DragonFire

by Donita K. Paul

  Other animals crashed through the undergrowth, trying to escape the blazes. Kale didn’t see as many as she heard. Most of the fleeing creatures looked like ordinary forest wildlife. Occasionally, an odd shape would pass too quickly for her to identify.

  A breeze cleared away the smoke. She hauled in a lungful of fresh air.

  Good for us, Ardeo. But not good as far as the fire goes. The wind will push the flames into more trees. I read that a forest fire makes its own wind. I wonder if that’s true.

  You don’t hear me, do you? Of course not. But it feels good to think I’m speaking to you. Did that make sense?

  A cloud of smoke dropped over them and concealed the trees a few yards ahead.

  “Let’s go.” Kale followed Ardeo’s shimmering body.

  Another animal slammed through the bushes and into Kale’s leg, knocking her over. The creature kept going. Kale struggled to her feet.

  We must be going in the right direction. Don’t the animals know the quickest way to safe ground? Didn’t I see a couple of small lakes and a river from Alton’s back? Were they this way? I think so.

  The air cleared again. The sound of burning woods drowned out the cries of terror from the woodland creatures. Kale followed Ardeo. The smoke thinned, then thickened. Kale made herself hurry even more. She refused to think of the flames reaching Alton’s body. She refused to believe that safety was more than a few more yards away.

  Plowing through the clawing limbs of the bushes, she prayed Ardeo would be all right. He had no protection for his lungs. She held the cape over the lower half of her face and still felt the sting of poisoned air.

  An animal screeched like a nocturnal bird that calls out as they hit their prey with sharp talons. The cry came again, above her and some distance behind, but closer than the first call.

  Something landed on her back. Claws dug into her scalp. Searing pain tore through her flesh. Had she been struck by a burning branch? Kale twisted. Thin, hairy arms wrapped around her head. Small hands with long yellow claws scraped down her forehead and pulled the moonbeam cape away.

  Kale fell forward. Still the animal dug its hands into her hair, pulling and scratching. She batted at it and tried to shield her head. Teeth sank into her hand. She shook her whole arm to dislodge the small beast. The last hard shake flung the creature into the bushes. Kale rolled in the opposite direction and got to her knees.

  The animal came out of the thicket and stood glaring at her. Coarse brown hair covered its wiry body except the face that looked oddly like a face belonging to any of the high races. It pulled back its lips, showing long, pointed teeth. Screeching, it launched itself into the tree limbs and swung away, catching each branch with hairless hands at the end of long arms.

  Kale sat back. Every scratch and bite burned like fire. Fire! She had to make herself move. “Ardeo! Ardeo!” The smoke made her voice scratchy. She stood and swayed. “Ardeo!”

  Walking on trembling legs, she continued to call. “Ardeo!”

  She stumbled and fell. A gray rock caught her attention. She reached out. Her fingers touched not cold stone, but Ardeo’s leathery skin. Tenderly, she scooped him up and once more got to her feet. Opening her cape, she placed him in the sling with Gymn.

  She didn’t think she could go on, but if she didn’t, they all would die.

  The woods thinned. A field stretched just beyond the last trees. A bisonbeck throng milled over trampled meadow grass. The fact that this was an army took a minute to sink into Kale’s mind.

  There isn’t anyplace else to go.

  She fell out of the last bit of underbrush. Rough hands picked her up.

  “It’s Kale Allerion, the Dragon Keeper.”

  “The master will be pleased.”

  She’d fallen into the hands of enemy soldiers, and all Kale could hope was that they had some ointment to soothe the burning wounds inflicted by the strange animal.

  Kale regained consciousness on an elevated canvas cot in a large tent.

  “Send for Latho’s wife.” A deep voice, but Kale felt certain it was a female.

  “They say she can deal with this vermin.” A different voice, lower than the first, but still having the sound of a woman.

  The rustle of cloth. “I can’t wait to get these lizards out of my medic tent.” The first voice. “They hiss at me every time I go near this Dragon Keeper person. Go, now, Urssa. Don’t stand there talking. Go get Latho’s wife, Bends.”

  That’s funny. I know a woman named Bends. Leetu Bends. If she were here now, we’d be on our way out of this camp.

  Her mind drifted. People moved in the tent. She heard moans but sometimes couldn’t tell if the moans came from her or others. The claw marks from the beast burned. A cold, wet rag draped over her forehead and hair. Occasionally, someone would come and pour fresh cool water on her head. She tried not to move. She tried not to cry out.

  Kale opened her eyes and stared into the face of a bisonbeck woman.

  “She’s awake.” The woman straightened and gestured to someone. “Come, Bends, take these beasts so I can tend her wounds. Crim Cropper wants her alive.”

  Another woman came to the side of the bed. Kale stared at the face. She did look like Leetu Bends. Kale blinked. No, it was a bisonbeck woman. Someone’s wife. The bisonbeck woman named Bends held a large woven container.

  Kale watched her pick up the minor dragons and place them in the basket. She tried to protest. Her dragons shouldn’t be going with this woman. Why didn’t they resist?

  Again the woman briefly resembled Leetu Bends, and then her features shifted back into the face of a stranger.

  The woman frowned. “There should be a green one somewhere. Have you seen a green one?”

  “Under that cape, if you can touch it. It burned my hand. But there’s a bulge under her tunic.”

  The dragon gatherer pulled back the moonbeam cape with no trouble and located Gymn.

  “You’ve got the touch, now, don’t you? I’m wondering where you picked up a way with dragons and the ability to handle things like that awful cape.”

  The woman shrugged and picked up Ardeo. “I lived with Pretender some. This one’s dead. You can toss it in the trash.”

  “I’m not putting that in my trashcan. It’ll stink by morning. Crim Cropper sent orders you were to take care of the dragons. You take care of them. That dead one as well as the live ones.”

  Tears formed in Kale’s eyes and ran down her temples.

  The woman hovering over her bent closer. She looked like Leetu Bends and then didn’t.

  “Hurry up, Bends. I want to go to bed sometime tonight.”

  “One such as this would have eggs on her. Did you look for a pouch with an egg?”

  “Didn’t I just tell you I couldn’t touch her much with the cape burning me and the dragons hissing and spitting and snapping?”

  Bends’s rough hands poked and patted Kale’s clothing. “Here they are. Give me scissors to cut this cloth.”

  The other woman handed over the shears, and with a few snips, the eggs were taken from Kale’s beautiful blue scarf and put in the basket.

  “Take that cape off her. Take it with you. Can you do that?”

  “Sure I can. Help me raise her up.”

  “Do it yourself. I’m not touching her till you’ve carried that thing away.”

  The Bends woman pushed Kale onto her side. Searing pain overwhelmed her. The last thing she remembered was the moonbeam cape being pulled out from under her.

  Shadows filled the tent. One lantern shone. Smoke clung to the air. Deep breathing set a rhythm in the background. Few noises seeped in through the canvas walls. Footsteps. A man’s voice in the distance. A scornful laugh.

  Kale’s face and scalp burned. Someone had placed her on her stomach with her face over the edge of the cot. A rolled towel under her chin kept her face from falling forward. The bed was raised a good distance off the ground. She tried to lift her hands but couldn’t. Her wrists were tied to the wooden
slats of the cot. She pulled. The binding held.

  “You were clawing your wounds.”

  Kale gasped. “Regidor?”

  Black boots appeared before her. A man knelt, a black cape swirling around his bent legs. Regidor’s strangely handsome meech face appeared in her view. He smiled.

  “Regidor, how did you get here? Did you come to rescue me?”

  “You’re in no shape to travel, and the roads are clogged with people fleeing the fire, coming to help extinguish the fire, and going back to their homes now that the fire is under control.”

  “It is? Under control? How?”

  “Kale, there is an army of men here. An army belonging to Crim Cropper who were terrified when Pretender showed up. They have earned the wrath of Lord Ire by pledging their loyalty to Cropper. Face to face with Cropper’s superior, they realized the folly of their ways and jumped to do his bidding. He ordered them into the burning forest to extinguish the flames.”

  Kale’s mind had wandered away halfway through his explanation. “Is Bardon here? Is he close? Is he coming?”

  “No, he’s on another mission.”

  “I need him, Regidor.”

  “I know.”

  “Where’s Gilda?”

  “Safe. Where she belongs and safe.”

  Kale gulped back a moan. The scorching heat of the wounds tormented her. “Regidor, I hurt. Can you fix it?”

  Compassion softened the meech dragon’s mouth. “No, I’m sorry. I can’t.”

  “But I can.”

  Kale saw a hand rest on Regidor’s shoulder. The fingers squeezed, then gave a pat. Regidor stood, and another man took his place. Kale nearly breathed Paladin’s name before she realized her mistake. Pretender could look a lot like her beloved leader. But harshness around his mouth and coldness in his eyes made the resemblance incomplete.

  “I can help you, Kale.”

  The pain washed deeper into her soul at the same time she heard her own voice saying, “No, no, no!” She couldn’t make deals with Pretender. Wulder would take care of her needs. Wulder would send someone to ease the pain and the fear that welled in her heart.

  “I can help now, Kale.”

  Pretender put a hand on her shoulder and his touch felt warm and comforting. The throbbing eased as if he had drawn off some of the poison.

  “Please.” Kale didn’t know what to ask. Right now she wanted reprieve. She sobbed. She would beg for some relief. But was that what Pretender offered?

  He moved closer. Leaned over her so that his warm breath tickled her cheek. “The creature who attacked you carried a venom. Poison devised by Crim Cropper. But as always in Crim Cropper’s designs, there is a flaw. I have the antidote.”

  “Please.”

  He pulled an orb from a pocket in the lining of his jacket. It was no larger than the end of his thumb, yet Kale had the impression it loomed large in the tent, even invading the entire camp with some mystical power. She trembled, thinking she should avoid this orb at all costs. Something inside the glass ball swirled and glowed, spun and faded, then glowed again.

  “I will give you the salve that will take away the pain, but I must ask you to carry this. The potion will not work unless you carry this to energize the ingredients.”

  Suspicion rose in Kale’s mind, but a surge of agony blocked it out. She stared into the orb, saw brilliant colors whirling, and some of the tension eased from her shoulders. Some of the pain ebbed away as well. Pretender lowered the pretty bauble out of sight, and the throbbing swept over her open gashes.

  She drew in a sharp breath. “Yes, please.”

  Pretender unwrapped the gauze binding that held her right hand to the cot. He placed the cold orb in her palm and wrapped her fingers around it. Then he bent her elbow, lifted her side slightly from the bed, and guided Kale’s hand underneath her. The orb rested within her clutched fingers tight against her chest.

  “Keep it close to your heart, Kale, and you will soon become strong.”

  Long into the morning, Kale stirred again. She lay on her back in the raised cot. Her wounds felt cool and slightly itchy. She reached a hand up to touch her cheek, and someone caught it at the wrist.

  “Ah, none of that. You’ll be undoing all the good we did.” The gruff bisonbeck woman of the day before stood beside her. This was the woman who ran the medic tents, not the one who looked like Leetu Bends.

  A bisonbeck who looked like a small, pale emerlindian? I must have been in the throes of a powerful poison to imagine that. Poison? Pretender used that word. Said he’d help me.

  “I’m better?”

  “You’re not going to die.”

  “Where did you get the salve to cure my wounds?”

  “What salve? You just needed a tincture of time and the same old ointment I use on every hurt that comes in here.”

  Perhaps I dreamed… “The smell of smoke is gone.”

  “Some. We had a rain during the night.”

  The nurse moved away from Kale’s cot. Kale followed her eyes, moving her head with very little pain. The woman bent over another patient on a raised cot.

  It was a dream. Why would Regidor be here? I thought a bisonbeck woman was Leetu Bends. Then I dreamed Regidor was here. And Pretender in Cropper’s camp when they’re at war? I dreamed it.

  She shifted to her side and became aware of an object in her hand. She drew her hand out from under the covers and slowly uncurled her fingers. In her hand was the orb.

  47

  DISCOVERY

  “Ouch!” Bardon jerked away from the sharp pain on his chin. He opened his eyes to see a small rodent, sitting on its haunches and watching him.

  Where am I? Stone floor. Dungeon. Cropper’s lower levels. Not a dungeon. But not a good place, either.

  He looked around, surprised that his neck had some mobility.

  They’ve left me alone.

  His eyes went back to the beady-eyed rodent.

  Not completely alone.

  “Shoo!”

  The little animal didn’t move.

  I suppose this is one of Cropper’s mutants. Unafraid of people and designed to inflict pain.

  The beastie put his front paws down and took a tentative step forward.

  Oh, no you don’t.

  Bardon forced his muscles to move. He rolled.

  Ah, not quite as incapacitated as Cropper thought.

  He tested his arms and legs. Some movement. Not much, but some.

  I’ve got to stand.

  He surveyed the room and decided the stairs going down presented his best option. He managed to get his arms in front of him and then raised up on his forearms to pull himself across the floor. He reached the doorway to the stairs and took a great deal of time to shift his body so his legs would go down first. With his concentration on reaching the steps, he hadn’t paid attention to the rodent. He glanced its way and moaned.

  So you have friends, do you? Lots of friends.

  One rodent had become at least a hundred. They mingled in their pack, not seeming to be interested in him. He scootched back until his whole body lay on the hard stone stairs. He bent his knees so that he knelt. Then he placed his hands on the step beneath his shoulders and pushed. After a tremendous struggle, he stood, sweat dripping off his brow and breathing as if he’d run a race. He leaned against the stairwell wall to recover.

  When he opened his eyes, the horde of rodents had moved to the top of the stairs.

  Why are you so interested in me?

  The rodents stared. The fact that they all stared, all sat on their haunches, and all had ceased any squeaking made Bardon nervous.

  It would be most convenient if you rodents turned out to be minnekens sent to rescue me. But, pardon me for thinking this, none of you look intelligent.

  Bardon eased down to the step behind him. Without hesitation, the rodents poured over the edge until the next step held no more room.

  I don’t like this.

  He took another step down. The rodents ad
vanced one more step. Bardon sucked in a breath. The number of rodents seemed to be increasing. The micelike creatures still filled the doorway to the stairs, yet at least a hundred had moved down.

  I don’t think I could outrun these creepy little monsters, but I’m sure going to try to get away.

  As if they understood Bardon’s decision, the rodents surged down the stairs and surrounded him. They clawed and chewed his pant legs. He felt them gnawing on his boots.

  Bardon tried to go up and discovered his knee would not bend enough to manage the step. He moved down, knocking rodents away and stepping on a few. Bardon shivered. The image of the beasties crawling up his legs sent a tremor of panic through his body.

  Steady, Sir Bardon. This is no time to lose your discipline. “Think clearly. Act rationally. Wulder has given you a choice as to how you behave. Choose well and you will prosper.”

  He continued down the stairs. He reached a landing and made the turn. At the bottom of this flight, he saw that a heavy wooden door blocked whatever level he approached.

  Wulder, I need that door to be unlocked.

  He continued down, one painstaking step at a time, trying not to let the rodents trip him, not caring how many he injured in his clumsy descent.

  When he reached the door, he lifted the latch and pulled it open. With speed generated by fear, he jerked his body around the door’s edge and slammed it shut. At his feet were a fraction of the rodents that had come down the stairs with him. The hem of his pant legs hung in tatters. Sharp, tiny teeth had scarred the leather of his boots. The rodents still plagued his feet, and he didn’t have enough suppleness in his legs to shake them off.

  He examined his surroundings. On either side of the small platform where he stood, two doors stretched from the floor to low ceiling. He tried each one, but the locks held fast. If an escape route existed behind one of the doors, he wasn’t going to be able to use it. He hobbled across the square of stone floor and started down another flight of stairs.

  With each step down he injured several of the rodents, but the tenacious beasts still harried his feet and lower legs. The boots kept him safe from their gnawing teeth. At the bottom of this set of stairs, he found an unlocked door that provided a way to diminish the number of beasties plaguing him. He stepped through and faced two frustrating doors, locked and unyielding. And another stretch of steps led downward.