Dragon Quest

by Jackie French Koller

  Darek stared at her. “What are you talking about?” he asked. “What did I do?”

  “What didn’t you do is more the question!” Rowena said. She pulled free and started up the mountain again. Darek ran after her once more.

  “I’m listening, okay?” he said. “How is any of this my fault?”

  Rowena glared at him. “If you must know the truth,” she said, “I never even wanted a dragon of my own. All I wanted was a chance to spend a little time with Zantor, to play with him now and then. But you were too selfish to allow that. You were too jealous, because you knew he liked me as much as you!”

  Darek’s mouth dropped open. He tried to think of some sharp words to fling back at her, but he could not.

  Rowena stopped walking and faced him squarely. “Did you really think you could keep Zantor all to yourself?” she asked. “You proved to us all how wonderful he was, then you shut us out. Did you really think that was fair?”

  Darek tore his eyes from Rowena’s and looked down at the ground. Her words stung like the blade of a finely honed knife. And their aim was just as deadly true. He had been selfish and jealous. If he’d been willing to share . . .

  Darek’s shoulders sagged, and his arms fell limply at his sides as the truth became painfully clear. If he had been a little more considerate, Zantor and Pola might still be there.

  “You’re right,” he said softly. “It is my fault. Pola . . . Zantor . . . everything.”

  There was a long silence, and then Rowena put a hand on his shoulder. “No,” she said. “I can’t let you take all the blame. I was jealous of you too. And I behaved like a spoiled child. We are both to blame.”

  Darek looked up, surprised. This was a new side of Rowena, a side he had to respect. “It took guts for you to admit that,” he said.

  Rowena smiled and added quietly, “You’ve got guts too.”

  “Maybe we’ve been wrong about each other, huh?” Darek said.

  Rowena nodded. “Maybe.”

  It wasn’t customary to offer a Brotherhood shake to a girl, but somehow it felt like the right thing to do. Darek reached out his arm. “What do you say we start over?” he asked. “Friends?”

  “Friends,” Rowena said. She clasped his arm and gave it a hearty shake. They smiled into each other’s eyes for a moment. Then Rowena looked away. “Well,” she said, “I’d better get going.”

  “Going where?” Darek asked.

  “There.” Rowena pointed into the mist.

  “What?” Darek couldn’t believe his ears. “You’re not still going!”

  “I am.”

  “But . . . it’s forbidden,” Darek said.

  Rowena smiled again. “That’s never stopped you from doing what you want,” she said.

  Darek shook his head. Why did everybody keep throwing that back at him?

  “The things I did were important . . . ,” he started to say.

  Rowena raised her eyebrows. “And rescuing Pola and Zantor isn’t?”

  Darek sighed. “Rowena,” he said, “we don’t even know if they’re alive.”

  “They are alive,” Rowena insisted. “I know.”

  Darek stared at her for a long moment. “Why do you keep saying that?” he asked. “How do you know?”

  A blush of crimson stained Rowena’s cheeks. “Because,” she said, lowering her eyes, “Zantor . . . told me.”

  “Wh-what?” Darek stammered. A chill crept up his back.

  “He . . . speaks to me,” Rowena went on, “in my mind.”

  The chill spread out to Darek’s fingers and toes. He sat down on the ground with a thud.

  “I know you don’t believe me—” Rowena began.

  “No,” Darek interrupted. He looked up at her and nodded slowly. “I do.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes.” Darek licked his lips. “He speaks to me, too.”

  Rowena’s eyes widened. “He does? Really?”

  “Yes.” Darek nodded again.

  “Then you’ve heard it!” Rowena exclaimed.

  “Heard it? Heard what?”

  Rowena dropped to her knees beside Darek and stared into his eyes. “Listen!”

  For the first time in days, Darek pushed the heavy weight of sadness aside and opened his heart and mind. He listened, quietly, to the thoughts in his head. And then, quite clearly, he heard it! It came faintly at first, then stronger.

  “Rrronk! Rrronk! RRRONK!”

  “It is him,” Darek whispered.

  Rowena nodded.

  Images started crowding into Darek’s head. Dragons. Lots of dragons. The other Blues were there, and Pola, too!

  “They’re all together!” he shouted. “They’re alive!”

  Rowena smiled and nodded again.

  “But where?” Darek asked. “Where?”

  “Up there, somewhere,” Rowena said, pointing into the mist again. Then she turned back to Darek. “And I intend to find them. Are you with me?”

  Darek sat a moment longer, letting it all sink in. Then he got to his feet and stared once more at the bleak mist-shrouded crags. Pola’s last words rang in his memory: An adventure’s an adventure!

  “All the way to the end,” Darek added softly. Then he turned to Rowena and smiled.

  “Yes,” he said. “I’m with you, my friend.”

  Keep reading for a preview of

  Dragons of Krad

  by

  Jackie French Koller

  1

  DARK MISTS SWIRLED AROUND DAREK as he made his way up a narrow pass into the Black Mountains of Krad. Rowena, daughter of the Zorian Chief Elder, followed a few steps behind. The mist felt damp against Darek’s skin, and the stench of it made him gag. It smelled like rotted burning flesh, and that worried him.

  Darek heard a cough and looked back over his shoulder.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “Yes.” Rowena nodded. “I’m getting tired, though. My eyes sting, and it’s hard to breathe.”

  “Shall we rest awhile?” Darek asked.

  “No. Pola and Zantor may be in danger. We’ve got to keep going.”

  Darek nodded. He could hear the mind cries, too. His dragon friend, Zantor, was sending messages of distress. Zantor and Darek’s best friend, Pola, had disappeared into the Black Mountains more than a week ago. They and three other Great Blue dragonlings had been carried off by a runaway wagon. Darek and Rowena felt responsible. They had been jealous of each other and had quarreled over Zantor. As a result, the Chief Elder had ordered his men to capture another dragonling for Rowena. While on the dragon quest, Pola, Zantor, and the others had been lost.

  Rowena coughed again and gasped for air.

  “Pull your collar up over your mouth and nose,” Darek said. “The cloth will filter some of the smoke.”

  Strange shapes loomed out of the mist. Black rocks, like cinders, dotted their path. All of Darek’s senses were alert, keen to the dangers that might assail them at any moment.

  “I wonder what our families will think when they wake this morning and find us gone,” he said quietly.

  Rowena didn’t answer right away.

  “We must not think of that,” she said at last. “We must dream of the day when we return with Pola and the dragons.”

  Darek wished he could be sure that day would come, but he could not. No one had ever returned from the Black Mountains of Krad. For centuries now, it had been forbidden even to venture into them. What would his parents and his older brother, Clep, think when they realized where he had gone? He could see his mother’s tearstained face now.

  We will find a way back, Mother, he promised silently.

  “Did you hear that?” Rowena suddenly cried out.

  Darek stopped and listened. He thought he heard a soft scuffling sound, but when he peered into the mist, all he could make out were strange, twisted rock forms and the stumps of long-dead trees. “I don’t see anything,” he whispered.

  “No,” Rowena said. “I guess not.” She
put her hand to her forehead and moaned softly. “Ooohh,” she said. “My head and stomach ache.”

  Darek’s head hurt too. Could the very mists be poisonous? he wondered.

  “We’re almost to the peak,” he told Rowena. “It will be easier going down the other side. We won’t have to breathe as hard.”

  The ground beneath them leveled off at long last, and they started to descend. Darek began to move with greater caution. If something or someone was waiting below, he wanted to see it before it saw him. His headache was worse, making it harder and harder to think. Behind him, he heard Rowena moan once more.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked again.

  “Yes,” she said, but her voice trembled.

  Darek’s worry deepened. He had to get her out of the mountains quickly. “Can you walk any faster?” he asked.

  “I—I don’t know. I can’t even think straight.”

  Darek turned. Rowena’s skin was very pale, and her lips looked blue.

  “Lean on me,” he said.

  Rowena gladly took his arm, and they struggled on together. Darek shook his head. It felt as if the mist were seeping into his mind. Minutes seemed to drag by. Rowena was leaning on him more and more heavily.

  “Is it much farther?” she asked weakly.

  “No, not much. See, the mist is thinning.”

  “Good, because I don’t feel . . . ooohh.” Rowena suddenly pushed Darek aside, clapped a hand over her mouth, and started to run.

  Darek stumbled on a cinder and fell. “Rowena, wait!” he cried. He scrambled to his feet again, but before he could catch her, Rowena disappeared into the mist

  “Rowena!” he called, but there was no reply, only a distant retching sound.

  Then, suddenly, there was a scream.

  2

  DAREK FOUGHT THE URGE TO run in the direction of the scream. Instead, he moved cautiously, stealing from rock to rock. If someone, or something, had caught Rowena, he had to be careful. It would do neither of them any good if he got captured too. The mist had cleared a little, and he could begin to see something of Krad. It was a bleak, colorless place, with runty, withered trees and stubby brown grasses.

  A movement below caught his eye, and he strained to see.

  Rowena!

  His friend had reached the plateau at the foot of the mountains. There she was surrounded by a number of bent little creatures that hopped about her excitedly. They were chanting over and over in high, flutelike voices.

  “A pretty!” they cried. “A pretty! A pretty!”

  Rowena hugged her arms around her like a frightened child. “Go away! Go away!” she cried. “Leave me alone!”

  Before long, there was another sound—hooves pounding in the distance. Darek looked toward the horizon and saw a group of riders thunder up over the lip of the plateau. The riders were broad and tall, with dark, hooded capes. They were mounted on long-haired white yukes, much like the ones back in Zoriak, only larger. As the riders bore down on Rowena, the little bent creatures around her shrieked and scurried away.

  One of the smaller ones was too slow. A whip lashed out from the hand of one of the riders and stung it a fierce blow on the leg. The creature yelped and scrabbled into the brush. The rider threw his head back and laughed. His hood fell away, and Darek saw a face that was humanlike but covered in fur.

  A Kraden!

  A chill crept up Darek’s back. Back in Zoriak, he had heard stories of Kradens—big, hairy men who had supposedly driven the Zorians out of Krad long ago. Darek had always thought they were just old tales. But these Kradens were real—living and breathing! Poor Rowena looked terrified.

  “Who are you?” one of the Kradens demanded.

  “Rowena,” she answered in a trembling voice.

  “Why have you come here?” the man asked.

  Rowena seemed at a loss to answer.

  Darek felt confused too. Why had they come there? Had the mist addled his mind? Why couldn’t he remember?

  Then he heard a sound deep inside his head. Rrronk!  Yes! Zantor. Zantor and Pola. That was why they had come. He must keep focused on that.

  Rowena must have heard the mind cry too. “My friends!” she said suddenly. “They’re in trouble. I’ve come to help them.”

  “Have you, now?” The men looked at one another and chuckled. “And how is a slip of a girl like you going to help anyone?”

  Rowena drew herself up and tossed her head. “I’m stronger than I look,” she announced.

  At this, all the men burst out laughing.

  “That’s good news,” one of them said, “because we’ve plenty of work for you to do.”

  Rowena crossed her arms. “Work?” she said. “I’ll not work for you. I’m the daughter of the Chief Elder.”

  “Are you, now?” another Kraden said. “Well, then, we’ll have to find you a jewel-handled broom, won’t we?”

  With another loud laugh, the Kradens swooped forward, and one of them scooped Rowena up, pulling her into his saddle.

  “Come, lads,” he said. “Let’s take Her Highness to visit old Jazee.” Then he and the others turned their yukes around and thundered away.

  Darek stared after them. Who was old Jazee? he wondered. And what did the man mean when he said there was plenty of work to do? It did not bode well.

  Darek decided to try to keep his own presence a secret until he could learn more. Slowly, he crept down the mountainside until he reached the place where Rowena had been captured. He noticed a trail of dark droplets among the footprints and remembered the small creatures and the lash of the whip. Suddenly, he heard a high, thin cry.

  “Gleeep. Gleeep.”

  Darek’s head jerked around. The wounded creature was lying beside a nearby rock, nursing its leg. It caught sight of him and scrambled to get away, but it was only able to move a few steps before collapsing again.

  “Gellp!” it cried.

  Darek frowned. He had no time to help a wounded . . . whatever. He started to walk away, but his conscience would not let him. Quickly, he pulled his shirt out of his britches and tore a strip from the hem. Then he unfastened the waterskin from his belt and squirted a little into the dirt at his feet, mixing a muddy paste. Taking a handful of the paste, he approached the creature. It shrank back, staring at him with huge yellow-green eyes.

  “I won’t hurt you,” Darek soothed. “I just want to help.” He knelt beside the creature and gently straightened its leg.

  “Gellp!” it cried again.

  “Sorry,” Darek said. “This should make you feel better.” The creature was the size of a young child, with scaly gray skin. It looked almost like a cross between a dragon and a human. Darek couldn’t help feeling kindly toward it. He packed the healing mud over the wound, then gently bandaged the leg.

  “There,” Darek said, getting to his feet again. “If you stay off it for a day or two, you should be fine.”

  The creature turned and pointed a knobby finger toward the road. “Your pretty?” it asked.

  Darek looked down the road, too. There was no sign of Rowena or the men now. “No,” he answered. “She’s not my pretty. But she’s my friend. Do you know where they’ve taken her?”

  “Zahr take pretty,” the creature said.

  “Zahr?” Darek said. “Who’s Zahr?”

  The creature gave a little cough. “Zahr, king,” it said hoarsely.

  Darek stared again at the empty road. “Where did Zahr take pretty?” he asked.

  “Slave camp,” the creature said.

  Darek whirled around. “Slave camp! What do you mean, slave camp?”

  The creature cringed. “Go now,” it said, scrambling away.

  “No, wait.” Darek took a breath to calm himself. “Please tell me more about the slave camp,” he pleaded.

  The creature coughed again. “Go now,” it repeated. And then, almost magically, it disappeared.

  “Hey, wait!” Darek called after it. “One more question, please! Have you seen
another Zorian, like me, or a small blue dragon?”

  “Zahhhr,” came the faint, choked reply.

  Continue Reading…

  Dragons of Krad

  Jackie French Koller

  About the Author

  Jackie French Koller has been a storyteller since the sixth grade, when she amused her friends by spinning tales on the playground. She has also edited a children’s newspaper, taught writing in public schools, and studied art. Ms. Koller lives in Groton, Massachusetts, with her husband and children.

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  Don’t miss the other adventures of Darek and Zantor:

  The Dragonling

  A Dragon in the Family

  Coming soon:

  Dragons of Krad

  Dragon Trouble

  Dragons and Kings

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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  This Aladdin paperback edition December 2018

  Copyright © 1997 by Jackie French Koller

  Cover illustration copyright © 2018 by Tom Knight

  Also available in an Aladdin hardcover edition.

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