by Brandon Mull
“I hear you,” Kendra said. “Where else are there talking animals?”
“A few of the other preserves and sanctuaries,” Gorban said. “We’re the largest, most organized population. Some of our kind are still out in the wild playing dumb. A talking dog can pass for a normal dog just fine as long as he stays quiet. A few of us are even in zoos, living the easy life. I know of a pretty famous panda who can secretly speak—mostly in Chinese, but she is working on her English.”
“How do you get your news?” Kendra asked.
Gorban huffed a chuckle. “A little bird told me.”
Kendra laughed. “Really?”
“Yeah. Most birds are gossips.”
“Giving rides now?” a chipper voice called from off to one side. “Can I climb aboard?”
“Nice try,” Gorban said.
Looking down, Kendra discovered that the newcomer was a fox. “Hello, I’m Kendra.”
“Sherman,” the fox said. “We wondered if you would pay us a visit. You have your work cut out for you, sister.”
“Dragon war,” Kendra said. “Are there other types of magical creatures in your territory? Besides talking animals?”
“We allow a few types,” Sherman said.
“Fairies, of course,” Gorban said. “Good for the flora.”
“We might get more if Azalar stopped trying to eat them,” Sherman said.
“An owl,” Gorban clarified.
“Gnomes sometimes,” Sherman said. “The occasional nymph. Usually it’s just us fleabags.”
“Can the fleas talk?” Kendra asked.
“Not the insects,” Gorban said.
“Can you imagine?” Sherman asked. He imitated a little voice. “Stop scratching, we’re trying to bite you.”
“I’ve heard of talking tarantulas but never met one,” Gorban said. “Those are arachnids, of course.”
“I met a talking cricket once,” Sherman said.
“Don’t make up stories,” Gorban said.
“I really did,” Sherman said. “Nervous little guy.”
“The talking animals are seldom smaller than mice,” Gorban said.
“And we tend to be bigger than others of our species,” Sherman said. “Better looking, too. And we live a lot longer. You’ve noticed my sleek fur?”
Kendra had to admit he was a large, attractive fox with glossy orange fur and a bushy tail. “You could win a fox contest.”
“She has a keen eye,” Sherman said. “Sharp for a human. You’re right—I’m a good fox. We have hens here, you know. Talking ones. These are prime hens, plump and juicy, straight out of a greedy daydream. How many hens go missing on my watch? Tell her, Gorban.”
“None so far,” the bear said.
“That’s right,” Sherman said. “I guard them like a brother. Hunt other game. Meanwhile these fat, slow hens wander about, pecking at the ground, almost no survival instincts whatsoever.”
“You watch them a lot,” Gorban said.
“Don’t misunderstand him, Kendra,” Sherman said. “I watch over them.”
“A lot,” Gorban said. “You talk about them a lot, too.”
“Everybody talks about hens,” Sherman said. “They’re a great topic.”
“Sherman, can you do us a favor?” Gorban asked. “Run ahead and spread the word that Kendra is coming. We’re heading to Shelter. Tell some birds if you can. She could use a proper mount.”
“Is she too heavy for you?” Sherman teased.
“I’m not very fast,” Gorban said. “And she could be more comfortable.”
“I love your fur,” Kendra said.
“I’ll run ahead,” Sherman said. “You’ll have help in a jiffy.”
The fox darted away across the meadow.
“Now we might be able to listen to nature,” Gorban said. “Enjoy our surroundings.”
“Does Sherman talk a lot?” Kendra asked.
Gorban chuckled. “He talks like words are on sale and the sale ends soon.”
“He’s not the only flashy animal,” Kendra said. “You’re a very good-looking bear. Big and strong. Thick fur.”
“I suppose that goes without saying,” Gorban replied.
They continued for a good while before a horse came galloping their way, sleek and white, groups of muscles bulging. “I’m Captain,” he said, coming to a stop near Gorban. The bear stopped as well. “You must be Kendra. Heading for Shelter? I can take you from here, if you like.”
“Makes more sense,” Gorban said. “Pleasure to meet you, Kendra. Don’t take any nonsense from those dragons.”
Kendra slid off the bear to the ground. “Thanks for the ride. And the company. Will I see you again?”
“I’ll keep heading the way we were going,” Gorban said. “You have me curious. I’ll be quite a bit faster without worrying about making you fall.”
“Okay, see you later,” Kendra said, turning to Captain. “You’re a big horse.”
“Sorry, no saddle,” Captain said. “We don’t often give rides around here. But I run smoothly.”
“I can help,” Gorban said, sliding his head between Kendra’s legs from behind and boosting her up.
“Thank you,” Kendra said as she got situated on Captain.
“You want to see Raj?” Captain asked.
“Yes, please,” Kendra said.
“Have you ridden anything besides a bear?” Captain asked.
“Yes,” Kendra said. “In fact, I rode one of the Luvians from Blackwell Keep quite a bit.”
“Which horse?” Captain asked.
“Glory.”
“That’s my sister,” Captain said. “One of the smartest horses I know. Just couldn’t talk. What a shame.”
“She likes Jane Austen,” Kendra said.
“I’m more of a Hemingway fan,” Captain said, beginning to trot. “Or Rambugwa.”
“Who is Rambugwa?” Kendra asked.
“He’s a baboon,” Captain said. “Literally. Excellent novelist. Adventures, mostly. Twisted sense of humor.”
“’Bye, Gorban,” Kendra called over her shoulder.
“Is that a hint?” Captain asked, advancing to a canter. “Are you all right?”
Even without a saddle or reins, Kendra felt secure and balanced. And what a novelty to be able to talk to her horse! “I feel great.”
Captain increased his pace to a full gallop. The gait remained smooth. As the afternoon light waned, Kendra passed through woodlands and fields. They slowed to cross streams, water splashing up against her calves, or to traverse uneven ground. Even through thick forests, Captain tended to find paths, so the gait seldom dropped below a canter.
Kendra found herself enjoying the peaceful journey. This was a beautiful part of Wyrmroost. From time to time she saw animals at a distance—deer, pheasants, squirrels, a buffalo. She wondered if all of them could talk.
Despite the pleasant scenery, her mind kept returning to the problem of the dragons. She could not guess what they were planning. Celebrant seemed unstoppable without help from Ronodin. What could the dark unicorn have told him to make it worse?
Kendra worried about Seth and Tanu. She fretted about her grandparents back at Blackwell Keep. She hoped Raxtus had made it away from the dragons all right.
The sun was nearing the horizon when Kendra and Captain came into view of what looked like a hybrid between a lodge and a giant stable. Captain ran to the building, then slowed as he entered through a door large enough to accommodate just about any animal Kendra could imagine.
Inside they found a spacious room with a wooden floor and sturdy logs and beams forming the rest. Stalls ran along two sides of the room, with another large entrance on the far side. Stairs led up to unseen lofts. Logs blazed in the hearth dominating the center of the room, the smoke escaping through a hole in the ceiling. There was little furniture, but several perches offered places for birds to roost, and many feeding troughs could be seen around the room.
Kendra felt surprised by the ass
emblage of animals visible, including gazelles, monkeys, elk, panthers, owls, wolves, camels, beavers, bison, otters, hippos, and ostriches. Near the fire, resting on a pile of cushions, awaited a huge tiger, licking a broad paw with a plump, coarse tongue.
The animals had been speaking, but all conversation came to a halt as Kendra slid off Captain to address the tiger. She assumed he could talk, but it was still intimidating to realize this deadly predator was only a short pounce away. “Raj Faranah?” Kendra asked.
The tiger stopped licking his paw and gazed intensely at Kendra. She felt like food. “You have found him, Kendra Sorenson,” Raj said, his voice calm, rich, and educated. “I trust Captain has been good company?”
“Yes,” Kendra said. “Gorban too. Thank you for letting me shelter here.”
“I wish we could do more,” Raj said. “Some of us are fierce, but we are no match for dragons in combat. I can offer safe harbor for as long as you need it. And I have a gift.” The tiger turned his head. “Come forward.”
A handsome man came into view from behind the hearth. He wore a mustache, had a sturdy build, and was dressed like he was a century behind in his fashion.
“Patton?” Kendra asked. “No. Impossible. He’s dead. You’re dead!”
“You got that right,” Patton said.
“Are you a ghost?” Kendra asked.
“Don’t I seem solid?” He stepped forward and gave her a hug. It felt good to press her head to his strong chest. This was her ancestor!
She backed out of the hug. “You seem perfect. But how can it be you? Chronometer?”
“No,” Patton said. “But we had our adventure with the Chronometer at Fablehaven not too long ago, from my point of view. This isn’t really me, Kendra. I’m a knockoff. A copy.”
“You’re a stingbulb,” Kendra realized. Stingbulbs were rare fruit that could replicate anybody they stung. When planted, the bulb would grow into an imitation of the person in roughly ninety minutes.
“You got it.” Hooking his thumbs in his pockets, he looked at Raj Faranah. “Told you she was a sharp kid.”
“You won’t last long,” Kendra said.
“A few days at best,” Patton agreed. “I stung myself and put the stingbulb in a null box. Left it with the animals in case of emergency. Raj was around back then, but not in charge. It was an elephant.”
“Hinto the Great,” Raj said. “One of our finest leaders.”
“What’s a null box?” Kendra asked.
“You know how a Quiet Box keeps a person in stasis?” Patton asked.
“Yes,” Kendra said.
“A null box is smaller and even more intense,” Patton said. “Time and entropy basically stop in there. I would sometimes store my avocados in this one when they were just right. It also keeps toast warm.”
“And keeps a stingbulb from growing,” Kendra said.
“Until some friendly critters plant it,” Patton said.
“We had the stingbulb for years in case of an extreme emergency,” Raj said. “When we heard you had reached our territory, Kendra, we planted it and told Patton to serve you when you arrived.”
Kendra remembered that stingbulbs were very impressionable and would unquestioningly obey the orders of their first master. “You have Patton’s memories?” Kendra checked.
“I am not really Patton,” the stingbulb said. “I am a replica of who Patton was in a certain moment. I have the personality he had then, the vocabulary, the memories, the aptitudes. I feel like him. And I know I am not him. I know it would be very hard for me to become much more or less than who I am right now. I can’t learn as he learned, but I can perform as he performed.”
“Maybe you can give me some advice,” Kendra said.
“I hope so,” Patton replied.
“The dragons have declared war,” Kendra said.
Patton gave a little nod. “Seems like a good time to rouse me.”
Kendra explained about how the dragons had helped at Zzyzx and how Celebrant had become a caretaker in return. She told about how she and Seth had become caretakers and recovered the scepter. She described going to the feast. She related what she had learned from Ronodin, and told about the Somber Knight revoking Celebrant’s caretaker status, as well as her escape with Raxtus and her fears about the fate of her brother and Tanu.
Patton gave a soft whistle. “You’re in a quandary, no doubt about it. Of all you told me, Ronodin concerns me most. He promotes chaos like nobody I know. He said he told the dragons how to win the war?”
“And that it would happen on Midsummer Eve,” Kendra said. “Tomorrow night.”
Patton turned and looked somberly into the fire. “Without Ronodin, the advice is simpler. Stay behind boundaries. Enforce whatever penalties you can on aggressors. Offer them no footholds. Wait it out. Eventually the dragons will tire of beating against walls that don’t break. But what you heard from Ronodin, well, that changes everything.”
“Do you know what he’s talking about?” Kendra asked.
“I have a strong suspicion,” Patton said, glancing at the surrounding animals. “I hope I’m wrong, but I’m afraid I’m not. Ordinarily I would not speak about it to anyone, let alone in front of a group. I’m a curious fellow, sometimes too curious, and sometimes I learn things that are better left unknown. Best to leave certain monsters buried deep, undisturbed. But if the dragons have learned what I know—and I believe they have, because it all fits too cleanly—then it might be best for many to know.”
“What is it?” Kendra asked.
“The Wizenstone is hidden here at Wyrmroost,” Patton said.
Nobody responded.
“I gather that none of you knows what that means,” Patton said. “But the wisest of wizards know, the five monarchs know, those who study the rarest and most powerful relics know. The Wizenstone is a source of powerful magic. The Wizenstone can also undo magic. For example, it could erase all boundaries at this or any preserve. It could disenchant a magical item. Or it could strip a wizard of his powers.” Patton stepped close to Kendra. His voice dropped to a whisper. “And the Wizenstone could force dragons into human form. Permanently. Without making them wizards.”
“The dragons would win the war in hours if they got it,” Kendra said.
“No magical boundaries,” Patton said. “The sanctuaries would fall almost immediately.”
“We could win the war if we had it,” Kendra said.
“If you were up against a bunch of powerless humans instead of dragons, the war would be a snap,” Patton agreed. “The mere threat of forcing dragons into human shape would be a powerful deterrent.”
“Where is the stone?” Kendra asked.
“That’s where this gets upsetting,” Patton said. “The Wizenstone is hidden inside Stormguard Castle.”
Reunions
Calvin drew his sword, raised it above his head, and brought it down in a vicious arc, cleaving open a cream puff. “You want half?” he asked Seth.
Seth looked across the table at Lomo. “I want ten more, but I think I might actually explode.”
Calvin wiped his sword on a napkin and scooped out a handful of creamy filling. “This stuff is heaven.”
“I ate too much during my first few days here,” Lomo said. “Pace yourself. Everything is this good.”
“But this dinner had so much variety,” Seth said. “Bacon-wrapped figs? Crab legs with melted butter? Chilled banana soup? Like half of the food was brand-new to me. And so good. Not to mention three desserts.”
“It’s like that every meal,” Lomo said. “The Fair Folk go out of their way to eat in the dungeon. Some commit minor crimes. One day a week, law-abiding citizens can make reservations. It gets booked up six months in advance. Best food in town.”
“I’m so full,” Seth said, patting his stomach. “But I want more of those tastes.”
“Take nothing for granted,” Calvin said. “One day you’ll be starving and thankful for all you had here. You’ll feast in your memor
ies.”
The door opened and Tanu entered, accompanied by a pair of guards. He looked dusty and scratched up, but alive and tangible.
Seth sprang to his feet. “Tanu! You made it!”
The big Samoan smiled.
“Lomo, can you show him where he can wash up?” one of the guards asked, a lovely redhead.
“I’d be happy to,” Lomo said, rising and motioning Tanu toward a sink in the corner. “You look like you’ve had a rough day.”
“Not a vacation,” Tanu said, scabbed lips caked with dirt. He scrubbed his hands and forearms under the running water, then scooped handfuls of it up to his face. As he dried himself off with a soft, white towel, his eyes went to Seth. “I heard you were all right. I’m so happy you made it here.”
“How did you get here so fast?” Seth asked. “Did you find a way to fly?”
Tanu indicated some of his scratches. “If I was flying, I got dropped a lot. I was kind of dragged.” His eyes strayed to the table. “Look at that spread.”
“All for you,” Lomo said. “We’ve had our fill.”
“Almost,” Calvin called from the table, chewing on a hunk of fig.
Tanu looked down at himself, patting his torn, dirty clothes. “I’m not sure I’ve ever felt underdressed to eat in a dungeon.”
“Welcome to Terrabelle,” Lomo said cheerfully. He glanced at the guards. “We can take it from here.”
The guards withdrew and closed the door.
“The hot stuff might be a little cool,” Seth apologized. “And the cold stuff might be a little warm.”
Tanu was already popping bacon-wrapped figs into his mouth. “These are good! Remind me to trespass in Terrabelle more often.”
“You said you got dragged here?” Seth asked. “What do you mean?”
“The Somber Knight survived,” Tanu said. “Just barely. I found him on the road, clinging to what remained of his bull.”
“What was left?” Seth asked.
“Most of the head, one horn, the front legs, and about half the body,” Tanu said. “The Somber Knight was not in much better shape. He had hooked the damaged bull with his grapnel and managed to get dragged back to the road where the dragons couldn’t keep attacking.”
“He’s all right?” Seth asked.