Dragons and Kings

by Jackie French Koller

  Prologue

  WHEN DAREK DECIDED TO RESCUE a baby Blue dragon from certain death, he had no idea that he was about to change his world forever. Darek’s friendship with Zantor the dragon has brought one problem after another—problems with family, problems with friends, problems with Darek’s whole village. But now it has led to the biggest problem of all.

  When Zantor and Darek’s best friend, Pola, disappeared into the dreaded Black Mountains of Krad, Darek and his friend Rowena went after them. The fathers of the three children and Darek’s brother, Clep, soon followed. For a time all were imprisoned in Krad. But with the help of Zantor, they finally escaped, only to be arrested upon their return to Zoriak. It is against the law for Zorians to venture into the Black Mountains. The law was made to keep Zorians from danger, and to be sure they did not disturb the mythical Kradens whom some believed lived there.

  Darek and the others have discovered that the cruel Kradens are indeed real and that they keep Zorians as prisoners. Darek and the others hope to go back and rescue the prisoners, but first they must stand trial.

  Darek, Pola, and Rowena are soon pardoned. They are only ten, too young to be sentenced. But their fathers and Clep face imprisonment, or even death. Especially if Zarnak has his way. Zarnak has been acting as Chief Elder while Rowena’s father, the true Chief, has been away. It is a job Zarnak would like to keep. Now the trial is underway and the whole village waits. How will the elders decide?

  1

  SOMETHING BUMPED DAREK’S BACK, and he shot up in bed, wide awake, heart pounding. A forked tongue flicked out and kissed him on the cheek. Darek smiled and gave a sigh of relief.

  “Oh, it’s you, Zantor,” he said. “Sorry I’m so jumpy. I didn’t sleep much last night, worrying about the trial.”

  “Grrrawwk,” said Zantor.

  Darek rubbed the gentle dragon’s nose. Zantor was fully grown now, too big to fit in the house anymore. Instead he camped under Darek’s window at night and awakened Darek each morning by pushing his great head in through the window. His voice had changed too. His baby distress cry of “Rrrronk” had become a full-throated “Grrrawwk,” and his joyful “thrummm”s were so loud now, they shook the house.

  Zantor nudged him again, as if to say, Let’s go.

  “I’m not in the mood for a ride this morning, Zantor,” Darek said quietly. “Today the verdicts will be announced.”

  “Grrrawwk,” said Zantor, hanging his head. He looked so sad that Darek relented.

  “All right,” he said. “Just a short one.”

  Zantor’s eyes lit up. “Thrummm,” he sang.

  “Shussh.” Darek couldn’t help giggling as his bed started to vibrate across the floor. “You’ll bounce Mother right out of bed.” He slipped into his breeches, then threw his arms around Zantor’s neck.

  “Let’s go,” he cried.

  Zantor ducked out of the window, then unfurled his silver wings. With one spring of his great legs they were airborne. Up, up they rose, until Darek’s house looked like a little toy. Zoriak’s violet sun was warm on Darek’s back. Clean, fresh air filled his lungs and whipped at his hair. It was so good to be home, free from the gray, smoky skies of Krad. They circled the barnyard and struck off across the valley. In the morning stillness of a pond below, Darek caught sight of Zantor’s reflection. He was magnificent! Darek couldn’t help smiling as he recalled the day he had given the tiny, trembling dragonling his name. I’ll give you a strong name, he remembered saying, a powerful name. I will call you Zantor, King of the Dragons. It had seemed back then that the name would never fit. Now it fit perfectly. Zantor was everything a king should be. He was powerful and strong, but he was good, too. Not like Zarnak, who was trying to steal the throne from Rowena’s father. Or Zahr, the terrible king of Krad.

  Darek shivered, recalling his prison days in Krad. His heart grew heavy at the thought of the other prisoners he had left behind. They still labored day and night for the cruel Zahr.

  “If only Azzon were king again,” Darek said half aloud. “Azzon would set them free.” Azzon had once been king of all Krad. He had been cruel then too—so cruel that he’d raised his sons, Zahr and Rebbe, like beasts. When they grew older, they had turned on each other, then on him, and Azzon had fled into the Black Mountains. He would have died there in the poisonous mists, but the gentle Zynots who lived in the mountains had saved him. Their kindness had changed Azzon into a good and gentle man. Now Zahr ruled Krad in the north and Rebbe ruled it in the south, not knowing or caring that their father still lived in hiding beneath the Black Mountains.

  Someday, Darek promised himself, he would go back and help his prison friends in Krad. But now he had more pressing worries. His father and brother were on trial, along with Pola’s father and Rowena’s. If found guilty, they could be put to death, and the verdict would be decided this very day.

  2

  DAREK FELT VERY SMALL SEATED at the great council table. Overhead the fierce faces of long-dead dragons glared at him. Their skins covered the walls. Their tails trailed across the ceiling. On either side of Darek sat Pola and Rowena, looking just as small and scared as he. Behind them, in a second row of chairs, sat their mothers.

  “All rise,” boomed a loud voice.

  Darek jumped to his feet as Zarnak, the acting Chief Elder, strode into the room. Behind him came the Council of Elders. Last came Horek, the deputy captain of the guards, leading Darek’s father and brother, Pola’s father, and Xylon, the Chief Elder.

  Zarnak took his place upon the Dragon Throne while the elders filed into the chairs on either side of the council table. Darek tried to read their stony faces. Yesterday Zarnak had called for a guilty verdict. But which elders supported Zarnak, and which Xylon? There was no way to know.

  The prisoners were seated directly across the table from Darek, Pola, and Rowena. Then the deputy captain went and stood at attention beside the throne. Darek hated to see the man standing in his father’s place. He glanced at Rowena and knew she was feeling the same way. She glared at Zarnak, who sat upon her father’s throne.

  “Please, Lord Eternal,” Darek whispered to himself. “Let the verdict go in our favor.”

  Two heralds stepped through the great doors at the end of the room and lifted their horns.

  “Ta-da-da-da-da-DA!” the horns sounded. Then Zarnak stood and unfurled a scroll. Darek held his breath.

  “The exalted Council of Elders,” Zarnak droned, “has met and considered this case in accordance with the laws of Zoriak.” An evil gleam came into his eyes, and Darek’s heart sank. “A verdict has been returned,” he went on. “Guilty as charged!”

  Darek felt like a fist had slammed into his stomach. Behind him he heard a small cry escape his mother’s lips. Rowena was less discreet.

  “No!” she cried out, but a sharp look from her father silenced her.

  None of the fathers flinched at the verdict, but Darek’s brother, Clep, turned pale. It was a hard blow for a boy of thirteen. Darek saw tears in his brother’s eyes. Tears started behind Darek’s eyes too, and he looked down so his father and Clep would not see.

  “Furthermore and notwithstanding,” Zarnak went on, “the Council has taken the following facts into account. Fact one: The first child, Pola, was carried into the Black Mountains by a runaway wagon against his will. Fact two: The second and third children, Darek and Rowena, entered the Black Mountains out of concern for the first child. Fact three: The four defendants entered the Black Mountains out of concern for all three children.”

  A sour look had settled over Zarnak’s features, and Darek began to feel a glimmer of hope.

  “In consideration of these facts,” Zarnak announced, “the sentence is hereby reduced to imprisonment in the
dungeons of Elder Hall for one anum.”

  Darek closed his eyes and sank back in his chair. A year in prison. It was still uncalled for, in his opinion, but it could have been so much worse. He felt his mother’s hand on his shoulder, and he reached up and squeezed it.

  3

  ZARNAK ANNOUNCED THE VERDICT in the village square that afternoon. Darek had hoped the villagers would protest the sentence, but they did not. He listened to the low buzz of conversation around him. It was a fair sentence, the people murmured. A law was a law, after all, and everyone, even a Chief Elder, had to pay some price for breaking one.

  Darek sighed and turned to Pola and Rowena. “So what do we do now?” he asked.

  “About what?” asked Pola.

  “About Krad and the prisoners,” said Darek.

  Pola and Rowena shook their heads. “We’ll have to wait,” said Rowena, “until our fathers are free again.”

  “Yes,” Pola agreed. “It will probably take that long to plan a rescue anyway.”

  Darek nodded thoughtfully. “Come to think of it,” he said, “that might work out perfectly. A year from now will be Spirit season again.”

  Rowena’s and Pola’s eyes brightened. Spirit season occurred each spring in Krad, when the weather grew warm and the ground was still cold. For a few nights the mountain mists settled low in the valleys. The Kradens were forced to stay indoors, but the Zynots, who breathed the mist, were free to come down out of the mountains. They ran through the dark streets shrieking and howling, terrifying the Kradens, who believed they were evil Spirits.

  “Yes!” Rowena cried. “That would be the perfect time! The Zynots could help us rescue the prisoners!”

  “We might just be able to pull the whole thing off without bloodshed,” said Pola.

  “THERE IS ANOTHER MATTER!” Zarnak suddenly boomed from the platform in the middle of the square. “ONE WHICH REQUIRES OUR IMMEDIATE ATTENTION.”

  The faces of the crowd turned upward again.

  “As we now know,” said Zarnak gravely, “the Kradens are real. They are not creatures of myth, but beings like us. They are large and dangerous, to be sure, but not invincible.”

  The crowd murmured and nodded.

  “There is something more you must know,” said Zarnak. “Something terrible.” He paused, then went on in a loud, dramatic voice. “There are Zorians in Krad, Zorian prisoners!”

  A gasp went up from the crowd, and voices began to buzz in astonishment.

  Darek frowned. “Why is he telling them that now?” he whispered to Pola and Rowena. “Why get them all riled up while our fathers are in prison?”

  “I don’t know,” Rowena returned worriedly, “but I’m getting a bad feeling.”

  “These people are our kin,” Zarnak was shouting. “Blood of our blood, descended from common ancestors.”

  The buzzing of the crowd grew louder.

  “They are being held in dire conditions,” Zarnak went on. “They are whipped, beaten, made to labor day and night. Their children are torn from their arms and put to work as soon as they can walk!”

  Fists began to be raised in the air.

  “Free the Zorians!” one man shouted.

  “Death to the Kradens!” another cried.

  Rowena suddenly whirled. “Zatz,” she said to Pola and Darek. “Don’t you see what he’s up to? He wants to rescue the Zorians. He wants to be a hero….”

  Pola and Darek stared at her, then nodded slowly. “So the people will make him Chief Elder,” said Pola. “So he can gain the throne for himself before your father is free again!”

  Zarnak went on shouting about the plight of the prisoners. He was whipping the crowd into a frenzy.

  “Wait!” Darek cried. “No! You can’t do this!” But his voice was lost in the uproar. “Pola, Rowena,” he cried. “Help me up onto the platform!”

  Pola and Rowena linked hands and gave Darek a boost. He hoisted himself up onto the platform, then stood and waved his arms.

  “Hear me!” he cried. “Please hear me!”

  Zarnak cocked an eye in his direction. “Seize him!” he shouted to one of his guards.

  “NO!” came a piercing cry from the crowd.

  There was a sudden hush as Rowena’s mother, the Grand Dame, strode forward. Behind her were Darek’s mother and Pola’s.

  “What are you afraid of, Zarnak?” she asked, looking up. “Why won’t you let the boy speak? He has been to Krad, after all. Have you?”

  “She’s right,” someone shouted.

  “Yes,” cried another. “Hear the boy out!”

  “As you wish, milady,” said Zarnak through clenched teeth. He tilted his head to the Grand Dame, then turned and glared at Darek. “Speak!”

  Darek swallowed hard, then looked down at the crowd. “It’s true that the prisoners need help,” he said. “But a rescue must be carefully planned. It will take time….”

  “How much time?” snarled Zarnak. “An anum perhaps?”

  “Per-perhaps,” said Darek.

  “Nonsense!” Zarnak boomed. “The boy is speaking for his father, don’t you see? And the Grand Dame for her husband. Of course Xylon and Yanek want us to wait. Of course they want to lead the rescue, to be the heroes! But what of the prisoners who are dying even now? What of the Zorian children crying in Krad this very day? Can they wait? Should they wait while our would-be heroes serve their time in prison?”

  The crowd heated up again. “No!” people shouted. “Free them now! Save the children! Death to the Kradens! Death to Zahr!”

  “But you’ve never even been to Krad!” Darek shouted to Zarnak. “You know nothing about it! How can you lead a rescue?”

  Zarnak came over and put an arm around Darek’s shoulders. He smiled down wickedly. “Very easily, my young friend,” he said. “You and your dragon will guide me.”

  “I’ll not guide you anywhere,” Darek spat.

  “Oh, I think you will.” Zarnak lowered his lips until they were right next to Darek’s ear. “You see, the elders have decreed how much time your father and brother will spend in prison. But it’s up to me how they spend it. And may I remind you, some of our prison cells are… shall we say… more comfortable than others?”

  Darek’s blood ran cold. He thought back to the day, not long ago, when he and Pola had sneaked into the dungeons of Elder Hall. He remembered all too clearly the dank, dark solitary confinement cells, barely big enough for a man to lie down in.

  “You wouldn’t,” he said in a hoarse whisper.

  Zarnak’s mouth widened into an evil grin. “Oh, but I would,” he said with a low, menacing laugh.

  4

  THE VILLAGE SEEMED FLUSH WITH new life. Not since the days of the dragonquests had Darek seen so much activity. The women were busy making battle masks. The men were minting swords and stringing bows. The alehouses were full to bursting each night with men singing songs and telling tales of brave deeds of long ago.

  “It’s like they’re happy,” said Darek as he sat in the garden watching his mother stitch straps for the battle masks. “Don’t they know how dangerous it’s going to be? Don’t they know they could be killed?”

  Alayah sighed and dropped her hands in her lap. She looked into Darek’s eyes and struggled to find the right words to say to him.

  “There is a bloodlust about men,” she said at last. “It harks back, I think, to the Long Ago, when men were little more than beasts and had to fight to live.” She looked at a group of boys out in the lane, charging one another with wooden swords. “It sits in men’s hearts like a smoldering ember,” she went on, “ever waiting to be fanned into fury.” Darek heard and knew the truth of his mother’s words. He had felt that ember within his own young heart. Before Zantor came into his life, Darek had dreamed of joining a dragonquest. He had itched for the thrill of battle, longed to make the kill and wear the prize, a dragonclaw necklace, about his neck.

  “Grrrawwk,” said Zantor softly. Darek put a hand on the dragon’s head. They
shared a special bond and often knew each other’s thoughts.

  “Don’t worry, Zantor,” he said. “Those days are behind me.” He looked at his mother again. “Men will die on both sides,” he said quietly. “And there is no need. Only Zarnak’s greed for power.”

  Alayah smiled sadly. “I fear, my son,” she said softly, “that greed is at the root of most wars.”

  Darek stood up and paced the length of the garden. A guard, posted by Zarnak, watched his every move. Darek turned and paced back again.

  “We’ve got to stop them,” he said in a low voice. He quit pacing and turned to his mother. “Can’t you do anything?” he asked. “You and the Grand Dame? Can’t you talk to the other women?”

  Alayah shook her head. “We’re under guard too, don’t forget. Besides, the people believe Zarnak. They say we think only of your fathers and Clep. They say we must think of the prisoners in Krad.”

  Darek bent and put his hands on the arms of his mother’s chair. “I am thinking of the prisoners,” he said. “They’ll die too. It’s going to be a bloodbath. Don’t you understand?”

  Alayah’s eyes filled with tears. “All too well,” she said, looking away. “And you will be in the thick of it.”

  Darek bit his lip, angry with himself. His mother had enough on her mind. He hadn’t meant to burden her further. He took her hands and squeezed them. “Don’t you worry about Zantor and me,” he said gently. “We know how to take care of ourselves.” Then he looked over at the dragon and added, “Don’t we, boy?”

  “Thrummm,” sang Zantor. He swung his great head over and licked the tears from Alayah’s cheek.

  There was a sudden clattering out on the street, and another guard rode up. He dismounted and approached Darek.

  “Your presence is required at Elder Hall,” he said.

  5

  POLA AND ROWENA WERE ALREADY seated when Darek arrived. Zarnak was on the throne and Horek at his side.