Praise for
Donita K. Paul
“The writing is crisp and the setting imaginative. This series will speak to all ages of Christian readers, from preadolescent on up.”
—Publishers Weekly review of the DragonKeeper chronicles
“Engaging characters, enchanting locales, and perilous creatures await the brave soul who enters the realm of Amara. Donita K. Paul’s DragonKeeper chronicles will surely delight fantasy readers with the kind of story that allows a reader to escape into it, but its powerful message lingers long after the final page is turned.”
—WAYNE THOMAS BATSON, author of The Door Within trilogy
“Donita K. Paul is amazing! DragonLight has the allegorical depth to satisfy the most discerning adult reader seeking spiritual depth, and yet it’s fun enough to fascinate a child. This book will enthrall, uplift, and if allowed, change lives, as we are gently drawn to realize that each of us is flawed, that each of us must have patience with other flawed believers.”
—HANNAH ALEXANDER, author of Double Blind
“DragonFire is a soaring adventure. But I wouldn’t expect any less from Donita K. Paul, as she always gives us a delightful read: intriguing, challenging, and full of blessing.”
—KATHRYN MACKEL, author of Vanished and Outriders
“Donita K. Paul never fails to satisfy the imagination and delight the soul. In The Vanishing Sculptor, she takes us beyond the boundaries of her beloved DragonKeeper chronicles and opens up vast new realms of wonder. The adventure of Tipper, the sculptor’s daughter, will strike a responsive chord in the heart of every reader who has ever faced a seemingly impossible challenge. This is fantasy that truly illuminates reality!”
—JIM DENNEY, author of the Timebenders series
“Stunning beginning to a new series! Rarely does an author recapture the exquisite charm and the bold freshness first discovered in her initial series. Donita K. Paul fans are in for a treat as they uncover new wonders and enchantment in the world of Chiril. New readers will revel in the magical blend of mischief and mayhem woven with witness and intrigue throughout this engaging tale. From the zany disposition of Lady Peg to the spirited charm and wit of Tipper, her youthful daughter, The Vanishing Sculptor tingles our most fervent emotions of love, joy, and hope. It’s an exciting compliment to the DragonKeeper series and a fantastical adventure for inaugural audiences of all ages.”
—ERIC REINHOLD, author of the Annals of Aeliana
OTHER BOOKS
BY DONITA K. PAUL
The Vanishing Sculptor
DragonSpell
DragonQuest
DragonKnight
DragonFire
DragonLight
BY DONITA K. PAUL
AND EVANGELINE DENMARK
The Dragon and the Turtle
DRAGONS OF THE VALLEY
PUBLISHED BY WATERBROOK PRESS
12265 Oracle Boulevard, Suite 200
Colorado Springs, Colorado 80921
The characters and events in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to actual persons or events is coincidental.
Copyright © 2010 by Donita K. Paul
Published in association with the literary agency of Alive Communications Inc., 7680 Goddard Street, Suite 200, Colorado Springs, CO 80920, www.alivecommunications.com.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Published in the United States by WaterBrook Multnomah, an imprint of the Crown Publishing Group, a division of Random House Inc., New York.
WATERBROOK and its deer colophon are registered trademarks of Random House Inc.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Paul, Donita K.
Dragons of the valley : a novel / Donita K. Paul. — 1st ed.
p. cm.
eISBN: 978-0-307-45911-4
1. Dragons—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3616.A94D729 2010
813′.6—dc22
2010021910
v3.1
Dedicated to:
Jessica Agius
Hannah Johnson
Ian McNear
Rachael Selk
Rebecca Wilber
Joshua and Kayla Woodhouse
Contents
Cover
Other Books by This Author
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Map
1: Theft
2: Two Taken
3: Invasion
4: Where Are We?
5: Kimen Village
6: The Grawl
7: Hollee’s Joy
8: Misdirection
9: Council Meeting
10: Verrin Schope Disappears
11: A Visit
12: A New Friend
13: Tavern
14: Must Go
15: Disappearing
16: Revelation
17: Swordplay
18: A Song of Peace
19: Boat Stop
20: In the Night
21: Sword of Valor
22: Difficulties
23: Tangonut Crème Pie
24: Bridge
25: Confrontation
26: Life or Death?
27: Searching out the Truth
28: Scoundrels
29: Pulling It Off
30: The Calm Before
31: Bad News
32: The Wizard’s Plan
33: What to Do? What to Do?
34: A Cavern
35: Reunion
36: Decisions
37: Research
38: Battleground
39: Secret Revealed
40: Confusion
41: The Leader
42: Seeking Sage
43: Sage Advice
44: Hospital
45: Intrusion
46: Encounter with Truth
47: Encounter with Evil
48: Hollee
49: The Grawl Makes Plans
50: In the Night
51: Trouble
52: Battle Cry
53: Two Baardackians
54: Confrontation
55: Tidying Up
56: Past, Present, Future
Epilogue
Appendix (Things, Characters)
Acknowledgments
God is so good to give me pushers and prodders, supporters and cheerleaders!
Mary Agius
Jessica Barnes
James Matthew Byers
Evangeline Denmark
Jani Dick
Jack Hagar
Jim Hart
Kathy Hurst
Heidi Likens
Joel Kneedler
Shannon Marchese
Shannon McNear
Carol Reinsma
Faye Spieker
Tiffany and Stuart Stockton
Case Tompkins
Beth and Robert Vogt
Kim Woodhouse
Laura Wright
1
Theft
Bealomondore stood in the doorway of the darkened hall. Shadows hid the statue he’d been ordered to steal.
His heart told him to retreat. His feet wouldn’t move. But the kimen, whose wildest flying lock of hair reached only to the tumanhofer’s knee, insisted that the statue be stolen.
The artist cast the kimen a menacing look. The rude little man had startled him out of a sound sleep and proposed this ridiculous escapade. Bealomondore only wanted to go back to his chamber. In the middle of the night, the proper place for an
aristocratic tumanhofer was his bed.
He had not had time to dress properly. He looked disheveled. He straightened his tie, but he couldn’t do anything about his wrinkled shirt. He closed his fine dinner coat and fastened two ornate buttons.
Bealomondore resented the fact that the small creature had managed to get him out of his bed, dressed, and actually contemplating the theft. An apprentice stealing the work of his esteemed master? Ludicrous!
“Come on,” said Maxon. His tiny hand pushed at the back of Bealomondore’s leg. “We haven’t got all night.”
“This is ill-advised,” said Bealomondore. “Those statues have just been reunited. Why would your Wulder want one stolen?”
“Not stolen.” The kimen’s disgusted look further aggravated Bealomondore. He winced at the high-pitched protest flung at him. “I told you, ‘Removed from harm’s way.’ ”
The tumanhofer surveyed his serene surroundings. Cool blue moonlight lay in lopsided rectangles on the floor before the ornate windows. Portraits hung mutely on the walls. An elaborate rug silenced footsteps on most of the marble floor. Not even a flatrat would raise a skittering noise.
His gaze returned to his companion. “We’re in a guarded castle in a well-policed city with military posts all around. What harm could come to the statues here?”
Maxon crossed his thin arms over his wee chest. “I have my orders.”
“I don’t see why your orders are mine as well.”
“You’re needed.” He backed up a step, placed his fists on his hips, and glared at the taller tumanhofer. “Are you going to turn your back on a call to service?”
Bealomondore nodded. “I think that’s a reasonable choice.”
The kimen sighed. “I was told this would be a difficult assignment.”
They stood in silence. Bealomondore considered returning to his spacious chambers, warm bed, and pleasant dreams.
Maxon snapped his fingers. “Compromise!”
Bealomondore lifted one eyebrow. “We look out the windows, see if danger lurks, then forget this whole outlandish idea. That’s the only compromise I’m interested in.”
The kimen ignored his ill humor and tugged on the tumanhofer’s pants once more. “Right! Let’s go look at the statues. I want to see them up close.”
“Looking is all right.” Bealomondore smoothed the material of his sleeves and stepped into the hushed hall. “Taking is not.”
His footsteps tapped on the marble floor as they approached the carpet centered in the hall.
“Shh!” said Maxon, who didn’t make a sound as he glided toward the display of the revered sculptor Verrin Schope’s famous Trio of Elements.
The three statues had been carved out of one stone, the brilliance of the artist depicted in the layered symbolism. The most obvious interpretation would be of morning, day, and night. But the trio also represented air, earth, and water. Kimen, emerlindian, and marione figures depicted three of the fourteen races that populated the world.
Recently brought to the attention of the royal court, the statues had not yet been expounded upon by critics. Bealomondore felt more symbolism would be exposed with time. Master sculptor Verrin Schope layered his work with meaning. With uncanny skill, he could almost coax life into the cold stone.
The craftsmanship alone made the art valuable. The depth of the imagery would place the art among the most famous classics. Bealomondore’s pride in being under Verrin Schope’s tutelage puffed out his chest. And he, a humble but aspiring artist, was privy to the backstory of these magnificent pieces. The history and intrigue surrounding the importance of the original stone … That would become the material of legends.
And perhaps humble Graddapotmorphit Bealomondore of Greeston in Dornum would be mentioned for his part in the fantastic quest. He patted his chest, a smile tugging at his lips.
As he and Maxon passed a pillar, the entire display came into sight. Bealomondore stopped and gasped at the vacant spot in the circle of three statues.
“One’s already gone,” whispered Maxon. “See? I told you we had to act quickly.”
Bealomondore whipped his head around, searching the shadows, hoping to spy some thief tiptoeing out of the hall.
Nothing stirred.
“Take it,” urged Maxon. “Take Day’s Deed before the thief comes back for it.”
“I don’t understand your reasoning. I don’t understand why I’m supposed to believe your Wulder would urge me to steal.”
The kimen vibrated. His already shrill voice screeched up a notch. “Not stealing! Protecting! We can’t let a wicked force get hold of all three statues. You don’t want to be responsible for the evil consequences, do you?”
That caught his attention. The Trio of Elements had been rescued from the hands of a nefarious wizard. If someone plotted to steal all three, then having one in Bealomondore’s possession would thwart the evildoer’s plans.
“Why do we have to leave the city?”
“Because,” answered Maxon, prodding Bealomondore closer to the two figures in stone, “we don’t know who the perpetrator is, and getting as far away as possible is critical.” Maxon turned away from Bealomondore, braced his back against the tumanhofer’s leg, and pushed. “And if the thief is here in the palace, we won’t be able to keep him from stealing another piece of the Trio.”
“Fine!” Bealomondore picked up the statue of a marione farmer. “Where’s that sack you brought along?”
Maxon jumped away and did a little skip. “Hollow. It’s a hollow bag, given to our clan by your honored wizard friend, Fenworth.”
“Friend? More like acquaintance. He’s an odd man, and even after questing with him, I don’t claim to know him well enough to say ‘friend.’ ”
Maxon put his hand between the folds of his tunic and pulled out a limp cloth bag. He held it open as Bealomondore lowered the statue. The neck of the hollow bulged, but as the stone figure disappeared, the material returned to a flaccid state.
The kimen thrust the bag toward the tumanhofer. “You take it.”
Bealomondore clenched his fists. “Why? It certainly is not too heavy for you to tote.”
“My orders say for you to take it. Not me.”
Bealomondore hesitated while Maxon thrust the empty-looking sack at him. The image of a mercenary army marching through a gateway created by villains using the three stones made his stomach tighten. He had no desire to repeat that event in the near future.
He sighed and took the bag, rolling it into a tight cylinder, then stuffed it in his stylish shoulder satchel. “At least in this form the bulky statue won’t ruin the lines of my attire.” He looked down at his mismatched jacket, trousers, vest, and crumpled cravat.
The kimen’s light laughter echoed in the hall. Maxon clamped his hand over his own mouth.
Bealomondore studied the little man’s face. Bright, cheerful eyes twinkled at him. With wispy hair and no eyebrows, kimens always looked surprised. Their clothing was an odd substance, both beautiful and as disorderly as their topknot. In Chiril, the little people did not mix with the other six high races, and this added to their mystique. The artist in Bealomondore wanted to capture Maxon’s expression of delight.
Maxon lowered his hand. “You wear very nice clothes. But we don’t have time to pack a bag.”
That statement jerked the tumanhofer out of any appreciation for the comeliness of his companion.
He growled his disapproval. “You expect me to travel to who-knows-where with only the clothes on my back?”
Maxon nodded vigorously. “Indeed, I do. But it isn’t as bad as you might think. If I’m right, we’ll be directed to a kimen village in the Starling Forest. They’ll have adequate accommodations and clothing you’ll admire.”
“And if you’re wrong?”
He shook his head, wild hair lashing the air. “You like to worry.” He turned and headed for the far end of the great hall. “Come on. Let’s sneak out and find our contact.”
Bealomondore steppe
d softly behind the kimen, who moved with such grace that he appeared to be floating. No one challenged them as they skulked by the guard stations. The tumanhofer glowered at their lack of alertness. He wouldn’t be stealing this statue if they were more conscientious in their duties.
He and the kimen reached the courtyard, lit with torches, and walked boldly to the massive gate.
Two soldiers stood sentinel. They saluted as the king’s guests left the castle grounds at three o’clock in the morning. The tumanhofer nodded but disapproved.
After they entered the deserted street, Bealomondore whispered to his short companion, “Someone should do something about the lax security of the castle.”
“Why?” Maxon turned quickly, with a puzzled air. “No one has challenged the king of Chiril for centuries.”
“I seem to remember a wicked wizard and a delusional gentleman farmer attempting to take over the kingdom less than a week ago.”
“Yes, that unfortunate circumstance disturbed our calm a bit. But you must agree that rebellion is a very rare occurrence and, once it has happened, is not likely to be repeated any time soon.”
“The law of probability?”
Maxon nodded. “Exactly.”
“I’m not sure that applies to nefarious deeds. It seems to me that once evil permeates the air, more evil mushrooms out of the dark recesses of society.”
“But that proves my point. We aren’t likely to have another paid army run by Chirilian madmen running amuck in our land. Odds are this is an entirely different foe we must look out for.”
“I’d rather be on the lookout for spring showers, buds swelling to full blossoms, birds serenading the earth’s renewal, and breezes ushering the fragrance of rich loam from the newly plowed fields.”
The kimen stopped, again planted his fists on his hips, and tilted his head to look up at Bealomondore. “I thought you were an artist. You sound like a poet.”
“I am indeed an artist. But the sensitive soul requires a more sophisticated language to express profound observations.”
Dragons of the Valley Page 1
