DragonLight

by Donita K. Paul

  “As soon as little Dobis here is ready to travel, I’ll go with you.”

  Gilda coughed again. “I’m not waiting.”

  “You could help someone…”

  “Unlike you, Kale, I do not wish to touch these beggars and their filth.”

  Kale looked away from Dobis. Plaster, dirt, grime, and debris covered Gilda like every other inhabitant of Arreach.

  “Have you looked at yourself, Gilda? You couldn’t get any filthier.”

  “I’m not speaking of physical dirt.”

  Dobis whimpered.

  Kale turned away from the female meech, waving her hand in dismissal. “I haven’t got time right now to figure out what has put a wrinkle in your world. We’ll look for you later on the west side of the village.”

  Soon the others of the questing party joined Kale in the center of town and then fanned out to places where they would do the most good. They helped put the fires out. Fireplaces, candles, and lanterns had spilled their flames into the collapsed buildings. It took most of the night for the townsfolk to obliterate every spark.

  Toopka and Sittiponder located a few people who had not heeded the call to escape the buildings before the collapse. They brought adults to help free them. Brunstetter carried numerous villagers to a field where they set up a hospital tent. Kale and Gymn helped the village apothecary with many of the injuries. Most people thanked them for the aid, but some were in such a state of shock, they numbly accepted help without a word.

  The sun thrust thin rays of light through the still-thick air before the questers agreed they could leave the townspeople to their own resources. Bardon tucked his wife’s hand in the crook of his arm and pulled her away, telling her she could return to help more after she rested.

  As they approached the west side of town, Kale smelled cooking. The odor of sizzling sausages pushed back the scent of destruction. People passed them with plates full of biscuits, breakfast meat, and a pile of thick porridge.

  Gilda brandished a stirring spoon at a handful of children. “Find more butter. See if you can locate more unbroken jars of jam.”

  Kale gasped. “They shouldn’t be going into those toppled buildings. What if the debris shifts?”

  Gilda cast her a scathing look. “I’m not that foolish. Most of the outlying homes have root cellars. The children are only picking from the holes that broke open. They are ‘fishing’ with poles I provided. With a little ingenuity, I’ve manipulated these rods, infusing them with a special attractive power so they pick up the usable items from a safe distance. In all this chaos, my scavengers are the only ones having fun.” She waved her hand over the food laid out on makeshift tables. “Come, eat. I know you are tired.”

  Kale took Bardon’s arm. She amazes me. At times I want to wring her neck. Then she does something like this.

  Bardon rubbed the back of her hand on his arm. “But she still manages to be irritating as she shows us her generosity.”

  We’re both tired. Kale’s next thought was cut off by her husband’s quote.

  “‘Words spoken from fatigue resurface like oil on water. They are clearly seen and not easily eradicated.’”

  She allowed herself a muffled growl, just to let Bardon know he had struck a nerve. “I was going to say we’d best watch what we say.”

  “Isn’t that what I said?” He blinked with a vacant, innocent air, but Kale suspected he had enough energy left to tease her.

  “Bardon, if you quote another principle, I’ll kick you.”

  “You’re too tired to kick me.”

  “Yes. You’re right. I am.”

  “Sit here, and I’ll get you a plate.”

  Kale sank onto the grass among dozens of others who had followed the smell of a good meal. By the time Bardon returned with two plates, she could barely keep her eyes open.

  “Where’s Toopka?” she asked.

  “Sitting with Sir Dar. I think she is avoiding you.”

  “Why?”

  “Eat,” commanded Bardon. He watched her take a bite of the sweetened porridge. “Perhaps because she and Sittiponder went screaming through the village last night.”

  “They’re heroes.”

  “They’re children who are worried.”

  “I want to know how they knew.” Kale forced herself to take a bite of biscuit filled with butter and jam before Bardon could bully her again.

  “Toopka says she felt the badness coming in her bones. And Sittiponder says the voices said to get out of the houses.”

  Kale ate without asking the questions that muddled her head. Exhaustion kept her thoughts from stringing together coherently, and she doubted words from her mouth would make any sense. She ate as much as she could and then lay down, as had many of the villagers who had no place but the meadow to sleep. Bardon stretched out as well.

  Hours later, Kale became aware of the warmth of the sun on her face. She moved her hand to feel for Bardon and touched fur. Toopka. The child curled between her and her husband. Unwilling to open her eyes, Kale stroked the doneel’s arm but otherwise refused to come fully awake. Toopka’s tiny hand stole into Kale’s and squeezed two fingers. Kale smiled and squeezed back.

  “What you did last night was good,” she whispered.

  “I don’t feel so good today.”

  Kale’s eyes popped open, and she gazed into the large brown eyes of her ward. She cupped the child’s chin in her hand. “You hurt?”

  Instead of a nod, Toopka blinked.

  “I ache too.” Kale tried to reassure her. “Being tossed in the air and landing hard makes for a lot of bruises and sore muscles.”

  A tear escaped one of Toopka’s eyes. “Will you get Gymn?”

  “Of course.” Kale opened her cape and called quietly to the healing dragon.

  Gymn appeared, took one look at Toopka, and leapt to the child, perching on her chest. He turned about several times.

  “What is it, Gymn?” Kale asked.

  Gymn chirred low in his throat.

  “Toopka, do your lungs hurt? Maybe you inhaled too much smoke.”

  “Yes.” The word wheezed between her thin black lips.

  Gymn circled Toopka’s head, then crawled down each arm and each leg. He returned to curl up on her chest.

  “Gymn says you have lots of bruises, but there is one hard spot near your heart that he is worried about. He’ll stay with you until you’re more comfortable.”

  “Did I break my heart?”

  Kale smiled and shook her head. “No, darling. Gymn found a small, hard lump like a pebble. Were you eating rocks last night?”

  Toopka’s weak giggle made Kale’s heart ache.

  “No,” she said, closing her eyes. “We were too busy raising a ruckus.”

  “Are you hungry?”

  A soft snore answered Kale’s question.

  She left Toopka and Bardon sleeping and went to help with the noonmeal preparations. Sir Dar stood on a wooden block, stirring a pot.

  “Did you get some rest?” asked Kale.

  “Enough. I sent Gilda away. Pregnant meech dragons are murder to work with in the kitchen.” He looked around. “Even when there is no kitchen, per se.”

  “That is a wise observation. How many pregnant meech dragons have you worked with?”

  “One too many.” Sir Dar tapped the spoon on the side of the cauldron and then hung it by a leather thong on a nail driven into the side of a makeshift table. “Are you here to help?”

  “Yes.”

  “Would you believe our most abundant food is pnard potatoes?”

  “Oh, yum. That should make our feasters happy.”

  “There is little else to be happy about this day.”

  Kale surveyed the flattened town, two-thirds of which was scorched as well. “How many lost their lives?”

  “None. Isn’t that amazing?”

  “Toopka and Sittiponder.”

  “Yes, and whatever force compelled the people to heed the call of two children.”

&nbs
p; “Look, here come Regidor and Brunstetter. Who are the old tumanhofers they carry?”

  “I suspect that is Woodkimkalajoss.”

  Kale repeated the name slowly. “The old man or the woman?”

  “The man.”

  “Who is he?”

  “Someone who has actually been to the meech colony.”

  Kale’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

  “Were you going to help?”

  “Yes.”

  “Peel potatoes.”

  “Yes sir!”

  Kale sat next to a bushel basket, picked up a knife, and chose the biggest pink potato from the top of the pile. Out of the corner of her eye, she kept note of the progress Brunstetter and Regidor made as they worked their way through the crowd. Soon she realized three other people followed. She thought they might be father, mother, and son. They carried bundles, probably a few possessions scrounged from the wreckage of their home.

  Children arrived, carrying fistfuls of greens from the nearby scraggly woods.

  “Where’s the funny lady?” asked one boy.

  Sir Dar plopped a round of bread dough on the baking rock. “Lady Gilda?”

  “Maybe. She’s got green skin and no eyebrows.”

  “That would be Lady Gilda.” He pinched off another piece of dough and kneaded it into a small ball, flattened it a mite, then placed it next to the other. “She went to rest. Did you bring us feathered chard for our soup? What a tasty addition that will make.”

  “Will she come back?”

  “Probably.”

  “Does she really have wings under her cape? Is she really a dragon?”

  Sir Dar stopped what he was doing and cocked an eyebrow at the inquisitive youth. “Who told you that?”

  The lad pursed his lips and looked at the ground.

  Another girl stepped around him. “Everyone is saying that it’s true. Two meech dragons came to the inn with a bunch of travelers.”

  “Twenty or thirty,” piped up a small marione with big blue eyes. He continued in a hushed voice. “Maybe a secret army.”

  The child who had been struck dumb by Sir Dar’s question nodded and regained his ability to speak. “They came to talk to Woodkimkalajoss. He was me da’s teacher in school.”

  The girl thrust out her chin. “My da says there is no such thing as meech dragons, and if there were, they wouldn’t look like the lady. They’d have big teeth and fierce eyes, and they’d growl, not talk like us.”

  A low growl emanated from above her head. She turned with the others to confront Regidor. He carried the old man in his arms and peered down at the children.

  He rolled the ridge above his eyes much like a man would raise and lower eyebrows when teasing a child. He grinned so that his teeth gleamed in the sun. “I disagree with your esteemed father, my dear. Meech dragons do speak.”

  The children shrieked, dropped their precious contribution to the meal, and fled.

  Old man Woodkimkalajoss burst out laughing. All those who had witnessed the interlude joined him.

  “Put me down,” he cried after a moment. “I’ve shook my insides until I can’t hardly breathe.” But he continued to guffaw. “I would like a painting of their faces so I could study ’em up close. I can imagine their big eyes, mouths open like a peep-bird, and all their color draining out until they should have dropped o’er in a faint.”

  Gilda appeared, apparently out of thin air. “Regidor, you shouldn’t have done that. Haven’t those children had enough to frighten them over the last twenty-four hours?”

  “No, no, missy,” said Woodkimkalajoss. “Best thing for them. A real dragon instead of the fears they be imagining. And they’ll come to see that this dragon isn’t so frightful, while at the same time, those other fears based on the world shaking and their homes falling down, well, those will lose their power o’er them.”

  “Did you really live in the meech colony?” asked Kale.

  “Indeed, I did. Nice folks. Except…”

  “Except?”

  “They got this secret, and it’s best not to meddle with them or their secret.”

  Gilda squared her shoulders. “You will tell us where they are located.”

  “I might. I been thinking on it. But then I might not, either. I been asking Wulder, and He ain’t giving me a clue as to whether it’s nay or yea.”

  Gilda’s hands went to her hips. “It had better be yea, and it had better be soon.”

  “What are you going to do? Blow my house down?” He wagged his head. “You just be patient, missy. Be patient.”

  29

  GO!

  Bardon picked up a stack of small boards and felt a twinge in his back. Not the stakes. I’m just out of shape. Not used to hard labor.

  The villagers went to work, determined to rebuild the town on the existing foundation, but first the rubble had to be cleared. Bardon loaded wood into a wagon that another crew would assess to see what could be salvaged. Women sorted the usable pieces into piles. Older children, wearing thick gloves, took the shattered boards to the firewood heap.

  By late morning, Bardon could feel his muscles protesting hard labor. He dropped his lumber with the rest, then put his hands against the small of his back and leaned against them, stretching his aching muscles from waist to shoulders. When he straightened, he rotated his head, pulling the soreness out of his neck.

  Kale approached, stepping carefully, picking her path through the debris, and holding a cloth-wrapped package. His stomach rumbled. He hoped that bundle held food.

  “Tired?” she asked as she traversed the last bit of uncleared space, keeping her eyes on where she placed her feet.

  “Sore.”

  Her head snapped up, and she eyed him with worry lining her brow.

  “I don’t think it’s the stakes.”

  “We haven’t been using the ointment.”

  “We’ve only missed two nights. Falling onto the mat and sinking into sleep seems more important than ointment at the time.”

  “Everyone is working themselves to a frazzle.” She smiled. “Help is coming.”

  She unwrapped the cloth and handed him a sandwich.

  “Bless you.” He leaned against the open tailgate of the wagon and took a big bite. “Who’s coming?”

  “Regidor and I both left messages with Namee in the talking gateway, and we’ve received messages from him. He contacted Brunstetter’s people, and they have already sent a work party through the nearest regular gateway. It’s quite a walk from that point, but they should arrive by evening.”

  “Then we will probably resume our journey in the morning.”

  “That will please Gilda.” Kale hunched her shoulders and then let them slump. She leaned against the wagon beside Bardon. “Nothing much pleases our dear meech dragon these days.” She fished in a pocket and pulled out a corked bottle. “Here. Water from one of the wells.”

  He took it gratefully. “The villagers have made progress if they’ve reopened a drinking well.”

  She nodded.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Unsettled.”

  “Why?”

  “Gilda is alternately irate that the citizens of Arreach know she’s a dragon, and then she shows off. I’ll never understand her.”

  “What did she do now?” He took another big bite of the sandwich. Tomato juice dribbled out the corner of his mouth. He used the back of his hand to wipe the red stain off his chin.

  “She lit the cooking fire.”

  “What’s so…” Bardon had a sudden image of Gilda pursing her lips and delicately blowing a stream of fire into a pile of tinder. “Oh!”

  “Yes. Oh!” Kale put two fingers to her temple and rubbed. “Of course, the children were delighted. They wanted to know how she did it.”

  “Did she tell them?”

  Kale waved her hand in the air, imitating Gilda. “She said she just opens her mouth and blows.”

  Bardon dropped his chin to his chest and chuckled. He then rai
sed his eyes to his wife’s irritated glare. “That isn’t so bad, Kale. It’s entertaining for the children, and Gilda gets to be in the spotlight.” He shrugged. “The villagers realized in the aftermath of the earthquake that dragons had come among them. Regidor was too busy helping to keep up the pretense, and Gymn came to the rescue. For Regidor and Gilda to continue the charade is really pointless.”

  “But we agreed to not draw attention to ourselves. To travel inconspicuously. That’s the whole reason Celisse and the others are so far away. That’s why only Gymn has been allowed in the village.” She stood as if to pace and then sat back down abruptly. “I sent eight minor dragons out to keep the eight riding dragons company, and she makes a show of her dragon-ness.”

  “Dragon-ness?”

  She gave him a scathing look but didn’t respond.

  Bardon popped the last of his sandwich into his mouth, wiped his hand on his pant leg, and put his arm around her shoulders. When he finished chewing, he spoke.

  “You know, this angst you’re feeling may all boil down to a Dragon Keeper being kept away from her dragons. Why don’t you go out and visit them?”

  “I’m needed here.”

  “Not so much, anymore.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Bardon wished he could pull them back. “I meant that you and Gymn have worked hard at the infirmary, and most of the patients are on their feet again.”

  He studied her face, but his words did not seem to have had much effect. He opened his mind, hoping to catch what she was thinking. Something she had not shared with him troubled her.

  “If she tells me one more time,” Kale muttered, “that she is carrying a meech egg, I’ll explode. Her baby is a meech. Her baby will assure the continuance of a superior race. Her baby will advance her husband’s standing in the community. What community? A colony she’s never even seen. What if it isn’t even out there?”

  “It’s out there.” Bardon stood and brought her to her feet as well. He enveloped her in his arms and kissed her forehead. “Go visit the dragons. Play a little.”

  Kale stamped her foot. “I’m going to.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed his chin. “Don’t get into trouble while I’m gone.”

  He kissed her lips. “I was just about to tell you to stay out of trouble. Seems to me you’re the one who has a penchant for falling into awkward situations.”