DragonFire

by Donita K. Paul

  Her beautiful healing dragon moved from one position to another as if he could not find a place to settle. Gymn gave lethargic answers to her questions. She sensed weariness from her healing dragon and knew he expended all his energy to do what little he could to sustain the sick man’s health. Her attention remained riveted on Paladin.

  Kale did note, in the back of her mind, that none of the representatives raised a voice. Even Bardon’s father spoke calmly, without belligerence. She gathered from the little she heard that the leaders had repented of their former attitude.

  For three years, since the first signs of animosity between Pretender and his underlings had surfaced, the people of Amara had chosen to remain as uninvolved as possible. Now the situation made it clear. They must participate in securing the safety of the land. This would require fighting not one, not two, but three evil forces.

  A voice Kale recognized penetrated her concentration. Farmer Brigg stood among citizens from the foothills of the Morchain Mountain Range.

  “Aye, some of us ’ave caught on to what’s gonna ’appen if we don’t pull our ’eads out of our own feedbags. But a lot of folks just don’t want to see the danger. They aren’t going to be wanting to send their good workers off to war and leave the weaker ones to tend the fires at ’ome.”

  Farmer Brigg sat down to a murmur of assent on his observation. Kale smiled from her place in the gallery with the other wizards. But her old friend did not look up. The talk went on, this time centered on what response the populace would have to the call to arms.

  After hours of debate, Paladin held up his hand. Those who had a wooden baton raised lowered the rod.

  A mountain wizard and a sky wizard both rose from their seats and exited the balcony. They soon appeared in the hall below and went to stand on either side of the throne. Unaided, Paladin rose to his feet.

  “I…,” said Paladin, his voice wispy but audible and distinct through some machination of the wise men beside him. “I do not know if I will remain with you until the final days of this conflict. I do not know the outcome of our struggle.”

  He swayed. The two wizards at his side took hold of his arms. Gymn wrapped his long green body around Paladin’s neck. The leader inhaled and exhaled, slowly and with great labor. With a softly spoken word, he instructed the wizards to allow him to stand on his own.

  “I do know”—his voice echoed in the still room—“that it is not my time to lead. To observe and perhaps consult, but not participate. I am content with Wulder’s directive for my life. I will return to my more strenuous duties if He ordains.”

  He struggled for his next breath, and the wizards took him by the arms. He did not reject their aid.

  His head drooped, but his voice came strikingly clear to all who listened. “Let this be known. This is a time for each Amaran to seek Wulder. Go directly to His ear with your petitions. Listen only to His voice for guidance. This is not…tragedy, but…opportunity.” Paladin slumped, and the wizards lowered him onto the throne.

  As a servant wheeled the invalid chair across the dais to Paladin’s side, Magistrate Moht stepped forward. “We will suspend our talks until after our evening meal. At the sound of the tower eventide chimes, we will gather with our own to further discuss our situation. In the morning we will again meet in the throne room to put forth plans.”

  The two wizards supported Paladin as he moved from the throne to the wheeled chair. Kale turned to look her mother in the eye.

  “Can we avoid war?”

  “No, I think not.”

  13

  WIZARDS’ CONCLAVE

  Kale entered the Wizards’ Hall behind her mother and father. Everyone wore their most elaborate finery. Lyll Allerion had helped her daughter fashion a long shimmering, deep rose dress. She added a jeweled collar to the moonbeam cape and fastened it around Kale’s neck. Then she draped the material over one shoulder so that the subtle gray of the cape contrasted with an array of starlike gems that bedecked the bodice of the gown.

  “I’m wearing something a bit more matronly,” Lyll had declared.

  Kale laughed when she saw her parents dressed in attire that matched in material and color. She couldn’t help but examine the cloth by tracing the embroidered design of vines with her fingertip.

  Lyll’s gown of harvest orange fitted tightly in the sleeves and bodice and then exploded in voluminous swirling fabric for a long, elaborate skirt. The same dramatic orange accented her father’s basic deep green attire.

  “Hardly matronly, Mother,” Kale said as she stroked velvet leaves scattered over a lengthy train.

  Lyll patted the rich sunset sheen of her sleeve. “Soft fabric is becoming to a woman of my age.”

  Sir Kemry embraced his wife. “I appreciate not having to worry about my clothing. Lyll always dresses me for these formal affairs.” He adjusted the gold and vibrant green braid that accented his collar. “I suggested the emerald mingling with the gold. A nice touch, don’t you think?”

  Kale examined the trim that brightened his jacket and one leg of his pants. He did look arresting. “Yes, Father. The braid accents the orange in a dashing way.”

  “Dashing?” He put his arm around his wife’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “Do you hear that, Lyllee? Our daughter thinks we still make a dashing couple.”

  Lyll coaxed him toward the door. “We don’t want to be late, and she didn’t say we were a dashing couple. She said the braid on the velvet is dashing.”

  “How can braid and cloth be dashing? She meant that we are dashing in the apparel you designed.” He touched the braid on his lapel. “With my help.”

  The conclave gathered in the wizards’ room, a large chamber, similar to the throne room, except located in a remote area of the castle. Indeed, when they passed through the entrance, they also passed through a gateway, so that the structure could hardly be said to be part of the palace at all.

  The splendor of the room reflected the oddity of its inhabitants. One wall resembled a canyon with different colors of rock strata enhancing the natural beauty. Even a thin waterfall cascaded from the ceiling and created a stream that ran through the room. Several bridges of different designs crossed the creek.

  A second wall looked like an outside view of countryside with a star-studded, nighttime sky. The third looked as if one could walk into a forest and leave the wizards’ room behind. And the last looked just like the palace wall on the other side of the gateway.

  Seating included rocks, logs, elegant chairs and couches, and a boat. Depending on where one stood, the flooring could be grass, cobblestone, sand, rug, or hardwood planks, waxed and polished.

  But the clothing of the wizards astonished Kale more than the surroundings. The fire wizard’s dress flamed but did not burn. One wizard’s robe appeared to be a waterfall, the image flowing from shoulder to hem without leaving the wizard’s body and causing a minor flood. The current disappeared in a mist at the man’s feet. A lady wizard wore more tiny, fragile leaves than a ten-foot hedge, fashioned in a gorgeous and delicate frock. Feathers bedecked another pair of wizards. Kale at first thought they were husband and wife, but their features were so similar, she decided they were brother and sister.

  A wizard dressed with small shells adorning his robe clattered by, smelling fishy, and trailing seaweed. Kale wrinkled her nose, caught her mother’s disapproving glance, and schooled her features not to reflect her thoughts.

  “Look at your own gown, child, before you cast aspersions on someone else’s choice of attire.”

  Kale’s eyes dropped to the material her mother had fashioned an hour earlier. Miniscule streaks of lightning dashed hither and yon. The small beads of starlike gems twinkled and had multiplied to cover the entire dress. She looked up and noticed that a wizard approaching her squinted against the light she cast.

  “Light wizard,” said her father. “I have suspected as much.”

  Her mother beamed at her. “Yes, I thought so too, but I didn’t want to influence her w
ith my interpretation of the signs. There’s nothing special in the cloth, dear. Your element is showing.”

  Her father harrumphed. “So we have a light wizard, a weather wizard, and a mortal wizard in the family.”

  “Mortal?” Kale looked at her mother, for it had been obvious for a long time that her father rained when he rested.

  “Don’t look so concerned, dear,” answered Lyll. “It merely means my body is more apt to reflect time and wear than another’s.”

  “But how is that a talent?”

  “Healing, like Gymn. I thought for a while that you would have that talent as well, but it is only through Gymn that your ability to heal is intensified enough to manifest.”

  Sir Kemry patted her shoulder. “Of course we all have a tad of each of the talents.”

  Kale noticed he had donned spectacles with dark lenses in order to be able to look straight at her.

  “Come, dearest daughter,” he said. “We’ve been standing too long. In the future, we must work on your facility to control your light. For now, we will just move to dispel its grandeur.”

  Kale followed her parents around the room, being introduced to wizards she knew only by reputation or not at all. She had met a few of them since she and her friends had come through the gateway and now struggled to remember their names. Besides her parents, she knew Regidor and Gilda and the lake wizard, Cam Ayronn. Bardon had counted the wizards in the gallery the night before. Twenty-one. Her father said that was the sum total of all known wizards in Amara. He amended that to specify wizards in Paladin’s service. It had been centuries since Stox or Cropper attended a wizards’ conclave.

  Much visiting took place. Refreshments appeared and disappeared. Music played and some of the wizards enjoyed dancing. Intermittently, Kale worried that the conclave didn’t seem to be interested in addressing the serious issues at hand. But the company was stimulating and the festive atmosphere invigorating. She sometimes wondered about the passing of time. But no timepiece of any kind could be found in the chamber. When she thought she might be weary and ready for bed and she knew for a fact that she could not put one more delicacy in her mouth or swallow one more mouthful of delicious punch, a bell rang.

  The wizards instantly ceased their chatter.

  A male wizard robed in cloudlike material rose into the air above the others.

  “Namee,” Lyll whispered the man’s name in Kale’s ear. “Sky wizard.”

  “So we have come to some conclusions that I will present to Paladin.”

  The others in the room nodded and murmured affirmations.

  The knowledge that decisions had been made astonished Kale for only a second. The minds of these great thinkers had been mingling for hours. Of course, they had resolved issues and made plans. Now that she was conscious of the fact, she realized she had participated in the process.

  Namee held up a finger. “First, we must engage the enemy to keep them from deterring the progress of the real warriors.”

  Everyone nodded, including Kale, who had a sudden hard lump in her stomach.

  “Second,” said Namee with another finger uplifted, “we must unite the populace and solidify their purpose.”

  Another round of approval, and the knot in Kale’s stomach twisted.

  “Third, we have decided dragons will be that unifying force. After all, who can resist the attraction of these winsome creatures?”

  A cheer. Kale felt sick.

  “Fourth, Sir Kemry and Kale Allerion will be the ambassadors to collect the dragons, train them, and present a mighty fighting force behind which the populace will rally.

  “And fifth!” Namee paused. “Harrumph! Was there a fifth? Hmm? Perhaps not. Oh well, and fifth, we offer good wishes as the old Dragon Keeper and the new Dragon Keeper seek to save all of Amara.”

  Kale found her father’s arm supporting her. She leaned heavily against him and gazed up at his face. He looked out over the cheering crowd with his other arm raised in salute. His countenance glowed with enthusiasm. Her mother appeared at her other side and also offered an arm around her waist to keep her from falling.

  “Mother,” Kale pleaded, “tell me I am dreaming.”

  Her mother’s words came out between lips frozen in a smile. “Hardly, dear, and do something with that face of yours. I swear a blind illiterate could read it like a book.”

  The people around them started up a chant. “A quest! A quest!”

  Kale tried to relax the muscles around her mouth, but she could not muster a smile. She leaned toward her mother’s ear.

  “Are you coming as well?”

  “What did you say, Kale? Mindspeak, dear, it’s the only way.”

  I said, Are you coming as well?

  “Oh no! It’s your father’s turn to have some fun.”

  14

  FIGHT!

  Kale held Paladin’s hand as they sat together on the balcony outside his chambers. The early morning sun sparkled on the dew-covered hills beyond the castle walls. Quartz embedded the white stone of the palace, glistening as rays of golden light struck the edifice. Cool, fresh air put color in Paladin’s cheeks, and Gymn scampered over him, leaping from the invalid chair to the balustrades and back to Paladin’s shoulders. Metta perched on Kale’s shoulder and sang in harmony with the birds heralding the sunrise.

  Paladin’s eyes twinkled at Kale as he patted her hand. “So tell me what troubles you.”

  “I shouldn’t bother you with my troubles. You’ve been ill.”

  He threw back his head and laughed, and although it wasn’t as hearty as she knew his laughter could be, the merry sound made her smile.

  “I’m glad you’re better, sir, but why are you better? Will you get well now?”

  The o’rant leader scooped Gymn into his hand and rubbed a finger over the sensitive spot behind the minor dragon’s neck frill. Gymn closed his eyes and stretched, enjoying the caress.

  “My health ebbs and flows as our citizens invest their lives in Wulder.” He lifted his hand to the sky, and a songbird dived from a parapet to land on his finger. Kale expected him to say something wise, something she would have to puzzle over to get more than the surface meaning. But Paladin listened to the bird’s notes blend with Metta’s for a moment and then shooed the feathered creature off to its more natural perch.

  He cocked an eyebrow at his young visitor. “I think you avoided my question, Kale. Tell me what these plans are that so distress you.”

  “Bardon, Regidor, Gilda, Mother, and Dar are to lead a force against the armies of Pretender.”

  “They will be in danger, and of course, this is alarming.”

  “That’s not it!” She shook her dainty handkerchief and then deliberately placed both hands in her lap. She couldn’t help but lean forward to deliver her plea. “Bardon and I have practiced together for three years. We’re really exceptional, Paladin.” She drew in a steadying breath. “Together we’re almost unbeatable. We fight as one. It’s the training and the special bond we have.”

  Even though she couldn’t bring herself to voice her defiant demand, she knew Paladin would grasp the underlying message. One of the unique traits about him was his ability to pick up on subtleties. She could count on Paladin to rectify this awful situation. Everyone listened to him. She almost let out a sigh of relief when she saw him nod.

  “Your concern for your husband is understandable, but he can fight without you, and Regidor and the others are just as capable.”

  “Oh, you’re missing the point.” She dropped his hand, stood up, and at once sat down again. “I don’t want to go look for dragon eggs, to hatch them and build a fighting force. My father can do that. He’s the original Dragon Keeper. I want to go to the front with the others. I want to be where I can do some good.”

  Paladin tapped his lips with one finger as he considered her words.

  Kale waited, holding her breath and wondering if this would be the time Paladin lost patience with her. As far as she knew, she was the only one who
had the audacity to complain and make an objection to their exalted leader. His eyes narrowed just before he spoke, and she thought it looked as if he winced against the pain of having to rebuke her.

  “Kale, you have been chosen to do a job. If there were someone else who could assume that duty, I would excuse you.”

  “I already have six eggs to tend, and my father—”

  Paladin held up a hand to stop her protestation. “By all means, quicken the eggs in your possession. But neither you nor your father could accomplish this task alone. If the task is unpleasant for you, my suggestion is that you put your heart into the gathering of these eggs and work with your father to train the dragons that hatch with due speed.”

  Kale’s eyes widened as she listened to the stern tone of Paladin’s voice. Now she bobbed her head. “Yes sir.”

  She left Metta and Gymn with Paladin. The farther away she walked from his room, the more her feelings surfaced. It seemed no one understood her position. She stormed through the palace to find her husband. He’d been asleep when she returned from the wizards’ conclave just before dawn. She’d gone to stand on their balcony, and there she had heard Paladin’s summons.

  Now she hurried down the corridor, away from Paladin, who could, but would not, change the orders. She sent her thoughts ahead and discovered her parents having breakfast with Bardon in the suite of rooms between their bedchambers.

  Did they tell you? She mindspoke to her husband to let him know she was coming and intending to inform him of Paladin’s stubborn decree.

  “Yes. A good plan.”

  A good plan? Kale felt Bardon take a step backward from her outrage if only in his mind. You don’t see that we will be separated? Perhaps for years?

  “Well…”

  The scope of her husband’s anticipation hit her. You’re eager to go fight bisonbecks, blimmets, grawligs, quiss, and whatever. You never once gave a thought as to where I would be.