Dragon Trouble

by Jackie French Koller

  “You mean . . . the Kradens think they are spirits?” said Pola.

  “Yes.” Azzon laughed. “I was humiliated when I found out the truth. All those years hiding in fear of a bunch of masquerading Zynots!”

  “But . . . what has all that to do with your furnishings?” asked Rowena.

  “Gifts,” said Azzon. “The Kradens leave gifts of all sorts on their doorsteps. They try to outdo one another, hoping the spirits will be pleased and do them no harm.”

  “Ahhh!” Darek, Pola, and Rowena laughed.

  “You seem fond of the Zynots,” said Pola.

  Azzon nodded. Then his face grew grave. “We Kradens have been merciless to the Zynots,” he said. “We’ve killed them, just for sport, whenever we’ve caught them down in the foothills.

  “They had every right to kill me when they found me. Instead they brought me to this cave and risked their own lives to care for me. I was so touched by their kindness, I became a changed man.”

  Darek, Pola, and Rowena had been listening quietly. Now Darek spoke up. “But . . . if you are changed, why won’t you help us?” he asked. “Why are you still loyal to your sons?”

  Azzon’s eyes filled with pain. “I was a cruel father,” he said. “I made my sons what they are, and I deserve what has befallen me. I do not blame them. I love them . . . more than ever.”

  Darek sat thinking, remembering all the problems he had caused his father, all the times he had disobeyed. And yet his father had risked everything to follow him into Krad. It was a powerful force—a father’s love.

  “The love you feel for your sons,” Darek said quietly, “is like the love our fathers feel for us. That’s why they followed us here. That’s why they are in trouble. Surely you can understand.”

  Azzon did not answer for a long time. Then he nodded slowly. “I can understand,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean I can help. And even if I could help you rescue them, I couldn’t take you back to Zoriak again. I’ve filled in the tunnel I took you through last time.”

  “We’ll go back the way we came,” said Darek.

  Azzon shook his head. “You can’t,” he said. “The dragonsbreath will addle your minds.”

  “No, it won’t,” said Darek. He walked over to Zantor and pulled a mask from the saddlebag. “We have these.”

  Azzon took the mask from Darek’s hand. “What is it?” he asked.

  “It’s a mask that filters out dragonsbreath,” Darek told him. “Our ancestors invented them, when they used to fight the Red Fangs.”

  Azzon stared at the mask in wonderment. “What is it made of?” he asked.

  Darek shook his head. “We don’t know,” he said.

  “But I’ll bet my father does,” Rowena put in. “He’s the Chief Elder.”

  Azzon’s brows arched up in surprise. “The Chief Elder of Zoriak is here? In Krad?”

  “Yes.” Rowena nodded. “He left his throne to come after me. I never dreamed he loved me that much.”

  The sadness came into Azzon’s eyes again. “You are fortunate to have such fathers,” he said. “Would that I had been such a father to my sons.”

  “Perhaps you still can be,” said Darek. “It’s never too late.”

  Azzon shook his head. “You don’t know my sons,” he said. “They were raised on the battlefield. Their lullabies were the screams of dragons in the gaming pits. They would as soon kill me as look at me.”

  Darek, Pola, and Rowena exchanged sorrowful glances.

  “Do not pity me!” Azzon snapped. “I have made my destiny. I am content to pay the price. My only concern now is, what am I to do with you?”

  Zantor was still shuffling around the room, poking his head into this and that, snuffling and sniffling. There came a sudden crash and everyone jumped.

  “Zatz!” shouted Azzon. “Look what your beast has done!”

  Zantor had upset a shelf high up on the wall. Bottles, jugs, and beakers tumbled to the floor.

  “Sorry!” cried Darek. “He didn’t mean anything. He was probably just looking for something to eat.”

  “Dratted dragon!” Azzon shouted. “Those are my potions!” He strode across the room and knelt beside Zantor, trying to salvage what he could. Darek ran over to try and help. Then suddenly he stopped in his tracks. Zantor was shrinking!

  “Zantor!” he cried. “What’s happening?”

  Azzon looked at the dragon. “Oh, he’ll be all right,” he said shortly. “He must have sampled the youth potion. It will just make him younger for a while.”

  “Younger?” cried Darek. “For how long?”

  Azzon shrugged. “A day. Maybe two. Depends how much he drank. Unless he gets upset or angry. That could get his blood racing and snap him out of it.”

  Darek looked at Zantor, who had shrunken down to the size of a newborn. He was sitting quite happily amidst the mess, looking anything but upset. In fact, he had his snout in another beaker!

  “Oh no!” cried Darek. “Now what’s he got?”

  Azzon reached out and snatched the beaker away. He held it up to the light. Then he chuckled. “This one won’t hurt him,” he said. “But he’s going to stink for a while.”

  9

  DAREK COULDN’T SLEEP. ZANTOR HAD insisted on crawling into bed with him, and the smell, like rotten eggs, was making him ill. Not only that. Each time Darek tried to move, little Zantor only snuggled closer. He was awfully cute, Darek had to admit, if not for the smell. But Darek hoped Zantor wouldn’t stay small for long. They would need him for the rescue, whenever or however that happened. One thing was certain. Azzon was not going to help.

  Darek felt a tug on his arm.

  “Go to back to sleep, Zantor,” he mumbled. “I’m here.”

  There was a little twitter near his ear. “Not Zantor,” someone whispered. “Mizzle!”

  Darek’s eyes flew wide open. “Mizzle!” he whispered. “What are you doing here? You’ll get sick.”

  “Know where fathers are,” the small creature whispered.

  “What?” Darek sat up.

  “Sssss!” said Mizzle, pressing a skinny little finger to his lips. “Need be quiet.”

  “Why would you help us?” asked Darek. “I thought you were Azzon’s friend.”

  “Mizzle be Azzon’s friend,” the little creature replied. “But Zooba be Mizzle’s father. Ye helped me father. Me help ye father.”

  Darek smiled and nodded. Zantor poked his head out from under the blankets.

  Mizzle looked startled. “Ye dragon?” he questioned.

  “Yeah,” Darek whispered. “He got into some of Azzon’s potions. Azzon said they will wear off in a day or two.”

  Mizzle pinched his nose. “Gleep,” he said.

  Darek nodded. “Yeah. Tell me about it!”

  Mizzle giggled again. “Hurry,” he said. “Follow.”

  “Go get Pola and Rowena,” Darek told Zantor. “And be quiet about it.” Zantor scurried away, and Darek pulled his breeches on.

  Pola and Rowena came in rubbing their eyes. “What’s going on?” they asked.

  “Mizzle knows where our fathers are,” said Darek. “Grab the masks and let’s go.”

  It was dark and damp and hard to see. The mists swirled as thickly in the valley as in the mountains. Mizzle led them carefully past the great cage where the Kradens’ fierce Red Fanged dragons slept. Darek shivered, looking at the giant beasts so close on the other side of the fence. One rolled over and belched a stream of fire into the night, and Darek and the others nearly fell over one another in their haste to get away.

  As they drew closer to the village, they heard a fierce din of shrieking and moaning. Darek’s skin prickled. Suddenly a dark shape flew out of the night, almost bowling them over. It made a hideous face and waved long, sharp claws. It danced around them for a moment, howling and flailing its claws, then ran off toward the village, cackling wildly.

  “What was that?” cried Darek.

  “Night Spirit,” said Mizzle with a giggle
.

  “Lord,” whispered Rowena. “No wonder the Kradens bar their doors.”

  Up ahead, the dark battlements of Castle Krad loomed. Darek’s heart beat faster. Night Spirits or no, he didn’t like passing so close to that wicked place. Inside its walls lived the evil Zahr. A shift in the wind or a sudden shower and Zahr’s men would be free to patrol the streets again.

  “I don’t like this,” Pola whispered.

  Darek and Rowena nodded their agreement.

  Zantor seemed unconcerned. He frolicked up ahead with Mizzle, while Drizba and Typra brought up the rear.

  When they reached Castle Krad, Mizzle suddenly dashed up to the great doors and pounded on them. He lifted his head and gave an earsplitting shriek. Darek’s heart raced. Was Mizzle betraying them?

  “Mizzle!” he cried. “What are you doing? Do you want to get us all killed?”

  Mizzle rushed back to them, twittering wildly. “Mizzle scare Zahr!” he cried, clapping his little hands. “Mizzle funny.”

  “Mizzle not funny!” said Darek. “Mizzle foolish!”

  Mizzle hung his head. “Mizzle sorry. Mizzle love Spirit Night,” he mumbled.

  Darek couldn’t help smiling. “Mizzle,” he said gently. “Our fathers, remember?”

  Mizzle looked up and grinned again. “Fathers, yes!” he cried, scampering off again.

  They followed Mizzle toward a group of low hills in the distance. As they got closer, Darek could make out a dark opening in the hillside.

  Mizzle pointed. “Mines,” he said.

  “Our fathers are in there?” asked Rowena.

  “Men prisoners work mines,” said Mizzle. He stretched his hand up high. “Big boys too. Small boys work dragons.”

  “Yes.” Darek nodded. He and the others remembered everything about their prison days now.

  They were approaching the opening. A great door stood barred across it.

  “Keep out Night Spirits,” said Mizzle with a giggle.

  “How will we get in?” Pola asked.

  “Come,” said Mizzle. “Be quick.” He pointed to the sky. “Daylight come soon. Burn off mist.” He scampered up the steep hillside with Zantor close on his heels. Darek followed. He found them at the crest, staring down at a small, square opening.

  “What is it?” asked Pola and Rowena as they came up behind.

  “Looks like an old air shaft,” said Darek. “But it’s sealed and there are bars across it.”

  “I’ll get Drizba’s tether,” Rowena offered. “We can tie one end to the grate and let her pull it free.”

  “Great idea,” said Darek.

  Mizzle howled his loudest to cover the noise, and in no time at all, the grate was out. The group pried off the lid and knelt around the opening. They could see a light flickering below and hear the murmur of voices.

  “Guards,” said Mizzle.

  “We’ve got to distract them,” said Pola.

  “Me get Zynots,” said Mizzle. “Make much noise.”

  “That’ll help,” said Darek, “but we’ve got to get them out of that room down there somehow.” He lifted his mask to scratch his nose, and Zantor’s stench nearly made him gag.

  “Zatz, Zantor, you stink!” he whispered.

  “That’s it!” cried Pola.

  “What’s it?” asked Darek.

  “You’ll see,” said Pola. “Rowena, get Drizba’s tether again.”

  10

  ZANTOR DANGLED FROM THE END of the tether, inside the shaft, just above the guards’ room. He stared up at Darek, Pola, and Rowena with mournful eyes.

  “Shush,” Darek begged him, pressing a finger to his lips. “Don’t make a sound, okay?”

  Rrronk, came a loud and clear mind message.

  Darek smiled. “It shouldn’t be much longer,” he whispered.

  Sure enough, a moment later he heard one of the guards say, “Phew! What is that smell?”

  “I don’t know,” another one replied. “Zatz! It smells like something died!”

  “Aargh! I can’t take it,” a third put in. “I’ve got to get out of here.”

  There was a murmur of agreement, a scraping of chairs, and then silence. Darek grinned down at Zantor. “Good job!” he whispered.

  “Thrummm,” came the soft reply.

  “EEEyiiiooowwll!! Arrooogh!! Grraahrr!!” Mizzle was back with his friends, and they were causing a mighty din.

  “Let’s go,” whispered Darek.

  Slowly they lowered Zantor to the floor of the room, then one by one they slid down the rope to join him. Darek untied Zantor, who greedily attacked a bowl of fruit on the guards’ table.

  “Little guy’s hungry,” whispered Pola. “Come to think of it, so am I.”

  “Forget it, Pola,” said Darek. “We’ve got more to worry about than our stomachs.” He pushed his mask back and looked around. One tunnel led upward away from the room, and another down.

  “Which way?” he whispered.

  “My guess would be down,” said Rowena.

  Pola nodded. “Mine too.”

  “All right,” said Darek. “Let’s go.” He grabbed a torch from the wall and led the way into the tunnel.

  “Hey,” cried Rowena. “Look what I found.” She reached up high on the wall and took down a heavy ring of keys.

  Darek and Pola grinned. “This is almost too easy,” said Pola.

  “Don’t count your zoks before they hatch,” Darek warned.

  The tunnel was narrow and dank. Water oozed out of the walls, and the floor was slimy with mold. The deeper they went, the colder it became.

  Darek shivered. “I hate to think of our fathers living down here,” he said.

  “Or the other Zorian prisoners,” said Rowena quietly.

  Darek swallowed. That was hard to think about. Just as it was difficult to think about Arnod and the other prison friends they had left behind on their last visit to Krad. They had promised to return and help those friends one day.

  “Someday, somehow, we’ll help them all,” he whispered. “But right now we’ve only got enough masks to get our fathers and Clep back through the mountains.”

  Pola and Rowena nodded in sad agreement.

  “Listen!” Pola suddenly whispered.

  They froze. Heavy footsteps were coming up the tunnel toward them. Darek looked around wildly, then remembered a small niche in the wall a short way back.

  “Hurry!” he cried, dousing his torch.

  The three ran back and crowded into the niche. Then they pulled Zantor in behind them, pinching their noses at his stench. Their hearts pounded as the steps came closer. Torchlight flickered farther down in the tunnel, and then two guards came into view. Darek held his breath and tried to shrink further into the shadows as they clomped by. Just then, Zantor let out a small belch. Darek’s heart lurched.

  “What was that?” one of the guards asked.

  “What?” asked the other. “I didn’t hear anything.”

  “Ugh! What’s that smell?” the first guard cried. Then, “Zatz, man! Is that you? What in Krad did you eat for dinner?!”

  “It’s not me,” the second man cried. “It must be you, you sloth!”

  Darek, Pola, and Rowena clapped their hands over their mouths to keep from laughing. They could still hear the two men arguing as their footsteps faded away.

  “Phew,” whispered Rowena, “that was close.”

  “Yeah.” Pola nodded. “And now we’ve lost our light.”

  “Oh, no we haven’t,” said Darek. “You forget the many talents of our smelly little friend here.” He lifted the torch. “Zantor,” he said, “light, please.”

  11

  DAREK LIFTED HIS TORCH HIGH and peered in through the small barred window of the cell door. Then he shook his head. “Not them,” he whispered. He and the others were growing discouraged. They’d peeked into dozens of cells but had yet to find Clep or any of their fathers among the sleeping prisoners.

  “It’ll be dawn soon,” said Rowena. “We’re run
ning out of time.”

  “We’d better get back,” said Pola. “It won’t help anything if we’re captured.”

  Pola was right, Darek realized, but . . . they were so close! “Just a few more cells,” he said. “Then we’ll go.” He crept up to the next door and peered in, then the next, then his mouth dropped open. “It’s them!” he cried.

  Pola and Rowena scrambled to get a peek.

  “Praise Lord Eternal,” Rowena whispered, tears filling her eyes.

  “Try the keys,” cried Darek. “Hurry!”

  Rowena took out her keys and fumbled with the lock. Several didn’t work, and then one turned and the door swung open.

  “Thrummm,” sang Zantor. He flew by and leaped joyfully on Darek’s sleeping brother.

  “What the—”

  “Shush!” cried Darek. He crouched at his brother’s side. “Quiet, Clep. We’ve come to rescue you.”

  Clep’s eyes grew wide. “Darek!” They grabbed each other in a rough hug. “Lord Eternal! I thought I’d never see you again!”

  The fathers were carefully wakened as well, and after a quick round of hugs and tears, Darek pressed them to get going.

  “Who’s the little dragon?” his father asked. “And why does he smell so bad?”

  “It’s Zantor,” said Darek with a soft laugh. “I’ll explain later. If we don’t get out of here before the sun comes up, the Kradens will be able to follow us. Hurry!”

  “What of the other prisoners?” asked the Chief Elder.

  “We have no way of getting them through the mountains,” said Darek. “If we free them now, they’ll only perish.”

  The Chief Elder hesitated. “But they are Zorians, like us,” he said. “They are our friends.”

  “Yes.” Rowena took her father’s hand. “And that is why we must escape while we can. So that one day we can return and help them.”

  The Chief Elder nodded. “Onward then,” he said.

  Darek led the way back, but as they approached the guards’ room once again, they heard a din of excited voices. Someone was shouting orders to search the tunnels! They had been discovered.