Dragons of the Watch

by Donita K. Paul

  Amee flew off toward the outer city, and Bealomondore began a stealthy advance on the nasty group of bullies who tortured Porky. The outside of the store they’d chosen as their hideout matched the pristine architecture of Rumbard City grandeur. The furniture emporium fit in well with the other city shops in the area.

  When he’d first explored Rumbard City, Bealomondore had peeked inside this establishment. By the signs of rampant destruction, he’d surmised that the horde of children had used the inside for wild games. They’d broken most of the furnishings, pulled cushions off chairs and sofas. Mattresses had been dragged hither and yon and used as walls of fortresses. Sheets, blankets, and anything else they could find draped over banisters and tables. They resembled untidy tents.

  Now he entered the premises with caution. The state of the showroom hadn’t changed. Crude constructions blocked a straightforward view to the back of the store, where a great commotion was taking place. He used his ears instead of his eyes to locate his target. As he listened to the rowdy boys, he wished again that he had his sword.

  Bealomondore edged through the obstacles. A clutch of boys shouted at Porky and at each other. He knew he was close and crept carefully to avoid being detected. Straining to hear Porky’s part in the drama, he could not distinguish his childish voice. Then he heard a thud and a grunt and the cruel laughter of a bully. Without thought, he jumped from behind the counter with his hand up in the air.

  “Stop!” he commanded.

  And he realized that his hand was not empty. His fingers wrapped around the hilt of the Sword of Valor. The brats circling Porky on the floor turned startled faces to the tumanhofer. He grinned and swished the rapier through the air. In the form of a long, slender blade, it made a wicked sound.

  Bealomondore glared confidently. He wanted the boys to think he was in control and not in the least bit flummoxed by being outnumbered. The state of his sword bothered him as well. This blade was designed to pierce the chest and stab the heart. He’d rather have the blunt, broad blade suitable for paddling. But Bealomondore advanced, swishing his weapon, which had never appeared out of nowhere before, and grinning like a madman.

  The boys backed up a step or two, all but Yawn.

  Bealomondore stopped and regarded the six-year-old, whose thrust-out chin displayed his defiant attitude.

  Bealomondore sneered. “Do I take you on one at a time or all at once?”

  The scalawags who’d stepped back deserted their leader with hoots of fear and scrambling feet. Yawn glanced to both sides and saw that he was alone save the poor beaten boy curled on the floor. He licked his lips, clenched his fists, and tried to stare Bealomondore in the eye.

  “You can go,” said the tumanhofer. “There’s no shame in walking away from a fight that makes no sense.”

  Yawn puffed out his chest, lifted his chin, and glared at Bealomondore. “This isn’t the end of this.” He turned and marched out, following the route of his mates.

  Bealomondore looked at the hilt of the shining sword. Among the gems along the guard, words etched an axiom: “Show them strength, and you may not need to show them your prowess.” He wasn’t surprised to find the sword’s scabbard attached to his belt. He put the long blade into the leather case and pushed it all the way in. Then he knelt next to Porky. The boy rolled toward him, and he took the shuddering child in his arms.

  Porky let out one sob. “I didn’t tell them where you were.” He had to gasp for breath. “And I didn’t cry.”

  Tears threatened to disgrace Bealomondore. He leaned his cheek against the boy’s head and held him closer. “We’ll take care of you, Porky. Laddin will be here soon, and he’ll make you feel better. Where does it hurt the most?”

  “My eye.”

  Bealomondore looked at the battered flesh on Porky’s face. The left eye had swollen shut, and discoloration showed how severe the bruising would be. “It’ll be fine. Laddin will fix it.”

  “My belly hurts too. Yawn kicked me.”

  Bealomondore bit back the fury that rose like a crashing ocean wave. Fortunate for the bullies that they had already fled. Bealomondore put his hand on the urohm boy’s stomach.

  “I’m sorry, Porky. I wish I’d gotten here sooner.”

  “I hurt so bad. Am I gonna die?”

  “No, no. Laddin will heal you. After a good night’s sleep, you’ll be fine. Tomorrow you won’t feel any different than you did yesterday.”

  “Then I’ll be scared. ’Cause yesterday I was scared.”

  “Scared of Yawn and his gang?”

  Porky grunted and Bealomondore took it as a yes. He mumbled and Bealomondore leaned closer. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

  “I used to be scared of dying, but now I’m not.” Porky moved cautiously, as if to get into a more comfortable position. He groaned and grimaced. “I’m more scared of Yawn than dying.”

  “We’ll take you in at the library. You’ll be safe there.”

  A tear rolled down Porky’s cheek. “Great. Old One will kill me instead of Yawn.”

  “Old One is grouchy, not murderous.”

  The child shuddered. Two ragged breaths preceded his next question. “Do you have to ask your mother if I can come?”

  Bealomondore wished he could see the boy’s face. What did he mean? “My mother isn’t here.”

  “Isn’t Ellicinderpart your mom?”

  “No, she’s much too young to be my mother.”

  “But if you’re the father, then she’s the mother.”

  “We’re not—”

  “Do you have children in the library? Do you have babies? I’ve never seen a baby.”

  Bealomondore’s thoughts zigzagged among several paths. How could he answer this? Of course he didn’t have babies, children! Babies? The sound of the word urged him to stand and back away, but he maintained his position.

  He’d seen babies but never held one. What did Porky need out of this conversation? What was the child searching for?

  He took a stab at answering the big lump of a miserable child overflowing his lap. “I’m not really familiar with any babies, so I only know general things. Babies are cute when they’re not crying. I think they cry a lot. They smell funny. Women seem to like them, and fathers seem to like their own, but … well, men often don’t pay attention to babies much.”

  Porky didn’t answer.

  “Are you all right?” asked Bealomondore.

  He heard a muffled, “Yeah.”

  Bealomondore chastised himself for the absurd question. Porky was not all right. Now he seemed drowsy, and that was not a good sign.

  Bealomondore reached with his mind, trying to make connection with either Ellie or one of the dragons. To his relief, Laddin answered. He was close.

  Bealomondore sighed. “It’s all right, Porky. Laddin is just a few blocks away.”

  He hugged the boy a little closer and patted his arm. Porky didn’t respond.

  “Porky?”

  Nothing.

  Bealomondore eased the boy out of his arms, allowing his shoulders and head to rest against the floor. Blood trickled out of the urohm’s ear. The bruising around the eye looked horrid compared to unnaturally pale skin.

  “Porky, can you hear me?”

  No answer.

  Laddin swooped in and landed on Porky. Bealomondore recognized the minor dragon’s concern as he examined his patient. The scene reminded him of the many times he’d seen Laddin aid soldiers on the battlefield. Bealomondore had witnessed the small dragon work in a frenzy to bring back a young man from the brink of death. Most of the time he succeeded. Most.

  The other minor dragons except Orli, who guarded Old One, soon arrived and took up positions around the furniture store. Amee reported her conversation with Ellie. His tumanhofer lass would stay put until the two urohms in her charge woke up. Then she would come to Porky and Bealomondore. Amee had not revealed how badly Yawn and his bullies had hurt Porky. Bealomondore had no doubt that if Ellie knew, she’d have been here
even before the dragons of the watch.

  Laddin summoned Kriss, Maree, and Amee to help with a healing circle. Bealomondore joined them with a directive to Det and Soosahn to keep a sharp lookout for the ruffians. He entered the circle between Porky and Kriss. The feeble strand that represented Porky in the flow of energy shocked the tumanhofer. A few more minutes and Laddin wouldn’t have been able to do anything for the boy.

  A hand on his shoulder pulled Bealomondore out of the healing circle. It took him a moment to regain his bearings. Porky breathed easier, some color had returned to his cheeks, and the minor dragons still draped themselves over his body, providing the restorative dose of energy.

  Bealomondore leaned back and broke his connection. He looked up to see Ellie’s concerned face.

  “I think Laddin can return him to health.” He looked again at the young urohm. “It may take more than one treatment. I want to try to take him back to the library.”

  “That’s the right thing to do, but Old One and Orli will probably object.”

  A muffled squeal alerted Bealomondore to Cinder, Soo-tie, and Tak standing near a stack of wooden chairs. The girl had her hand over her mouth. Cinder glared at her. Tak chewed his cud with half-closed eyes.

  Bealomondore cocked an eyebrow at them. “Do you want to go with us? I don’t like the idea of leaving you out here where Yawn could capture you.”

  Soo-tie’s eyes grew big. “We can’t go in the library. Old One’ll kill us.”

  Bealomondore sighed. “As I told Porky earlier, Old One is grouchy, not murderous.”

  “We still can’t go in there.” Cinder puckered his lips and squinted his eyes. “If we aren’t in our beds by the time the moon comes up, we won’t have food.”

  Ellie put her arm around Cinder’s waist. Her cheek rested against his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Cinder. We’ll feed you.”

  “Maa!”

  Amee sat up on Porky’s chest and shook her head as if clearing her ears of water. She bobbed a couple of times, then took off to sit on Tak’s head.

  “Maa.”

  Amee’s thoughts intertwined with a confusion of input running through Bealomondore’s brain. “Ah yes, the wagon. Excellent idea.”

  Bealomondore turned to his companion. “Ellie—”

  “I know. I heard it too. But I think you deciphered all that information faster than I did.” She knelt beside the unconscious boy. “We’d never be able to carry him.”

  Bealomondore nodded. “Are you comfortable with the idea of staying here with Porky and the dragons while Tak and I go get the wagon?”

  “Yes, we’ll be fine. Better take Det to scout.”

  He smiled. The thought to take his minor dragon with him had just formed in his mind. He could see a long future where he’d never know which one of them had thought of an idea first. He leaned over and kissed her temple, then moved toward a smashed entryway with Tak following.

  He stopped just outside the door and looked back at Soo-tie and Cinder. “You should come with us when we move Porky.”

  “Yes,” Ellie said. “We would be less anxious about your well-being if we had you under our care.”

  The two children turned puzzled faces to Bealomondore.

  “She means we’ll be worried sick unless we can see that you’re all right. Come with us to the library.”

  Soo-tie nodded, but Cinder muttered, “Maybe.”

  “Think about it.” Bealomondore followed Tak.

  As he took a step into the sunshine, he felt Ellie’s reaction as she noticed his sword. Strangely, she didn’t object. Apparently seeing Porky, bruised and bloodied by “just children,” had altered her belief that the gangs could be reasonable and won over with love and daggarts.

  Det flew high, circled, and then returned with a report that a group of ten children had congregated nearby. Bealomondore darted into an alley in an attempt to circumvent the ambushers. Det made another surveillance flight and came back with news of two more clutches of possible assailants.

  Bealomondore brought up an image of the streets in his head. The map reflected how Det saw the city from his aerial point of view. Bealomondore couldn’t see a route that would avoid all three bands of children. “Do you have any suggestions?”

  Det chittered as his opinion flowed into the tumanhofer’s head.

  “I know they’re kids and will lose patience soon.” Bealomondore tilted his head while he took in Det’s comments. “I suppose we could wait a few minutes.”

  Following Det’s lead, he walked to the closest point of safety. Tak butted the back of his legs, but he refused to go any farther until he got the all clear.

  He dodged into the empty building at the corner and climbed the stairs to get a view of the surrounding area. If he could go across the rooftops, he’d be back at the library in a few minutes. But even if he did find a route, Tak wouldn’t be able to follow him.

  The view from the top floor didn’t help. The group of children farthest from the front of the library looked like one of the leaderless bands, playing lethargically at the stone and twig game.

  A movement caught his eye, and he focused on an area several blocks away. A flicker of gray appeared between two buildings then, but it passed too quickly across an alleyway for Bealomondore to determine what it was.

  By watching the next gaps between buildings, Bealomondore caught glimpses of the shadow as it made its way toward the center of Rumbard. With each sighting, he became more convinced that the being was from one of the high or low races. It advanced with purpose, with a long deliberate stride, giving the impression of a man on a mission.

  The agile figure was too quick and too short to be Old One. His build was not thick enough to be one of the urohm children. His wispy form floated, and his robes swayed as he moved forward. At times he seemed to have no substance at all.

  “If I believed in ghosts, Tak, I’d say we’re looking at one. But I don’t believe in ghosts, and I doubt you have formed an opinion.”

  Whoever he was, he didn’t travel alone. Tiny, shimmering birds of many colors swarmed around his head. These creatures drifted apart and re-formed, very much like Verrin Schope did when his three statues were not aligned correctly. The flickering made it hard for Bealomondore to determine which species they were, and it piqued his curiosity.

  “I wish I had a spyglass.”

  The gray figure came into view once more. He drifted toward the fountain, with his hovering assembly swarming close to the peaked hat on his head.

  Bealomondore whispered his suspicion. “A wizard’s hat.” He patted Tak on the back. “Let’s go get a better look.”

  Tak kept up with Bealomondore as he plunged down the stairs. The tumanhofer stopped at the door and listened. He heard nothing that sounded suspiciously like undisciplined ruffians, so he peeked out. Seeing nothing to deter him, he dashed down the alley in the direction of the mysterious visitor.

  At each corner, he paused to make sure no gangs of children lurked between him and his goal. Det circled, bringing back information. Sometimes Bealomondore had to make a detour as the young varmints wandered in their play. Tak seemed to have a sixth sense about which direction would be safest. Finally Bealomondore realized that the minor dragon communicated to the goat.

  The tumanhofer laughed at himself as he rubbed the fur between Tak’s horns. “That explains a lot. I suppose Amee, with her special talent, facilitated your ability to hear the dragons mindspeak. But if you start mindspeaking to me, I won’t be responsible for my reactions.”

  “Maa!”

  “Don’t do that. It makes it seem like you understand me.”

  “Maa!”

  “Well, I suppose you do to some extent, but I refuse to have conversations with you.” He rubbed between Tak’s stubby horns. “At least not when someone might hear me.”

  Det flew back and perched on Tak’s back. The goat looked over his shoulder. “Maa!”

  Bealomondore objected. “Let’s have a conversation I can under
stand.”

  Det’s description of the elusive figure raised even more questions. The apparition was neither man nor beast. It had no substance. Det could see right through it and through the colorful winged creatures hovering about its pointed head. Det made it clear that they were not birds but were more like the wusstbunters that had attacked Old One and Orli.

  “Well,” said Bealomondore to his audience of two, “wusstbunters weren’t phantoms. They were real enough to leave bites the size of my thumb, and plenty of them.”

  Whatever they followed managed to keep just beyond a point where Bealomondore could round a corner and get a clear view. The pictures Det projected with his mindspeaking reflected the information he’d conveyed, a hazy shape somewhat the build of an o’rant. And the pointy top could be a wizard’s hat.

  “I believe he’s going to the main fountain.” Bealomondore acted on his hunch and took a quick, direct route through a warehouse and a fancy eatery to one of his favorite lookouts.

  Det reported that the figure continued on a path that would take him to the circle.

  In a moment, the shadow appeared a mere dozen feet from where Bealomondore hid. Still, the precise nature of the being eluded the tumanhofer.

  Yes, the thing looked vaguely like an o’rant. But no o’rant Bealomondore had ever encountered could be seen through.

  Up close, the objects in flight around the pointed form looked more like tiny bats than birds. Their iridescence indicated their bodies to be translucent, having more form than the thing they hovered over. As an artist, Bealomondore acknowledged the fact that light could not sparkle off a nonsubstance. The mystery figure must be an illusion, whereas the flying creatures were actually there.

  The vague shape stood still. At his sides an appendage rose like an arm and swept through the air in a gesture encompassing the scene before Bealomondore.

  Baskets and platters of food appeared. The horde’s meal had been delivered. As the shape’s arm fell to his side, the entire image sharpened for a second before he flickered out.