“This way,” said Darek’s father, hurrying to the front of the group. “We’ll have to make a run for the main entrance.” He led the way down another passage, and Darek followed willingly. It felt good, for the moment, to be a kid again, to let his father take control.
The passage twisted this way and that. Soon they heard shouts and pounding footsteps behind them.
“Run faster!” came Clep’s voice from behind.
Darek’s breath was already coming in ragged puffs, but he pushed himself even harder. Pola and Rowena were close on his heels, and Zantor fluttered overhead. Clep and the other fathers brought up the rear. At last the tunnel began to widen. Darek could hear the howling of Mizzle and his Night Spirits in the distance.
“We must be near the entrance,” Darek cried over his shoulder.
Sure enough, they rounded a bend, and there stood huge wooden doors. The way to freedom!
Then Darek’s father stepped aside, and Darek saw that between them and the doors stood a dozen armed guards.
12
DAREK TRIED TO TURN BACK, but it was too late. More guards were already herding Pola, Rowena, and the others into the center of the room. They all huddled together, downcast, and breathing heavily. Zantor seemed to sense Darek’s despair.
“Rrronk,” he cried softly.
“Well, well,” said one of the guards. “What have we here? A family reunion? How cozy.”
Darek could hear Mizzle and the others still howling and shrieking outside. He swallowed hard and looked down. They had come so close to freedom. So close! Tears stung his eyes.
One of the guards stepped forward. “I know these three,” he said. “These are the three whelps that escaped from the dragon nurseries a while back.”
Darek looked up—into the eyes of Daxon, Master of the stockyards. Daxon’s eyes narrowed.
“That’s right, boy,” Daxon said. “It’s me. Your old master. Thanks to you, I’ve been demoted to mine guard.” He laughed wickedly. “Now I’ll have a chance to redeem myself.”
Daxon stepped forward and grabbed Darek by the shoulders and started to shake him. Out of the corner of his eye, Darek saw his father rush forward. But another guard shoved him aside.
“Rrronk, rrronk!” cried Zantor. He flew up and clawed at Daxon, but Daxon brushed him off like a flea. “Kill that dragonling!” he bellowed to the other guards.
“Rrronk, rrronk!” Darek heard Zantor cry as several guards grabbed for him.
“No!” Darek shouted. “Please!” But then a powerful blow stung him across the cheek. He tasted blood in his mouth.
“Rrronk, rrrOWK, GRRAWWWK!” Darek heard. Then suddenly there came a great thrashing and crashing. Guards went flying, and a burst of flame flashed above Darek’s head, scorching Daxon’s beard.
“Aagh!” Daxon cried. He let go of Darek and began to beat at the flames.
Darek turned. Zantor was full size again and angrier than Darek had ever seen him! Guards flew left and right. Weapons clattered to the floor. Bursts of flame flashed around the room like lightning. With cries of terror, the guards gathered up their fallen comrades and ran for the tunnel.
“Zantor!” Darek cried. “The doors! Hurry!”
With a scream of fury, Zantor turned and hurled himself at the heavy doors. They splintered like tinder, spilling him out into the night.
“C’mon!” Darek motioned to the others. “Follow me!”
Out they rushed, one and all, into the waiting arms of the Night Spirits.
13
DAREK, POLA, AND ROWENA STOOD beside their dragons. Their fathers were at their shoulders, and Clep at Darek’s side. Darek couldn’t see the others’ faces behind their battle masks, but their eyes danced with joy. Even the Black Mountains seemed cheerful today.
“Well,” said Darek’s father proudly. “It seems that you’ve proven yourself a hero once again, my son.”
Darek blushed and glanced at the throng of Zynots who had come to say good-bye. “I’m not the hero, Father,” he said. He stroked Zantor’s neck and looked up at Mizzle, who sat perched on the dragon’s head. “These two are the heroes.”
Zantor thrummed softly, and Mizzle twittered.
Zooba grinned. “Come ye down here, son,” he called.
Mizzle slid down Zantor’s back into his father’s arms. Darek removed his mask for a moment and reached a hand out to the little Zynot. “How can I ever thank you, my friend?” he asked.
Mizzle grinned. “No need thank Mizzle,” he said. “Mizzle be glad ye be with ye fathers. All be happy now, like Mizzle and Zooba.” He smiled up into his own father’s eyes.
“Yes.” Darek glanced at Clep and his father. They would be happy now. They were on their way home. Home to Zoriak, the farm, and Mother. All would be happy. All except the prisoners they were once again leaving behind. And Azzon. For a moment Darek’s mood darkened. He silently renewed his vow to fulfill his promise to the prisoners one day. That was all he could do just now. And as for Azzon . . . Suddenly Darek had a thought.
“Rowena,” he cried. “Do we still have that spare mask?”
Rowena nodded. “Yes,” she said. “It’s in Drizba’s saddlebag.”
“Can you toss it to me?” asked Darek.
Rowena shrugged and pulled out the mask. She tossed it to Darek, who caught it and handed it to Mizzle.
“Azzon may not be able to be with his sons,” Darek said. “But at least he can be with his friends. With this on, he can spend as much time up here with you as he likes.”
Mizzle took the mask, put it on, and started dancing around. “Azzon be glad,” he cried. “Zynots be glad too.”
He looked so comical in the oversized mask that Darek and the others couldn’t help laughing.
“Good-bye, little Night Spirit,” said Darek with a wink.
“Grraahrr!” cried Mizzle, flailing his arms.
Then he took off the mask and raised his hand in farewell. “ ’Bye, Dragon Boy. Come ye back someday!”
Darek nodded, then climbed into his saddle and helped his father and Clep up behind him.
“Home, Zantor,” he said softly.
“Thrummm,” sang the dragon. “Thrummm, thrummm, thrummm.”
More from this Series
The Dragonling
Book 1
A Dragon in the Family
Book 2
Dragon Quest
Book 3
Dragons of Krad
Book 4
Turn the page for a peek at the next book in the series:
Dragons and Kings
1
SOMETHING BUMPED DAREK’S BACK and he shot up in bed, wide awake, heart pounding. A forked tongue flicked out and kissed him on the cheek. Darek smiled and gave a sigh of relief.
“Oh, it’s you, Zantor,” he said. “Sorry I’m so jumpy. I didn’t sleep much last night, worrying about the trial.”
“Grrrawwk,” said Zantor.
Darek rubbed the gentle dragon’s nose. Zantor was fully grown now, too big to fit in the house anymore. Instead, he camped under Darek’s window at night and awakened Darek each morning by pushing his great head in through the window. His voice had changed too. His baby distress cry of “Rrrronk” had become a full-throated “Grrrawwk,” and his joyful thrummms were so loud now, they shook the house.
Zantor nudged him again, as if to say, “Let’s go.”
“I’m not in the mood for a ride this morning, Zantor,” Darek said quietly. “Today the verdicts will be announced.”
“Grrrawwk,” said Zantor, hanging his head. He looked so sad that Darek relented.
“All right,” he said. “Just a short one.”
Zantor’s eyes lit up. “Thrummm,” he sang.
“Shussh.” Darek couldn’t help giggling as his bed started to vibrate across the floor. “You’ll bounce Mother right out of bed.” He slipped into his breeches, then threw his arms around Zantor’s neck.
“Let’s go,” he cried.
Zantor duck
ed out of the window, then unfurled his silver wings. With one spring of his great legs, they were airborne. Up, up they rose, until Darek’s house looked like a little toy. Zoriak’s violet sun was warm on Darek’s back. Clean, fresh air filled his lungs and whipped at his hair. It was so good to be home, free from the gray, smoky skies of Krad. They circled the barnyard and struck off across the valley. In the morning stillness of a pond below, Darek caught sight of Zantor’s reflection. He was magnificent! Darek couldn’t help smiling as he recalled the day he had given the tiny, trembling dragonling his name. “I will give you a strong name,” he remembered saying, “a powerful name. I will call you Zantor, King of the Dragons.” It had seemed back then that the name would never fit. Now it fit perfectly. Zantor was everything a king should be. He was powerful and strong, but he was good, too. Not like Zarnak, who was trying to steal the throne from Rowena’s father. Or Zahr, the terrible king of Krad.
Darek shivered, recalling his prisoner days in Krad. His heart grew heavy at the thought of the other prisoners he had left behind. They still labored day and night for the cruel Zahr.
“If only Azzon were king again,” Darek said half aloud. “Azzon would set them free.” Azzon had once been king of all Krad. He had been cruel then, too—so cruel that he’d raised his sons Zahr and Rebbe like beasts. When they grew older, they had turned on each other, then on him, and Azzon had fled into the Black Mountains. He would have died there in the poisonous mists, but the gentle Zynots who lived in the mountains had saved him. Their kindness had changed Azzon into a good and gentle man. Now Zahr ruled Krad in the north and Rebbe in the south, not knowing or caring that their father still lived in hiding beneath the Black Mountains.
Someday, Darek promised himself, he would go back and help his prisoner friends in Krad. But now he had more pressing worries. His father and brother were on trial, along with Pola’s father and Rowena’s. If found guilty, they could be put to death, and the verdict would be decided this very day.
2
DAREK FELT VERY SMALL SEATED at the great council table. Overhead the fierce faces of long-dead dragons glared at him. Their skins covered the walls. Their tails trailed across the ceiling. On either side of Darek sat Pola and Rowena, looking just as small and scared as he. Behind them, in a second row of chairs, sat their mothers.
“All rise,” boomed a loud voice.
Darek jumped to his feet as Zarnak, the acting Chief Elder, strode into the room. Behind him came the Council of Elders. Last came Horek, the deputy captain of the guards, leading Darek’s father and brother, Pola’s father, and Xylon, the Chief Elder.
Zarnak took his place upon the Dragon Throne while the Elders filed into the chairs on either side of the council table. Darek tried to read their stony faces. Yesterday, Zarnak had called for a guilty verdict. But which Elders supported Zarnak, and which Xylon? There was no way to know.
The prisoners were seated directly across the table from Darek, Pola, and Rowena. Then the Deputy Captain went and stood at attention beside the throne. Darek hated to see the man standing in his father’s place. He glanced at Rowena and knew she was feeling the same way. She glared at Zarnak, who sat upon her father’s throne.
“Please, Lord Eternal,” Darek whispered to himself. “Let the verdict go in our favor.”
Two heralds stepped through the great doors at the end of the room and lifted their horns.
“Ta-da-da-da-da-DA!” the horns sounded. Then Zarnak stood and unfurled a scroll. Darek held his breath.
“The exalted Council of Elders,” Zarnak droned, “has met and considered this case in accordance with the laws of Zoriac.” An evil gleam came into his eyes, and Darek’s heart sank. “A verdict has been returned,” he went on. “Guilty as charged!”
Darek felt like a fist had slammed into his stomach. Behind him he heard a small cry escape his mother’s lips. Rowena was less discreet.
“No!” she cried out, but a sharp look from her father silenced her.
None of the fathers flinched at the verdict, but Darek’s brother, Clep, turned pale. It was a hard blow for a boy of thirteen. Darek saw tears in his brother’s eyes. Tears started behind Darek’s eyes too, and he looked down so his father and Clep would not see.
“Furthermore and notwithstanding,” Zarnak went on, “the Council has taken the following facts into account. Fact one: The first child, Pola, was carried into the Black Mountains by a runaway wagon against his will. Fact two: The second and third children, Darek and Rowena, entered the Black Mountains out of concern for the first child. Fact three: The four defendants entered the Black Mountains out of concern for all three children.”
A sour look had settled over Zarnak’s features, and Darek began to feel a glimmer of hope.
“In consideration of these facts,” Zarnak announced, “the sentence is hereby reduced to imprisonment in the dungeons of Elder Hall for one annum.”
Darek closed his eyes and sank back in his chair. A year in prison. It was still uncalled for, in his opinion, but it could have been so much worse. He felt his mother’s hand on his shoulder and he reached up and squeezed it.
About the Author
Jackie French Koller has been a storyteller since the sixth grade, when she amused her friends by spinning tales on the playground. She has also edited a children’s newspaper, taught writing in public schools, and studied art. Ms. Koller lives in Groton, Massachusetts, with her husband and children.
ALADDIN
Simon & Schuster, New York
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Don’t miss the other adventures of Darek and Zantor:
The Dragonling
A Dragon in the Family
Dragon Quest
Dragons of Krad
Coming soon:
Dragons and Kings
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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This Aladdin paperback edition September 2019
Copyright © 1997 by Jackie French Koller
Cover illustration copyright © 2019 by Tom Knight
Interior illustrations by Judith Mitchell
Also available in an Aladdin hardcover edition.
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Designed by Laura Lyn DiSiena
Library of Congress Control Number 2019930886
ISBN 978-1-5344-0074-0 (hc)
ISBN 978-1-5344-0073-3 (pbk)
ISBN 978-1-5344-0075-7 (eBook)
Dragon Trouble Page 4
