DragonLight

by Donita K. Paul

  “Well, then.” She leaned back and gave him a saucy grin. “If I don’t come back by nightfall, you can come rescue me.”

  Kale had intended to take Toopka and Sittiponder with her, but the two children were more interested in their new friends in the village. Toopka had recovered from her spell, but she still had the hard spot in her chest. Gymn stayed behind as well. He had a patient who still required a healing dragon’s care.

  Kale kept an eye on the second large hill along the road. After she passed that point, she would call Celisse to come pick her up. That meant Kale would have to ride bareback, but it would save a lot of time.

  The earthquake had marred the countryside as well as leveling the small town. Rocks littered the path. Cracks zigzagged from one side of the road to the other and out across the land. Trees leaned at crazy angles, and some had toppled completely. Small, wild creatures hopped and skittered and chased about in the open. Kale brushed several of the animals’ minds and discovered they were still disoriented from the upheaval but intent on remaking their homes. A rabbit scampered off, still searching for a safe place to dig a burrow.

  “Just like the people in the village. Everyone is determined to start anew.”

  She ambled along, not in any particular hurry, but enjoying the colors of the fall flowers—rich oranges, bright yellows, and deep reds. A few of the trees bore the markings of chilly nights. High-flying, puffy clouds dotted the azure sky.

  Kale topped the first rise and quickened her pace, driven by the urge to be with her dragons. As she came to the low place between the two ridges, she turned aside, following a path that looked as if animals rather than people had worn away the grass. Sheep droppings confirmed her assumption.

  She stopped. Why had she left the road? She turned around and, just as quickly, turned back again. She took a deep breath, and as she let it out, a smile lifted her countenance.

  “An egg.” She marched forward, allowing the pull to direct her steps.

  Most of the trail remained intact, but occasionally, Kale scrambled up the slope to avoid a fresh outcropping of rock. Loose gravel and sharp, broken stones made these sections hazardous. The clouds gathered together and darkened. A wind replaced the gentler breezes.

  “Great. I’m going to get wet.”

  She kept tramping along the side of the hill. A light sprinkle fell just long enough to get her thoroughly damp. Ahead of her, a portion of the landscape had cratered. She tried to slow her steps, but the pull strengthened. “This egg is going to be in the middle of that crumbled hole. I just know it is.”

  Looking down from the edge, Kale decided in the instant before her legs carried her down that she would much rather not retrieve this egg. Of course, she had no choice. The basin looked as big as the village of Arreach. She guessed a cavern had been under the ground and the ceiling caved in.

  “This is sure to lead to trouble,” she said even as one foot went forward.

  Shale sank under her, covering her feet with gritty dirt. She pulled one foot out, shook the debris off her boot, and hurriedly put it down as the other leg sank. Using the same technique she used to form a shield of protection over her, she laid out a clear sheet before her. The invisible board reminded Kale of the baking pans Taylaminkadot used to cook daggarts in the oven.

  Standing on the platform, she jiggled each foot, trying to knock off as much of the gravelly bits of hard clay as she could. The shield slipped, carrying her down a few feet before it dumped her on her backside. Her hands shot out behind as she fell and hit the sharp little rocks.

  “Ouch!”

  She sat up, dusted her palms on her skirt, and inspected the damage. A few cuts seeped dots of blood. “Ooh. Where is Gymn when I need him?”

  Reforming the shield, she made it big enough to sit on, and she arranged the configuration directly beneath her so that she rose out of the shifting shale. The urge to reach the egg overrode her natural caution. She thought she might be able to paddle her tiny craft down the hill. Shifting forward in order to dig her fingers into the fine-grained gravel, she realized her mistake. The shield slipped forward like a sled on snow, fast. She grabbed the frame, and her knuckles scraped the rocks.

  “Ow!” Snatching her hands back, she concentrated on keeping her balance. For some reason, flying high above the ground on the back of a dragon was less harrowing than this.

  The sled skidded across the few level feet at the bottom and started up the opposite incline. The egg was behind Kale now, and the pull to bring her to its side strengthened.

  “I will not throw myself off this shield.”

  Involuntarily, she leaned back. Kale screamed. “No! No! No!”

  Her unusual form of transportation slowed, stopped, and began slipping down to the center of the crater once more.

  She steeled herself, breathing deeply, muscles tensed, ready to roll off the shield during those few feet of level bottom. The front of the sled swung to the right so that Kale slid sideways. Rocks and gravel cascaded all around, racing her to the foot of the slope.

  She squinted her eyes against the dust, wanting to close them, but afraid to. She’d picked up speed again, quickly approaching the base. She had to time this properly. She wrapped her arms around her chest.

  “One, two, three!” She threw her weight to one side. The sled flipped up in the air and came down directly on top of her.

  Kale curled up in a ball with her hands over her head. She had designed the shield to protect her from the sharp rocks. Her device domed and settled. The loose gravel tumbled against the outside of the shell, piling up until it nearly covered one side.

  When the rattle of flowing shale subsided, Kale peeked at her surroundings. Swirling dust blocked her view. She let the shield go, coughing as she stood. She spun around, located the egg, and dug with her hands to uncover it. Had she not been a Dragon Keeper, she doubted she would have recognized the precious object. The egg sitting in her palm looked and felt like a stone, except the smooth surface was in the shape of an ovoid. She tucked it into a pouch woven into her belt with a sigh of relief.

  “Now to get out of here.”

  She placed one hand over her eyes to guard against the glare of the sun and peered up to the rim. She smelled her next problem at the same time she spotted them. Thirty to forty grawligs, with knives drawn and spears raised, ringed the crater. They looked at her as if she were some kind of wild beast.

  30

  UNHELPFUL GRAWLIGS

  One grawlig stepped closer to the edge of the crater. The loose gravel gave way, sending a shower of dirt and pebbles into the giant hole. He grunted and pulled back. Leaning from the waist, he glared at Kale with his head tilted.

  “What are you?” he yelled.

  Kale put her hands on her hips and glared back. “I’m an o’rant.”

  “No. Not.”

  The man shook his head emphatically. His matted mane tossed back and forth about his shoulders. “Girl grawlig. What tribe?”

  The accusation stunned Kale. The mountain ogres could not possibly mistake her for one of them. She swiped her hair out of her face. Still damp from the rain, tangled locks stuck out from her scalp. She looked down at her clothes caked with mud. Coarse gray clay coated her shoes, legs, skirt, cape, arms, face, and hair.

  She looked up again at the crowd above. “I do suppose I look a bit like I’m a grawlig, but honestly, I’m an o’rant.”

  “No. Face like grawlig.”

  To her horror they turned and began to walk away. “Wait! Don’t go.”

  Several heads reappeared over the edge of the crater. Brutish faces grinned at her, including the face of their spokesman. He grunted.

  “You wouldn’t happen to have a rope, would you?”

  The grawlig with the impressive conversational skills nodded.

  “Would you help me out?”

  “Why?”

  Kale searched her mind for a reason that would make sense to a grawlig. “I’m a wizard, and I will find something I c
an do for you.”

  The spokesman grinned so that all his yellow teeth showed. “You wizard. You get out.”

  They left too quickly for Kale to make another appeal. She started to sit, saw the shield had fragmented, and pulled it back together. She sat cross-legged on the protective surface and considered her options.

  Using her wizard skills, she tested the ground in the huge hole. She needed moisture to form clay steps to the top of the crater. The earlier shower provided enough water, but after experimenting, she decided the process would take too long.

  Next she inventoried her pockets and hollows inside her cape. “Who knew I’d need a hundred-foot ladder?” she chided herself.

  She drew her knees up and rested her arms on them. She let her head drop forward and relaxed. The sun beat on the back of her neck. “I could do that thing Regidor does where he lifts objects into the air without touching them. Only I’m not good at it. Dropping an apple is one thing, dropping me would be quite another.”

  A fly buzzed her clay-encrusted head. She waved a hand to shoo it away. “I need help. Bardon is too far away and too busy even if I did reach him.”

  She focused on Celisse and made a connection with her riding dragon’s mind. Come find me and bring Pat.

  Celisse expressed her concern at this sudden summons.

  I’m all right, but very dirty…and very stuck.

  She didn’t worry about Celisse being able to find her. Their bond assured knowledge of the other’s whereabouts over a reasonable distance. However, she didn’t like the idea of being down in a hot hole until her rescue party arrived.

  Pat will probably take one look at the situation and have a reasonable, obvious solution within seconds. I should try thinking like Pat. She laughed. Pat is entirely too analytical. I could never think like him. I guess the alternative is to think like me. No valuable thought sprang to her mind. I’m a light wizard. What can I do with light to get me out of this trap?

  An idea spread a smile across her face. She stood and put her hands, cupped together, in front of her.

  A glowing orb of green light appeared, nestled against her palms. “The point of this endeavor, my little light vines, is to pay attention to my direction. I want you to go up and not wander all over the sides of the slope.”

  The tendrils pushing out of the light seed didn’t hear her voice, but Kale needed the verbal assurance that she could maintain control. Commanding anything to grow along a particular path was tricky. Light plants tended to run wild.

  She concentrated, knowing that if even one sprout headed off in the wrong direction, she would soon have an unwieldy mess. The vines of light spilled out of her hands and poured to the floor. Upon coming in contact with the dirt, they bent and started up the basin’s unstable walls. They grew in a slithering motion toward the rim of the crater. Leaves popped out every few inches, and the main branches thickened, making a sturdy climbing structure.

  Kale kept her eyes on the strip in front of her. She nipped any stray bud that threatened to grow out beyond the swath she designated. In a matter of minutes, she had a network of light vines established from the floor of the crater to the top. She closed her hands over the glowing seed, and the tendrils ceased erupting from the core. The last of the stems dropped to the floor as if cut off. When Kale opened her hands, the orb was gone.

  She reformed her dress into trousers. She pushed the sides of her cape behind her so that it hung down her back and out of the way. Then she began to climb. The twisting light vines provided excellent hand-and footholds, except for the fact they were smooth enough to be slippery. More than once Kale caught herself just before sliding back down to the bottom. As she got to the top, she wiped sweat from her brow and panted as though she’d run a mile.

  “I’ve seen you looking better.”

  “Ack!” Kale lost her footing, screeched again, and scrambled to throw herself over the top edge. “Seezle! You nearly sent me plummeting to the floor of the crater.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” She scratched at her scalp through flyaway hair. “I’ve been watching you for quite a while. I thought you’d know I was here.” Her lower lip stuck out in a pout. “I wasn’t hiding.”

  “It’s all right, Seezle.” Kale rested with her arms and legs stretched out and her face to the cloudy sky. Her head came up, and she stared at her tiny friend. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to get you. Actually, I came with the urohms who are going to help with Arreach.”

  Kale raised up on her elbows and looked around.

  Seezle giggled. “They are marching. I moved a little faster.” She sprang to her feet and pointed. “And we’d best get out of here, fast!”

  Kale followed the line of her finger. The grawligs were clustered around an old barn that stood on a high ridge, several hillsides away. Two jumped up and down, waved their arms, and occasionally stopped to gesture toward Kale and Seezle.

  “They probably aren’t delighted that I managed to get out of the hole on my own.”

  Seezle skipped around Kale. “Come on, let’s go. You’re slow, and I want to get a head start.”

  Kale pulled herself to her feet and put her hands on her hips. “I don’t feel like running.”

  Seezle quit prancing. “Are you fixing to do some wizardry?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, boy!” Seezle plopped down on the grass. “This will be fun.”

  “Celisse is on her way to pick me up.” Kale’s fingers worked over her palm as if she toyed with some soft, round object. “We’ll just pester these ogres until she gets here.”

  Seezle cocked her head and watched Kale. “What have you got in your hand?”

  “Air.”

  “What are you doing with it?”

  “Smashing it.”

  “Well, whatever you’re planning, you better get it done. The grawligs are coming this way.”

  The herd of shaggy scoundrels trotted en masse down the slope of the hill. They disappeared in the hollow between the two rises. As their heads appeared at the crest of the next knoll, Kale pitched the airball.

  “What’s happening?” demanded Seezle.

  “The compressed air is expanding. By the time it reaches the grawligs, it will be a substantial wind.”

  Seezle counted slowly. “One, two, three, four—”

  The line of burly mountain men at the front staggered backward, knocking over those behind. Seezle laughed as the attacking force fell over one another, trying to stand and tripping other brutes in the process.

  Kale prepared another parcel of air as the grawligs straightened themselves out, reformed their loose line, and came barreling down the hill.

  “Will it work again?” asked Seezle. “They are a whole lot closer.”

  “Yes, it’ll work. This one is bigger. And Celisse is almost here.”

  Kale waited while holding with two hands what looked like a sizable object, even though it could not be seen. She hefted the ball in front of her until the grawligs came over the last rise, then she swung one arm along her side and as far back as she could reach. She rolled the object out of her hand and down the slope toward the approaching enemy as if she were playing peggle-pins.

  “I can see it!” Seezle jumped and pointed. “There it goes.”

  “Seezle, even I can’t see it,” objected Kale.

  “I don’t mean I see it. I mean I can see where it is going. The grass is pushed down. Oh, and the path is getting wider and wider…and oh, boy! Those grawligs haven’t got a chance.”

  “Celisse is here. Come on.”

  The beat of her wings and the swift rush of air announced the dragon’s arrival.

  “Just a minute,” called Seezle. “I want to see them bowled over.”

  Kale went to her dragon’s neck, patted the shiny scales, and leaned her cheek against the black strip that ran from Celisse’s jaw to her shoulder. Pat hopped from his perch between the bigger dragon’s ears onto Kale’s head.

&nbs
p; “Yes, thank you,” she told both her friends. “I did get out of my predicament on my own.”

  The blast of air reached the grawligs and knocked a good many over. The others turned and, with the wind hastening their steps, ran away.

  Seezle hopped and skipped and finally came to join Kale.

  “What are you doing?” the tiny kimen asked.

  Kale busily threaded a strand of light out of a glowing orb in one palm. Pat had an end in his mouth and ran up to the ridges along Celisse’s back.

  Kale grinned. “I’m discovering all sorts of useful things for these light vines. I’m making a saddle of sorts.” She pulled out another length of luminescent ropelike stem. “At least I am making something for us to hold on to.”

  “I’ll help.” Seezle took a second, rapidly growing tendril and climbed up Celisse’s side.

  With several vines wrapped around the big dragon’s frame, the travelers were ready. Kale sat at the base of Celisse’s neck, wrapping her legs into a tangle of vines and holding on to another. Pat rode in her lap, and Seezle sat forward a bit.

  “Where are we going?” asked Seezle.

  “I’m on my way to visit the dragons we left in a valley away from Arreach.”

  Seezle’s eyes widened. “You don’t plan to spend much time there, do you? Because I was sent to get you.”

  “What’s left of this afternoon.” Kale thought how good it would be to see her friends. Then a not-so-pleasant thought disturbed her peace. “Who sent you to get me? Seezle, aren’t you supposed to be watching Holt?”

  “I was, and that’s why I’m here.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Holt’s in trouble.” She looked over her shoulder at Kale, and her face held an uncharacteristic solemnity. “Namee sent me to get you.”

  31

  TO THE RESCUE!

  Kale chose to wait until they landed before asking any more questions. They covered the distance quickly and set down among the other dragons in a large, sparsely vegetated hallow. Then Kale needed to converse in mindspeaking with the dragons to appease their curiosity. She related what had happened in Arreach and then listened to the dragons’ accounts of the world rumbling.