DragonFire

by Donita K. Paul

  28

  SNAKES

  Kale lowered herself down the side of the cliff, holding on to a long rope her father had anchored to a boulder on the path above. The minor dragons accompanied her, making useless suggestions. They didn’t really understand how an o’rant navigated the world. She grumbled as her knee scraped against the rock wall.

  “What was that, my dear?” asked her father.

  Nothing. Just remembering your last instructions.

  “Find the bodies and dispose of them.”

  You know this isn’t what I normally do, objected Kale, trying to keep her mindspeaking voice light. She didn’t want her father to know the depth of her annoyance. I haven’t disposed of a body yet in all my experience as a warrior, and I’m not so sure I’ll think of something to do with them.

  “I have confidence in you.”

  Dibl landed on her head, and she almost giggled. “Get off. I don’t need you telling me this is humorous. This is not humorous, and I don’t need the added complication of carrying you down this cliff.”

  The orange and yellow dragon hopped off and did a fancy acrobatic maneuver before soaring above her head.

  “That did not cheer me up. It certainly does not show me that I need not be nervous. I don’t have wings!”

  Sir Kemry’s voice in her head interrupted. “Are you down yet?”

  Kale snorted. What have you done with the bisonbecks on the path?

  “Still working on it.”

  Well, I’m still working on rappelling this sheer drop of over one hundred feet. She looked up to judge how much she had already accomplished and caught her breath. She looked the opposite direction and smiled. I’m nearly to the bottom.

  “Do you see the two warriors?”

  Yes. It’s pretty hard to miss three-hundred-pound, seven-foot-tall corpses.

  Kale’s feet touched the floor of the gorge. She unwound the rope from between her legs and stepped away from the cliff. She looked up to see her father’s head as he peered over the edge.

  Any ideas as to what I should do with these goons?

  “Bury them?”

  Kale stamped her foot. In solid rock?

  “You’ll think of something. And, Kale?”

  Yes?

  “Do watch out for Creemoor spiders. We’re very close to their territory.”

  His head disappeared from view, and Kale scowled as she examined the area. Her dragons provided the only color in the scene aside from a few scraggly bushes. She studied the ground, looking for the telltale scratch marks that Creemoor spider legs made. She saw nothing to alarm her except the two inconvenient bodies of the bisonbecks. Something must be done with them.

  Maybe she’d find a cave or deep crevasse to shove the bodies into. Then she could cover the entrance with rocks to keep wild animals from dragging them out again. She communicated to the dragons what she wanted to find and began the search.

  As she walked, she ran over every wizardry ploy she might use to conceal the dead enemy. The fact that her father couldn’t think of anything was some consolation. After all, he’d been a wizard and a knight much longer than she had been a wizard. If he couldn’t pull an idea out of his experience, she shouldn’t be faulted. But she had to admit, she’d like to be the one to come up with a plan.

  She passed the bisonbecks and avoided looking at them. Too much blood and gore turned her stomach. Bardon said she would never get used to it. He hadn’t. Wrinkling her nose against the coppery odor of blood, she focused on finding a cave.

  She explored close to the opposite wall, peering into cracks and behind scrubby bushes, traveling north for two hundred feet. Not wanting to carry the bodies any farther, she started back, examining the other side of the chasm. She returned to the fallen warriors without uncovering a hiding place. Her dragon helpers had strayed from their task. Pat had discovered a delectable insect in abundant supply. The others had joined in the feast, chittering to one another about the unexpected sweetness and enjoyable crunch of the bug.

  “Would you six lollygaggers get back to work! We’re supposed to be disposing of bisonbecks, not beetles.”

  Hoping for better results as she moved south, she continued up the gorge. Just as she contemplated crossing to the other side and searching the opposite wall, she spotted a dark shadow that could be a cave. She called to the dragons, who joined her and exclaimed over the find. It was a cave.

  She sighed. “I wonder if I can raise those corpses off the ground and float them this far. What was that called? Levitation. I think I’ve remembered correctly. Fenworth taught us years ago. I do remember I wasn’t very good at it. I needed Bardon to complete the task then. And Regidor. Well, Regidor, of course, could do it on his own. Ah, it would be nice to have Regidor here.”

  She approached the shadow and saw that it was, indeed, more than just a large crevasse. “I wonder how deep you are?” She spoke to the cave as if it would answer.

  With a gesture to Ardeo, she stepped inside the opening. “Come on, friend, light the way.” The small dragon flew ahead of her. As soon as the light faded from the entry, Ardeo’s mottled white skin began to glow with a beautiful moonlike luminance.

  “Ah, this is plenty big,” said Kale, looking around. “But I don’t see many loose rocks to cover the bodies. What are those black lumps ahead? Are those—”

  One of the mounds moved.

  Kale stopped in her tracks and hissed, “Let’s get out of here.”

  A head on a skinny neck arose and hissed back. A red forked tongue flicked, tasting the air. Ardeo swooped over the cluster of dark, roundish creatures. More heads popped up and voiced their disapproval with a sound somewhat like a kettle letting off steam.

  Kale stretched out her hand and a globe of light appeared on her palm. She hurled it to pass over the nest. She gulped as the light revealed what she and Ardeo had stumbled upon. A hundred heads swerved above a mass of intertwined bodies. Beady eyes stared back at her. Crimson tongues licked the air.

  “I don’t like snakes,” murmured Kale as she inched backward. “One tiny garden snake is tolerable.” She took another step back as the heads swayed, but none of the creatures slithered from the nest. “One medium-sized water snake is acceptable.” How much farther is it to the opening? I have to keep calm. “One large and lazy tree snake can easily be avoided.” She narrowed her eyes and glared at the reptiles. “This…this is ridiculous.”

  The snakes uncoiled and followed. Kale gasped again. Not quite as many snakes threatened her as she had thought. Each body had five heads. So only twenty or so serpents slithered across the rock floor. Their heavy bellies rasped across the stone.

  The warmth of the sun hit her back. A few more feet and she would be out of the cave. Would these creatures follow? She drew her sword and called mentally to her dragon friends, Come help me. Snakes!

  Kale backed into the open, sunlit area. The snakes slithered out and stopped a moment to blink their eyes.

  Were they grinning? A shiver went up Kale’s spine. These serpents were unnatural. Her dragons dove from above, spitting caustic saliva. The smirking reptiles dodged most of the hits and countered by striking upward. Several times they almost connected with the swift dragons.

  The snakes fanned out and surrounded Kale. She swung at them with her sword, but the devious creatures kept out of range.

  Father!

  “What is it?”

  I’m surrounded by snakes. Come help me!

  “You’ve fought bisonbecks and grawligs, mordakleeps and quiss, blimmets and schoergs. You can handle a few snakes.”

  There are more than a few, and each one has five heads.

  “Five heads?”

  Yes! I think that one over there has six, no seven, but most of them only have five.

  “Unnatural. Sounds like Crim Cropper’s work to me. He’s always experimenting. Then when he tires of a project, he dumps them into the wild.”

  I don’t care how they got here. I want help protecting myself
.

  A snake lowered all five heads and sped forward. When it reached her feet, Kale swung downward with her sword, scooped the beast up, and flung it against the stone wall. It hit with a cracking thud and five lesser thuds, then slid to the chasm floor.

  “Are the minor dragons gone? They aren’t protecting you? Oh, blast! They haven’t been eaten by these nasty snakes, have they?”

  They’re here, spitting. But the heads are hard to hit, and the dragons are going to run dry soon.

  “You can do this, Kale. You don’t need me. Five heads, you say? If we judge by Crim Cropper’s other experiments, they’ve only one brain between them. Not literally, of course, but figuratively. They should be slow and stupid.”

  They are not slow, and I have no way to determine how intelligent they are.

  One serpent charged Kale. She lopped off a couple of heads, and it retreated. I can say they are persistent.

  “Well, if you insist, I’ll come down. It’ll take a minute or two.”

  Kale bit back the plea to hurry and busied herself keeping the troop of snakes at bay. She caught movement in the corner of her eye. Surprised that her father had accomplished the climb so quickly, she glanced beyond the circle of reptiles to greet him.

  Four short, stocky ropmas glared at her. She sensed more newcomers and turned to see five of the hairy beasts standing behind the other group of snakes.

  Father!

  “I’m coming,” he snapped. “I’m not as young as I used to be, and I’m a lot stiffer.”

  Nine ropmas have joined the fight against me. I could really use some help.

  “The ropmas are attacking?”

  Not yet. So far they’re just standing around, making faces.

  “They aren’t likely to attack. They’re generally very placid creatures.”

  One of the snakes flashed a head at her leg and struck. She yelped and hopped backward. The leather of her boot showed a mar, but the fangs had not penetrated.

  Pardon me if I am a little skeptical, Father. You’re the one who told me the snakes would be slow.

  “Throw some ice on them. They are reptiles. Cold will slow them down.”

  I’m short of water to make ice.

  “I can’t think of everything, Kale. Use some initiative.”

  Kale let out an exasperated growl. She dropped her sword, balled her fists, and began to throw orbs of energy. She took three seconds to gather a charge of power in her palm, opened her hand, and hurled the weapon into the squirming snakes. In a few minutes, most of the creatures were dead. Around the circumference of the slithering circle, the ropmas stamped the remaining injured and retreating snakes.

  Kale heard a noise behind her and swiveled to throw another blast of energy. Her father stood with his hands on his hips.

  “See? I told you so. You didn’t need me in the least.” He nodded toward the ropmas. “And the hairy beasts were not here to attack you but to help.” He shook his head. “You really must have more confidence in your father, Kale. I’ve been around quite a while.”

  He knelt beside one of the slain serpents and picked up its head. He screwed up his mouth and wrinkled his nose. “Poor workmanship. Definitely Crim Cropper’s design.” He used his thumb to open the creature’s mouth. “The fangs are not hollow. No poison here.” He dropped the beast, dusted his hands against his britches, and stood. “I supposed it would smart some if one received a hit from one of the foul creatures.”

  A spot ached on Kale’s leg where her boot had protected her from a “foul creature’s” strike.

  One comment came to her mind, and she didn’t bother to disguise it from her father. I want my husband.

  29

  ENLISTING AID

  The congregation of so many grawligs worried Sir Dar and Bardon.

  “Who’s bringing them together?” asked Sir Bardon as they sat in their headquarters tent. “And why?”

  “We need a spy.” Dar cocked an eyebrow at Bardon.

  “You’re thinking of Leetu’s friend, aren’t you?”

  Sir Dar’s ears twitched.

  Bardon tapped the papers he held in one hand on the side of the table. “These are notes from the far reaches of Amara. They all say the bisonbecks are becoming outrageous in their defiance of district laws. Their troops openly mock Paladin’s authority.”

  “Leetu has known Latho for two years.”

  “I don’t trust him.” He tossed the papers on his mentor’s desk.

  Dar didn’t move to pick them up. “He can’t fool Regidor, you know.”

  “That should be reassuring, but trusting a bisonbeck is like putting your head in a mountain cat’s mouth and saying, ‘Don’t bite.’ It’s against the cat’s nature not to bite.”

  “You are leaving Wulder out of the equation.”

  Bardon shrugged. “Wulder rarely changes a bentleaf tree into a fruit tree.”

  “Ah, but He could if He wanted to. And He changes caterpillars into butterflies all the time. Thousands, millions, billions of butterflies, and they all started as lumpy worms.”

  Bardon shifted his lower jaw to one side, then let it ease back into a normal position. “Wulder planned for caterpillars and tadpoles and grip-pets to change.”

  Dar nodded. “And you don’t think that He might have planned for one measly bisonbeck to change?”

  Bardon stood, arched his back, rolled his shoulders, and picked up the papers he’d tossed on the table. “A principle: ‘It is generous to believe your enemy capable of doing good, and prudent to watch his actions.’”

  “So we use him to spy on this collection of grawligs?”

  Blowing out a stream of pent-up air, Bardon scowled. “I don’t like it, but you’re in charge.”

  Dar’s eyes twinkled, and he twisted his lips into a wry grin. “There is that.”

  The ride into town on Greer’s wide back lifted Bardon’s spirits. He left the dragon in a field of sweetgrass while he searched for Leetu Bends and Latho. He found them walking back from the docks. The big bisonbeck’s head drooped, and his slumped shoulders added to his air of dejection.

  “Did you find out about Latho’s brother?” Bardon asked Leetu Bends.

  She bit her lower lip. “Yes, he was lost at sea during the quiss fiasco.”

  Bardon looked at the forlorn man by her side. Latho didn’t wear leather armor, but a cloth suit with a pale yellow shirt and brown tie. He didn’t wear boots, but laced-up leather shoes. He didn’t glare at Bardon with haughty scorn but shuffled his feet in the dusty street and studied the ground.

  “I’m sorry for your loss, Latho.” Bardon wondered what else to say. “I’m afraid our attack on the quiss caused the uninjured quiss to go berserk.”

  The bisonbeck didn’t look up. “If my brother had crossed your path in battle, you would most likely be dead.” He took a deep breath and released it. “My sorrow is that my people live by hate. When they die, they will live in the same condition. Anger builds in them, and they release it by hurting something or someone. After death, I believe the same rage will boil but be contained, burning and devouring the one who is angry.”

  Leetu patted the big man’s arm. “It does not sound to me like a pleasant way to spend your existence.”

  Bardon waited, wondering if the man would further unburden his grief, or if Leetu Bends would offer words of comfort or encouragement. Neither spoke.

  “Well.” Bardon searched for something to say. “Were you going somewhere?”

  Leetu Bends pointed up the street. “To that hotel.”

  “I have something I need to talk to you about. Something that should not be overheard.”

  “Then we will go to The End of the Day,” said Latho.

  Bardon guessed, “A tavern?”

  “No, the place where the ashes of the dead are hurled into the air. In this town it’s overlooking the bay.”

  He started walking, and Bardon fell into step beside him, stretching his stride to keep up. Leetu Bends trotted along on the othe
r side of her bisonbeck friend. Bardon had never heard of The End of the Day. In The Hall he’d learned more about the bisonbeck’s military tactics than their cultural habits.

  “Why do you call it The End of the Day?” he asked.

  For a moment he thought he had offended Latho. The merchant’s face grew grim. He answered after they’d traveled a few yards farther up the road. “It is the point where one leaves this existence and enters the night.” He grunted. “Most bisonbecks believe there is no morning after this night. But Leetu revealed the truth to me. It is hard to adjust one’s thinking. I am fortunate that Wulder stretched out His hand and pulled me into His dominion.”

  When they reached a cliff overlooking the choppy waters, Latho stopped. Leetu Bends sat on a large boulder to catch her breath.

  “I am sorry, my little friend.” The bisonbeck merchant cupped his big hand over her reddish blond head. “My mind was on something else, and I didn’t remember your short legs.”

  “I’m disgusted,” wheezed Leetu Bends.

  “I am sorry.”

  “No, not with you. With me.” The emerlindian panted between words. “I am out of condition. I would fail the physical tests at The Hall. I used to be able to run for miles.”

  Bardon smiled. “Too long sitting in houses, making polite conversation.”

  “Ha!” said Leetu Bends. “I spent about five years in a dungeon—very little room for exercise. Still, I could have done my forms more conscientiously.”

  Bardon’s eyebrows rose high on his forehead. “You didn’t do your forms?”

  “Don’t judge me, Bardon. I know I would have done better if I had maintained the discipline. But instead, I got very good at making excuses. ‘The guards will see me. The other prisoners will wonder. I’ll do forms tonight in the dark.’ Then I fell onto my mat when night arrived and slept like a black-nosed sloth.”

  “I’m not judging.”

  Leetu Bends grinned. “No, the well-trained knight in service to Paladin does not judge me. It is the lonely, abandoned schoolboy underneath who does.”