dried. It is sweet, from the pica, and filled with vitamins and minerals. Arbaneous is said to redden your blood, and Topicalee provides relief from old bones creaking and joints groaning.”

  He placed the Arbaneous Topicalee in Sage’s outstretched forepaw. The old dragon nibbled off a piece, closed his eyes, and hummed.

  Wizard Fenworth winked at Hollee, then perched on one of the many boulders. Hollee sat on a smaller one. They waited until Sage had swallowed a few bites.

  When he opened his eyes again, his face wore an expression of bliss. “So good, so good, and so hard to come across in these mountains. Tell me of your project.”

  Wizard Fenworth recounted the history of the three stone statues.

  “I know some of this tale from Sir Beccaroon. How does this relate to my territory?”

  “Since the statues are powerful, safe sanctuary is imperative. I’ve built a chapel of sorts in the salt and crystal cavern below the floor of this valley.”

  “A place of worship?”

  “And meditation.”

  “To your god?”

  “To the God of the Universe.”

  “His name?”

  “Wulder.”

  Sage nodded. “Wulder. My generation called Him Wulder Aldor.

  “He Spoke the Truth. Yes, that is one of His names.”

  “I am honored to have under my care the Chapel of Wulder Aldor.” Sage chortled. “I may even choose to live a few more years to see how Chiril responds to the Call of Wulder Aldor.”

  He sobered and looked at his wizard visitor. “Tell me of this invasion.”

  44

  Hospital

  Tipper stood on the roof of Byrdschopen, looking out over the peaceful countryside. The war seemed far away. In the rooms below, two dozen wounded soldiers slept in beds instead of cots. Their presence testified to the bloody battle that still maimed and killed her countrymen. The Byrdschopen hospital offered peace and rest for soldiers regaining their strength.

  Gladyme provided good food. Several women from the village had moved to Tipper’s home to aid in nursing the men. Others helped in the kitchen.

  Lady Peg had found her niche. Tipper’s mother became a tyrant of cleanliness. She kept more villagers busy washing clothes and linens, and those who could understand her scattered directions scrubbed floors and anything else that might become the least bit grubby. Tipper suspected Bar Besta’s talents included organization. The minor dragon accompanied Lady Peg everywhere.

  In the distant sky, a black spot took on colors, and as it came closer, Tipper recognized her former guardian. Sir Beccaroon had been ordered back to his forest to coordinate efforts in supplying the army with food from his district. Verrin Schope had provided grains and vegetable seeds that grew unnaturally fast.

  The colorful parrot landed beside Tipper. “Still chafing that you aren’t at the edge of the battle?”

  “I was of use there.”

  “You’re of use here. There’s another ambulance wagon coming. You’ll need six more beds.”

  “I’ll tell Lipphil.” Tipper turned to enter the stairway to the floors below.

  “Wait.”

  “What?”

  “I have a message from your father.”

  Tipper hurried back to the grand parrot’s side. “For me or Mother?”

  “One for you and one for Lady Peg.” Sir Beccaroon cocked his head to look up at Tipper. “He’s proud of you. The king is still fuming and saying that you and your mother have no business dirtying your hands in this business. If he had any men to spare, he’d send them to roust you out of your own home and take you to the Amber Palace.”

  “Then I’m glad he has the good sense to keep his men where they will do some good instead of interfering with our hospital.” She shook her head. “But it was really Mother who caused the upheaval. She pothered on like a peahen sighting a snake when she saw the inside of the hospital tent.”

  “Her point is valid. Men on the road to recovery but not able-bodied yet will heal quicker here than on the front.” Sir Beccaroon’s forehead scrunched down over his eyes. “They aren’t moved every time we have to retreat, and the tent is less crowded without these men taking up space for the newly wounded.”

  Tipper turned away, pressing her fist to her lips. She’d almost cried out. Instead, she batted back tears. “My grandfather wouldn’t even let me leave the healing dragons. Those men—”

  Sir Beccaroon said nothing
as she fought to get her emotions under control. She sniffed and turned back to her friend.

  Bec wiped a tear from her cheek with the tip of his wing. “Paladin brought in another watch of healing dragons. They are working very well for the tumanhofer couple who took over the wounded.”

  Tipper stared at the tiles on the mansion’s roof.

  “Ah,” said the parrot. “Another reason for your dissatisfaction. You don’t get to see Paladin.”

  Tipper didn’t answer.

  Bec used his wing to turn Tipper toward the staircase. “Yes.” He cleared his throat. “Well now … then, um, the main point of your father’s message is that he’s proud of you. And might I add, King Yellat has finally agreed to allow Verrin Schope to help with strategies.” He lifted his wingtip to the sky as if marking an important point. “Since then, there have been some less catastrophic engagements with the enemy.”

  “Less catastrophic?”

  “We aren’t being beaten at every encounter. We’ve actually won a skirmish or two.”

  They descended the stairs. Sir Beccaroon left Tipper’s side to find Lady Peg and deliver her message from Verrin Schope. Tipper found Lipphil and asked that another room be opened for a ward and that new beds be erected. She hurried off to gather sheets.

  Local men who worked in the fields aided in building beds. These older fellows did their best to tend the needs at home while younger men went to fight. They had slow hands but willing hearts. Tipper had grown fond of the men who answered Byrdschopen’s bugle call. Lipphil’s blast from the veranda had no tune, but between him and the other men, they’d made up a code they all understood.

  It took the rest of the morning to tend to her duties with the healing dragons and the recovering soldiers. With the new beds made and noonmeal distributed among all those gathered—wounded, elderly, and the womenfolk—Lady Peg blessed their gathering and the food.

  Rayn sat on Tipper’s lap. The other dragons preferred to forage, but the undersized minor dragon took any opportunity he could to be with the emerlindian he loved above all others.

  Sir Beccaroon ate a small amount, then bid Lady Peg and Tipper good-bye. “I’ve got rounds of my own to make. The seeds Verrin Schope gave us are sprouting and growing faster than anything I’ve ever seen. I must check which field will need harvesting tomorrow.”

  The arrival of the ambulance wagon interrupted the cleanup after the meal. Lady Peg didn’t seem to notice six more men at the door plus the driver and attendant. She focused in her absent-minded way on the scrubbing of kitchen, dining room, trays, and dishes.

  Several hours passed while Tipper made the men comfortable, saw that they were fed, and supervised more healing with the dragons. Rayn stayed with her, even when she urged him to stay on a soldier with a cramp in his leg.

  “What is the matter with you?” she asked.

  Rayn didn’t have an answer but called another dragon over to sit on the poor man’s leg. Tipper scolded him twice for being nervous and more in the way than a help.

  Just as Tipper sat down on the veranda to have a cup of tea, Rayn announced that Sir Beccaroon was returning.

  “Why would he do that?” Tipper stood to see her friend flying in low over the Indigo Forest. His speed alarmed her.

  He landed on the stone balustrade that surrounded the extended terrace. “There’s a squad of enemy soldiers approaching. They must have followed the ambulance. I’ll take care of the offensive, but you must have everyone lie down. Anyone standing will be attacked by my warriors. Those in a prone position will be spared. These are the instructions I’ve given them, and if you do as I say, you will be safe.” He flapped his wings. “Go, my girl. Spread the word. The minor dragons must be lying flat as well. Go.”

  Tipper ran into the house, leaving the teapot and cup on the glass table outside.

  She ran to the kitchen first. “Everyone must find someplace to lie down,” she instructed the women who prepared the evening meal. “Use the empty guest rooms upstairs. Some of you who live nearby can run home.”

  “Why, princess?” asked one of the farm girls.

  “Sir Beccaroon has spotted enemy soldiers, and he’s bringing in animals, I imagine.” She winced at stating as fact what she had assumed. “To be his warriors. Yes, that must be it. They will attack anyone standing and leave those lying down alone.”

  She pulled one girl out of her chair. “Quick, go spread the word to everyone in Byrdschopen. Everyone, go, and then lie down. I’ll find Mother.”

  Tipper found Lady Peg in the library, supervising a thorough dusting and the selection of books to be read to the wounded.

  Out of breath from running, Tipper panted as she relayed Bec’s instructions. “Everyone, go lie down. Enemy soldiers are coming. Sir Beccaroon has devised a way to keep us safe. But you must be lying down.”

  The girls scattered, but Lady Peg stood with her hand on her hip and a stubborn look on her face.

  “Mother, we must go upstairs and go to bed.”

  “It’s not time for my nap, Tipper. And since we have become useful, I have found I do not need my naps as often as before.”

  “Where’s Junkit?”

  The dragon crawled out from behind a drapery at the mention of his name. He yawned and stretched.

  “Mother, Junkit needs a nap. You must go upstairs and lie down. You’ll be safe up there.” Tipper took her mother’s arm and steered her toward the door. “We’re going to go upstairs, you and I, before those soldiers get here.”

  “But, Tipper, you must be down here to make our guests comfortable. You haven’t forgotten your duties as a hostess, have you? That would really be a shame. We’ve been making those poor soldiers feel at home for weeks now.”

  “Not our soldiers, Mother. These are enemy soldiers. Enemy soldiers are coming.”

  Tipper got her mother through the door and into the hallway. Junkit and Bar Besta flew ahead of them toward the grand staircase.

  “Are these soldiers wounded?” Lady Peg asked.

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Then why are they coming here?”

  “Probably to steal supplies, food, and other things.”

  “What other things?”

  “I don’t know, Mother. Please hurry.”

  “Do they steal valuables like jewelry and paintings?”

  “They might.”

  “Then I’m staying here.” Lady Peg resisted the tug on her arm.

  “Mother, you must come up and be safe. Sir Bec has it all figured out, and we must be out of the way.”

  “Well, I shall stay here and explain to these enemy soldiers that they cannot take things. Stealing is not acceptable. If I offer them a meal, they may reconsider such bad manners and behave themselves.”

  “I doubt it. Mother, please. Father would want us to do as Sir Beccaroon instructed.”

  Lady Peg said nothing for a moment, then she hiked up her long skirts and headed for the stairs. “You’re right, Tipper. Hurry up.”

  Instead of lying down on her own bed, Tipper chose to stay with her mother. They crawled under the covers and kept Junkit and Rayn with them. The minor dragons had no problem with hiding under the bedspread. Rayn shivered with fear.

  Tipper listened for any sound that might be the marauders entering the house. Were they marauders? Probably. Would Bec’s strategy thwart their evil plans? Probably.

  Her heart raced, and she deliberately listened to her mother’s breathing. She matched the steady in and out as Lady Peg relaxed. Soon soft snoring replaced her mother’s breathing.

  Although she could hardly believe her mother had fallen asleep, Tipper decided it was for the best. She didn’t have to keep her mother from going downstairs to greet the company of soldiers or answer any more of her questions.

  Junkit fell asleep, and his snoring rattled in between her mother’s nasal clatter.

  The bedroom door opened. Tipper hadn’t heard any footsteps. She held her breath and stared at the opening. Movement
caught her attention and brought her eyes lower. A sleek mountain cat’s head appeared. Dark brown spots decorated the tawny fur on its head, neck, and shoulders. The blotches elongated as they covered its back until the markings resembled stripes on its hindquarters.

  The big cat padded forward on silent feet, jumped up on the reclining sofa her mother often used for naps, and proceeded to lick one of his forepaws.

  The draperies moved aside at the open window. A long, thick snake slithered into the room and disappeared behind the dresser. Tipper wondered what other friends from the Indigo Forest had been commandeered by Sir Beccaroon to protect the house.

  “Tipper,” her mother whispered.

  “You woke up.”

  “Nonsense. I wasn’t asleep.”

  Tipper didn’t argue. Her eyes followed the big cat’s every movement as it continued its grooming.

  “Tipper,” her mother whispered again.

  “Hmm?”

  “There’s a cat on my daybed.”

  “Yes.”

  “We don’t own a cat, do we? I mean not one that big.”

  “It’s one of Sir Beccaroon’s friends.”

  “Does it have a name?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Do you think it’s housebroken? We don’t have a litter box, do we?”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “What do you suppose it eats?”

  The cat stopped licking its chest and looked at the two women in the bed.

  Through stiff lips, Tipper answered as quietly as she could. “Mice.”

  Lady Peg heaved a sigh of relief. “Oh, good.”

  The cat jumped down from the reclining sofa and sprang up to the end of the mattress. It tilted its head and regarded Tipper and her mother.

  “Are you sure?” asked Lady Peg.

  “Sure?”

  “About the mice.”

  “Yes.”

  The cat’s ears perked up, and it turned its head toward the open door. A few seconds later, Tipper heard the creaking of leather and the stomping of feet. The cat growled low in its throat.

  “Is that purring?” asked Lady Peg.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Our company has arrived.”