Sittiponder had only one small cut on his thumb from his first attempt to clean and fillet a fish. N’Rae wrapped his wound with a small, clean rag. He wore a huge smile as he ate.
The questing party rose early the next morning and flew all day with two stops to rest the dragons. In the evening they landed in a meadow surrounded by tall rock pines. Beside the campfire, Bardon remembered Kale’s story of her first battle with grawligs. He recounted the tale and held a rock pinecone for Sittiponder to tentatively explore with his fingertips. The weighty orbs had barbs that, once embedded, had to be cut out of fur.
The following night they reached an area populated by o’rants. Ornopy Halls had once offered shelter to Kale’s first questing party. Master Ornopy and his housekeeper, Mistress Moorp, welcomed them as Paladin’s emissaries.
As soon as Bardon crossed the threshold, he smelled Kale. Not that she was there. But a scent of citrus emanates from all o’rants’ skin. In this household of o’rants, the aroma floated on each current of air through every room.
He was well aware that his own emerlindian blood stifled the tangy smell rising from his pores. Ahnek needed several baths to erase the odor of the streets from his hide. Once or twice Bardon had caught a whiff of that identifying fragrance about the lad, but mostly Ahnek smelled of dirt and old sweat.
Bardon noticed Sittiponder’s nostrils quivering. He put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “It’s the fragrance of oranges, lemons, limes, and o’rants.”
“It’s nice,” the blind boy answered. “I like it.”
“So do I.”
They stayed two days, allowing the dragons to thoroughly rest. At midday on the third day, the small band of questers crossed the border into the Northern Reach. Stretching before them, miles of short, pale new grass rolled over the hills like a variegated carpet. For the most part, only shades of green and an occasional tree made up the landscape. But here and there, outbreaks of splendor spotted a monotonous stretch.
N’Rae exclaimed over patches of wildflowers that puddled the swells and hollows of earth with a melee of color. Bardon noticed the beauty only after the young emerlindian pointed it out. He then saw that Ahnek readily described the scenery to his blind comrade.
Dar would be chastising me if he were here, Greer…Guilty as charged. Again I’ve been focused on images in my mind of rivers too wild to be crossed, chasms too deep to fathom, and trails too twisted to follow, while Wulder has painted a picture to gladden my heart right in front of me…Yes, I know there are numerous principles to quote about the folly of the mind’s eye. You needn’t remind me…It would appear that Wulder Himself is doing a good job of reminding me, so you can relax in your duty to keep me in line.
They traveled more east than north at this point. Herds of wild animals scattered as the dragons flew overhead. Streams meandered through the steppes and joined a river crossing the plain. In the distance, mountains rose out of the plains. At the second rest stop for the day, Bromptotterpindosset, Bardon, and Captain Anton decided to make camp and study the charts.
The boys explored. Sittiponder held on to his walking stick and Ahnek’s arm. He ran as fast as the o’rant boy and listened intently as the sighted boy described each new wonder. Granny Kye got out her paints. Holt helped with a saddle sore one of the dragons had developed. N’Rae walked in circles around the camp.
Bardon kept an eye on the wandering boys and N’Rae. The lads stayed close, crossing and recrossing the same bit of land, discovering rocks, bushes, and animals that deserved inspection. N’Rae’s trail rounded the camp in ever-widening circles.
“Here’s where we are.” Bromptotterpindosset jabbed a stubby finger at the parchment unrolled on the ground and weighted by rocks. “And here,” he said, pointing to a page in the diary, “is the map that Cadden Glas sketched.”
“What does the writing say?” The squire crouched beside the sitting mapmaker to look at his book.
The tumanhofer pinched his upper lip between a finger and his thumb. “Hmm. Cadden Glas’s handwriting is sloppy, and when he got excited about something, it became a scrawl.”
“It all looks like random scratches to me.”
Bromptotterpindosset ignored him. “Luckily here, Glas is not disconcerted. He does butcher the meech verb forms, however. This says, ‘We traveled overland for ten days and reached our first view of the mountains.’ Actually, it says present tense travel and future tense will reach.”
“Does it say anything useful?”
The tumanhofer gave him a scathing look. “It lists the flora and fauna. I shall have to snag those two boys and compare his notes to what they have found.” He turned the page. “There are also sketches of the specimens he noted.”
A piercing scream lifted the hairs on the back of Bardon’s neck. He sprang to his feet and ran to the crest of a hill where he’d last seen N’Rae. The other riders and Holt scrabbled up the rise behind him.
A cluster of grawligs ran through a gully, splashing in the small stream that cut through the earth. Bardon paused only a moment to see N’Rae draped over the shoulder of one of the ill-clad ogres. The squire raced down the hill.
With powerful legs, the grawligs covered ground quickly. The knot of raiders disappeared around a corner of the deepening ravine.
Greer, cut these beasts off and herd them back toward us.
Mighty wings whipped the air above him, and the dragon’s huge shadow skated across the sloping bank. Keeping an eye on the rough terrain, Bardon charged toward the opening where N’Rae had been taken. He heard those following slip and slide as the crumbling soil broke away under their feet. He blessed his emerlindian agility.
A satisfied grin broke the serious expression on Bardon’s face as he heard a collective shout from the small ravine.
He stepped aside just as Greer warned him the horde had turned and was about to trample him.
The horrified beasts ran out of the opening to see a living wall—six warriors, armed and blocking their escape. They stopped short and started to turn.
Bardon jumped back onto their trail and yelled, “Eeeyah!”
Greer landed on the edge of the cutaway above them, peering over the cliff at the unfortunate, trapped ogres.
The grawligs shuffled, their massive heads swiveling as they realized they had no way out.
The beast carrying N’Rae abruptly dropped her. She sat up and straightened her skirts around her legs. Glaring at her captors, she remained where she was, with her arms crossed defiantly over her chest and her chin tilted in the air.
“No good.” The grawlig grunted and looked at those around him. They echoed his profound statement. “No good.”
The spokesman stepped over N’Rae and walked a few steps toward Bardon, who held his sword ready in his hand.
“We go,” said the grawlig. “No like woman. No like men. No like…that.” He pointed to Greer.
Greer sneered, his lip curled, and sharp teeth clicked against each other.
“Dragon,” said Bardon. “Do you not see dragons here?”
“We go.”
Bardon waved his sword. “No, you answer some questions. Do you not see dragons here?”
“High in sky.” The beast grunted. “Not belong on ground.” He puffed out his chest. “Ground belong to hunters.”
Greer hissed, and the hunter’s chest deflated.
“We go.”
“No, you answer some questions first. Do you know of a castle in the mountains?”
The brute’s forehead collapsed into deep furrows. “Castle?”
He looked at his cohorts. They muttered, “Castle?” and shook their heads.
“Big house?” asked Bardon.
They repeated their performance of confusion.
A voice from the ridge opposite Greer spoke with deep authority. “You won’t get anything out of them.”
The horde of grawligs gasped in terror. In sheer panic, they scattered, bolting in every direction, right through their captors’ wall of defen
se as if the warriors held no weapons. Some of the beasts cried out as they encountered the swords but kept on running.
Bardon turned to face the newcomer. Against a backdrop of brilliant blue sky stood a tall, lean figure dressed in black, with a cape billowed by the wind, and a broad-rimmed hat shadowing his face.
“Welcome, Squire Bardon of the Castle Pelacce, Dormenae, Wittoom.”
34
AN OLD FRIEND
The figure shifted, striding several steps along the top of the cliff.
Bardon smiled and lowered his sword. “Regidor!”
The meech dragon stepped off his perch, dropped ten feet, and landed lightly beside the squire. His tail, glistening, green scalelike skin with a dark ridge down the center, swooped out from under the long cape, then back under. With one forefoot on the hilt of his sword and the other a fist against his waist, he smiled his long, flashy grin. Two rows of gleaming, pointed teeth showed between thin lips. His hairless jaw line extended from a squarish chin with a deep dimple in the center to the almost indistinguishable ears on the sides of his head. Even with the oddness of his appearance, Regidor was handsome.
Bardon considered the seven-foot meech dragon. “You’ve matured a great deal since last we met, my friend.”
Regidor agreed with a downward jerk of his head. “Almost too fast. It was more fun chasing Toopka around and trying to get Librettowit to let me stay up late to read.”
Bardon gave a slight nod. Sounds like a typical, though short, childhood. I have no recollection of the years before I entered The Hall. Wonder if my childhood included chasing friends and reading at night.
This is awkward. What do I say next?
His comrades inched closer to him and the odd visitor. They still had their weapons drawn and looked ready to pounce should Regidor make a threatening move.
Bardon nodded to Captain Anton. “This theatrical fellow is a friend, Wizard Regidor of The Bogs.”
The guard relaxed on their leader’s signal but continued to watch the meech dragon, now out of curiosity.
On the crest of the hill, Ahnek whispered earnestly to Sittiponder. A few feet away, Granny Kye stood beside N’Rae, who had gotten up and was dusting off her clothing. It seemed everyone but the minneken had gathered at the gully.
“So.” Bardon shifted on his feet as he sheathed his sword. “How’d you get here?”
“Sir Dar sent a message, and I came. I wasn’t far. In Dael, in fact.”
What in the world would he be doing in the tumanhofer underground capital city? The universities! I bet he was studying.
“Yes, I was.”
Now that’s not very polite.
Regidor grinned. Bardon responded with a laugh, and the two young friends embraced, pounding each other on their backs. Regidor was more than a foot taller than the squire.
“You overgrown lizard,” exclaimed Bardon. “What have you been up to? And I have a hundred questions to ask you about those in the bog. Did you finish your apprenticeship? Are you a wizard?”
“I am,” said Regidor. “Best pupil Fenworth has ever trained.”
“I bet!”
“Well, considering Fen slept through most of my instruction and Cam Ayronn and Librettowit taught me most of what I know, it is an amazing feat. Of course, the venerable Wizard Fenworth is capable of any task.”
A sudden thought struck Bardon as odd. Greer had not told him of the arrival of another major dragon. “Regidor, how did you get here?”
“Sir Dar—”
“No, no. Physically, how did you get here?”
“I floated in on a stiff breeze.”
Bardon looked at his friend’s serious face for a moment. The expression was almost too serious, as if he were trying to hide an emotion.
No, he couldn’t have. But… “You flew?”
Regidor’s green eyes gleamed, and he silently nodded.
The squire gasped. “I didn’t know it was possible.”
“There is very little known about the meech, including whether or not they fly. I figured I had the wings, so I would give it a try.”
“And?”
“And I fell off successively higher platforms until I eventually got the coordination down right.”
“Ouch!” Bardon laughed. “Are you joining our quest?”
“Yes.”
“Then let me introduce you to our party.”
The riders stepped aside so Bardon could lead Regidor to Granny Kye and N’Rae.
“Granny Kye,” said the squire in his most formal tones, “may I present Regidor.”
The meech dragon bowed, and the emerlindian granny curtsied. He took her hand and kissed it. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Granny Kye. I admire the wisdom of your people.”
“Oh w-well,” Granny Kye stuttered, “you see…well, I kind of missed out…on the wisdom. Took my mother forever just to teach me to tie my shoes.”
“That would seem to be a problem of dexterity, not discernment.”
Granny Kye took back her hand and propped her chin on it. “Yes, I see your point, but I’m not sure they would.” She shook her head. “No, that doesn’t make sense at all. Now my fingers are much more clever than I am. I paint, you see.”
Regidor nodded his long head solemnly. “Yes, painting requires dexterity.”
“Bardon, you will unravel this knot for me at a later time, I trust.”
Oh yes.
“And this is her granddaughter, N’Rae.” Bardon gestured toward the pale emerlindian. “It is her father we seek to rescue.”
Regidor bowed. N’Rae curtsied.
“Charmed,” said the meech dragon.
The emerlindian girl giggled.
“A beauty.”
Don’t.
“Don’t what?”
Dally.
“Why not?”
She innocently captures men’s hearts and then doesn’t know what to do with them.
Bardon cleared his throat. “I’ll introduce you to the guard Sir Dar sent to accompany us. Captain Anton will want his riders to get back to their duties.”
The captain and his riders were loath to return to camp. None of them had met a meech dragon or knew anyone who had. But their military training won out, so they took their curiosity and returned to camp.
Bardon moved to the next member of their questing party.
“Bromptotterpindosset, this is Regidor.” He turned to the meech. “Regidor, our mapmaker friend reads and speaks meech.”
Regidor’s eyes grew wide. “A rare accomplishment. I do not speak the language of my heritage. I would be honored if you would instruct me.”
“Gladly.” The tumanhofer beamed with pleasure at such a prospect.
“May I ask, where did you learn meech?”
“On the vast continent of Punipmats, there is a thriving colony of meech in a hard-to-reach area surrounded by tropical forest.”
The two would have continued their discussion, but Bardon interrupted.
“We have four more members of our party.” He took Regidor’s elbow and turned him to face the marione.
“Holt Hoddack is…a riding-animal expert.”
As the two exchanged conventional greetings, Regidor snickered in Bardon’s thoughts. “This will be an interesting story.”
Later.
“One of N’Rae’s smitten beaus?”
Later.
“And these two youngsters are Sittiponder and Ahnek.”
Regidor shook hands with both lads.
Overawed, the boys merely bobbed their heads in response to the meech dragon’s deep-throated, “Hello.”
“I believe you said four more members, Squire.” Regidor looked around. “I see no other.”
“Jue Seeno,” squeaked Ahnek.
“Jue Seeno?”
Both lads nodded vigorously.
“Come see,” said Ahnek. He took the shorter tumanhofer’s arm and turned him toward the camp.
“He means come meet her,” said Sittiponder over
his shoulder. Aside to his friend, he whispered, “Be polite. You don’t show somebody to somebody as if one somebody was an interesting cat or dog you happen to have in the barn.”
“What are you talking about? We don’t have a barn. She’s in a basket.” Ahnek frowned at his friend as they walked.
Bardon and Regidor exchanged glances, each smiling over the boys’ argument. Bardon shrugged, and they followed the two lads.
“You have the manners of a street urchin,” Sittiponder grumbled.
“I am a street urchin.”
“Not anymore!” He shook Ahnek’s hold off his arm and trudged forward, using his walking stick. “You are a member of a questing party charged by Paladin himself to rescue noble knights from an evil curse.”
“Now you sound as if you’re telling one of your grand stories again.” Ahnek stomped alongside Sittiponder. “And I learned to eat with my mouth shut like you wanted. That’s manners.”
“You still slip up.”
“How do you know?”
They stopped and faced each other, oblivious to the grown men who stopped as well.
“I can hear you,” shouted Sittiponder. “I’m not deaf, you know.”
“It might be easier if you was.”
“If you were, not was. And you don’t mean that.”
“No, I don’t.” Ahnek stared at his friend’s mulish expression for a moment. He reached out and punched Sittiponder’s skinny arm. “Let’s go tell Mistress Seeno a meech dragon is coming. Bet she doesn’t believe he’s real.”
“Bet he won’t believe she’s real.”
The boys hooted with laughter, grabbed each other by the arms, and ran ahead.
Regidor turned with a question in his eye, accentuated by one lifted eyebrow. Or rather, the skin that would have sported an eyebrow if the meech had any hair.
“I won’t believe this Jue Seeno is real?”
“She’s a minneken.”
“Aha!” Regidor contemplated this. “He’s correct. How refreshing that there should be someone else on this quest who is the personification of myth. I wish to meet such an oddity.”
Bardon laughed as he quickened his pace to keep up with his friend’s long stride.