“He does, indeed,” answered Lee Ark. With military directness, he continued. “I’m anxious to talk over this matter of Followers with our comrades. My number of new soldiers has dropped in the past few months, and upon investigation, I find the young people are being lured away to improve their minds and souls.”
“According to the Tomes, defending the old, young, and weak, providing stability in life, and assuring the land’s ability to support us have always been a part of improving minds and souls.”
Lee Ark crossed his legs so that one ankle rested on the other knee and leaned back against the bricks of the castle wall. “Apparently, that is no longer true.”
Bardon snickered. “Someone has written another volume of the Tomes? I hadn’t heard so.”
“I’ve heard these people speak myself. At first I was impressed. They explained the principles with more wisdom and understanding than any teacher I’ve ever heard.”
Bardon widened his eyes and paid closer attention.
Lee Ark nodded. “Until I heard one statement that struck me as out of place. Something about earning Wulder’s favor. I kept attending their open-air meetings and made sure I prayed for discernment each time. In every message I found one speck of heresy almost hidden in the glowing rhetoric.”
Over the clang of swords clashing in mock combat, a hum like the sound of swarming bees drifted across the lawn. The people on the exercise field ceased their forms and practice of various methods of defense. All eyes turned toward the western corner of the castle. The drone drew closer and, as it became more distinct, Bardon realized it could not be small insects.
“What is this?” asked Lee Ark.
A tumanhofer boy came running around the corner. As soon as he saw the people, he yelled, “Dragons. Little dragons. They’re attacking!” He ran on toward the stables, repeating his warning with increasing fervor.
Lee Ark took command. “Those who will not fight, return to the castle. Warriors, to your weapons. A line for defense. A second line behind, the distance of three yards.”
Most of the servants and ladies disappeared into the castle. The remaining fighters hastened to follow Lee Ark’s orders. Mikkai settled on Bardon’s shoulder and clung steadfastly as his knight responded to the battle cry. Tieto chose to fly above the field. Wizard Cam stood beside Bardon on one side and Lee Ark on the other. They positioned themselves in the center of the front line. The men and a few women had just formed ranks when a hundred or more black dragons the size of a small lad’s fist charged around the corner.
The black beasts stormed the defenders en masse without an apparent leader or a particular plan of attack. As they approached, the dragons blasted tiny streams of fire at the obstacles in their way but did not tarry to fight. Mikkai hunkered down on Bardon’s shoulder and did not move. The swarm flew as if the people were merely an inconvenience in the way of their journey.
The small, quick targets were difficult to hit, but a score of dragon bodies littered the ground, a solid testament to the warriors’ skills.
One man yelped when he attempted to pick up one of the black dragons. He shook his hand. “It stung me.” He ran his sword point through the creature and lifted it. “In all of Amara, I’ve never seen the like of this.”
Another defender crouched and examined a fallen dragon. “I mistook them for bats when they first rounded the corner, but the fire proved me wrong. These are dragons, peculiar, but dragons. The boy was right.” The man stood and spit on the ground. “Dragons. I don’t like any of them. Don’t trust them, myself. Here’s an example of how bad they can be.” He strode off the field, glowering at all he passed.
Bardon lifted his eyebrows and glanced at Sir Dar. He shrugged, shook his head, and touched his singed hair. Bardon looked at Cam, but the old wizard was concentrating on something else.
Wizard Cam sniffed the air above the dead specimen before him. “I believe the spines along the back may contain toxins. Even dead, this venom could be released and cause pain. Since our friend over there is still standing, I doubt the venom is fatal.”
Mikkai came out of a stupor and began a high-pitched squawk next to Bardon’s ear. The knight cringed and forcefully removed the shrieker from his shoulder, peeling this little dragon’s claws out of his shirt. He held shivering Mikkai next to his chest, stroking his back, and uttering soothing phrases. “It’s all right. They’re gone now. You aren’t hurt.”
When the little fellow quieted, Bardon asked, “Do you know anything about these dragons, Mikkai? Do you know where they came from?”
Mikkai shuddered, and Bardon heard the suggestion in his mind that Filia would be more likely to know. Bardon asked Tieto, who had come to find out what was wrong with his friend, about the tiny dragons. Through Mikkai, he found out the other dragon knew nothing more and didn’t want to discuss such errant behavior in any species of dragon.
Sir Dar and Lord Brunstetter approached. The doneel fumed over the hair singed from his forehead. “Blasted beasts tried to set me on fire!”
“Hair will grow back, my little friend,” said Brunstetter. “If the strike had been lower, it could have been your eye. You can’t grow back an eye. It was a close one. Some of your eyebrow is black stubble.”
“It is?” Sir Dar stopped short and glared up at the towering urohm. “How long does it take eyebrows to grow back? I’ll be lopsided.”
“As far as I can see, you’ve always been off-kilter.” Brunstetter chortled, a deep resonating sound that vibrated the air.
Sir Dar ignored the dig and frowned at Lee Ark. “It doesn’t seem we were the object of their attack.”
“I assume we were simply in the way,” interjected Wizard Cam. “There was no real need to defend the castle.” He pointed at one of the dead beasts. “But the encounter gives us an opportunity to study this new threat. A good thing in the long run.”
“A good thing?” The doneel huffed. “I suppose it is a good thing for those of us who still have two eyebrows and no bald spot between the ears.”
Brunstetter snickered again. “So long as you don’t have an empty spot between the ears where your brain should be.”
“Brunstetter, you are annoying me.”
“That’s the plan.”
Sir Dar squinted at his friend. “I bet you’re hungry.”
“We all are.” Wizard Cam interrupted before Sir Dar could lead the conversation into another friendly barb.
Bardon stepped in as well. “I’ll send Mikkai for Filia, and maybe we can learn more about these dragons. We can pool our thoughts over fried mullins and strong tea.”
“Excellent idea.” Lee Ark waved to a head servant who had stayed to join the battle line. “Have your men pick up the bodies to dispose of. Don’t touch them directly. There’s venom in those spines. Take one to Wizard Namee and inform him of what has happened here.”
“Yes sir.” The servant saluted and dashed away.
“An ex-military man,” said Sir Dar. “No wonder Namee has put him in charge of the training field.”
The men joined others in the room provided for washing away the sweat and grime of training. Bardon noted the lack of bantering between those who had participated in the confrontation with the black dragons. This jousting with words had been something he loathed as a child and had grown to love as a man. He shrugged, recognizing he didn’t feel inclined toward lighthearted wit himself.
Mikkai returned with Filia after the five comrades sat down at a table away from the others. They desired to enjoy the morning’s buffet and the privacy to speak freely.
“Mikkai says that Filia has some knowledge of an ancient myth that might be related to the black dragons.” Bardon relayed the information to the others. “This is going to be arduous. Mikkai will have to interpret for me. I can’t understand Filia’s mindspeaking.”
“I understand her well enough,” said Wizard Cam. “Let me help, if I may.”
Filia flew to sit on Cam’s forearm as it rested on the table. She look
ed up at him and chittered away. The chittering always distracted Bardon but didn’t seem to bother Wizard Cam as he listened to her mindspeak. He frowned, and the others leaned forward, anticipating his words.
“She says there are legends of a terrifying beast that was captured and put under a sleeping spell. This beast sheds these tiny dragons but is itself huge, as big as a mountain. While the evil dragon sleeps, it produces no vermin. The tiny black dragons we encountered this morning would be the vermin of the myth. When the horrible beast awakes, it sheds the small creatures like scales. As each one drops off, it takes flight.”
Bardon scratched his chin. “So the legend must be based on fact.”
“Not necessarily,” said Sir Dar. “Myths often explain what cannot be explained by observation. If these creatures appear in a cycle—”
“This would have been a very long cycle,” said Brunstetter.
Sir Dar nodded. “Yes, indeed. But if, in an ancient time, the creatures returned every ten years, every hundred years, whatever, the people may have made up the tale of the sleeping beast to explain the phenomenon.”
Wizard Cam held up his hand. “This may be so. Filia says there is only one reference to the beasts, and it is chronicled in the writings of a scholar from the Northern Reach. She has never seen nor heard of any other record. An isolated, strictly regional, almost forgotten fable.”
Sir Dar touched the spot of stubble on his forehead. “It would seem under present circumstances that it would be prudent not to treat this fable lightly.”
Lee Ark put down his empty cup. “We shall know soon enough if we face a new danger. If this is a one-time occurrence, there will be reports from those who encounter the beasts, and then no more. If the accounts come from various directions and keep coming, then we have a problem.”
10
AFTER THE BALL
The soft pillow cushioned Kale’s head and invited her to stay cozy for a few more lazy minutes. But her nose twitched, and she turned away from Metta, who prodded her cheek with a wingtip and sang a cheerful tune.
“I don’t want to get up, Metta.” She twisted away and pulled the covers over her head.
The minor dragon hopped onto her head and sang a song full of trills and energy and high notes that raked over Kale’s nerves.
“All right! All right!” She threw back the covers, knocking the laughing dragon off her perch. “I’ll go join Bardon at breakfast, but I don’t believe anything could be interesting enough to warrant getting up at the crack of dawn.” She looked out the window and recanted. “Or before noon.”
She swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Oh, my feet.”
Gymn landed on her knee and ran down to sit on the arch of her foot.
“That won’t do,” she complained and carefully shifted her legs to lift her feet with Gymn to rest on the bed. “I didn’t think I danced that much. But when they broke into the tavern songs, I couldn’t help dancing one right after the other. The easiest was dancing with that urohm Stockton. My feet never touched the floor.” She relaxed and stretched out on her back on the soft bed.
Gymn circled her feet, gliding over the skin and rubbing his scales against the places that hurt the worst.
“Ooh,” sighed Kale. “That feels so good.”
Metta trilled.
Kale rose up on her elbows. “I know. I know. I don’t have time for this. Bardon wants me down at the breakfast board.” She rolled over on her stomach and looked at her dress draped over the back of a chair. “I need time to change my ball gown into appropriate attire for the morning.” She cocked an eyebrow at Metta. “Is it all right for Gymn to continue massaging my feet until I have it ready?”
The tiny purple dragon nodded and flew to the windowsill. She chirred and trilled until several songbirds came to perch beside her on the balustrade. Metta listened to their songs and then repeated them. When satisfied she knew the melodies, the musical minor dragon orchestrated a combined tune. Kale listened with a contented smile on her face. Metta bossed the birds just as she bullied Kale.
Kale’s dress required simplifying, but that took much less time than creating the extravagant apparel for a ball. She modified the lines of the dress, took away the frill and fuss, and reworked the color from pink to a pale yellow.
The music stopped. Kale jumped from the bed before Metta could complain of her dillydallying. Gymn flew into the folds of the moonbeam cape and came out with a comb.
For the next few minutes her hair would look elegant, tied back from her face and cascading in large brown ringlets. After that, gravity would take its toll, and the curls would fall upon her shoulders in a tangled mess.
In moments, Kale descended the wide staircase to the main entryway. She’d left Gymn and Metta in the room. They had no interest in what the buffet offered, choosing instead to feast on insects in the extensive castle gardens.
In the dining hall, Bardon beckoned her to come directly to the seat beside him. He placed a finger to his lips and directed his gaze at two other guests deep in conversation. Tieto hopped from his shoulder to hers. Mikkai remained with his knight. Kale noticed the minor dragon was in an odd mood, hunching over, glowering around the table. He looked like a gargoyle from a book of foreign architecture she’d seen in the library at home.
Kale settled beside Bardon and gave him a morning smile that would pass for an ordinary greeting between husband and wife.
What’s going on?
“Listen to those two. They’ve gone on to another topic now, but they have been circling back to the same odd interpretation of the Tomes as if the thought holds them captive.”
Bardon reached for a biscuit from a platter piled high with them, broke it open, and buttered it. He put it on a clean plate in front of his wife. Then he speared a prickly gotza fruit and held it over a flame rising out of a small silver canister until he’d burned all the spines off. He put it in a bowl, sliced it in half and transferred one piece to another bowl. He gave Kale one and offered the other to the lady sitting at his other side.
The marione maiden leaned forward. “Your husband is such a gentleman.”
Kale swallowed the bite in her mouth as she nodded, then drank from a cup before speaking. “He’s a knight. They are trained to remember that in order to live in a comfortable environment, they must assure the comfort of those around them.”
“Oh,” the lady giggled. “I’ve never heard of such a thing. That must keep him very busy.”
“Actually, it is a basic precept of the Tomes, but one not easily discerned without much study. A principle can be like a hidden riddle. Once you see the meaning, you start finding clues in many places.”
“Still, following these principles must be hard to actually do. I mean, if you always have to see to others’ comfort, when do you see to your own?”
Looking at the woman’s fine dress, her manicured nails, the jewels on her ears, fingers, and around her neck, Kale almost dismissed the question. But the sincerity in her voice and the puzzled expression in her eyes led her to attempt the explanation.
“When you have a household running on this principle, the work spreads out. Sir Bardon demonstrates the implementation of the standard, and we as a family follow suit.”
“Oh, you have children?”
Kale blushed. “No, I didn’t mean that. I meant our household.”
“You treat your servants as family?”
“Yes.”
“Hmm.” The woman turned away.
Kale knew the last concept was too much for her to take in.
Scowling, Mikkai moved across Bardon’s back to the other shoulder. He stretched out with his tail hanging down Bardon’s sleeve and his chin on the collar of the jacket.
Kale grinned at him and then turned her eyes back to the woman she had been talking to. Sometimes Kale felt like glowering at the world as well.
Bardon put his hand on his wife’s arm. “Give her time.”
I wish that when I was a village slave, the to
wnspeople had treated me like a member of their families.
“Of course, but you cannot change the past. You can only influence the future. ‘Moving a rough rock from the bank changes not the history of the ground surrounding it. But place it in the river, and the future is changed for the rock, the river, and the world downstream.’”
What have I told you about quoting principles before breakfast?
Bardon chuckled, leaned forward, and pecked her on the cheek. “I have something to tell you later. Right now I want you to concentrate on our fellow guests.” Ever so slightly, he nodded toward the two he wanted her to note.
She busied herself with the food in front of her but kept her attention on the other people at their table.
She identified one man as a tumanhofer architect and the other as an o’rant merchant from Ianna. The conversation centered around the tumanhofer’s need for a specific wood and the merchant’s list of contacts that might be able to supply the need. Her ears perked up when she heard the mention of a truthteller speaking on a street corner near one of the shops the merchant recommended.
“I heard it again there,” he said. “Among all the truth I am familiar with in my own study of the Tomes, the concept of forward forgiveness came to light.”
“The truthtellers come from Paladin’s palace. Surely their teaching is accurate.” The tumanhofer pierced a sausage with his fork and took a bite.
“Do they all come from Paladin?” The o’rant merchant shook his head thoughtfully. “I’m not so sure. There are so many. A dozen or more in the small towns, two or three in every village, and scores in the cities.”
“I didn’t mean that they all came from the palace.” The architect swallowed hard, wiped his lips with a napkin, and met the other’s gaze. “The truthtellers came out from under Paladin’s mentoring, spread out through the country, and trained more truthtellers to further Paladin’s plan to reeducate the citizenry. It has been a great boon to our people. Groups have formed in every community to bring back the principles of Wulder.”
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