Two Renegade Realms

by Donita K. Paul

  “Ours keeps belching, and that disgusts Bridger.”

  “Totobee-Rodolow said they do that because they’re nervous.”

  Bumps rose up on Cantor’s arms. The air crackled.

  “Did you feel that, Cantor?”

  “Yes, they’re coming. Stand strong, Bixby. We can do this. Primen is on our side. Who could stand against us?”

  “No one.”

  “That’s right. Keep that in the back of your mind.”

  The renegade planes had been hidden by what Dukmee called a space curtain. He said it was a layer of air gathered at the edge of their own planeary system, and beyond that layer, there was no air. Now Cantor saw one dark disk edge through.

  From where they stood, they could see only Lyme Major, since that plane passed above them. Chomountain and his crew would be looking at Lyme Minor.

  They waited.

  From start to finish, the interpass would take five hours. The warriors defending their planes would need to repel the intruders for only two hours. Then the plane would be directly overhead. From what they’d seen in the Observatory of the Universe, the danger of incoming enemy would end.

  A current of power washed over Cantor, and he could sense it originated with Dukmee and traveled outward in both directions. As it progressed, he felt the energy increase with every person it encountered. The force gave strength to and multiplied the power drawn from the conduits. The pulse exhilarated Cantor, and it appeared it had the same effect on the members of the line, intensifying their focus.

  The first pod appeared in the sky. The green hull burst into the blue as if someone had pushed a small stone through a piece of material. Unlike a pebble, the pod did not damage the fabric of the blue.

  “Hold.” The command came from Dukmee.

  A dozen more pods slipped into their vision.

  “Hold. We want them closer.”

  Fifty more followed in rapid succession. The first pods were close enough to make out details. The only interruption to the smooth green skin of the vessel appeared at the front, where a window of some kind revealed the head of the lone occupant.

  “Hold. Hold. Hold.” A breathless pause. “Now!”

  Cantor felt the flow of energy leave him in a rush. The stream wrapped around the plumes of fire coming from the mor dragons and the gorus. The Force of V united the individual burst of flame into one barrier of fire. The heat and power of the Force of V pulsed outward, and away from the line of defenders. One by one at first, then ten at a time, the pods burst into fiery conflagrations as they hit that wall of flames. The realm walkers defense devoured the invaders’ ships, leaving very little to fall from the sky.

  “Hold!”

  Cantor obeyed, but it took effort to pull himself out of that flow of energy. He noticed Bridger struggled as well, and it was a full minute before all the gorus had quit blowing their flames.

  Cantor examined the empty sky. A few of the gorus let out hoots of triumph, but the celebration died out quickly. In only a few minutes, Lyme Major spat out another assault of pods. As long as they didn’t land, Derson was safe.

  Dukmee took them through the same regimen, waiting for the ships to come close enough for them to damage. The next volley brought an unpleasant surprise. Instead of a straightforward assault, a shower of spinning disks pummeled the defenders. The disks were burned, but the effort to destroy them before they reached the ground taxed the strength of the defense line. When the onslaught finished, Cantor picked up several spent disks that had made it past the Force of V.

  The palm-sized weapons came from a plant. They reminded him of a flattened grass burr. Nasty, sharp points stuck out around the edge. Several of the warriors had been hit. They moved back and the gaps were refilled. A healer would have to remove the embedded disks.

  They went through three additional volleys. These rounds included both the pods and the barbed disks. The stamina of those warriors still in the front line faded. At the end of each encounter, Cantor eased out of the force of strength with greater ease. He noticed Bridger had become more proficient as well. But the gorus dragons held on longer. He relayed this information to Dukmee.

  “It’s to be expected, I suppose,” he communicated in return. “They have held in there, exercising a discipline they do not have. I’m hoping two more assaults will be the limit of our attackers’ strength.”

  “Not one has landed.”

  “Not one,” Dukmee agreed, but he didn’t sound victorious. “Those nasty barbs slip through. And they hurt, distract the team from holding the V together. It’s too soon to assume we have this problem licked.”

  The enemy launched the next foray with greater speed.

  The defense line put up their firewall with only seconds to spare. Cantor smelled the singed plants as they fell in front of the line. The defenders had hardly withdrawn and taken a couple of restful stretches with deep breaths before the strongest attack yet came hurtling toward them.

  The battles took their toll on the warriors. Many in the second line had been pulled to the front. These men had less training in holding on to the V. If released without the warriors withdrawing the force, the line of powerful fire would whip around like a dropped waterhose spraying at full throttle.

  Cantor renewed his hold on the stream of energy. He found the force shifting, slipping from his grasp as if he tried to straighten a cooked noodle and hold it in position. A jolt passed up the line, and he knew someone had fallen. Dukmee gave the command to disengage. But before the line could smoothly and safely withdraw, three jolts in rapid succession whipped the reins of control out of their hands. A few held on.

  The force writhed in Cantor’s grip, no longer limp like a noodle, but strong and agile like a snake. Without seeing with his eyes, he knew the line of force had broken. Loose ends thrashed back on his fellow warriors. Screeches rent the air. His comrade defenders were being attacked by their own weapon.

  Dukmee gave an impassioned order to cease.

  Cantor and Bridger dropped the line, but their gorus roared and battled on. With the exchange of a look, Cantor and his constant grabbed the dragon’s arms and pulled them back. The gorus struggled to be free, to rage on.

  The beast thrashed his tail and connected with Cantor’s shin. He yelped and pulled back. Bridger stamped his hind foot on the gorus’s tail, immobilizing it. They managed to pull the wild gorus away from the flow of energy, but not without damage. Cantor had singed spots in his hair. Bridger had sores on the palms of his hands and a broken claw.

  They sank to the ground, only to jump to their feet when they saw a dozen pods set down in the withered grass before them. An explosion nearby sent them through the air in opposite directions. For a moment, Cantor lay stunned. He felt a pull on his sleeve. Bixby knelt beside him, with Totobee-Rodolow beside her.

  “Dukmee says to go four on one. The gorus aren’t allowed to fight with us.”

  He nodded and stood on shaky legs. “Where’s Dukmee?”

  “He passed out right after he gave the order.”

  Cantor took a deep breath. That meant he was in charge. He searched the area for his constant. “Bridge?”

  The dragon stood from where he’d landed in tall bushes. “I’m with you.”

  They approached the closest invader. He snarled and whipped his tail toward them. They jumped back, remembering how they’d seen those tails used to swipe opponents’ feet out from under them.

  United, they gathered a small, mishapened Force of V. Bridger and Totobee-Rodolow shot out a stream of fire. Cantor and Bixby harnessed it, and they quickly overcame the green monster before them.

  The next green foe fell as easily, but while they downed one, three others closed a circle around them.

  “Take that!” Bridger’s outburst alerted Cantor to their predicament. Bridger had swung his tail at one invader, successfully batting him high into tree limbs. But the impact on the beast’s blade-like arm had sliced through the dragon’s scales.

  Cantor la
unched himself at a second foe intent on killing the weakened member of their team. With his sword drawn, Cantor lopped off one of the beast’s arms, twirled in front of him, and with a downward slash, took the other. He turned just in time to see Bixby and Totobee-Rodolow push the next invader toward his sharp sword. The creature raised his arms to attack and Cantor used the exposed torso as a target. The third green beast charged Totobee-Rodolow. Bixby straddled her dragon’s tail and was lifted to a height where she could swing downward and remove its head perched on a thin neck.

  They looked around. No more invaders lurked in their area.

  Cantor cleaned his sword and put it away. “We must see to Bridger’s wounds. I’ll leave you to help with the wounded, and I’ll check the line for trouble.”

  He started along the ridge, but turned back to quickly cross the trampled ground to snatch Bixby from her perch on Totobee-Rodolow’s tail. He held her tight against his chest. With his face buried in her tangle of hair, he breathed deeply. Then set her down again. And left.

  “Well!” said Bixby.

  “Well, indeed,” said her constant.

  All along the edge of Derson, other foursomes eradicated the last invaders. Sentries watched for stray Lymen, but none were spotted.

  Cantor worked down the line in the direction that would take him to Odem and Ahma. He wanted to skip some of the wounded in his anxiety to check on his mentors, but he forced himself to tend those before him. Everyone who was able worked to ease the pain of the suffering.

  Some had diverse injuries caused by the barbed disks. Cantor had been given a supply of medication. He dispensed pain potions that helped the patients while they waited for other healing measures. Many had been burned by the ropelike force. Most of these wounds were deep and long, but cauterized at the same moment they were inflicted. One realm walker had been lashed across his wrist and had his hand cut off. Again the fire sealed the stub. A dragon had lost a wing, but that would grow back.

  The casualties were high among the gorus. They seemed to have been targeted by the untamed force when the realm walkers lost control. These fierce dragons made poor patients, and needed a soothing tonic to lull them to sleep. Cantor shared his supplies, giving a hamper to two young mor dragons with instructions to run along the line in both directions and distribute the medicine to those able to work with the wounded.

  Duskflies had come out of the bushes by the time Cantor got to the last group of wounded. He hadn’t seen Ahma and Odem. Frustrated, he started back. He could travel quickly now that he didn’t stop for every wounded warrior. He wanted to get back to Bixby. Hopefully, she wouldn’t be too busy to eat with him. He’d make sure she stopped long enough to rest.

  He felt Bridger’s approach.

  “You’re well enough to fly?”

  “Yes, and you’re needed at the main camp.”

  “Why?”

  “They’re gathering those who are mobile, and Ahma and Odem are among those who walked in. Ahma wants to see you.”

  Cantor ran to the stretch of hillside where Bridger planned to land. As soon as he settled on his dragon’s back, he began to ask questions.

  “Have we heard from the contingent defending Zonvaner? How severely is Dukmee wounded? Are we running low on supplies? Has a division moved out to cover the departing side of the planes? Has anyone estimated the time when we’ll see the last of this hovering plane?”

  “Not hovering.” Bridger answered the last question. “The renegade plane is moving along nicely.”

  “What about the rest of my questions?”

  “Hmmm? Oh, sorry. I wasn’t listening. Wondering when we would have our next meal and what we would have. I’m hoping for noodles and creamy garlic sauce.”

  Suddenly weary, Cantor leaned forward and rested on Bridger’s neck. “Perhaps we’ll get a few hours of respite before Cho shows up to direct the next part of our routing of the Lymen.”

  CASTING ROCKS

  Bixby walked with Cantor to where she’d last seen Ahma and Odem. She wanted to ask about the hug he’d given her but when she reached for him with her talents, she ran up against walls and hedges and barriers to keep her at a distance. He’d raised them against her in particular. She could tell they were personal, not general. Because of that, she wanted to corner him and make him talk.

  They carried hot meals, enough to share with Cantor’s mentors. The idea of having dinner with Ahma, since she had been so strange the first time they met, gave Bixby a dread in her middle. Bridger and Totobee-Rotolow came along. That would make the conversation easier.

  As soon as they found Cantor’s mentors, Bixby busied herself with serving the thick hot soup, bread, and fruit. Ahma took Cantor to a corner and had a whispered conversation as they ate. Bixby tried to batten down her resentment. Whispering was rude. Just ask her mother. If the old lady wanted to have secrets, why didn’t she just communicate with Cantor through their minds?

  The annoyance was shoveled to the side by a powerful feeling of anticipation. Just before she heard Cho’s voice, Bixby turned her eyes to the sky.

  “To me, Cantor. To me, Bixby. Bridger, Totobee-Rodolow, to me.”

  In the air above them, Chomountain rode on a magnificent dragon no one had seen before. Dukmee, looking a little wane, sat behind him.

  Without hesitation, Bixby and Cantor mounted their dragons and flew to join them.

  “Where are we going, sir?” asked Bixby.

  “To give our enemies an appropriate send off. We have one more project which must be accomplished before Lyme Major and Lyme Minor are out of sight.”

  He turned to Cantor. “I hear you have an astonishing aim.”

  Cantor nodded. “I do, sir.”

  “Good. We’re going to knock those planes out of their orbits. If we put a wicked spin on them, they’ll disintegrate.”

  The right hand of Primen clutched his pointed hat as the wind threatened to whip it away. “We’ll go by portal. Much faster that way, and we can have a little nap while we wait for the Lymens to catch up.”

  They flew through one of the biggest portals Bixby had ever seen. She looked over Totobee-Rodolow’s side at the unfamiliar terrain.

  “This isn’t Derson. Are we on Zonvaner?”

  “Yes, darling. And as soon as we finish this little errand with Chomountain, I know of a lovely spa where we can go soak and do the saunas and perhaps have a refreshing body wrap. They might even be able to do something with your hair.”

  Bixby patted the fringe of hair sticking out from under her helmet hat. She scowled. “What’s wrong with my hair?”

  Totobee-Rodolow didn’t answer.

  “Cantor once said he liked it. He said he could find me in a crowd because it shines like a beacon.”

  “What about Tegan, dear?” Totobee-Rodolow had begun circling in a descent before landing. “Does the dear boy offer you compliments in between proposals?”

  “Tegan hasn’t proposed in a couple of days. I think seeing his history at the Observatory of the Universe took away his need to have a constant in his life.”

  “A constant?”

  “Not a mor dragon-type constant but someone reliable, always there, an anchor, a place to call home, a helpmate.”

  “You’re not a poet, darling, but I get the point. And I think you’re right. Everyone needs a constant.”

  Chomountain and Dukmee landed. Totobee-Rodolow aimed at a spot beside them.

  Bixby chose to think her question. She wouldn’t have to shout against the wind and the loud noise dragon wings made at landing. “Do you know Cho’s dragon? He’s not a mor dragon, is he?”

  “No, not a mor dragon. He is a stunning male though, isn’t he? Just look at those muscles between his wings. And his color, the white opalescence with an undertone of cerulean blue.”

  “So you don’t know who he is.”

  “I didn’t say that. And it is not polite, darling, to rush someone who is admiring a work of art. His name is X’Onaire. He’s a mountain dra
gon from Cintain.”

  “A monk?”

  “Most definitely, a monk.”

  Their conversation ceased as Bridger landed with Cantor. It was time to receive their instructions. Chomountain gestured for them to circle around him.

  “We are going to damage the planes just before they leave our atmosphere. Our hope is to set them spinning. There are no life forms on Lyme Major or Lyme Minor other than the carnivorous plants.”

  He must have seen the objection rising to Bixby’s lips because he cast a stare her way with steely eyes and one crooked eyebrow. She swallowed her question.

  Cho looked straight at her but addressed them all. “I know this from Primen. It is not I but he who has ordered the planes completely destroyed. We are to have nothing to do with them and must not take anything from them to hold as ours.”

  Bridger gulped. Bixby heard it from the other side of their tight circle. She felt the same tension. Bridger didn’t get Cho’s stern eye, so he blurted out his question.

  “We aren’t going to go to those planes, are we? I mean actually walk on their soil?”

  “No, no, no. Because of the effects of gravity we witnessed in the Observatory of the Universe.” He paused. “There really should be a shorter way of saying that.” Again he paused, considering, gave himself a shake, and continued, “As I was saying, the gravitational pull will help us launch explosive rocks at the planes. If we time the bombs correctly and hit the target, the explosions will damage the symmetry of the plane and set it to flip-flop. As it goes beyond the curtain, it will enter space that has no air to resist the turning. The flip-flopping will accelerate. The plane will disintegrate.”

  He rubbed his hands together vigorously. “Quite simple, don’t you see? The simple plans are often the most worthy.”

  Chomountain looked around the circle, meeting the eyes of each of the participants. Bixby watched as everyone else returned his nod.

  Bixby screwed up her face. She wasn’t going to nod just to be nodding. Objections and questions hovered on her lips. She wasn’t at all sure about this thing they were going to do. Nodding was out of the question.