DragonLight

by Donita K. Paul

  “Is there any kind of wizardry that seals him in?”

  “We don’t have wizards. I suppose we may have had a few in the beginning, but there are no records of any.”

  “Why is that? Why no records?”

  Seslie cleared his throat. “There was the business of gaining control over Mot Angra. Then they had to put up shelters for the coming winter. We brought little with us. We even had to make paper, and you can understand that was not as high a priority as keeping the snow off our heads.” He sighed. “And I suppose, if we are to be truthful, no one wanted to put down on paper what blunderheads we had been.

  “The other types of dragons were furious with us. As soon as they had contributed to securing Mot Angra, they washed their hands of us and went south. Many meech went south as well, but over the years they have drifted back. We attribute that to the collective dedication to our responsibility. We are peaceful to a fault.” He turned to look at Bardon. “I hear Regidor fights…and flies. Remarkable.”

  “Do you know how Gilda is? We haven’t heard, and when Kale asked if she could visit, the matron in charge said that seeing the outsiders would set her off again. I don’t really understand what is wrong with her.”

  “She has presented her egg.”

  Bardon felt a surge of joy for his friend Regidor and relief for Gilda. “Really? Is she all right? Is the egg…um, is the egg, well, whole? All right? Like it should be?”

  Seslie laughed. “They are both fine.”

  “I was led to believe that the meech have very few eggs and do not cherish the family unit.”

  Seslie laughed again, obviously more comfortable talking about their culture than their past. “We collect eggs for ten or fifteen years, and then for three years we hatch them out in a spaced pattern. That way the youngsters have playmates, and we can educate them in groups.” He chuckled. “Except that Sachael Relk. She’s a rebel. She has her eggs whenever she chooses and has them quickened as soon as she can. Why, we’d be overrun with children if all our women took to breeding and hatching the way that woman does.” He shook his head and sobered. “You are aware that meech mature rapidly?”

  “I am.”

  “Are you aware that our life spans are considerably shorter than yours?”

  Bardon caught his breath. “No. No, I was not.” He thought of Regidor. “How short?”

  “Forty, fifty years.” Seslie pushed aside a stray branch. The path to the cave was well worn. “As to our family units? I suppose the rumor that we don’t enjoy our families comes purely from not knowing us.”

  “Is it true you need an outsider to quicken your eggs?”

  “Now, that’s true enough. A few members of the high races live in this remote territory. We know each of them. They are as odd as you must think we are, and they choose to be reclusive as well. We had a tumanhofer living with us for a number of years.”

  “Woodkimkalajoss?”

  “Yes. Was it he who told you how to find us?”

  “I’m afraid so. Reluctantly, but he told.”

  “I suspect he got suspicious of the tremors. He knew about Mot Angra. I suppose he figured we needed some help. He wasn’t very complimentary about how we choose to live.”

  “Are all of your people content, or do you have more rebels like Sachael Relk?”

  Seslie frowned. “Sachael is no harm to anyone, but we did have a man who caused problems. He left us around ten years ago, and no one but Tulanny was sad to see him go.”

  “Tulanny?”

  “He was Tulanny’s son. A loudmouth. A persuasive talker. An ‘independent thinker’ he called himself, but he wanted everyone to line up behind him and follow his new way of doing things. When we didn’t fall in line, he got pretty ugly. Meech don’t generally yell and holler when we discuss things. His joy was in outshouting anyone who stood up to him. We told him that a bully never got what he wanted and he’d have to learn another way to win people to his side.

  “He hated dragons too. He transferred all his fear of Mot Angra into hate for all dragons. He denied his own heritage, separating himself from the reality of his own dragon blood. He talked wildly about what he would do if he could rid this world of dragons. His contention was that the dragons should never have been allowed to pass through Wulder’s gateway. But it was Wulder’s gateway, and he never seemed to get it through his thick skull that it was up to Wulder who could come through, not up to him.

  “He left eventually. I guess he got tired of hearing the same story from us over and over. He couldn’t change what we think. I wonder if he found anyone who would listen to him.”

  A shiver ran down Bardon’s spine as he surmised where Tulanny’s son may have gone and what he was doing.

  “Here we are,” whispered Seslie. “Try not to make noise. Mot Angra is restless these days, and we’d just as soon he stay asleep until we come tonight with his offering.”

  Bardon felt oppression descend upon him as he neared the opening in the rock. The cold, clammy apprehension reminded him of the way they’d felt when the questers first entered the Northern Reach. Now his skin crawled, and he found himself expecting something to leap out at them. He looked at his companions and saw they, too, felt the unnatural atmosphere of dread.

  They no sooner stepped inside the cave than the floor shook and grit let loose from the ceiling, showering their heads. A moment later a horde of black dragons flew out of the dark tunnel toward the sunshine. They turned north as soon as they hit the fresh air.

  “North!” said several of the men.

  “The village,” said another.

  “Kale,” said Bardon and ran up the path he had just descended.

  47

  NEW THINGS

  “What are you reading?” Sittiponder stood at Kale’s shoulder, examining the book in front of her.

  “It’s a volume of information on dragons. Leetu Bends gave it to me many years ago.” She laughed. “Actually, it was in Granny Noon’s library, so I ought to say Granny Noon gave it to me. Leetu thought I would need the information and took it off the shelf and pushed it into my hands. Years later, I asked Granny Noon if she wanted it back.”

  “And she said no.”

  “She said, ‘I guess not. I didn’t know it was missing.’”

  Kale examined her young friend. His face lit up upon hearing the story, but he’d already worn an expression of joy. She wondered what it would be like to see the world for the first time. “What have you been doing?”

  He grinned. “Looking. I’ve decided yellow is my favorite color. One of the meech children showed me all sorts of things and told me their names. I’m surprised so many of the birds are tiny. Their songs are so big. I like the way water runs in a brook. The way it moves matches the way it sounds.”

  Kale turned in her chair and hugged him. “I’m so glad for you, Sittiponder.”

  “I’m glad for me too.”

  “Why did you come find me? Do you need something?”

  “No, I got cold, so I decided to come inside and watch the fire crackle.”

  “I don’t blame you. I shut the window after Brunstetter left. I couldn’t latch it because I didn’t want to climb on a chair.”

  “You couldn’t move it with wizardry?”

  Kale shook her head. “I tried, but things are off balance around here. The simplest of wizard maneuvers just don’t work. No, that’s not accurate. Some of my wizardry works and some does not. There’s no rhyme or reason as to which manipulation reaps success and which does not.” She frowned, thinking. “I’ve thought maybe it has to do with polarization.”

  “What?”

  She smiled. “Never mind. We’ll have to ask Regidor to figure it out.” Her smile faded. “Right now he’s preoccupied with Gilda.”

  Kale’s own baby felt huge, heavy, cumbersome, and annoyingly active. She tried to reach the baby and met with resistance. How could a baby block mindspeaking? She wanted to sing to it. She wanted to know if it was a he or she. Just that much wou
ld be comforting. But this baby lived in silence, not reaching out to its mama. If she continued along this line of thinking, she’d bawl.

  She searched her mind for another topic of conversation. “What is Toopka doing?”

  “She’s playing with the other children. Every once in a while she pulls out the egg and shows it to everyone. She tells them how important it is and that she’s going to use the egg to save the world.”

  “Does she say how she’s going to save the world?”

  Sittiponder shook his head vigorously. “No.”

  Kale turned back to the table. “That’s actually why I pulled this book out. I’m looking at all the different types of eggs. Some have pictures and some are described. So far I haven’t found a match to the one Toopka carries. So, I’m sure it is not a dragon egg, but something else.”

  A tremor shook the table. The book jiggled toward the edge, and Kale stopped it from falling as she tried to balance on a moving chair. The window popped open, a log fell from the fire, and a picture fell from the wall. Both Kale and Sittiponder grabbed for the platters of food headed for the sides of the table and, consequently, the floor. They managed to shove all the dishes back to safety. The shuddering earth stilled.

  “Wow!” said Sittiponder. “That was a big one.”

  A niggling feeling in the back of her mind brought Kale’s head up. She stared at the window. Something disturbing was just beyond her reach.

  “Close the window!” she shouted. She jumped out of the chair, knocking it over. Both she and Sittiponder ran, but the tumanhofer got there first and pushed the two sides of the window into the frame.

  “I’m going to boost you up, Sittiponder,” said Kale as she grabbed his thighs. A cramp shot across her back, but she ignored it. “You’ll be able to reach the latch.” She grunted as she shoved. “Why would anyone put their locks at the top where pregnant o’rant wizards cannot possibly reach?”

  “Meeches are taller.”

  “I know that!” snapped Kale. “Oh, I’m sorry, Sittiponder.”

  The tumanhofer stretched. “Why would anyone put their locks at the top of windows where tumanhofer boys standing on pregnant o’rant wizards cannot possibly reach?”

  Kale giggled.

  Sittiponder struggled with the metal hook and finally got it to slide into the small notch.

  Kale put him down. Her hand went straight to the small of her back. “Ow!” A deep ache coursed across the bottom of her bulging abdomen and settled in to torment her. She wrapped her arms around the pain. “Oh! Oh! Ow!”

  Sittiponder took her by the arm and guided her back to the table. “Should I go get someone?”

  Kale gasped. “Gymn is coming. So are the others. Oh no, Sitti, the black dragons are coming. That’s what I felt. I can feel the buzz now.”

  “What should I do?”

  “Build up the fire so they can’t come down the chimney.” Kale glanced around the room, trying to find something helpful. “I’ve got my cape. I’ll put up a shield, but I don’t know if I can hold my concentration if another contraction hits me.”

  “Contraction?”

  “I think the baby’s coming.”

  Sittiponder stepped back from her as if she had just announced she was carrying the plague.

  Kale laughed. “Stir up the fire.” She nestled into a corner of the room. Crouching on the floor, it would be easier to maintain a shield if she had less area to cover. The walls would provide part of her protection.

  “If they get in,” she told Sittiponder, “open the door and run. They won’t bother you as long as you leave them alone.”

  She saw his stoic nod and wondered what he was thinking as he put on another log. She also wondered why she couldn’t just penetrate his thick skull and dig out the information she wanted. Everything was harder to do. Was it the labor associated with a coming baby? Was it the closeness of the monstrous evil in the bowels of the earth? Would she be able to hold the shield in place, or would that bit of wizardry slip through her fingers as well?

  She heard the distant buzz, the screams of frightened children, and the mixed warnings from her minor dragons. Ducking low, she covered herself with the impenetrable armor. I hope it holds. Maybe they’ll pass right over the village.

  A whack against the windowpane destroyed that flimsy hope. The rat-a-tat-tat against the glass sounded like hail. The new little dragon who hid from her came out of the moonbeam cape. She sat on Kale’s shoulder and hissed in the direction of the onslaught.

  “It’s all right, little girl,” cooed Kale. She reached to stroke the blue dragon and got nipped for her concern. Kale jerked her hand back and examined the finger. At least the ill-tempered beast hadn’t drawn blood. Kale put the finger in her mouth and sucked away the sharp pain.

  She glanced at the window and didn’t like the fact that the glass flexed with the impact of each black body. Sittiponder stood between her and the window with a thin log held like a club.

  Sittiponder, you are to run. Do you hear me? They won’t hurt me. I’m safe. You run. He didn’t respond but stood swinging the club, then bouncing it against his palm. Did he not hear her? Could she not even mindspeak? He’d never hear her voice above the droning and the battering of bodies against the glass.

  Sittiponder, do you hear me? Great! Now you’re deaf instead of blind.

  He turned long enough to flash her a cheeky grin.

  Kale knew when the villagers rallied to attack the black dragons. The minor dragons flashed images to Kale of the villagers attacking the black dragons. Her dragons also engaged in the battle, bombarding the smaller beasts from above the swarm. Some of her dragons swooped down and attacked along the flank of the horde. Kale could feel Crispin’s excitement as he spat fire at the enemy instead of caustic saliva.

  The crash of glass brought her vision back from what others could see to what was happening in this room. Sittiponder swung at the invasion with his clunky stick and managed to hit several of the nasty beasts with each swing. The mass swarmed around him and came directly at Kale. She closed her eyes and concentrated, keeping the shield in place while she listened to the creatures thud against her cover. Too busy with her defense, she didn’t have a clue what was happening beyond her small refuge.

  She covered her ears, jostling the blue dragon, who bit her wrist. Her concentration flickered, and so did the shield, but she managed to hold it together.

  The thudding subsided, then stopped. Kale peeked. Bardon stood in the room with the other questers and a few meech men. She could see the bottom of Brunstetter’s legs outside the window. Sir Dar hugged Sittiponder and Lee Ark slapped the boy on the back.

  “Come out, Kale,” said Bardon, walking toward her. His feet kicked tiny black bodies aside. “It’s safe now.”

  The pain swelling across her abdomen shattered the shield. Kale panted and tried to speak.

  Bardon knelt beside her.

  “The baby?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  Tulanny pushed through the crowded room. The blue dragon hissed at the meech as she knelt beside Kale.

  Tulanny’s eyes widened. “Is this a protector dragon? Is that his talent?”

  “Her?” Kale looked askance at the minor dragon who had slid down her arm and stood on her stomach. She shook her head. “No, this is a cranky dragon who has no talent that I know of. She failed to bond.”

  Tulanny and Bardon helped Kale get to her feet. Tulanny frowned and wrinkled her nose at the dead bodies littering the floor. Then her face cleared, and she stared at Kale.

  “These creatures attacked you, didn’t they? They were after you.”

  “Yes.” Kale leaned against Bardon. “I really would like to lie down.”

  “That means,” said Tulanny, “that you’re not just a wizard with dragons. You’re a Dragon Keeper.”

  Bardon steered Kale through the room. Her friends backed away to make a path.

  Kale gritted her teeth. “That’s right.”

  “You
’re our savior. A Dragon Keeper. It’s perfect.” Tulanny grinned at the other meech in the room. “Who better to manage that wicked dragon than an experienced Dragon Keeper?”

  Kale saw several nods and heard one person’s “worth a try.”

  She had to set them straight.

  “Look, I have a tiny blue naughty dragon who bites me. I can’t control all dragons.”

  Tulanny patted her back. “But you can try, Kale. Surely, you could try.”

  All Kale wanted was a bed, a drink, and some time alone. “I’ll think about it,” she said, trying not to add a screech as another gripping pain clutched her abdomen. “Right after I have this baby.”

  48

  LIFE AND DEATH

  “Oh, I wish Mother were here.” Kale panted as Bardon wiped sweat from her face. Gymn sat on her stomach and eyed first her and then the blue dragon that no one had succeeded in chasing away. She sat with her wings outstretched on the pillow next to Kale’s head.

  Kale huffed. “I wish that confounded dragon would at least flap more often. It cools me off.”

  Gymn chirruped at the intruder. The blue dragon hissed back.

  Bardon picked up a straw fan loaned to him by Tulanny and waved it over Kale’s face.

  Kale groaned. “I wish Granny Noon were here.”

  Bardon wiped her face again. “I’m here.”

  “How many babies have you helped into the world?”

  He nodded. “Got your point. Do you want another sip of water?”

  “Here she is,” announced Tulanny from the doorway.

  Sachael Relk stepped into the room, and an enormous weight of anxiety lifted from Kale. But another contraction caught her, and all reason left with the grip of muscles trying to birth the baby.

  Sachael gently pushed Bardon to one side and took Kale’s hand.

  Bardon flinched. “She’ll mangle your fingers until you think they’re going to sink into each other.”

  Sachael smiled. “The trick is to give her the palm of your hand to squeeze and keep your fingers free.”

  “Do you think it’ll be much longer?” Bardon asked.

  “Son, I just walked through the door. At this point I don’t know if it’ll be five minutes or five years.”