DragonSpell (11 page)

         
15
         

O
NE
D
RAGON

“What should we do?” Kale asked.

Dar sat down beside her in tailor-fashion with his legs crossed. “You’re the one who read the book.”

“Wait, just wait,” said Kale. “That’s all we can do. The book said to be patient.”

“Sounds like good advice.”

She realized Dar had given her this same advice earlier. She looked up to see a familiar wide grin breaking over his face. She smiled back.

“The book said to let the dragon hatch out on its own. I can hold the egg, but not peel back any of the bits and pieces of the shell as they crack.”

“How long will it take?”

“Fifteen minutes to an hour and a half.”

“Time for another cup of tea.” He got up and went back to his cookstove.

Kale cradled the egg, intent on watching every moment.

A crack widened, and a wee bit of shell pressed outward.

“Dar, there’s a hole. A tiny hole.”

He looked up from dropping tea leaves into the kettle. “Can you see the dragon?”

Kale examined the grayish membrane exposed by the hole. “I think so.”

“What color is it?”

Is that the dragon’s skin?
“I can’t tell.”

“I bet it’ll be green.”

Kale remembered what she’d read only the night before. The minor dragons had different abilities. All could fly. All could mindspeak with people. But some were fighters, some peacemakers, some masters of fire, some healers, and the list went on. The color of their scales indicated which subspecies they fell into. Thinking of the times she’d been healed by holding this egg, Kale nodded. “A healing dragon? Green. Yes, I think so too.”

Dar brought her a fresh cup of tea while she watched, but he didn’t hover over the egg as she did. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him go back to his cookstove. He poured oil into a small pot and, out of his provisions, made a soft dough.

Kale heard a sizzle. She lifted her eyes to puzzle over what he was doing. He rolled dough into a thin rope and dropped it into his pot. An aroma of sweet bread arose with another rush of furious sizzling. She had no idea what he was making. Her attention went back to the cracking egg.

“Dar, it just broke out a piece the size of my thumbnail.”

“Can you see the color now?”

Kale wrinkled her nose. “A dull green. Not nearly as pretty as your Merlander. But the book said the color will brighten after it hatches.”

Dar brought her a tin plate piled high with finger-sized crispy bread. She took it absent-mindedly, placing it on the leafy floor beside her. She put one of the skinny fried sticks in her mouth.

“Mmm, this is good,” she said, but her eyes were still on the egg cupped in one hand.

“Fried mullins,” said Dar.

Kale nodded.

“Granny Noon gave me the recipe.”

Kale nodded again and took another bite. Dar shrugged and walked back to his improvised kitchen. She noticed he looked dejected when he sat down and pulled out his harmonica.

“I’m sorry, Dar. They really are good.”

Dar chuckled. “Don’t worry about it, Kale. It’s only right that your attention is on the hatchling. Let me see if I can come up with a tune suitable for the emergence of a minor dragon.”

He placed the wide instrument to his lips and blew a reedy scale, then settled on a stately melody known as “The Dragon Dance.”

Kale watched as another piece of the egg broke away. Anxious not to drop the baby should he suddenly tumble out, she placed her other hand beside the one holding the egg. The dragon’s head pushed through and slid across her wrist. Its wings emerged and then tiny front legs. It rested. Kale watched it take a long breath and let it out. Another and another. Then with a jerk, its hind legs kicked the shattered shell away.

“He’s out,” she whispered. “He’s out.”

With eyes still closed, the baby dragon rubbed his ridged chin over Kale’s skin. She cradled him with one hand and picked away the bits of discarded shell with the other. Soon she felt the familiar thrum she recognized from when the dragon had first quickened in the egg. It lay in her hand, gently stretching, rubbing its scaly skin against her roughened palm. It twisted on its side and then its back, seemingly trying to move every bit of its hide into contact with Kale’s hand.

As she watched, the gray-green color took on a richer hue. Shades of emerald green appeared on its back. Lighter, brighter shades lined its sides. Its underside glistened with the pale green of a new leaf. She marveled at its miniature claws and the delicate membranes stretching over its wings.

The dragon opened tiny eyes, dark and glittering, and looked directly into her face. Its eyes locked with hers, and she took in a sharp breath as she felt the mind connection snap into place.

“It’s a boy,” she told Dar in a soft voice. “His name is Gymn.”

Dar’s music stopped. He slipped the harmonica into his jacket pocket and came to admire the newborn.

“He’s a beauty, Kale.”

The dragon flipped over on his belly and stretched. Kale felt his tiny feet pushing into her palm. He raised up on hind legs and cautiously his wings unfolded, stretching into a six-inch spread. The leathery membranes darkened to almost black but still the tinge of green held.

“Let him hear your voice, Kale. Sing to him.”

“What shall I sing?”

“Anything.”

Kale searched for something she knew all the words to. Ordinarily, a slave was not encouraged to sing, but she’d rocked many a fussy baby for the dames of the village, and those were times she was allowed to croon. She began to hum a harvest tune about seeds and sun, rain and grain. Dar pulled out his harmonica and joined her. Encouraged, she sang,

“Dry seed planted in the ground,

Wait for sun and rain to come ’round,

Hope in the future, rest in the land.

You are part of Wulder’s plan.

Toommba la-la, trillo coom day.

Toommba la-la, sen-sa-may.

Toommba la-la, trillo coom day.

Toommba la-la, sen-sa-may.”

Gymn perched in the palm of her hand, swaying gently in time to the music. Then his outstretched wings moved up and down with a rhythmic swish-swish. Kale felt his hind leg muscles tense as she started the second verse. Suddenly, he leapt into the air, flapped his wings with more strength, and landed on her shoulder. She laughed out loud as the tiny green creature snuggled up against her chin and rubbed her cheek affectionately.

Dar lowered the harmonica and smiled. “When will he be hungry?”

“Tomorrow,” Kale answered, “according to the book.” She reached up one finger to stroke the baby’s soft green belly.

“Then let’s get moving.”

“Moving?”

“I told you I have the wanderlust, Kale. We’ll explore The Bogs. We might find a trace of Leetu Bends or a clue as to where to find her.”

Kale’s heart plummeted. How could she have forgotten? Leetu was in danger. She closed her eyes and reached with her mind, hoping she’d brush against the presence of the emerlindian.

Darkness hit her. Gymn squeaked and fell from her shoulder into her lap. She opened her eyes to see his limp body across the fine material of one knickered leg.

“Dar?” Kale squealed.

“Don’t panic, Kale.” Dar leaned over the baby dragon. “He’s still breathing.”

         
16
         

F
INDING THE
T
RAIL

“What happened?” Kale tried to keep the panic from her voice.

Dar ran a finger down Gymn’s back.

“Watch his tail,” he said, and again stroked the length of the animal’s back. When he reached the vertebrae at the base of the tail, Gymn’s tail tip twitched. “There! He’s unconscious, but there’s no bad damage if his reflexes are still good. He’s breathing, too, without any raspy noises or gasping. I think he’ll be okay.”

“But what happened?”

“I don’t know, and there’s not much point in guessing.”

Dar and Kale continued to watch the baby dragon. Soon his eyes fluttered, and he looked up at Kale. Immediately, he sprang to his feet and scrambled under the edge of her cape and into the top pocket.

“He’s afraid,” said Kale. “I can feel it.”

“What’s he afraid of?”

Kale thought about the sequence of events.

“I reached for Leetu, and that same ugly darkness met me,” she explained. “That must have been what happened.” She paused, cupping her hand over the cape where the baby dragon shivered in the pocket underneath. “I think he fainted.”

Dar chortled. “Well, I’ve never heard of a dragon fainting before, but he
is
just a baby.”

Dar got up and went to pack away the rest of his equipment.

“Do you want to go up a couple of layers in the cygnot? The air will probably be cooler and fresher.”

“Are you hot?” asked Kale.

“I’m not wearing a moonbeam cape, Kale. I am very hot!”

She stared at him, not understanding.

He let out an exasperated sigh. “Stick out your hand. Stretch it away from the cape. Feel the air.”

Kale did as she was told. Her fingertips touched the air a foot beyond the moonbeam material. The hot, moist atmosphere of the swamp coated her hand. She drew it back quickly. Within a circle around the cape, the air cooled to a pleasant temperature.

Startled, she glanced up at Dar and saw a peculiar expression on his face. She reached to his mind and caught the last of a thought.

“…lot to learn.”

I know. Councilman Meiger said I didn’t know anything.

“First off, it’s rude to come into my mind like that. You are supposed to be learning manners as well as controlling your talent.”

I’m sorry. I didn’t think first.

“Second,”
Dar went on without acknowledging her apology,
“there’s no crime in not knowing something. However, it’s a shame to turn away from an opportunity to learn. Not a crime, but definitely a poor choice.

“Don’t worry about what you don’t know. Just think about how much you’ve learned in the last few days. You keep up at this rate, in a week you’ll know everything there is to know in the universe.”

Kale watched a big teasing grin take over her friend’s face. Even if he was poking fun at her in his big brother way, she liked him, and she liked what he said. It was true. She had learned an awful lot since she left River Away. And now she was responsible for a baby dragon.

That thought made her smile. And she had seven more dragon eggs that would someday hatch. She couldn’t help the glow that settled on her. But her next thought snuffed out the light. She was also supposed to find one wizard who didn’t want to be found, a meech egg held by the evil Wizard Risto, and Leetu who might be dead already.

She saw Dar latch the straps of his pack and swing it onto his shoulder. He picked up Leetu’s bundles as well. One he handed to Kale. The other he tucked under his arm.

“Dar?”

“One thing at a time, Kale. We do the one thing that is in front of us to do and trust Wulder to lead us to the rest.”

“Are you sure you don’t read my mind?”

“No, but your face is pretty easy to understand. You looked happy, then worried, then panicked.”

Kale nodded.

Even encumbered by so many packs, Dar made a courtly bow in her direction. “Shall we go, my lady?” He swept one arm toward the treetops. “Our destiny awaits us.”

He had at least made her feel more cheerful. Kale softly laughed, patted the pocket holding the cowering dragon, and got to her feet.

“How do we get up there?”

“Climb,” said Dar. He walked closer to the nearest trunk and then peered upward. “There.” He bent his knees for a second and then sprang straight up, catching an overhead branch on the first try. Without a struggle, he chinned himself on it, and then poked his arms through the foliage. In only a moment, he wiggled through to the next layer.

Kale watched his feet disappear and almost panicked again.

Stop it!
she told herself.
He’s out of sight, not gone. You’ll be up there with him in just a minute. You’re taller than Dar, and you’ve climbed lots of trees. You can do this.

Dar’s smiling face appeared, hanging upside down from the hole he’d made.

“Coming?”

“Yes.”

She moved underneath him. He put an arm down to help.

“I can do it,” she protested.

The arm disappeared, and the branch trembled as he moved away. Kale’s head brushed the lowest hanging leaves. She pushed her hands and arms through the hole and realized the opening was only big enough for the smaller doneel. She’d have to force her body through, enlarging the hole as she went.

Twigs and rough limbs scraped and poked as she hoisted herself, using her arms.

I can’t get stuck. It would be too embarrassing.

She reached out and grabbed a branch woven into the cygnot floor, and by pulling on it, she inched higher over the edge. Another stout twig jabbed her stomach. Rolling sideways, she managed to unhook herself from that snag only to find her blouse caught again.

Well, I said I could do it myself, but he doesn’t have to ignore me.

She craned her neck around to the left. No Dar. She looked to the right. No Dar. Startled, she scrambled out of the hole, heedless of the grabby branches.

“Dar!”

“Up here.”

Kale looked up to see his face showing through the next layer of branches. Biting back angry words, Kale stood and leapt at the hole. This time the branches were more than a foot above her head, but her irritation toward the doneel gave her a boost. She squirmed through the hole quickly.

“Good,” she said. “You haven’t had time to vanish.”

He looked puzzled. “Vanish?”

“Never mind.” She stood and brushed loose bits of leaves from her clothes. “Are we going up again?”

“No, I think this will do. Let’s go.”

“I want to check on Gymn first.”

Dar sighed but didn’t object.

Kale opened the cape and peeked into the top pocket.

“He’s asleep.”

“Ready now?”

Kale didn’t answer. She looked around. “I can stand up straight here, and the upper limbs won’t catch in my hair. It’s lighter, too. More sun gets through.” She lifted her face and closed her eyes. “And there’s a breeze.” She opened her eyes to look at Dar. “Why didn’t Leetu bring us up here sooner?”

“Look down,” said Dar.

Kale immediately saw the difference. “Oh.”

These limbs were thinner with less foliage. Big holes gaped in the flooring, and some places looked as if the branches might give way under any weight at all.

“Leetu wanted you to have a chance to practice walking where it was easier,” Dar explained. “The cygnot floor is called planking. Each time you go up a level toward the sun, the planking is less firmly woven together. The branches are younger, more supple. They bend and slip to the side when you step on them. You’ve practiced below. Now with a little more practice, you’ll master this planking as well.”

“It would have been more comfortable for you and Leetu up here.”

“Yes, but not if we had to keep dragging you back up through several floors of the cygnot forest.”

Kale nodded agreement with Dar’s explanation, but she suspected Leetu had thought mostly of making the journey easier on a poor, untrained o’rant girl.

“Well,” she said, “let’s get started. Which direction?”

Dar pointed. “That way. Deeper into The Bogs.”

“Can the mordakleeps get up here?”

“Yep.” Dar headed out.

Kale followed, watching every step and cringing a little when the intertwined flooring sank under her feet. Several times she hopped to a bigger branch just as she felt she was sliding through the planking.

Kale stopped occasionally as the day progressed to peek at the newborn dragon. Mostly Gymn slept. Once in a while he stretched and turned over.

He seems comfortable. The cape is probably making his little pocket den just the right temperature.
She slapped at a bug as it landed on her face.
At least he’ll be able to catch enough food for himself. I hope he has a hearty appetite.
She slapped at another insect, and waved her hand beside her ear where something small buzzed.
I’ll have to ask Dar for that stick that keeps the bugs away next time we stop.

“Kale.”
Leetu’s voice, weak and distant, called to her.

Kale stopped in her tracks. “Dar!”

“What?”

“I heard Leetu.”

Dar sprinted back from his position in the lead.

“What did she say?”

“Just my name, and then nothing.”

“Concentrate.”

“I am. I mean, I will.”

Dar stood perfectly still and stared at her. Kale closed her eyes so she wouldn’t have to see him and his expression. He looked as if he expected her to know where Leetu was and whether she was all right and if they could get to her. And oh, how she wanted to know all those things too.

With her eyes closed, she reached out to Leetu. She hesitated. That awful dark emptiness might be out there ready to swallow her up.

It hits so hard when it comes. It hurts. It’s like a nothingness, an emptiness, a…something I can’t name. But it hurts all the way down to my heart.

Stop it! Stop it! I’ve got to quit thinking. I’ve got to try. Leetu spoke to me. She did. I didn’t imagine it. And if she spoke to me, she needs me. She’s someplace where Dar and I can help her. I’ve got to quit thinking about doing it and just do it.

Gently, Kale reached. Slow. Careful. Like reaching out in the dark, she felt ahead of her, not rushing. She didn’t come up against the ugly, terrifying blackness. She reached and stretched, and her mind penetrated all directions at once.

Then she knew.

Her eyes flew open and she looked toward the setting sun. Small pink splotches of sky peeked through the overhead branches.

“That way,” she said.

“That’s where we just came from.”

“Leetu is somewhere in that direction.”

“Are you sure?”

Kale started to say yes and then stopped.

Am I?

She reached with her mind again but focused west.

There. She felt it again. Leetu. Not her thoughts, but her person. No words, just a longing to be free, to escape.

“I’m sure, Dar, and we have to hurry.”

Tears filled her eyes. She didn’t know if the desperation was her own feeling or Leetu’s.

“We have to hurry.”