DragonFire

  “Thank You for the morning, Wulder.”

  Bardon could see the words written in the Tomes. These words he had recited often while he studied at The Hall. The words were repeated at morning vespers.

  “And it was morning, and the man said, ‘What will You have me to do with the day as it is given?’ And Wulder answered, ‘Serve Me in each minute, through each encounter, through all time, this day, and into eternity.’ And the man rejoiced, for he had work to do. ‘Nay to the idleness that devours the soul. Wulder has Himself declared the minutes of my day to be valuable in His sight.’”

  Bardon smiled. He remembered Kale’s face when he recited that bit of the Tomes to her. She would put her hand on her hip and say, “That’s all fine, but I like a pat on the back in the evening just to know for sure I’ve done well.”

  He longed to tell her she’d done well. He’d sleep, and maybe in his dreams, he’d be able to say the words, and she would hear them.

  40

  OUT OF THE FRYING PAN

  Sir Kemry grabbed an illuminated vine and yanked it downward.

  “Ouch!” He let go and shook his whole arm. “It bites.”

  Kale grabbed the injured hand. He had his fingers tightly coiled.

  “Let me see.”

  A red line the same thickness of the stem he’d seized ran across his palm.

  “Well, this is going to make things a tad more difficult,” Kale said.

  She peered through the jungle of a plant, grimacing at the tangle that kept them from walking into the valley. Ardeo and Metta could fly out. Their tiny bodies would fit. But the dragons sat on her shoulders and chittered useless advice. Pat would have been more help in the situation.

  “You’re the light wizard,” said her father. “Touch it, and see if it sears your hand.”

  Kale raised her eyebrows at him. “Good idea.” Her voice couldn’t quite hide the sarcasm.

  She reached out one finger and tentatively tapped a leaf.

  She smiled. “Nothing.”

  “Not quite.” Sir Kemry nodded at the vines.

  Where there had been one tiny leaf here and there among the branches, now leaves were sprouting and filling out, making palm-sized bright lanterns among the foliage.

  Kale and her father squinted.

  He shook his head and peered down at his daughter. “I don’t think we need this much radiance, my dear. After all, it is the middle of the morning.”

  Kale screwed up her mouth and scowled at him. “Do you have any suggestions?”

  He shrugged. “Try going backward through the configuration.”

  Kale closed her eyes and concentrated. Decreasing the foliage by obliterating the leaves turned out to be difficult. She didn’t know exactly how the leaves had proliferated in the first place.

  She heard her father’s voice. “Good, good.”

  Her eyes popped open, and she saw the leaves that had just sprouted, dropping to the ground, their lights extinguished.

  “Don’t stop now,” her father urged.

  She closed her eyes again and gave a frustrated sigh. So often this wizardry stuff worked or didn’t, and she had no idea how or why.

  “You’re slowing down now. Are you concentrating?”

  “Yes, Father, I’m concentrating.”

  “You couldn’t be. You’re talking to me.”

  “Only because you’re talking to me.”

  “Hush now, and work.”

  Kale growled. Her father laughed.

  She set her mind to unwinding the vines and to lowering the energy level flowing through them.

  “Ah, that’s better.” She heard her father murmur. “I don’t have to squint so much.”

  Sir Kemry touched her arm. “Look.” His voice sounded wobbly.

  She opened her eyes and peered through what was left of the withering vines. A major dragon stood outside the enclosure. He blinked his huge eyelids and crooned a long, drawn-out, solitary note in his throat.

  “Dobkin,” said Sir Kemry, and his voice definitely broke.

  Kale looked at her father’s face. Tears ran down his cheeks, but his bright eyes and smile told a tale of joy.

  “Dobkin, you old scalawag. Are the others here as well?”

  The dragon stamped one enormous foot. Major dragons were the biggest of all the different varieties, and the ground shook. The branches of the dying light vine shuddered, and some collapsed.

  Dobkin opened his mouth, and Sir Kemry yelled, “No!”

  The big beast didn’t heed his warning and lunged for the illuminated vegetation, biting into a huge chunk and ripping it out. He spit the leaves and branches out and smacked his lips as if trying to get rid of a bad taste.

  Kale gasped. “He’s burned his mouth.”

  Dobkin stamped his foot again, looked intently through the brambly bushes, and pulled his lips back from his long teeth.

  “He’s going to use just his choppers to rip this hedge down,” said Sir Kemry.

  The dragon grasped the next branch in his teeth and hauled back his neck, effectively breaking a massive piece of the plant away from the main stems.

  “How clever of him!” remarked Kale.

  Sir Kemry chuckled.

  “What?”

  “Wait until you’ve known my friend Dobkin longer.”

  “Why?”

  “He always means well, but calling him clever is rather a juxtaposition of terms. You could never put clever, intelligent, cunning, or any such word in the same sentence with Dobkin. He’s mammoth and has a gigantic heart to match, but his brain must be very, very tiny.

  Three more chunks, and the dragon had a path cleared so Kale and her father could walk out of the lifeless plant and into the grassy meadow of the valley.

  Dobkin bobbed his head until Sir Kemry reached up a hand. The dragon placed his chin on Kale’s father’s shoulder. The broad jaw took up the shoulder space and all the room on his arm down to the elbow. Sir Kemry stroked the big animal’s cheek, and Dobkin hummed.

  Ardeo and Metta soared around their heads. Metta’s voice rose in a triumphant aria. Soon, dragons of all sizes streamed into the meadow, surrounding the two Dragon Keepers. Sir Kemry found all of his friends from before the sleeping-chamber episode. Kale rejoiced with him, her face as wet with tears as his. She greeted her minor dragons and listened to their scrambled tale of how they had been captured.

  Shock struck her when she heard her father’s stern order.

  “Away with you. Hide.”

  She looked around but could see nothing unusual. The air chilled around her. The sky darkened, even though not a cloud coursed overhead.

  “Be gone. I don’t want you hurt.” Her father’s voice rang out.

  The dragons departed, some on foot, but most took to the air.

  On the hillock, near a cluster of dark trees, a woman held out a staff aimed at Sir Kemry.

  “Burner Stox,” whispered Kale.

  “Amazing,” the evil wizard said, staring at Sir Kemry. “Amazing that you should decide to visit my domain on a day I am in residence. And unfortunate,” she sneered, “for you.”

  She paced down the hill, her back straight and proud; her head held aloft like royalty; her chin jutting with arrogance at her visitors; and the look in her eye, dealing death. At the bottom of the slope, she stopped, stood with her feet apart, and raised her staff in front of her. One end pointed to the leaden sky. Lightning crackled out of the tip and spread into the air above, leaving the smell of sulfur. She clasped it with two hands, and when she pulled her hands apart, the staff separated into two whole rods of equal size.

  “Run,” Kale’s father commanded. “Let me deal with her.”

  “I’ve fought her before,” protested Kale, but she moved away from her father’s side, racing to the other edge of the meadow. She realized they would stand a better chance if Stox had to divide her attention.

  Sir Kemry moved to the opposite side. Burner Stox now had to shift her head back and forth to view h
er opponents. Still she smirked, confidence in her powers radiating from her person.

  She raised her two staffs and pointed them at Kale and Sir Kemry. “Shall I reduce you to ashes in one blow, or linger over the moment with a slow, smoldering blaze?”

  Kale felt an invisible shield materialize in front of her.

  “Hold this!” her father demanded.

  She grasped the handle with ease. As soon as she felt comfortable with the weight, it became heavier, indicating that her father had let go.

  Kale whispered, “Wulder protect me from evil. In the same way this shield guards my body, defend my mind so that Burner Stox cannot enter my thoughts. Strengthen me for combat, give me wisdom for this contest, and may Your power be shown.”

  Even prepared, Kale staggered back a step when the first blast from Stox’s rod struck the shield. While Kale held the fabric of the invisible armor in place, she gathered energy in her other palm. When the power reached an apex, she cast it through the air and slammed Burner Stox with a devastating blow. Only, the evil wizard did not falter. She threw back her head and laughed. It seemed to Kale that she glowed.

  She absorbed that energy, Kale called to her father.

  “Use the shield to deflect her stream of fire and send it back at her.”

  Kale gauged the flow of flames, and as it hit the barrier she held, she turned it. The torrent backtracked along the outgoing barrage and struck Burner Stox in the chest. She expanded, and the glow intensified.

  “Stop,” ordered Sir Kemry. “We’re feeding her energy.”

  That doesn’t make sense.

  “We’ll stop and figure it out later.”

  What are we going to do now?

  “We’ll try dousing her blaze.”

  Kale’s father gathered moisture and concentrated it in a small dense black cloud. The cloud scuttled over their adversary and dumped a deluge on her head. She sputtered but did not cease throwing the steady surge of powerful flame their way.

  “All right. Plan A and Plan B didn’t work. Plan C, if you please, Kale.”

  What?

  “I came up with A and B. It’s your turn.”

  You sound just like Regidor ribbing Bardon in the middle of a duel.

  Her distraction allowed her shield to droop.

  “Kale!”

  Her father’s sharp tone caused her to jerk. Her hand turned upward just in time to send a blast from Burner Stox ricocheting into the sky above.

  “Good move, daughter of mine. You didn’t feed her power, nor absorb the shock of the impact.” He angled his shield to ward off Stox’s next discharge and send it upward. “Let’s hope no birds choose to fly over at this time.”

  No dragons, either.

  “Dragons are too wise to fly over this battle. They are keeping themselves well out of the way. Well, most dragons, anyway.”

  Along the edge of the wood, at the top of the hill, Dobkin slinked as if a backdrop of dark trees could camouflage his massive body.

  Kale’s eyes widened. Is he tiptoeing?

  “He thinks he is. Don’t look directly at him. I don’t want Stox to become aware of his presence and toss fire at the simpleton.”

  Dobkin lumbered down the slope, his eye fixed on the evil wizard. When within reaching distance, he stretched out his neck, opened his mouth, and picked her up with his teeth. His mouth covered her entire head, but he didn’t bite down into her neck. He held her, squirming, ten feet above the ground.

  She dropped her staffs and reached to take hold of his jaw.

  Kale heard her infuriated screech. The dragon’s giant mouth muffled her string of profanity.

  Burner Stox must have done something with the fist clutching Dobkin’s right jaw. His lip curled as if hurt. He shook his head and clenched his teeth. Her body fell to the ground minus the head.

  Kale gasped and kept her eyes on the poor dragon’s face. She felt a wash of confusion from the large beast. Her father walked calmly up the hill. “You can spit it out, Dobkin. I know it doesn’t taste very good.”

  41

  GOOD NEWS, MOSTLY

  Kale and her father walked among the dragons, making their acquaintance and accepting their congratulations at defeating Burner Stox. Everywhere they turned, father and daughter heard the dragons’ sweet wordless songs of victory. Although their o’rant ears could not decipher the words, through mindspeaking the lyrics came across clearly. Kale blushed at the praise leveled at them. Her father just beamed and continued to socialize with the dragons, big and small.

  Sir Kemry delighted in introducing those dragons who had been his special friends before his unfortunate period of sleep. He also explained over and over that he had not deserted his comrades, but had been under a spell created by Risto. Most of the dragons understood, but a few were prickly and wanted Sir Kemry to fawn over them a bit before they forgave him.

  From a distance, the bisonbeck guards kept an eye on the newcomers to the valley.

  “Are they going to attack?” asked Kale.

  “No, I don’t think so.” Her father stroked a green minor dragon on his shoulder. “They saw what happened to their leader and are probably not anxious to do battle with two mighty wizards and a ferocious major dragon.

  “Dobkin isn’t ferocious. I think he was embarrassed when he accidentally bit the wizard’s head off.”

  “Yes, I’m sure you’re right. He only intended to hold her until we could do something. She shouldn’t have hurt him. It was a reflex action on his part, not an intentional decapitation.”

  Kale put her hand on her stomach. “Let’s not talk about it.” She gazed off into the surrounding hills. “The ropmas don’t know what to do, do they?”

  “No, they don’t,” Sir Kemry agreed. “They’re watching to see what happens. They’re probably fond of the dragons and enjoyed taking care of them. But they’re afraid of the bisonbecks and don’t know what their guards will do in the wake of Stox’s death.”

  “What can we expect from Crim Cropper?”

  Sir Kemry shrugged and bent to scoop up a red minor dragon. “Hello, fella.” He rubbed under the creature’s chin. “He’s a fire dragon, Kale, rare in the major dragon species, even rarer in this size.”

  “I know. How do you think Crim Cropper will get the news?”

  Sir Kemry picked up a yellow dragon with his other hand. “What’s your name, little miss?” He tucked the dragon under his chin, then spoke to Kale. “I don’t know. Why are you so interested?”

  “She’s his wife. He’ll feel something. Sorrow? Grief?”

  “I thought they weren’t on speaking terms. Maybe he’ll feel relief.”

  “Father, look.” She nodded toward the woods. A group of bisonbecks made their way from the trees to the place where Dobkin had slain Burner Stox.

  “Coming to collect the dead.” Sir Kemry pursed his lips. “That’s probably your answer, Kale. Those bisonbeck soldiers will relay the message to Crim Cropper.”

  “Aren’t they part of Stox’s army?”

  “Yes, but now there is no ‘Stox’s army,’ so they’ll have to seek employment elsewhere. I doubt Pretender would welcome soldiers who have fought against him.”

  “So they’ll join Cropper’s army?”

  “If Cropper bothers to expand his army.” Sir Kemry squinted, still watching the movements of the ropmas and bisonbecks. “He’s always been more interested in his experiments and let Stox do all the outside work.”

  “He might just send them away?”

  “Possibly. And if they can’t be a part of either army, they don’t have any choice but to go abroad. There are wars on other continents that give mercenaries something to do.”

  Kale sat in the sweet-smelling grass and allowed the smaller dragons to race over her, chasing one another and singing softly. “This nightmare could be almost over, couldn’t it, Father?”

  “No, I don’t think so. Crim Cropper may never come out of his sanctum, but Pretender isn’t going to disappear and leave Amar
a alone.”

  “I choose to be optimistic. We’ve gone from three armies ravaging the countryside to maybe one. That seems to be an improvement.”

  “Umm.” Sir Kemry brought his gaze back from a gordon tree grove.

  “The ropmas are coming closer.”

  “What do you suppose they want?”

  “Why don’t you use your talent to find out?”

  “Do you really bounce back that quickly?” Kale sighed deeply. “I still feel drained from our encounter with Burner Stox. I’m finding it difficult to communicate with these dragons close at hand, let alone with ropmas a half mile away.”

  Sir Kemry laughed. “I’m drained too. I was hoping that your youth provided more resilience.”

  “Have you ever run yourself completely dry?”

  “No, and I don’t want to. They say it takes an eon to recover.”

  Sir Kemry stretched out in the grass beside her. They rested in the camaraderie of the dragons. Kale kept watch as the bisonbecks picked up Stox’s body and carried her away. The ropmas came closer after that but still kept their distance.

  Kale tried to count the number of dragons in the vicinity. She couldn’t count the minor dragons. They flitted about, and from a distance, those of the same color could not be distinguished. She counted twenty-eight riding dragons, eleven major dragons, and fifteen fire dragons, who were just a bit smaller than the riding dragons. The rare fire dragons kept to themselves, in their own circle, away from the others.

  Her father’s soft snore pleased Kale and eased her tension. She actually enjoyed his company, now that she’d gotten used to some of his peculiar ways. Not nearly as peculiar as Wizard Fenworth. I miss him. I miss Bardon more. I wonder what my husband is doing. Wulder, keep him safe in battle.

  Gymn curled around Kale’s neck, and she leaned back in the grass. “The only thing that would make this more ideal would be to have Bardon here as well.” She sighed and slept.

  Sir Kemry’s muttering filtered through Kale’s dreams. She sat up and rubbed her eyes. Gymn stretched, unwrapped himself from her neck, and skittered down to sit in her lap. Her father still slept, two green dragons curled on his chest. In his sleep, he smiled.