He fed an animal that hissed. “Be quiet. You don’t impress me.”
He sighed and put his hand under his beard in the general vicinity of his heart.
If he has a heart. This all seems melodramatic to me. I no longer wonder if this man is sane.
“Burner Stox,” said Cropper, with another sigh. “No female compares to her. Intelligent. Cunning. Masterful. When she walked into the room, the air crackled with her power.”
He stood still with a faraway look in his eye and a smile brightening his dark visage. “Burner Stox understood my work. She, and only she, knew the depths of my secrets. She went with me to the lower levels and marveled over my creations.
“She laughed and named them for me. I never bothered to name them, but she delighted in finding just the right-sounding words to describe each and every creature, every living, breathing, functioning organism developed purely and simply from my handiwork.”
Bardon found it odd that Crim Cropper talked to him but never looked his way. He pointedly avoided the sight of Bardon, the man he held trapped in his laboratory.
That’s all right, Wizard Crim Cropper. I’d rather not be looking at you.
The tip on the wizard’s hat again fell forward. He waved it into its proper position once more. “You’re wondering about our latest difference of opinion. A minor disagreement. Normal husband-wife tension.” He scowled and spoke through clenched teeth. “She would have come back. She always came back.”
Crim Cropper stared at the door for a moment as if he thought she might actually appear. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and continued his soliloquy.
“My Burner Stox. Such a dominant, vigorous, formidable personality required some measure of freedom. Her beauty, her attraction, rose out of her vibrant character. Burner Stox could accomplish anything she desired. And she chose me to be her partner. She supported me and my research. She put aside her personal ambitions to nurture my amazing talent.”
Crim Cropper opened his eyes, and his face became tense, his voice rising in pitch. “She was my inspiration. The months she’s been away have tortured me. Now, your meddlesome wife has murdered my guiding star. Kale Allerion has made the unbearable separation permanent.”
The wizard’s head jerked around, and his eyes fell on his victim at last. “Do you know what I’m going to do? Something very practical, I think. I have no further need of my laboratory animals, the mutants I’ve created, the resulting specimens of my genius. Every experiment I’ve conducted had one ultimate purpose—for me to hear my Burner Stox exclaim with delight. So what should I do with the creatures I no longer need?
“In the past, I’ve taken one or two and deposited them here and there in regions of Amara. Burner Stox and I used to be entertained by the havoc that our little friends could create in just a few days. But this time, I shall open all the doors.”
He placed his hands behind his back and wove his fingers together. Staring up at the ceiling, he rocked back and forth on his feet. In rhythm to the swaying, he clasped and unclasped his hands. Bardon thought the wizard had entirely forgotten his prisoner until a small smile tipped his mustache.
Cropper’s words flowed from his mouth in a soft coo. “And then, just because my star would have laughed at the resulting panic, I am going to incite my dark minions, the evil sprites of the earth.”
Crim Cropper again looked at Bardon. He cocked his head and grinned, white teeth showing through the dark beard. “My blimmets and schoergs. Under my command, because Pretender didn’t bother to cultivate them. But I am not so shortsighted.
“I’ve won the respect and the obedience of the schoergs. I’ve trained the blimmets to follow a sound and surface where I want them to. I’ve fiends for messengers. Evil fiends who relish in doing mischief.” He turned away and turned back. “And the mordakleeps. Let’s not forget the mordakleeps. We know how helpful they can be now, don’t we?”
He strode to the door, his body quivering with energy. “Prattack!”
The stunted servant appeared as if he had been just around the corner.
“We’re taking our guest down to our lower levels. I want him to see the creatures who will destroy his world.”
Prattack trudged across the stone floor, grabbed Bardon, and hoisted his dead weight onto his broad back.
With one arm slung over the servant’s shoulder and one leg held in a viselike grip against the other shoulder, Bardon watched the floor as they traveled to a stairway. His knuckles scraped against the rough stone, but Bardon could not lift his arm any more than he could turn his neck to see ahead.
The odor of animal waste increased with each jarring step down the stairs. Cages rattled, creatures barked, howled, and snarled. Prattack’s breathing wheezed in and out with increasing difficulty as they proceeded down the stairwell.
They reached a dimly lit dungeonlike chamber.
“Open the portals,” Wizard Cropper commanded.
Prattack dropped his burden and shuffled away. A draft of cold, clean air swept over Bardon. He breathed in deeply. The movement freed his neck from the stranglehold of stiffness.
Bardon forced his knees to straighten, then pulled them back to the curled position in which he had landed on the floor. I thought this rigidity came from some spell by Crim Cropper. Perhaps it is part of the stakes. He worked to get his arms to move but with little success.
The sound of metal latches lifting, crate doors opening, and the scurrying of feet drew Bardon’s attention. A slight shift of his neck accompanied the movement of his eyes. A blur of creatures passed before him. Fur, feathers, and scales. Claws and talons. Sharp beaks and pointed teeth. Growls, snaps, howls, roars, snarls, and screeches. Scuttling, slithering, racing toward the outside. Following the flow of fresh air.
The stampede lasted longer than Bardon could fathom. Then he realized that Prattack must have gone down to another layer and opened cages there, for some of the creatures came out of a dark stairwell.
Thank you, Wulder, that I was dropped on the sidelines. I would hate to encounter even one of these monsters.
A laugh cackled over the noise of mass exodus. Bardon shifted his neck enough to view Wizard Cropper sitting on a raised dais on a throne-like massive chair.
“What do you think?” The question shrieked over the clatter of hooves as a herd of larger animals climbed the stairs and headed for freedom. “Do you think my pets are merely going outside to play for a while in the sunshine and then return? No! I’ve built gateways to each region of Amara. They are dispersing throughout this miserable land.”
Another wave of creatures passed. “Do you think I want to rule the world? Ha! What good would it do me to gain the world, since I have lost my Burner Stox?” Cropper’s voice dropped to a mutter as smaller animals skittered through the chamber. “Rule the world? No. Destroy the world? Yes.” He laughed again. “What do you think? I will tell you what to ponder upon, Sir Bardon. My genius has bred into my creations only one common characteristic.”
He sneered, his curled lip lifting one side of his mustache. Bardon shivered.
“None of my creatures are friendly. They all revel in killing, in blood, in screams, in choking and rending the life out of their victims. A suitable gift for me to leave your world, isn’t it, Sir Bardon?” He enunciated each word with obvious satisfaction. “Don’t you agree, Sir Knight in service to Paladin, unfortunate husband of Kale Allerion?”
Bardon closed his eyes and tried to block out the maniacal laugh of the demented wizard.
He whispered, “Wulder?”
44
WHO ARE THE ALLIES?
Under a bentleaf tree, Kale paced back and forth. Her father played with two baby dragons who would grow up to be taller than the tree and twice as long. Two minor dragons rode on Sir Kemry’s shoulders, and one clung to his hair as he dodged the bigger dragons in a game of tag.
Kale stopped and gazed at the perpetual cloud cover. “Burner Stox and her bisonbeck guards were able to go in and
out of the valley. There must be a way.”
“I agree,” said Sir Kemry. “Why don’t you see if you can find it?”
“Did you want to help me?”
“Not right now, dear. I’m saving my energy for later.” He tackled the smaller of the two dragons. The minor dragons took to the air, chirruping their glee.
When I know my father better, will I understand him? Right now I haven’t one idea of what he is up to. If it was Bardon, I’d say, “What in all of Amara are you doing?” Are husbands easier to deal with than fathers?
Kale sent her six minor dragons out to gather information. What were the ropmas doing? Approximately how many dragons lived in this valley?
Kale stood before Benrey and Alton. Communicating with a dragon other than one with whom she’d bonded required extra concentration. She hoped her father’s two dragons would be receptive to her. “Will you show me the exit used by the bisonbecks?”
Alton consented and invited her to mount.
She looked at his slick purple scales and the black ridges down his spine. “I can’t ride you without a saddle.”
Alton swung his head toward the western slope and then ambled off in that direction. Kale followed him.
She looked back over her shoulder. Sir Kemry sat cross-legged under the tree with a dozen minor dragons scampering all over him. The older wizard laughed at their antics.
This would be much easier if Father were more cooperative.
Alton led her to a shed that smelled like bisonbecks. No trace of the fetid odor of grawligs nor the pasture-and-wildflower smell of ropmas lingered in the air. Bisonbecks left behind the scent of leather, canvas, and the particular oil they used to clean their weapons. In the wooden hut, Kale found dragon saddles and riding gear in all shapes and sizes.
She dragged out equipment she thought would fit Alton and be suitable for their aerial surveillance.
Oh, how I miss my Celisse. I’m glad Alton isn’t much bigger. This saddle is heavy!
When all the straps were in place and secure, she imitated Bardon’s trick of running up the dragon’s tail and jumping into the stirrups. She heard Alton’s chuckle and liked him all the more for his sense of humor.
They were aloft for only a few minutes before Kale spotted exactly what she needed to see. An obelisk, centered in the valley, provided energy that severed connection to the outside world.
Kale would not have to locate whatever gateway the bisonbecks and Burner Stox had used. She would not have to enlarge some portal to allow the larger dragons to go through. Once she disabled the obelisk, the impenetrable cloud cover would disappear, and the natural passes through the mountains would again be useable.
She and Alton set down near where her father dozed under a tree. She ran to tell him the news, but he only sat up and smiled at her.
“Come with me,” she said. “Let’s unravel the obelisk spell and get out of here.”
Sir Kemry leaned back against the tree trunk and closed his eyes. “You can do it, my dear.”
Kale kept her booted foot from stamping her dissatisfaction. “Of course, I could do it, Father. But you are a much more experienced wizard, and between the two of us, we could have it done in no time.”
“I’m saving my energy, Kale. I believe I told you that before.”
This time she did stamp her foot. “For what?”
He opened one eye and gave her a stern look that reminded her vividly of Wizard Fenworth. “For later, my dear.”
Kale took Pat and Filia with her when she and Alton went back to the obelisk. It took the three of them all afternoon to discern the pattern of Burner Stox’s spell and then unweave it. During the first few moments of work, resentment toward her father thwarted her efforts to concentrate. Once her mind engaged in the intricate puzzle, she forgot about his annoying attitude.
The weaving reflected an inside-out gateway with strands that confined instead of opening up a corridor. The tapestry expanded from the tip of the obelisk into a huge covering. Kale suspected that should she pull the right string, the whole fabric would unravel.
She, Pat, and Filia untwisted and unwound the filaments until they found the one thread that held the framework intact. Then they pulled until every last wisp of the spell lay in disorder. Kale destroyed the remnants of the spell by shining a light so bright that the tangled heap of elements faded away to nothing.
When finally finished, she sat on the ground next to Alton and leaned back against his side. He unfurled his wing and covered her for an instant.
“Thank you, my father’s friend. I am pleased that you’re proud of me, and welcome your friendship extended directly to me instead of through my father.”
At dusk, she came back to find her father had set up a camp, with dinner ready and two tents with comfortable bedding inside. Fatigue kept her from being talkative. The mental labor she had done that day with the two minor dragons had left her drained.
Sir Kemry ladled soup into a bowl and handed it to her with a chunk of bread. “Did you fix the problem?”
“Yes.”
His gaze went skyward. “No stars yet. I imagine it will take a few hours for those clouds to dissipate.”
“Probably.”
“I’ve sent Benrey out to explain to the dragons that you will want to talk to them in the morning. So you’d better get a good night’s rest.”
Kale stopped her spoon halfway to her mouth. “What am I going to talk to them about?”
“Joining the forces of good to vanquish evil.”
“I’m to mindspeak to all the dragons in the valley at one time?”
“Simultaneously. Yes.” Sir Kemry nodded and placed a large spoonful of soup in his mouth.
“A lengthy discussion with even one dragon is tiring.”
“Yes, but you have youth on your side.”
“And I am to persuade them?”
“I did some preliminary work for you today, Kale. It won’t be that difficult. Most will back you without much effort on your part.”
“Just communicating with that many will require a great deal of effort on my part.”
“Kale, you are a wizard, are you not? You are pledged to Paladin’s service, are you not?”
She nodded to each question.
“This bellyaching is not becoming to an Amaran with your privileges. Just do the job.”
Years of training at keeping a respectful tongue in her head kept Kale from firing off a few choice words about “just doing the job.”
She carefully guarded the thought, because she didn’t want her father to hear her opinion. But she understood that Wulder knew what she was thinking whether she reworded her thoughts to sound more polite, tried to hide them, or spoke to Him as she really felt.
It seems to me that I’m the one doing the jobs around here, and my father is saving his energy. He’s saving his energy a lot! What is he saving it for?
The question made her pause.
He’s saving it because he’s old. And he’s much more experienced than I am, so he knows what the battle will be like once we meet Crim Cropper or Pretender.
The reasoning behind her thoughts soothed her irritation. The line of thinking hadn’t come out of her own heart. She knew Wulder had inserted the thoughts to redirect her determination. Wulder helped her even when she least wanted the assistance. She needed to cooperate, not chafe at His instruction, and at this point, He guided her through her father. All right, I understand. Therefore I better admit I need the right words for when I talk to those dragons tomorrow. And I guess I need some sleep, so I’ll have the energy.
Bardon’s voice echoed in her memory. “The best way to learn to play an instrument is to play that instrument. The best way to learn to be patient is to be patient.”
Oh, Bardon, I miss your quoting principles at me. Wulder, keep him safe, and keep me patient.
She finished her soup and bread. “Good night, Father. Sleep well.”
“And you, as well, my daughter. You have a b
ig day ahead of you.”
Kale awoke in the morning with the feeling of a great weight upon her. But with every breath, a small fraction of the heaviness departed. Awareness of the dragons’ departure from the valley launched her out of her bed.
“Wait!” Although she shouted, she felt like her voice whispered in a canyon where no one heard.
She scrambled out of her tent and stood with the first rays of morning shining on her. “Stop! Dragons, come back!”
Her words flew into the trees and the cloudless sky.
She fell on her knees, clamped her lips together, closed her eyes, and used her mindspeaking talent.
You cannot go! We need you. Please, dragons. Those of you who know either me or my father, tell the others. We aren’t asking you to fight for our own glory. We will fight too. The struggle is to return Amara to the way our homeland used to be when Paladin was strong and the seven high races looked to Wulder.
The air buzzed with voices. She cringed. This reminded her too much of when she was a young girl and first approached the capitol city of Vendela. At the time, she had been overwhelmed by the thoughts and feelings of the great populace of the metropolis. She had learned to guard her thoughts and fine-tune her talent so that she no longer listened to all those around her.
But now she had to be open to all the dragons. She had to reach beyond those she could see with her eyes to those who, even at this moment, were making their way out of the valley.
Wulder has given us Paladin. Follow Paladin!
She heard voices in a tumult of noise that almost knocked her over. “Yes! We will serve. Tell us where. We will go.”
But there were other voices. “I do not follow Paladin. I care nothing for Wulder. I stand alone.”
The positive voices trailed away. Kale could hear their affirmations as a backdrop to the few who protested with loud cries.
Each naysayer shouted, “I stand alone.”
Kale’s throat hurt with the agony of finding words to persuade this stubborn faction of the dragon populace.
You stand alone. Do you know how alone that really is?