Darek’s mother stepped to the ledge.
“It is not the dragons I fear,” she shouted. “It is you.”
Darek stared at his mother. Never in his life had he seen her speak so to his father. The other men stared too, and Darek’s father’s face grew as red as a burning ember.
“Perhaps I should leave you with the dragons, then?” he shouted.
The other women came up and stood behind Darek’s mother.
“You will have to leave us all,” she said. “We stand together. No longer will we let our sons be slaughtered for this cruel sport.”
An angry murmur passed through the men, and Darek’s father’s eyes burned with rage. “Sport!” he shouted. “You call it sport to defend our people from their enemies?”
Darek’s mother looked around at the great dragons on the cliffs. “If these creatures were truly our enemies,” she said, “would I be standing unharmed before you now?”
Some of the men began to glance uncomfortably at one another.
“The old days are gone,” Darek’s mother went on. “We have suffered enough pain. Look at what you have done to Zilah. And to Marla and Deela and all the others whose sons are gone.” Darek’s mother pulled Darek close, and her voice began to tremble. “Look at what you would have done to me today.”
Suddenly there was a cry, and Bodak, Yoran’s father, dropped to his knees. He put his hands over his face, and his shoulders began to shake. He was weeping, Darek realized. A hard lump formed in his throat. He had never seen a man weep before.
There was a moment of stunned and awkward silence, and then, one by one, the men began to lower their weapons.
10
DAREK STOOD BY THE ENTRANCE to the cave. A few ashes were all that remained of the pile of weapons. The dragons were still cautious, but they had allowed the villagers to return safely to the twin rocks. Darek was sure that friendship would come in time. He turned to Zantor. A great sadness filled his heart.
“You’ve grown already, little friend,” he said. “Soon you will be the greatest Great Blue of them all.”
Zantor thrummed happily.
“You stay with your new mother now,” Darek said, “and maybe we’ll see each other again someday.” Darek started toward the twin rocks. Zantor scuffled after him.
“No,” said Darek firmly. “You have to stay.”
Zantor stopped obediently and stood watching until Darek reached the ridge. “Rrronk?” Zantor cried out.
Darek looked back and waved, then he turned and hurried forward, blinking back tears. Just as he reached the group, there was a flutter and a thump, and then Zantor rushed up from behind and stuffed his head under Darek’s shirt. “Thrrummm, thrrummm, thrrummm,” he said.
Darek giggled and pushed the dragonling away. “Will you cut that out?” he said.
The villagers laughed.
“Looks like you’ve adopted yourself a dragon,” said Zilah.
Darek’s father snorted. “No son of mine is going to play nursemaid to any dragon!”
Darek looked at Zantor. Clearly the dragon-ling wanted to come home with him, and Darek wanted nothing more. If only he could convince his father.
“Father . . . ?” he began.
His father eyed him suspiciously.
“I was thinking,” Darek went on, his stomach fluttering, “the dragons could be our friends. They can light fires for cooking, they can help plow, they can even take us flying. I flew in the Great Blue’s pouch. It was wonderful !”
In his growing excitement Darek did not notice his father’s eyes growing rounder, and his face growing redder.
“Enough!” he boomed. “By the twin moons of Zoriak! What madness will you dream up next?” He whirled and stormed away.
Darek stared after him, his heart as heavy as stone. His mother put a hand on his shoulder and smiled.
“Change is never easy, my son,” she said. “Your father has come a long way today. Give him time.”
Zilah and Bodak stood nearby. Darek saw Zilah press Bodak’s arm and whisper something into his ear. They murmured together, then Bodak nodded gravely.
“Your words are not easy to accept, young Darek,” he said, “but they have much wisdom. Bring the orphan along. Zilah and I will care for him until your father is ready to listen.”
Darek’s heart leaped with joy, but he bowed his head humbly. “Thank you, Bodak,” he said. “You honor me.”
“And I honor my brother as well.”
Darek looked up. Clep was standing before him, holding out the dragonclaw necklace. “This belongs to you,” he said.
Darek was confused. “But why?” he asked. “You earned it.”
Clep shook his head. “I just got lucky,” he said. “It took true courage to do what you did today.”
Darek’s heart swelled with pride at Clep’s praise. He took the prize and held it up. Somehow it brought him no joy now. He heard Zantor whimper beside him. Slowly he lowered his hand again. How could he return the gift to Clep without appearing ungrateful?
Clep seemed to understand. “Perhaps,” he said quietly, “it really belongs to the dragons.”
Together Darek and Clep dug a hole and buried the necklace between the twin rocks. Then they stood for a moment, side by side, looking out over the valley, peaceful and still now in the late afternoon shadows. Zantor wiggled in between them.
“Thrrummm, thrrummm, thrrummm,” he said.
Turn the page for a peek at the next book in the series:
A Dragon in the Family
DAREK SAT ACROSS THE CAMPFIRE from his father, chewing but not tasting his food. It had been three days since their confrontation in the Valley of the Dragons, and still his father had hardly said a word to him. Would it be any different when they and the rest of their party reached home tomorrow? He glanced at his mother and his brother, Clep, and they each gave him a small reassuring smile. Change takes time, his mother kept telling him. How much time? Darek wondered. He longed for the day when his father would gaze upon him with love and pride again.
“Rrronk,” came a sad cry from back in the shadows.
Darek’s father looked up from his meal and frowned.
“I’ll quiet him,” said Darek, jumping up. He lit a torch and picked his way through the forest to the spot where the dragonling had been tied. He saw the green eyes shining in the night before he could make out the small form huddled beneath a zarnrod tree.
“Rrronk, rrronk,” came the cry again.
“It’s all right, Zantor,” Darek called softly.
“Thrrummm,” the creature sang happily when he heard Darek’s voice. He strained against the chain that held him fast.
Darek stuck his torch in the ground and quickly unlocked the collar. The soft blue scales underneath were torn, and the flesh was rubbed raw from the dragonling’s efforts to free himself.
“I’m sorry, Zantor,” Darek whispered, stroking the small bony head. “This is Father’s idea. He still finds it hard to trust you, though I keep telling him you’re no threat to the yukes or anything else.”
Zantor nuzzled Darek, and Darek smiled. “Come, little friend,” he whispered. “Let’s find you some supper.”
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
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Don’t miss the other adventures of Darek and Zantor:
A Dragon in the Family
Coming soon:
Dragon Quest
Dragons of Krad
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.
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This Aladdin hardcover edition July 2018
Text copyright © 1990 by Jackie French Koller
Jacket illustration copyright © 2018 by Tom Knight
Interior illustrations copyright © 1990 by Judith Mitchell
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Book designed by Laura Lyn DiSiena
Library of Congress Control Number 2017949639
ISBN 978-1-5344-0062-7 (hc)
ISBN 978-1-5344-0061-0 (pbk)
ISBN 978-1-5344-0063-4 (eBook)
The Dragonling Page 3
