Dragon Quest

by Jackie French Koller

  “Easy,” Darek repeated, but he now felt drawn to the procession too. The need to be with the other dragons was becoming an ache inside him. He found himself itching to let Zantor go.

  “Here,” he said, handing the halter to Pola. “You’d better hold him. I’m not sure I can trust myself.”

  Pola looked at him strangely. “Trust yourself to do what?”

  “I feel like I’m inside Zantor’s head again,” Darek said.

  Pola arched an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

  Darek shook his head. “I’ll explain later,” he said. “Just hold him—tight.”

  Pola took the tether and wrapped it tightly around his wrist. Zantor’s head sagged, and Darek felt the dragonling’s disappointment as keenly as if it were his own. He turned away and tried to concentrate on the procession.

  “Do you think they’re going to take all three?” Pola asked.

  “I’m afraid they’ll have to now,” Darek said. “If they try to separate them, there’ll be a ruckus for sure. And that would bring the mother in no time.”

  “Won’t she follow anyway?” Pola asked.

  “Not for a while,” Darek said. “The dragonlings are old enough to forage for themselves. She probably won’t miss them until nightfall when they don’t return to the cave.” A picture of the distressed mother dragon flashed into Darek’s mind. She would be so worried about her young ones. If only there were some way to stop this cruel quest.

  “But nightfall is only four or five hours away,” Pola said.

  Darek shrugged. “That’s all the head start the hunting party can hope for,” he said. “That, and the chance that it will take her a while to pick up the trail. It’s all rock up on the mountain, so there won’t be footprints, and dragons don’t have much sense of smell.”

  “Maybe she won’t pick up the trail,” Pola said hopefully. “Maybe she’ll think they’re lost in the valley somewhere.”

  “Maybe,” Darek said, but he was doubtful.

  Suddenly Zantor gave a quick twist, yanking the halter free. With a sharp cry of glee, he took to the air and zoomed straight toward the dragon procession.

  “Hooray!” Darek shouted, leaping joyfully into the air. Then he crouched down and clapped his hand over his mouth.

  Pola stared at him. “Have you taken leave of your senses?” he asked. “What are you yelling about? The hunting party heard you for sure!”

  “I know, I know,” Darek said. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t me shouting. It was . . . Zantor, sort of.”

  Pola narrowed his eyes. “Did you get sunstroke up there today?” he asked.

  Darek shook his head. “No. At least, I don’t think so. Something else is going on. Something is happening in my mind. I don’t understand either, but we don’t have time to worry about it right now.”

  Pola sighed and stared at the fleeing dragon. “That’s for sure,” he said. “As soon as your father sees Zantor, he’ll know for sure that we’re here. What are we going to do?”

  Darek thought about facing his father and the others and swallowed nervously. “You can go home,” he said to Pola. “They won’t know you were with me. This was all my idea, anyway. I’ll . . . take the blame.”

  Pola stared at him a long time, then walked over to his yuke and climbed into the saddle.

  “See you back home,” Darek said quietly.

  “No you won’t,” Pola said. He leaned forward and handed the reins of the other yuke to Darek. Then he smiled. “An adventure’s an adventure, all the way to the end,” he said. “I’m with you, my friend.”

  Darek smiled and hoisted himself up into the saddle. He reached out to Pola, and they clasped arms in a Brotherhood shake.

  8

  DAREK’S FATHER’S EYES WERE STERN. “I don’t care what your reason is!” he boomed. “You disobeyed an order, and you will pay the price when we return home.”

  “Yes, sir.” Darek bowed humbly. “I’m sorry, sir.”

  “Aargh!” Darek’s father stomped off. “Get out of my way. I’ve more important things to worry about.”

  Darek went back and stood beside Pola. They were silent for a while, watching the dragon procession. Darek felt awful, standing there, doing nothing, as the dragonlings walked into a trap. Then an idea began to take shape in his mind. If he could get close to the dragonlings, he might be able to free them. They would fly straight back to their mother. Maybe then the men would give up this foolish quest rather than risk a direct confrontation. It was a long shot. But if Darek didn’t do something soon, it would be too late. He approached his father once more.

  “Father,” he said hesitantly. “I . . . think maybe I can help.”

  “Out of my sight, I told you!” his father bellowed.

  Darek took a step back, but then Clep came up and put a hand on Darek’s shoulder. “Wait a moment,” Clep said. Then he turned to Yanek.

  “A word with you, Father?” Clep asked.

  Yanek stared at his two sons a long moment. Then he and Clep stepped to one side and put their heads together. Their voices rose and fell. Darek strained to catch snatches of their conversation.

  “Way with dragons . . . ,” he heard Clep say.

  “Disobedient whelp . . . ,” his father replied.

  “Understands them . . . ,” Clep said.

  “Taught a lesson . . . ,” his father grumbled.

  As Darek watched his father and brother argue, his own feelings warred within him. Clep was standing up for him, taking his side. How could he let his brother down and free the dragons now? And what would the elders do to his father if Darek made trouble again?

  “Out of time . . . ,” he heard Clep say at last. Both Clep and Yanek turned then and looked toward the mountain. The party of dragons, now including Zantor, would soon have to be dealt with.

  Yanek swore under his breath and looked over at Darek. “Do you think you can get close to those beasts without spooking them?” he asked.

  “Yes, Father.”

  “Can you get tethers on them?”

  Of this Darek wasn’t so sure, but one thing he did know. “If anyone can, Father,” he said, “I can.”

  “Well enough, then,” Yanek said. “I’ll settle my score with you later. Take the tethers and go.”

  “Yes, sir.” Darek looked over at Pola, and Pola smiled back. He raised his arm and clenched his hand into a fist, palm forward. It was a Brotherhood fist. Lord Eternal go with you, it meant. Pola understood. He knew Darek had a difficult choice to make, and he was offering his support, no matter what Darek decided. Darek nodded his thanks to his friend. Then he started for the dragons. But what should he do? Free them or capture them?

  “Son.”

  Darek stopped and turned. His father and Clep stood side by side. Both raised their fists as well. They trusted him, Darek realized. He felt a warm pride inside. Then, one by one, the other hunters in the party raised their Brotherhood fists too. Darek swallowed hard. He couldn’t let them down. Not now. Besides, what if he freed the dragons and the men did decide to go after them again? The capture might not go so smoothly next time.

  He wasn’t being a traitor to Zantor and the dragons, Darek told himself as he started up the mountain. He was just doing his best to see that no one, dragon or Zorian, got hurt.

  9

  DAREK DIDN’T KNOW WHY THE little dragons seemed so glad to see him. Did they remember him from his earlier visit to their cave, or did they take their cue from Zantor, who greeted him with nuzzles and thrums? Either way, they welcomed him eagerly into their rollicking reunion with Zantor.

  When Darek offered them sugar cubes, they gobbled them up and followed after him, begging for more. They were suspicious of the tethers at first, but Darek had a plan. He slipped a tether on and off Zantor, giving him a sugar cube reward each time. Before long, the other three dragons were wearing tethers and munching on sugar cubes too.

  Soon all four dragons slept in a contented little heap in the back of a wagon pulled
by Darek and Pola on their yukes. Night had fallen, and they guided the yukes carefully along a path lit only by Zoriak’s twin moons. Behind them, in two columns, rode the rest of the hunting party.

  Darek was glad things were going so well, but he still couldn’t help worrying. It was all too easy. Much too easy. He kept watching over his shoulder for the Great Blue.

  “Maybe she doesn’t care,” Pola said hopefully. “Maybe the dragonlings are old enough to be on their own now. Maybe she’s ready to let them go.”

  “Maybe,” Darek said. This didn’t seem likely, but he was surprised that they had made it all the way back to the Black Mountains without any sign of the angry mother. Maybe Pola was right. Maybe he was worrying for nothing. He settled back in the saddle and allowed himself a small sigh of relief.

  And then he heard it.

  The shriek, though far off, sent chills up his spine. “She’s coming,” he whispered.

  The hunting party had heard it too.

  “Circle up!” Darek heard his father shout.

  The two columns behind Darek and Pola split and arched out around them. Soon the boys and the dragonlings were enclosed in a great circle.

  “Now what?” Pola asked.

  “Battle,” Darek said bitterly. “Didn’t you know it would come to this?”

  The Great Blue shrieked again, closer this time. With cries of alarm the dragonlings awoke. Darek could feel Zantor’s fear. He hastily tossed some sugar cubes back into the wagon, trying to keep them all calm.

  “GRRRAWWWK! GRRRAWWWK!”

  The ground around them shook as the Great Blue thundered out of the sky, swooping down almost on top of her young ones.

  “Rrronk! Rrronk!” the dragonlings cried, straining at their tethers.

  Darek’s and Pola’s yukes danced and bucked.

  “Control your mounts!” Darek’s father shouted. “Prepare for battle. Shields up, bows ready!”

  “GRRRAWWWK!” The Great Blue swooped again, this time letting loose a blast of flame. The little ones shrieked, and Darek’s yuke reared up on its hind legs. Pola’s yuke spooked and reared too. Then, at the same time, both yukes bolted. The wagon lurched after them, bouncing over the rough ground.

  “Eeeiiieee! Eeeiiieee!” the little dragonlings screamed. Their cries seemed to whip the yukes into a frenzy. Darek and Pola fought for control of the reins, but there was no holding the frightened animals back. Their hooves thundered, tearing up the ground and bathing them all in a cloud of dust.

  “Get out of the way!” Darek shouted as the wagon bore down on the battle circle. Men and yukes scattered as the wagon broke through. Behind them Darek and Pola could hear the great dragon scream as she charged once more. Sounds of a battle raged as the wagon continued to barrel out of control. It was headed straight for the Black Mountains of Krad! Fear roared in Darek’s ears. His own terror, and Zantor’s, too, blocked out all thought.

  The wagon jounced over the foothills as the runaway yukes started up the mountain pass. Clouds of black smoke loomed ahead. The acrid smell stung Darek’s nose. There was no escape. They were headed straight into the Mountains of No Return!

  “Jump!” Darek shrieked to Pola as the first ghostly wisps of smoke began to drift past them. “Jump!”

  At the last moment Darek threw his reins aside and jumped. He landed with a thud and rolled over and over, coming to rest at last against a rock. He looked up just in time to see the runaway wagon and the four little dragons disappearing into the black, smoky haze.

  And then he saw something else. A figure still sat astride one of the yukes!

  “Pola!” Darek shrieked. “Pola, jump!”

  But Pola didn’t jump. Instead he raised his arm high, his hand clenched in a Brotherhood fist.

  “An adventure’s an adventure!” he shouted.

  And then they were gone. . . . Pola, Zantor, all of them. Vanished.

  Darek got to his feet and ran a short way into the mist. “Pola! Zantor!” he cried. But there was no answer. No sound. Darek’s eyes watered, and his nose stung. He turned and staggered out of the mist again. Tears streamed down his cheeks. He turned once more and stared in stunned disbelief at the spot where the wagon had disappeared. Minutes passed. Maybe even hours. Darek didn’t know. He felt empty inside, drained, as if nothing was left of his heart but an aching hole.

  Then, just as dawn broke, there was a horrible, agonized cry, and the battle sounds in the distance ceased. Darek turned slowly, and the ache inside him deepened. There, on the ground, surrounded by the hunters, lay the Great Blue. The soft rays of the morning sun peeked over the mountains and glinted off her bent and lifeless wings.

  10

  DAREK RUBBED HIS HAND ACROSS the top of Pola’s Memory Stone. In time, maybe, he would be able to come here to the Memory Place and think warm thoughts, the way he did when he and Clep visited Yoran’s Memory Stone. But now all he felt was pain.

  If only Zantor were still here to comfort him, to make him smile with his silly dragon antics. But Zantor was gone too. Gone forever, along with Pola and the other three dragonlings. The Zorians would never know another Great Blue. Darek sighed deeply. Sadness seemed to fill every corner of his mind and body, leaving no room for anything else. He slowly rose to his feet and started toward home.

  “Darek?”

  The voice startled him and caught him unaware. He turned, and when he saw who had spoken, his sorrow turned to something darker. Darek had never hated before, but he hated now.

  “I . . . I’ve been waiting for a chance to speak with you,” Rowena said.

  Darek stared straight ahead, not trusting himself to speak.

  “I . . . I want to tell you that I’m sorry,” she went on. “That I . . .”

  “Sorry!” Darek whirled now and faced her. “You’re sorry?” He spat the words like fire. “You’re sorry that my two best friends in the world are dead?”

  “They’re not . . . dead,” Rowena said, her eyes glassy with tears. “They’re just . . . gone.”

  Darek glared at her. “How do you know they’re not dead?” he asked. “Besides, what difference does it make? I’ll never see Pola or Zantor again. Pola’s parents will never see their son again.” He turned and gazed off into the sky, off toward the Yellow Mountains of Orr. “And no Zorian from this day forward will ever again see the beauty of a Great Blue,” he added softly.

  “I know. . . .” Rowena’s voice was almost a sob. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “What more can I say?”

  Darek spun around angrily. “You’re sorry, all right,” he said in a low snarl. “You’re just about the sorriest excuse for a Zorian I’ve ever laid eyes on.” Then he turned and strode away.

  1 1

  DAREK TOSSED AND TURNED. ANOTHER sleepless night. He sat up and stared off toward the Black Mountains of Krad. Where were Pola and Zantor? he wondered. How were they? Were they dead or alive? Outside he heard the clatter of yuke hooves and wondered who might be passing by at this late hour. Then something flew in through the open window and landed at the foot of his bed. The yuke hooves clattered away as Darek reached down.

  It was a note, tied around a rock. Darek yanked off the twine and unfolded it.

  “They are gone, not dead,” it said. “I know this. Don’t ask me to explain how. But I do know. And where there is life, there is hope. I ride tonight for the Black Mountains, there to undo the wrong I’ve done.”

  Darek stared at the note for a long moment until its meaning finally sank in. Rowena was heading out on a quest to find Pola and the dragons.

  “Zatz!” he cried. “That fool girl!”

  He pulled on his boots and his jerkin, then dashed through the sleeping house and out to the barn. He saddled the fastest yuke in the herd and flung himself onto its back. Out into the night he rode, faster and harder than he’d ever ridden before. Wind filled his mouth and tore at his hair. The yuke’s hooves flew over the moon-silvered ground, tearing up league after league. At last the Black Mountains loomed c
loser. Overhead the sky grew pale with the approach of dawn.

  As he bore down on the mountains, Darek spied a figure up ahead. Her loosened hair streamed wildly out behind her. Rowena and her yuke moved as one, smoothly gliding over the landscape. Darek frowned. She sat a good yuke; he had to grant her that. He spurred his yuke harder in an effort to close the gap between them, but his yuke was winded. Overtaking the girl before she reached the pass would not be easy.

  “Rowena!” he screamed. “Rowena, stop!” But his words only blew back into his own mouth.

  Rowena did not stop or even slow when she reached the foothills. On she raced toward the mist-shrouded peaks.

  The acrid, dead smell of the mountains made Darek’s breath catch in his throat. He was running out of time. He reached back and pulled his yuke’s tether rope from behind his saddle. He fiddled with the noose until it was the right size. Then he stood in the stirrups, swung the rope overhead a few times, and let it fly.

  “Uumph!” Rowena landed on the ground with a thud. Her frightened yuke clattered off into the foothills.

  “You dragon-wit!” she screamed as Darek approached. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Saving your foolish hide,” Darek yelled. “Have you taken leave of your senses?”

  “What is it to you?” Rowena cried. She got to her feet and slapped angrily at her dust-caked clothes.

  “Are you hurt?” Darek asked.

  “No, I am not hurt—no thanks to you!” Rowena turned and stomped away.

  “Where are you going?” Darek shouted.

  “I told you where I’m going.”

  “Oh, no you’re not!”

  “Oh, yes I am!”

  Darek slid down off his yuke, ran up behind Rowena, and grabbed her arm. “No you’re not,” he repeated. “You’ve caused enough trouble already. . . .”

  “Me!” Rowena whirled around. “And I suppose you’re Sir Innocent, huh? At least I have the guts to admit when I’m wrong.”