For Bobby, who fights a Red Fanged dragon with a sword made of courage and a shield made of love
1
DAREK SAT ACROSS THE CAMPFIRE from his father, chewing but not tasting his food. It had been three days since their confrontation in the Valley of the Dragons, and still his father had hardly said a word to him. Would it be any different when they and the rest of their party reached home tomorrow? He glanced at his mother and his brother, Clep, and they each gave him a small reassuring smile. Change takes time, his mother kept telling him. How much time? Darek wondered. He longed for the day when his father would gaze upon him with love and pride again.
“Rrronk,” came a sad cry from back in the shadows.
Darek’s father looked up from his meal and frowned.
“I’ll quiet him,” said Darek, jumping up. He lit a torch and picked his way through the forest to the spot where the dragonling had been tied. He saw the green eyes shining in the night before he could make out the small form huddled beneath a zarnrod tree.
“Rrronk, rrronk,” came the cry again.
“It’s all right, Zantor,” Darek called softly.
“Thrrummm,” the creature sang happily when he heard Darek’s voice. He strained against the chain that held him fast.
Darek stuck his torch in the ground and quickly unlocked the collar. The soft blue scales underneath were torn, and the flesh was rubbed raw from the dragonling’s efforts to free himself.
“I’m sorry, Zantor,” Darek whispered, stroking the small bony head. “This is Father’s idea. He still finds it hard to trust you, though I keep telling him you’re no threat to the yukes or anything else.”
Zantor nuzzled Darek, and Darek smiled. “Come, little friend,” he whispered. “Let’s find you some supper.”
Darek lifted the torch and led the way down the path as the creature fluttered and danced around him, happy to be free. They came upon a patch of barliberry bushes, and Darek sat on a rock and watched while Zantor fed hungrily.
Darek still had to pinch himself sometimes, so strange did it seem to be friends with a dragon. He remembered how startled he had been that night, after the last dragonquest, when he had found the newborn in its dead mother’s pouch. He hadn’t known what to do. Watching the little dragon now, though, Darek knew he had made the right decision. Returning Zantor to the Valley of the Dragons had led Darek to an important discovery. The dragons, which he had been taught to hate and fear all his life, were not what they appeared to be. Fierce only when threatened, they wanted nothing more than to be left alone to live in peace.
When Darek had shared this news with the members of the search party who came after him, the women had welcomed it—no more of their sons would have to die in the ritual dragonquests. But the men were harder to convince. It had taken Bodak, whose son, Yoran, had died in the last dragonquest, to turn the tide.
Zantor shuffled over and dropped a cluster of barliberries in Darek’s lap. Darek smiled and scratched the little dragon under his chin.
“I still can’t believe Father is letting you come home with us,” Darek whispered. “But then, how could he object when Bodak and Zilah offered to take you in, even knowing that your mother killed their son?”
The dragonling snuggled down against Darek’s leg, and Darek pulled a berry from the clump in his lap and chewed it thoughtfully. Why was Father still angry? he wondered. The other villagers in their party seemed to see the value of befriending the dragons. There would be no more fighting, no more killing. The dragons and Zorians could help one another in many ways. Most exciting of all, the dragons could take the Zorians flying! Darek’s eyes shone as he remembered his own flight in the pouch of a Great Blue.
Then, as quickly as it had come, his joy faded into worry again. Darek’s father was Chief Marksman, an important man in the village, soon to join the Circle of Elders. What if the elders felt as he did? What if they accused Darek of treason? Treason was a serious crime.
Crime! Darek suddenly sat up straight, eyes wide, heart thumping. No wonder his father was so upset. Now Darek understood. Darek had been so preoccupied by the dragonling, he hadn’t stopped to think that he might be committing a crime. In Zoriak, if a child under the age of twelve committed a crime, it was the father who suffered the punishment! And Darek was only nine. A heavy weight settled in his chest. Much as he loved the little dragon, he loved his father more. The last thing he wanted was to get him in trouble.
Darek heard a soft “flubba bub bub bub, flubba bub bub bub.” He looked down to see the dragon curled up, gently snoring, his chin resting on Darek’s foot. Darek sighed. His heart felt like the rope in a tug-of-war, pulled first this way, then that, until it was ready to snap.
“Why did my brother have to kill your mother?” he whispered to the sleeping dragon. “Why did your mother have to kill Yoran?”
“Flubba bub bub bub” was the dragon’s only response, but Darek stared up at the night sky and found his answer in the cold and silent stars. The killings had happened because the killings had always happened, and unless Darek could make a change, the killings would go on and on and on . . . .
2
DAREK COULD HEAR THE VILLAGE bell clanging while he and the others were still some distance from town. The lookout had obviously caught sight of them. By the time they reached the bottom of the mountain pass, the village square was filled with people.
“Hooray!” the villagers shouted when they caught sight of Darek. “The boy has been found. The boy is well!” Then, on the heels of their cheers came another sound. A gasp of surprise swept through the crowd. “A dragonling!” Darek heard. “There’s a dragon with him!”
Darek pulled in Zantor’s chain, keeping him close. The crowd and the noise were making the creature skittish, and Darek wanted no problems. His father was already upset enough, staring straight ahead, stony faced as he strode along beside Darek. What was going through his father’s mind? Darek wondered. What fate awaited them all?
“Darek! Darek!”
Darek whirled at the sound of the familiar voice. “Pola? Pola, where are you?” Darek searched for his best friend in the sea of faces around him.
“Here. Over here.” A hand waved frantically, then Pola burst through the crowd and rushed up and threw his arms around Darek. “You’re safe!” he cried.
“Yes, yes, I’m fine . . . .”
“What happened? They say you went to the Valley of the Dragons. They say—”
Suddenly Pola stopped talking and pulled back. He stared oddly at Darek. “By the twin moons of Zoriak,” he whispered, “what happened to you?” He pointed at Darek’s belly.
Darek looked down. In his excitement over seeing his friend, he hadn’t noticed that Zantor had somehow wiggled in between them and shoved his head up under Darek’s tunic, making Darek look like a four-legged, blue-tailed beast that was about to deliver a baby.
Darek laughed in spite of his fear. “Will you get out of there?” he whispered, pushing Zantor’s head down and out.
“Rrronk!” cried the little beast. He ducked between Darek’s legs and shoved his head up under the back side of the tunic.
Darek grinned, red faced, at Pola. “It’s—it’s a dragon,” he stammered. “He—uh—thinks I’m his mother.”
“A what?!” Pola took another step back.
“It’s okay,” Darek hurried to say. “He’s harmless. See?” He gently pushed the dragon out from under his tunic again and coaxed him around front. “That’s a good boy,” he murmured, rubbing the knobby head affectionately.
“DAREK!”
Darek jumped, and the dragonling dived between his legs and up under his tunic again. Darek turned in the
direction of his father’s voice and saw that the crowd had parted to let Darek’s father, Yanek, pass. His father and the Chief Elder waited up ahead in the village square. “Bring the beast forward,” his father yelled.
Darek gulped. “I gotta go,” he whispered nervously to Pola. “I’ll explain later.” He hurried forward, dragging the baby dragon along behind.
3
DAREK STARED UP INTO THE stern eyes of the Chief Elder and blurted out the whole story—how he had found the newborn dragon and taken him back to the Valley of the Dragons, how a Great Blue dragon had befriended them, and finally, how he had placed himself between the dragons and the Zorian rescue party in order to avert a battle.
“The dragons let us go unharmed,” Darek ended breathlessly. “Don’t you see? They didn’t want to fight. They don’t like to fight. They only fight to protect their young.”
The Chief Elder’s hard expression never wavered. If he found any of this news surprising, he gave no sign. All around them the villagers crowded close, murmuring in hushed tones and waiting for the Chief’s reaction. Overhead the violet rays of the Zorian sun beat down. Beads of sweat began to trickle down Darek’s neck and back.
Suddenly Darek felt something tickle between his shoulder blades. He twitched and tried to ignore it, but it came again. Zantor, still hiding under the back of Darek’s tunic, was licking the droplets of salty sweat with his scratchy tongue. Darek twitched again and tried to hold back a giggle, but it was no use. The more he twitched, the more the little tongue flicked. At last Darek could stand it no more. He burst out laughing and crumpled up in a heap of hysterics, rolling and kicking on the ground, trying to get away from the tickly tongue. The more Darek laughed, though, the more Zantor seemed to think it was all a great game, and no sooner would Darek roll free than the little beast would pounce again, seeking out another bare patch of skin to tease. Round and round in the dust they rolled, laughing and thrumming, wiggling and tickling until at last they both lay still, too exhausted to move another muscle.
Darek lay on his stomach in the dirt, still giggling in little bursts and trying to catch his breath when he noticed the sea of boots and clogs around him.
“Uh-oh,” he mumbled, remembering where he was and why. He slowly rolled over and looked up.
The Chief Elder’s eyes were hard as granite, and Darek’s father’s face was crimson, but, Darek noted with some relief, many of the other villagers were smiling.
“Rise!” the Chief’s voice boomed.
Darek scrambled to his feet, and the dragon darted behind him and dived under his shirt again. The Chief Elder’s face wrinkled in disgust. He turned to a pair of guards who stood nearby.
“Take the beast to the guardhouse,” he said.
“The guardhouse!” Darek cried, his arms shielding the dragon. “No, you can’t!”
The Chief Elder nodded to the guards, and they began to circle Darek.
“No. Please,” Darek argued, circling too, trying to keep his body between the dragonling and the guards. “You don’t understand. He’ll be terrified.”
One of the guards lunged and grabbed Zantor by the tail.
“Rrronk! Rrronk!” the dragonling yowled, digging his claws into Darek’s back.
“Ouch! Stop! Please! He’s clawing me! Aaagh!”
The guard went on pulling, the dragon went on clawing, and Darek went on screaming until at last Darek heard his mother yell, “Yanek, for the sake of Lord Eternal, do something!”
Darek’s father finally stepped forward and gave the guard a shove that sent him sprawling backward into the dust. Gasps of surprise rippled through the crowd, but Darek hardly noticed, intent on freeing himself from Zantor’s frantic clutches. At last he coaxed the dragonling out from under his tunic.
“It’s okay, Zantor. It’s okay,” he whispered. “I won’t let them take you away.” Zantor shivered and nuzzled his head against Darek’s chest.
Darek’s father went over and extended a hand to help the fallen guard to his feet, then he turned, his face crimson again, and bowed to the Chief Elder.
“A thousand pardons, Sire . . . ,” he began.
“Silence!” The Chief Elder gestured to the guards. “Throw him in the guardhouse too!” he bellowed.
The guards grabbed hold of Darek’s father, but before they could take him away, Darek’s mother rushed up and linked arms with her husband. Bodak and his wife, Zilah, quickly joined them, then another woman and another man did as well. Soon the whole rescue party stood arm in arm. Darek’s father seemed startled, and deeply touched.
“Sire,” he said, his voice stronger now, “my son speaks the truth. Those of us who followed him to the Valley of the Dragons have seen it for ourselves. The time has come to talk.”
4
AN IMMEDIATE MEETING OF THE Circle of Elders was called. Darek’s father and Bodak were commanded to attend.
“What do you think will happen?” Darek and his brother, Clep, asked their mother as they made their way home, trailed very closely by Zantor.
“I don’t know,” she said simply. “We’ll just have to wait and see.”
“But can’t we do something in the meantime?” Darek begged.
“Yes,” said his mother. “We can do the chores. Lord Eternal knows they’ve been left waiting long enough.”
Zantor stepped on Darek’s heel. Darek staggered a few feet, then regained his balance. He turned and glared down at the dragonling, who bumped smack into him again in his haste to catch up. All this togetherness was beginning to get on Darek’s nerves. “Is it necessary to walk on my feet?” he snapped.
The little dragon stared up at him a moment in surprise, then—thwip!—out darted the forked tongue, planting a tickly little dragon kiss right on Darek’s lips.
Darek rolled his eyes skyward, and Clep and their mother burst out laughing. Darek couldn’t help laughing too, which made Zantor do a happy little shuffling jig.
“That’s the way,” said Darek, nodding to the dragon. “Practice being cute. You’re going to need all your tricks when Father comes back and finds we’ve brought you home with us.”
“Well,” said Darek’s mother, “I don’t see what choice we had, other than sending you off to live with Bodak and Zilah too.”
Darek’s smile faded and he sighed. “I fear Father will think that the better choice,” he said.
Darek’s mother slid an arm around his shoulders as they walked. “Don’t you believe that,” she said. “Not for a moment. Your father may be worried and confused, but he still loves you very much.”
“Enough to put up with a dragon in the family?” asked Darek.
Darek’s mother reached over and patted the little horn nubs on Zantor’s head. “Yes,” she said, “I think so . . . in time.”
“In time?” Darek frowned. “But what are we to do now? Father will be back in a little while.”
They had reached home, and Darek’s mother pushed open the garden gate and looked over at the messy, neglected barnyard. “I think chores would be a very good idea,” she said.
5
FORTUNATELY, MOST OF THE YUKES had new calves, so they had not suffered for lack of milking. The zok eggs had piled up some, though, and were beginning to smell. The zoks squawked and scolded as Darek and Clep reached into their nests and gathered up the eggs.
“Rrronk, rrronk,” cried Zantor when the boys carried two brimming basketfuls of foul-smelling eggs out of the zok house. They carried them down near the river, then went to get shovels. But by the time they had returned, Zantor had already dug a deep hole and pushed the eggs in. As the boys watched, he neatly covered the hole over again.
“Wow,” said Clep. “He’s pretty handy to have around.”
“I told you,” said Darek. “Imagine the things a big one could do. It could plow up a field in no time!”
“Yeah,” said Clep thoughtfully. “Or dig irrigation ditches.”
“Or help in the zitanium mines,” added Darek.
; “Or dig a swimming hole,” said Clep, eyes shining. Darek and Clep had always dreamed of having their own swimming hole.
“Sure,” said Darek as they picked up their shovels and headed back to the paddock. “All we’d have to do is feed them.”
“Feed them!” Clep wrinkled up his brow. “Did you happen to notice how big they get?”
“Of course I did. But with all their help we could easily raise enough food.”
Clep still looked skeptical.
“Wanna see something else?” said Darek. He picked up a couple sticks and placed them on the ground. Immediately Zantor started shuffling around and nudging more sticks into the pile. When the pile was just the right size for a campfire—whoosh!—a stream of flame shot out of the little dragon’s mouth and set it all ablaze.
“Wow,” Clep repeated.
“That’s nothing,” said Darek, and he launched into the story of how he had flown in the pouch of a Great Blue, high above the Valley of the Dragons. Darek had already told Clep the story, several times in fact, on the journey back from the valley, but Darek could see that Clep was only just now beginning to believe it. Darek smiled, thinking how hard it would be for him to believe if it hadn’t actually happened to him.
“It’s like nothing you’ve done in your life before, Clep,” he said wistfully. “They are the most magnificent creatures!”
Clep stared at Darek a moment, then looked away.
“What’s wrong?” asked Darek.
“Nothing,” said Clep.
“Yes there is. I can see it. Tell me, Clep. Please.”
Clep kicked another stick into the fire and shoved his hands into his breeches. “It’s just that . . . well, a couple days ago I was a hero, a Marksman. Now I feel like a murderer. You’ve changed everything, Darek. I don’t know what I am anymore.”
SPLAT!
A zok egg came flying over the paddock wall and hit Darek square in the middle of the forehead.
A Dragon in the Family Page 1