“Two or three anums!” Darek cried. “But . . . we won’t even remember Zantor!”
“I’m sorry,” Azzon said. “I cannot take the risk of allowing you to remember more. You must trust me. It is better this way.” Then he smiled sadly and added, “Good life to you, my friends.”
Darek, Pola, and Rowena slowly lifted their cups. “And to you, Azzon,” they said softly. Then they tilted their heads and drank. Darek thought one last time about Arnod and the others.
“Farewell, my friends,” he whispered. “Lord Eternal be with you.” Then he thought about Zantor, and tears stung his eyes. “And with you, little friend,” he whispered, “wherever you are.”
* * *
Darek opened his eyes and blinked. He was in a gently sloping field of zorgrass.
“What?” he whispered. “What am I doing here?” He rolled over and blinked again. “Pola? Rowena?” he said. “What are we all doing here?”
Pola and Rowena sat up and looked around.
“We’re in the foothills of the Yellow Mountains!” Pola said.
“How did we get here?” Rowena asked.
“I don’t know.” Darek shook his head. “I do know one thing, though. Our parents are going to kill us.”
“Uh-oh.” Rowena pointed up at the sky. “You mean, if they don’t kill us first!”
Three young Blue dragons were winging their way over the Yellow Mountains.
“Stay calm,” Darek said. “Maybe they won’t see us.”
“They see us, all right!” Pola shouted. “Here they come!”
They all jumped to their feet, and Rowena and Pola started to run. But for some reason, Darek didn’t. Instead he stood and watched the dragons dip lower, lower, until they landed right in front of him.
One of them, a male, stared at him with pain-filled eyes. “Rrronk!” he cried.
“Why, you’re hurt!” Darek said. A broken arrow shaft protruded from the dragon’s neck.
Darek approached carefully.
“Here,” he said, grabbing the shaft. “Let me help.” He pulled, and the arrow came out clean. The young dragon seemed tired but grateful. He laid his head gently on Darek’s shoulder.
“Thrummm,” he sang softly. “Thrummm, thrummm, thrummm.”
“Why . . . they’re friendly.” Rowena cried out.
Darek turned to see her and Pola watching in amazement.
“Is that one all right?” Pola asked, approaching cautiously.
“I think so.” Darek reached up and gently stroked the dragon’s neck. “Poor thing. I wonder who shot him? This arrow isn’t Zorian.”
The little dragon pulled back. He tilted his head and looked deeply into Darek’s eyes. For an instant, something seemed to pass between them, something too fast-moving, too vague to capture.
Something that felt strangely like a memory.
Keep reading for a preview of
Dragon Trouble
by
Jackie French Koller
1
DAREK SAT ON THE PADDOCK fence, staring. Out in the fields Zantor and the two female dragons, Drizba and Typra, grazed peacefully. The zorgrass obviously agreed with them. They had grown tremendously in the few weeks since Darek had been back at home. Zantor still insisted on sleeping by Darek’s bed each night. But that couldn’t go on much longer. Zantor could barely squeeze through the door anymore!
Little by little, Darek was trying to piece together what had happened to him since Zantor came into his life. He and his friends Pola and Rowena had been to Krad and back. He knew that much. But someone, or something, had taken away their memories while they were there. Not just their memories of Krad, but their memories of several anums before, too. Darek’s mother had been doing her best to fill in those anums for him.
Zantor was helping too. He was able to send Darek and his friend Rowena mind pictures of things he had heard and seen. These mind messages were giving them back memories of Krad. Darek hadn’t shared these memories with his mother yet because he didn’t want to worry her. They were too awful to share—scenes of a bleak, smoke-shrouded land, where Zorians were prisoners, and fierce, hairy Kradens ruled. Darek swallowed hard. His father and brother were still in Krad somewhere, and Pola’s and Rowena’s fathers too. That is—if any of them were still alive.
Darek heard a shout and turned to see Pola and Rowena coming up the road.
“How’s he doing?” asked Rowena. She hopped up on the fence and nodded toward the scar on Zantor’s neck. Zantor and Darek had both been wounded by arrows in their escape from Krad.
“Good as new,” said Darek. “Look at him.”
The three friends watched as Zantor charged the other two dragons in a play battle. Drizba and Typra reared and screamed in mock terror. Darek, Pola, and Rowena laughed.
“How about you?” Pola asked then. “How’s the leg coming along?”
Darek rubbed his thigh. “A little stiff still, but nothing I can’t handle. Any further word on our punishment?”
“No.” Rowena bit her lip. There was a law in Zoriac that anyone caught venturing into the Black Mountains was to be put to death. Pola did not need to worry. He had been carried into the mountains by accident. But Darek and Rowena had gone after him willingly. Under Zorian law, when a child under twelve broke the law, the child’s father was made to suffer the punishment, even if that father was Chief Elder, like Rowena’s father. But Darek’s father and the Chief Elder were gone, along with Pola’s father and Darek’s brother. They had gone into the Black Mountains too, to search for the children. And they had not returned.
“It’s all so confusing,” Rowena went on. “Mother says the elders can’t decide what to do. I worry what will happen when our fathers get back, though. Zarnak, the acting chief, seems very fond of that crown on his head. I think he will be all too glad of a reason to put my father to death.”
Pola shook his head firmly. “Your father has too many friends on the Council,” he said to Rowena. “And Darek, your father is one of the most respected men in the village. Don’t worry about that old law. It was only made to scare Zorians away from the Black Mountains for their own safety.”
“That’s not quite true,” said Rowena. “It was also meant to prevent Zorians from going over the mountains and provoking the Kradens, if they in fact existed.”
“Thrummm, thrummm, thrummm!” The young dragons had noticed the children and came loping over. They stuck their heads over the fence to be petted.
“Here,” Darek said, pulling some sugar cubes from his jerkin pocket. He handed a few to Pola and Rowena. “Zantor reminded me yesterday that he loves these.”
The three children held out the cubes and, thwippp, thwippp, thwippp! The dragons gobbled them eagerly.
“Have you gotten any more mind messages from Zantor?” Rowena asked Darek as they watched the dragons munch.
“Shush!” Darek glanced back toward the house. “I don’t think my mother, or anyone else, should know what we’ve found out about Krad until we can figure a way to get our fathers back.”
“Why?” asked Rowena.
“Because I don’t trust Zarnak. As far as I’m concerned, the less he knows, the better.”
Rowena and Pola nodded their agreement.
“The last memory I can get from Zantor,” Darek went on, “is when the arrow struck my leg. But . . . how did we get home? We made it through the mists somehow.”
Pola and Rowena nodded again. They had learned from Zantor’s mind messages that the mists in the Black Mountains were poisonous. The poison was deadly to Kradens and robbed Zorians of their minds.
“We’ve got to find out how we did it,” said Darek.
“Why?” asked Pola. “What are you planning?”
Darek glanced toward the house and then lowered his voice. “I’m going back,” he said.
A wry smile slowly curled Pola’s lips. “When do we leave?” he asked.
“I didn’t say we,” said Darek. “I said me. I’m already in
trouble. You’re not.”
Pola bristled. “Oh, right,” he said, “like I’d ever let you go alone. My father’s over there too, don’t forget.”
“And mine!” Rowena put in.
Both boys turned to look at her. “You’re not suggesting we take you back there?” said Darek. “It’s too dangerous!”
Rowena crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes. “Nobody takes me anywhere,” she said. “I go where I please. And if I please to go with you, I will. Just like I did last time.”
“Rrronk!” came a sudden cry. The young dragons had finished the sugar cubes and gone back to their games. Apparently Zantor had started playing a little too rough, knocking Drizba down. As Darek, Pola, and Rowena watched, Drizba got to her feet, threw back her head, and spread her wings.
“Grrrawwk!” she screamed in a very convincing imitation of an angry, full-grown Blue.
“Rrronk, rrronk!” cried Zantor. He barreled across the field, leapt the fence in a single bound, and dove for cover behind Darek.
“Wow,” said Darek, “she’s pretty impressive when she gets mad. I thought for a minute she was going to breathe fire.”
“Who?” asked Pola, grinning widely, “Drizba, or Rowena?”
2
“MOTHER?” DAREK CALLED.
“Up here,” Alayah answered.
Darek climbed the narrow, winding staircase to the garret.
“Rrronk,” cried Zantor. Darek looked back and saw him wedged in the doorway. The garret stairs were too narrow for him.
“Silly dragon,” said Darek. He went back down and pushed Zantor free. “Just wait here,” he said. “I’ll only be a moment.” Zantor’s head sagged. He rested his chin on one of the lower steps and watched sadly as Darek climbed up, out of his reach.
Alayah was just closing an old chest as Darek entered the garret. She dabbed quickly at her eyes with her apron.
“What are you doing?” Darek asked.
“Nothing,” she said, “just . . .” Her voice trailed off.
Darek walked over and crouched down beside her. “What’s in here?” he asked. Before his mother could answer, he lifted the lid and looked in. The chest was full of yellowed letters and baby clothes. Some of his father’s old uniforms, medals, and archery trophies were there too.
“Just memories,” Darek’s mother said softly.
Darek lifted out one of the trophies and sat with it on his lap. He thought of the days when he and Clep were small. Often, in the evenings, after supper, his father would set a target up beyond the barn and let them practice with his great bow. At first Darek had been too small even to bend the string, but his father would twine his fingers through Darek’s and help him pull.
“You did it!” Clep would cry when the arrow found its mark. Then Darek would feel proud, even though he knew he couldn’t have done it without his father.
Tears sprang to Darek’s eyes. How he missed his father and brother.
Continue Reading…
Dragon Trouble
Jackie French Koller
About the Author
Jackie French Koller has been a storyteller since the sixth grade, when she amused her friends by spinning tales on the playground. She has also edited a children’s newspaper, taught writing in public schools, and studied art. Ms. Koller lives in Groton, Massachusetts, with her husband and children.
ALADDIN
Simon & Schuster, New York
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Don’t miss the other adventures of Darek and Zantor:
The Dragonling
A Dragon in the Family
Dragon Quest
Coming soon:
Dragon Trouble
Dragons and Kings
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
ALADDIN
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This Aladdin paperback edition April 2019
Text copyright © 1997 by Jackie French Koller
Cover illustration copyright © 2019 by Tom Knight
Interior illustrations copyright © 1997 by Judith Mitchell
Also available in an Aladdin hardcover edition.
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Designed by Laura Lyn DiSiena
Library of Congress Control Number 2018958558
ISBN 978-1-5344-0071-9 (hc)
ISBN 978-1-5344-0070-2 (pbk)
ISBN 978-1-5344-0072-6 (eBook)
Dragons of Krad Page 4
