DragonSpell

by Donita K. Paul

  They’re killing him. I’ve got to do something!

  Kale picked up a rock and hurled it. It bounced off a grawlig head. He grunted and swayed, but returned to his efforts to pummel the enemy in their midst without even looking up to see what had hit him.

  Kale threw one rock after another as fast as she could pick them up and as hard as her muscles would allow.

  “What are you doing? Get out of there. Dar knows how to fight. He doesn’t need you. Go! Quickly! Before they turn on you.”

  Kale hesitated.

  “GO!”

  She heaved the rock in her hand and took off toward the crest of the ridge.

  I don’t like this. Not one bit. In River Away everyone always yelled at me, “Go! Come! Do this! Do that!” But at least I knew who was ordering me about.

  At the top of her climb she paused to look over her shoulder. Fierce fighting still raged in the gully below. She didn’t want to be chastised again, so she turned away from the battle and stomped over the ridge.

  A stream sprang out of the rocks in the midst of a copse of evergreen shrubs. Kale followed it easily. The noise of enraged grawligs battling her rescuers soon faded. The breeze whispered through the trees, cooling her as she trudged along. The sun sparkled off the brook as it foamed over its rounded-rock bed. Birds sang in the forest as if nothing so ugly as raiding grawligs existed in the whole of Amara.

  She marched along, muttering about grawligs and voiceless orders and not knowing where she was going. As she tramped beside the stream, her anger faded. A yawn stretched her mouth. Her eyes drooped. Then her legs grew rubbery, making it hard to stay upright. She stumbled more than once over terrain that should have been easy for her to cover. Jumbled thoughts broke her concentration, and she kept losing her balance.

  She said they came to rescue me. Who are they? How did they know I was in trouble? How did they know where I was? Could Farmer Brigg somehow have known? No. How could he?

  I’m so tired. And I’m getting hungry. How long before they catch up to me? What if they lost that fight with the grawligs, and the grawligs catch up with me instead? What if…I’m so tired. My whole body hurts.

  Kale sank down on the mossy bank. I’ll just rest a minute. She pulled the pouch from beneath her shirt and soon fell fast asleep with it tucked under her cheek.

  The whistling first sounded like a double-crested mountain finch, but then a few too many high notes warbled at the end of the call. Kale’s eyes sprang open, and she sat up. A doneel sat on a log by the stream. From his finger, a string dangled over the edge of a rock into the water. His clothes were tattered but bright in hue between the smudges of dirt and blood. His whistle changed to the song of a speckled thrush.

  Kale compared the look of this real-life doneel to the painted figure in the mural at the River Away Tavern. This whistling doneel sat, but she was sure if he stood, his little frame would not reach four feet. His tan and white furry head sat on a well-proportioned body. His large eyes hid under shaggy eyebrows that drooped down his temples and mingled with a long mustache. His broad nose stuck out like the muzzle of a dog, and his black lips met with hardly a chin at all underneath. Dressed in rich fabric of glorious colors, he was far more interesting than the blurry image on the dark tavern wall.

  “Hungry?” he asked. Smiling, his face became round, half of it the huge mouth. Two ears covered with soft fur perched on the top of his head near the front. They twitched and turned as he listened.

  “Only a little.” She had never talked to a doneel. Only mariones and a few kimens came to River Away. Kimens were smaller than doneels, but their bodies were much more delicate, almost wispy looking. They wore forest colors in loose, draping material. And a kimen’s face had what Kale thought was a more normal set of eyes, ears, nose, and mouth—although she had to admit she thought their raggedy haircuts and lack of eyebrows made them look perpetually surprised.

  “You are very hungry,” said the doneel. His voice rumbled a bit over the words.

  “I am?”

  “Yes.” He nodded decisively. “When was the last time you ate?”

  Kale remembered the bread and cheese Farmer Brigg had shared. “Yesterday noon.”

  He jerked on his line and pulled out a brook dabbler, its scales silver on the belly, its back coal black, its fins the colors of a sunset.

  “You’ve been battered by grawligs,” continued the fisherman as soon as he had his catch off the hook. “You fell down in a cave and healed yourself using magic.”

  “I did?”

  The doneel cast her a skeptical glance. “You did.”

  “Magic?”

  “The egg.”

  “Oh.” Kale put her hand on the pouch. How much did this odd little man know about the dragon egg? All the questions that had disconcerted her as she followed the stream came back. What if this doneel meant to steal the egg? Did he also know about her new find? Surely, eight dragon eggs would be very valuable. How did he even know about the first? She hadn’t told a soul since leaving River Away.

  The doneel stood and brushed off his torn and dirty pants. “My name is Dar.”

  Kale stood as she had been taught. “I’m Kale.”

  Again the doneel’s smile almost overcame his entire face. “Pleased to meet you.”

  He crossed to a pack left on the ground and pulled out a cloth-wrapped bundle. Untying it, he revealed some flattened rolls. He handed them to Kale.

  “Eat. The magic makes you think you aren’t hungry, but your body needs nourishment, especially when it has been busy repairing bruises and scrapes.”

  Kale took the offering and sat again, this time beneath a borling tree. Dar gathered sticks and laid a fire while she ate. Kale watched him with suspicion. He whistled and hummed and didn’t seem to mind her silence. Kale had never been much of a talker. Slaves weren’t encouraged to enter into conversations. But the questions boiled inside her, and she thought she’d scream if she didn’t get at least some of the answers.

  “Where did you come from?”

  Dar crouched beside a pile of sticks he arranged with great precision.

  “The Hall.”

  “Why did you come to help me? How did you know I was in trouble?”

  “Actually, I didn’t know, but Merlander did.”

  “Who’s Merlander?” The words came out louder than she expected, and she cringed. None of the villagers would have forgiven such an outburst.

  Dar seemed unconcerned. “My dragon.”

  “The beautiful one?”

  Dar grinned again. “She is something to look at, isn’t she? But vain. Don’t say too much about her being pretty when she’s around.”

  Kale nodded, agreeing to his request as if she understood all the intricacies of owning a dragon.

  “You said ‘my dragon.’ I was told that no one could own a dragon.”

  “Oh, I don’t own Merlander. I say ‘my dragon’ in the same way I would say ‘my friend’ or ‘my sister.’ She would say ‘my doneel.’ We’ve been together five years.”

  Kale gulped and almost choked on the bread. Dar came over and slapped her on the back. When she was breathing easily again, he got a heavy ceramic mug out of his pack and brought her cool water from the stream.

  “She talks? Your dragon talks?”

  “No, not like you and I. She knows my thoughts and I know hers. She told me a new dragon was coming from the east, over the Morchain Mountains. As you carried the egg closer, Merlander knew when you were tired or excited or frightened. The dragon embryo in your egg already reflects your disposition. My dragon knew what your dragon felt. When you were terrorized by the grawligs, we knew. But we couldn’t come to you when you were unconscious. We had no beacon. Then you were awake and hurting. We knew. But after a short while, you went to sleep.”

  “You knew all that?”

  “Merlander knew.”

  Dar lit the fire and cleaned the fish. He hung the brook dabbler on a metal brace he plucked out of his pack and pla
ced over the fire.

  Kale puzzled over all the information Dar had given her. Councilman Meiger was right. She didn’t know anything.

  “So,” she asked the doneel as he slowly turned the cooking fish, “will you take me to The Hall now?”

  “No,” said Dar. “I was sent to keep you from going to The Hall.”

  5

  NEW FRIENDS, NEW ENEMIES

  Kale stood in a panic. This little doneel was not what he seemed. Where could she run?

  She’d been told where to go by the elders of the village. To Vendela. She must follow their instructions. Should she go to The Goose and The Gander and look for Maye? That was what Farmer Brigg had advised. Always before, she had only to listen to instructions and do what she was told. Nothing complicated ever came her way.

  Maybe being a slave isn’t so bad. If I can just get to The Hall, I’ll be a servant. That’s enough like being a slave that all this adventure with grawligs and doneels, running from danger and battles, will just cease to exist.

  She looked at Dar and his diminutive frame. His short legs would never keep up with her. She surveyed the forest and wondered which way to run.

  A hailing cry came from the sky. Putting a hand at her brow to shield against the sun, Kale scrunched up her eyes and saw Merlander with her beautiful red wings swooping down. Again the dragon called with a round melodious tone. Dar waved a greeting. The whoosh of the last beat of Merlander’s wings ruffled Kale’s hair like a spring breeze. The dragon folded her wings against her sides.

  A young woman riding the dragon’s back threw her leg over the arching blue neck and slid down glittering scales to the ground.

  “I’m Leetu Bends,” she announced with a nod in Kale’s direction. Then she turned a scowl on the doneel. “Dar, what did you say to her?” And before he could answer, “What foolishness. How clumsy.”

  Dar dipped his head, hiding his expression. His ears drooped.

  “I’m sorry.” Leetu turned to Kale. “Dar teases, among other disreputable things. Think of him as an older brother who has no sense of decorum. Or no sense, period. Paladin has urgent need of your skill. That is why you must turn aside and leave going to The Hall until later.”

  Kale stood rigid in her confusion. This was the commanding voice she had heard as the grawligs battled—the one who said they had come to rescue her. Kale looked back to the repentant doneel and then to the self-assured young emerlindian. She did wear the colors of The Hall. Her tunic was a mellow, golden tan of ripe wheat, and her breeches, the rich brown of the earth.

  But how could Kale know for sure who Dar and Leetu were? What did they really want? Were they here to help or hinder her?

  Leetu Bends came up only to Kale’s shoulder, yet she had a dominant presence. White-blond and blue-eyed in a slim frame, Leetu did not look a bit delicate, but rather tautly muscled, ready to spring into action. She was a young emerlindian. Chin, nose, eyebrows, and ears all slightly pointed, her beauty was sharp, drawn with clean lines.

  Kale had heard stories of emerlindians. The race was born almost pure white. As they aged, their skin, hair, and eyes darkened. They lived a long time, hundreds of years. Wise brown grannies were both male and female and cherished by the younger generations. But even older than grannies were a few black grands, emerlindians who supposedly neared a thousand years in age. Generally thought to be noble, kind, and benevolent, the emerlindians possessed interesting mental powers.

  Kale winced at the knowledge. This Leetu Bends reads my thoughts. She knows I don’t trust her.

  Kale cast her eyes down to the forest floor, concentrating on the leaves scattered at her feet.

  Is it possible to block her reading my mind?

  Leetu laughed. “Yes, it is. And it’s a technique I’ll teach you as part of your training. For now, you can’t throw up a barrier.”

  Kale looked up. Merlander had settled, lying down at the edge of the clearing. Dar stood beside her neck, his head just coming to her glistening cheek. He leaned against her comfortably as if welcoming her back. Kale could feel the peace between them.

  Leetu Bends had not moved. Her bright face, radiating warmth and friendliness, no longer held the stern and autocratic look she had given Dar when she first arrived. Kale wanted to like her.

  Could she trust these two? The elders had told her to go to The Hall. Did she dare put aside Councilman Meiger’s instructions? Why would Dar want to keep her from going where she was supposed to go? Leetu said Paladin needed her skill. What skill? Kale let herself collapse in a rather undignified heap on the ground.

  “I know it’s overwhelming,” said Leetu.

  The emerlindian’s comment did little to ease Kale’s mental struggle. Since she’d left Farmer Brigg’s wagon, nothing had gone as she’d expected. Life was much simpler in River Away where Mistress Meiger told Kale whose house to go to, and the mistress of that home ordered her about all day.

  Leetu came and sat beside her. “Try to relax. Let us take care of you. Dar’s a good cook…when he doesn’t get distracted and burn everything.”

  The doneel jerked to attention, rushed back to the fire, and turned the fish.

  Leetu grinned and returned to her quiet talk with Kale. Her low, reasonable voice soothed Kale’s anxiety. “You do need food. You’ve been relying on magic to sustain you, and it won’t, you know. Well, you wouldn’t know that yet, but you’ll learn. Your skill is in finding dragon eggs, and there is an egg that must be found.”

  Leetu pulled a green parnot fruit from the pouch at her hip and handed it to Kale. “We’ll eat and talk,” she said. “You can ask as many questions as you like, and then we’ll start off on our quest.”

  It sounded so rational, and yet it didn’t. Kale bit into the sweet fruit.

  The elders had given her instructions to go to The Hall, but the elders were far away. Kale had enough experience to know that ignoring what you were told to do often led to trouble. She trusted the elders, for although they had never acted as parents to her, they had treated her fairly. They saw to it that she had food, something to wear, and schooling, such as it was. They allowed no villager to take advantage and work her too hard.

  She was free now. Well, sort of. She still had to go where she’d been told to go, and when she got to The Hall, she would probably still have to do what she was told to do. But it was different somehow. Being a servant was better than being a slave. Wasn’t it?

  Leetu Bends had said she could ask as many questions as she wanted. In River Away she had never been encouraged to ask questions. That much was different at least. But a problem remained. Would she know what questions to ask?

  The small party ate without much conversation. Dar finished first and took out a foot-long metal harmonica. He settled against a tree trunk and began to play quiet tunes.

  “Digestive music,” said Leetu. “Doneels believe strongly in the correct type of music to accompany each of their activities.”

  Kale nodded and continued to eat the delectable fish. Pretending to concentrate on her meal gave her an opportunity to think over just what she wanted to know. After each thought, Kale examined Leetu’s face for some indication that the emerlindian knew what was going through Kale’s mind. Her stomach knotted. She put her dinner aside. Nothing inside her head made any sense.

  I never had big things to think about in River Away. Is this what I really want? To be surrounded by people I don’t know, who might be friends or might be foes?

  Her companions set to doing chores. With the few dishes washed and stashed in a canvas pack, Leetu and Dar sat down on either side of Kale. Her thoughts still jumbled every which way, but she couldn’t stall any longer.

  “You must ask your questions,” said Leetu. She gestured with a graceful hand at the three gathered around the doused campfire. “We must be on our way.”

  Kale looked to the dragon laden with bundles of supplies. “Where are we going?”

  “First, to find Wizard Fenworth.”

  Kale
didn’t know one wizard from another. Weren’t there wizards enough at The Hall? “Why?” she asked.

  “He has been chosen to take care of the dragon egg once you have found it.”

  “How do you know I can find it?”

  “You have the gift,” said Dar. “Didn’t you walk right to the egg you carry in the pouch? Didn’t you put your hand on it before you even knew why you were reaching?”

  Kale’s hands clenched on the edge of her tunic. It wasn’t fair that they should know so much about her and be confident in all they did. She didn’t know anything. “How do you know about me?”

  Leetu slapped her hands on her knees and shook her head. “Paladin knew. We can’t tell you how Paladin knows things. He just does.”

  Kale blinked at Leetu’s agitation, but having been given permission to ask questions, she just couldn’t keep from asking another. “Why am I the one Paladin has chosen to go look for this egg?”

  Leetu stood and paced. “Another question that we cannot answer. Once you have been in his service for a while, it will cease to amaze you that he knows so much.” Leetu looked away for a minute as if to summon up words to make it easier on Kale. She sighed her frustration and turned back to her listener. “Let me tell you about the egg, and why it is so important.”

  Kale nodded.

  “First, it is a meech egg.”

  “Meech?”

  Dar jumped in. “The highest order of dragon, the most powerful. A female meech may lay three eggs in her entire life span, over five hundred years. The eggs are rare.”

  Leetu put up her hand to stop Dar’s lecture. “This egg was taken by Risto.”

  “Who?”

  Dar squirmed with his lips pressed firmly together as his eyes darted from Leetu’s face to Kale’s. He just couldn’t keep quiet and burst out with the information Kale needed. “An evil wizard! Risto’s an evil wizard.”

  Leetu cut him off with a look. “Risto does not wish to hatch the egg, but to use the power of the egg to cast a grandiose spell.”