Dragon Quest

by Jackie French Koller

  “Rrronk,” he cried.

  Darek stared sadly at the little dragon. Zantor’s own mother had been killed brutally, needlessly, on just such a dragonquest. “I’m sorry, my friend,” Darek said quietly.

  Suddenly from across the paddock there came a soft call. “Zantor . . . Zantor, come here, fella!”

  Zantor’s ears pricked up, and Darek whirled around.

  Rowena! How dare she come here now?

  “Stay,” Darek commanded in a low growl, but it was too late. Zantor was already half running, half flying toward the girl. Darek ran after him, but by the time he reached Rowena and the dragon, they were already snuggling together.

  “Zantor!” Darek shouted, stomping his foot. “Come here!”

  Zantor glanced at Darek but did not pull away. Rowena twined her arms around the little dragon’s neck and kissed him on the nose. Zantor looked up at her, his green eyes shining.

  “Soon we’ll have a new friend!” she told him excitedly. “Another little dragon to play with.”

  “Thrummmm,” Zantor sang happily.

  Darek was so angry at Rowena he felt like he could breathe fire.

  “A friend!” he spat. “Do you steal a friend from its mother, Rowena? Do you tear it from its family? Force it to leave its home? Is that how you treat your friends, Rowena?”

  Rowena glared at him. “That’s what you did, isn’t it?” she asked innocently.

  “You know full well it’s not,” Darek snapped. “Zantor’s mother was dead when I found him. She was killed on a dragonquest. He came with me because he chose to.”

  Rowena tossed her head. “And my dragon will choose to be with me,” she said. Then she hugged Zantor tighter and narrowed her eyes. “Just like Zantor would, if you’d let him. Wouldn’t you, Zantor?”

  Zantor stared at her with adoring eyes. Thwip! Out flicked his tongue, planting a kiss on her cheek.

  Suddenly all Darek’s anger melted, and he felt a rush of tenderness toward Rowena. She seemed to be the sweetest, loveliest creature he had ever seen. Before he knew it, he was kissing Rowena on the cheek too!

  “What are you doing, you dragon-wit!” she shrieked. She gave Darek a shove, and he sprawled on his back in the dirt. He lay there staring at the sky, his head spinning. Did he . . . ? Had he just . . . ? No. He couldn’t have. It must have been a dream. He turned and looked. Rowena was gone.

  Yeah, that’s what it was, he told himself. A terrible, horrible dream. That’s all. But . . . then . . . if it was just a dream, why did he feel like thrumming?

  5

  DAREK COULDN’T SLEEP. HE WAS too confused. And too angry with that . . . girl! She had no idea how much trouble she was causing. She had never been to the Valley of the Dragons. She didn’t know how beautiful it was, how majestic the dragons were at peace.

  A dragonquest! Darek shuddered at the thought. What did Rowena know of the horrors of battle? Had she ever ached over the loss of a dear one the way Darek still ached over Yoran? Yoran had been Clep’s best friend. He’d been like a third brother in their house as long as Darek could remember. But now he was dead. Killed on the last dragonquest, like so many other young men before him. Killed fighting a dragon that only wished to be left alone. Yoran had died fighting Zantor’s mother. And she had died too, defending her baby, Zantor. Now other dragons might die. And men, too, maybe even his father or Clep. All for the foolish whim of a spoiled, selfish girl.

  Darek sat up and threw his covers aside. At the foot of the bed, Zantor stirred, instantly alert. Darek couldn’t stand it any longer—doing nothing. Even now a battle might be raging. He had stopped a battle once. Maybe he could do so again. His father would be angry with him if he disobeyed, but Darek had to follow his heart. He had always followed his heart, and it had not yet led him astray. He dressed quickly and pushed his bedroom window open. Then he motioned for Zantor to come to him.

  “Hush,” he whispered, pressing a finger to his lips. He stared directly into the little dragon’s eyes. How could he explain to Zantor what he wanted him to do? He touched Zantor’s chest, then his own, then pointed to the ground, two stories below. “I want you to fly me down there,” he said.

  Zantor looked out the window and then back at Darek. Goose bumps broke out on Darek’s skin as he saw a light dawn in the dragon’s eyes. Zantor understood! They were communicating somehow, mind to mind. Darek had little time to ponder this wonder, for Zantor quickly sprang into action. He leaped to the window ledge and fluttered out into the night. Slowly he began to circle, then picked up speed. Darek climbed out and crouched on the windowsill, waiting. He had no doubt that Zantor could do what he’d asked. Small as the dragon was, he was capable of enormous, if brief, bursts of power. Darek had seen him carry things many times his own weight.

  Zantor circled twice more, then somehow Darek knew the time was right. Just as Zantor swooped by, Darek leaned forward, and the dragonling plucked him neatly from the ledge. Together they fluttered toward the ground. Zantor’s wings pumped mightily as his claws gently grasped Darek’s arms.

  “You did it!” Darek praised him when they touched down safely. “Good boy.”

  “Thrummmm, thrummmm,” Zantor sang, glowing with pride.

  Motioning the dragonling to follow, Darek crept around to the stables. He chose two strong, young yukes and led them outside. They began to fret in the darkness, but he calmed them with sugar cubes and saddled them. He climbed up on one and grabbed the other’s reins.

  “C’mon, Zantor,” he whispered. “Let’s go get Pola.”

  Zantor took to the air and followed at close range.

  Pola’s bedroom was on the ground floor of his family’s home. A light rap on his window quickly woke him. It took no more than a word from Darek to persuade him to come along. Pola never was one to resist an adventure. He was dressed in an instant, and they were off.

  The going was slow at first because of the darkness, but once the sun rose, Darek, Pola, and Zantor made better time. By midday they had reached the Black Mountains of Krad.

  “We’re about halfway to the Valley of the Dragons,” Darek announced. He eyed the Black Mountains warily as they skirted the smoke-shrouded crags. The trees and grasses on the mountainsides had died long ago. Nothing was visible through the haze but twisted stumps and jagged rocks. “Lord Eternal, those mountains are creepy,” Darek said.

  Pola nodded, shivering in the shadows of the peaks. “I get the feeling that something—or someone—is up there watching,” he said. “Don’t you?”

  Darek laughed. “Kradens?” he asked.

  Pola laughed too. Zorian legends told of Kradens, fierce, hairy men who had supposedly driven the Zorians’ ancestors out of Krad long ago. “You don’t believe those old myths, do you?” Pola asked.

  Darek snorted. “What do you take me for, a nurseling? Of course I don’t believe those old wives’ tales.”

  “It’s supposed to be true that our ancestors came out of those mountains in the Beginning, though,” Pola said.

  Darek shrugged. “It’s hard to believe anything alive could come out of there,” he said.

  “They weren’t always black and dead,” Pola reminded him. “It is said that in the Beginning, they were just as beautiful as the Yellow Mountains of Orr.”

  Darek stared hard at the forbidding peaks. “If that’s true,” he wondered aloud, “then what caused them to die?”

  “I don’t know,” Pola said. “But I’d sure like to go up there and try to find out.”

  Darek whirled to look at his friend. “Are you joking?” he asked. “You know it’s forbidden to go up there.”

  Pola laughed. “Oh, and you never do anything forbidden, do you?” he teased. “Might I remind you that we’re on a forbidden quest right now?”

  “That’s different,” Darek said.

  “Different how?”

  Darek turned serious. “People used to go into the Black Mountains in the Long Ago,” he said quietly, “but no one ever came back alive.
That’s why it’s forbidden, Pola. Have you forgotten?”

  “But nobody’s gone in generations,” Pola argued. “Maybe things have changed.”

  “Yeah.” Darek nodded toward the mountains. “For the worse. Only a fool would go up there, Pola.”

  Pola was quiet for a while. There was no sound but the clip-clop of yuke hooves and the rush of wings as Zantor soared overhead. An acrid smell hung in the air, though, a smell like death.

  “What if . . . What if the ones who went didn’t come back because it’s so nice there?” Pola said at last. “What if they didn’t come back because they didn’t want to come back?”

  Darek laughed out loud. “Nice?” he said. “Does anything about those mountains look nice to you? Besides, if it was so nice, don’t you think someone would come back and tell the rest of us?”

  Pola smiled. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he said. Then he gazed back over his shoulder. “Sure would be a great adventure, though, wouldn’t it?”

  6

  DAREK, POLA, AND ZANTOR REACHED the Yellow Mountains of Orr by night. The campfires of the Zorian hunting party flickered on a ridge about halfway up the slopes. Darek and Pola made their own camp well below. To be sure they wouldn’t be seen, they went without a campfire. At dawn they skirted the main path and found another way up the peaks, leaving the yukes tied below. Darek looped a halter around Zantor’s neck to keep him close.

  “Easy, now, easy,” he whispered. “This is just to keep you safe, my friend.” Zantor did not object. He seemed to sense the danger and put his trust in Darek. Carefully, quietly, the three climbed the last few hundred feet.

  “Wow!” Pola exclaimed when they finally reached the top.

  “Thrummmm,” Zantor sang softly as he gazed once again upon the valley of his birth.

  “I told you it was beautiful,” Darek whispered.

  “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful in all my life,” Pola agreed in a hushed voice.

  Everything was peaceful in the valley. Although they had a day’s head start, the hunting party had apparently made no move as yet. Darek was not surprised. His father had promised to try to avoid bloodshed. To do so, the hunters would have to lie low and watch the dragons’ movements for some time. They would have to wait for just the right moment to sneak in and do their dirty work. Only then would they stand a chance of escaping. Even so, it would not be easy.

  The mountains around the valley sparkled. The soft violet rays of the morning sun bathed them in pale hues of blue and rose. Dragons perched on the crags like great colorful blossoms. Others soared in graceful circles through the air. Still others grazed peacefully on the valley floor. Darek saw Yellow Crested dragons, and Green Horned, and also a few small Purple Spotted. The dreaded Red Fanged and Purple Spiked that once struck terror into the hearts of all Zorians were completely gone. Zorians had hunted them to extinction. It was the Red Fanged and Purple Spiked that had long ago given dragons a bad name, Darek was certain.

  “Where are the Blues?” Pola asked.

  Darek searched the valley, troubled by this question. “I don’t know,” he said. “I saw only one female and her three dragonlings when last I came. She lived in that cave high up on the mountainside there.” Darek pointed. “I’d hoped there were others, off hunting or something, but I see no Blues again today.”

  “The Great Blues have been the favored game of the dragonquests ever since the Red Fanged and Purple Spiked disappeared,” Pola said. “Can it be that they are nearly extinct now too?”

  Darek looked at Zantor and swallowed hard. He had not thought of this before. “I pray not,” he said quietly.

  Pola gazed thoughtfully out over the valley. “Two males were taken in the dragonquest before last,” he said. “They could have been the fathers of Zantor and the other three.”

  Darek felt a sinking in his heart as he recognized the likely truth of Pola’s words. “Yes,” he said quietly. “They could, indeed.”

  “The other three young ones . . . ,” Pola said. “Are they males or females?”

  Darek thought back to his earlier trip to the valley. He had spent time in the Great Blue’s cave, trying to get her to adopt Zantor. He remembered that the Great Blue’s dragonlings had pouches like their mother. “They are females all,” he said.

  Zantor suddenly sprang upright and started thrumming wildly. Darek tightened his halter and pulled him close.

  “Rrronk! Rrronk!” Zantor cried, struggling to get free.

  “Shush, shush, Zantor, no!” Darek cried in Zantor’s ear. “You have to stay still.”

  The dragonling quieted, but Darek sensed his longing as he stared out across the valley.

  “Look!” Pola whispered.

  So that was what Zantor was so excited about. The Great Blue was emerging from her cave! She unfurled her silvery wings and stretched them out full-length. She stepped to the edge of the cliff and sprang off as lightly as a bird. Out against the sky she soared, blue on blue. The sun glinted and danced on her wings as she circled nearly over their heads.

  “She’s magnificent,” Pola said.

  “Thrummmm,” Zantor sang, looking up.

  “Yes.” Darek smiled and rubbed the little dragon’s head. “One day you will be just as magnificent, my friend.”

  One by one, the three smaller Blues appeared at the cave mouth and fluttered out after their mother. Darek smiled, happy to see that they were all still there and healthy. Then, like a cloud across the sun, a new thought came to him.

  “Pola,” he whispered, “if what you say is true, then Zantor is the last male Blue alive.”

  Pola nodded somberly. “And if he doesn’t grow up and mate with one of those three,” he added, “they will be the last Blues . . . ever.”

  As if he clearly understood Darek and Pola’s words, Zantor looked up at them with mournful eyes. “Rrronk,” he cried softly.

  7

  NOTHING MOVED ON THE RIDGE through all the long, hot day. Pola went back to the yukes to get the waterskins, then took Zantor with him in search of food and fresh water. He returned with an assortment of nuts and berries and the two bulging skins. Darek drank deeply and squirted a little of the refreshing liquid over his sun-scorched head. Zantor curled up to sleep in the shade of an outcropping of rock. As the afternoon dragged on, Darek and Pola dozed too.

  “Do you think the hunting party will try anything today?” Pola asked when they woke.

  Darek stretched and looked at the sky. “I don’t know,” he said. “If they do, it should be soon. The dragons will be waking from their afternoon naps shortly.”

  “Why is that a good time?” Pola asked.

  “The adults wake first,” Darek explained. “They go off to forage for dinner while their little ones are still asleep.”

  “But how will our men capture a dragonling without causing a ruckus?” Pola asked.

  Darek shook his head. That he didn’t know. He feared to think what might happen if things went wrong. Dragons were peaceful if left alone, but they were fierce and dangerous when threatened. Their fiery breath and razor-sharp claws had sent many a Zorian to an early death. Darek prayed to Lord Eternal that his father had a plan.

  True to Darek’s words, the adult dragons soon began emerging from their caves and drifting down into the valley. Before long, the Great Blue appeared. She flew to the valley’s far end and disappeared into the thick forest. Sadly Darek watched her go. She had no idea of the danger threatening her young ones.

  Darek still clearly remembered his first meeting with her. She had been ready to defend her babies with her very life. She was a mother, after all, as loving as any human mother. He didn’t like to think of the pain and loss she must suffer now because of Rowena. New anger at the girl flared inside him as he watched the mouth of the cave. The little ones were in there, probably still sleeping, just as Zantor still snored beneath his rock. If the hunting party planned to act today, now would be the time.

  “Look!” Pola whispered. He p
ointed to the ridge above the cave.

  For a moment Darek couldn’t believe what he saw there. Another Great Blue had appeared! It was a male, small for a Blue, but definitely full-grown. The shape of the head and the color of the scales were unmistakable. As Darek and Pola watched, the new dragon started to move down the mountain face. But something was wrong. It didn’t have an adult dragon’s strong, high-stepping gait. Instead it moved in a sluggish, awkward fashion, almost as if it were dragging itself.

  “Lord Eternal!” Darek whispered. “It’s a decoy!”

  He and Pola stared at each other in astonishment. “They must have made it from one of the dragon-skin hangings in Elder Hall,” Pola said.

  Darek smiled and shook his head in wonderment. What a wise man his father was!

  “Do you think it could possibly work?” Pola asked.

  Darek felt torn as he watched the awkward creature lurch into the mouth of the cave. He’d been against the whole quest from the start, and his heart wanted it to fail. But his head knew that lives were on the line, including his father’s and Clep’s. If this plan didn’t work, there would surely be bloodshed and death before the day was over. He grabbed Pola’s arm and squeezed tight. “Pray,” he whispered.

  • • •

  Not one, but all three little dragons followed the strange new Blue out of their cave and up over the ridge. Darek and Pola moved around the mountain, closer to the hunting party’s encampment, to get a better look. Zantor had awakened, and Darek was having trouble controlling him.

  “Easy, fella, easy,” Darek whispered. “I know you want to go to them, but you can’t just now.”

  “Rrronk,” the dragonling replied.

  The odd procession was coming closer and closer, making its way down the back side of the mountain. Strange emotions tumbled through Darek’s mind as Zantor thrummed and tugged on his halter.