Regidor’s eyelids wrinkled as he squeezed them tighter. His thin lips clenched in a determined grimace.
Kale gazed out the window with a contented sigh.
Hello, Dar.
“Hi, there. Guess I’m not going to surprise you.”
I’m surprised. I’m also glad you’re coming, but why?
“We had a battle against an onslaught of Creemoor spiders right after you left. I happened to be in the thick of things and got a medal for bravery. Seems kind of ridiculous to give a fellow a medal for trying to stay alive.”
Oh, Dar! That’s wonderful. Now they must realize doneels are capable of being warriors. Now they won’t be so reluctant to allow you to train at The Hall.
“Actually, I’m not going to continue training there.”
But that’s what you’ve wanted for half your lifetime. You told me so yourself.
“Paladin said the medal shows I don’t need the training, and he has another job for me. He gave me an honorary commission. You may have to call me ‘sir’ now.”
Kale laughed. Sir Dar?
“Exactly.”
What is the job?
“Determining the intent of Risto’s two henchmen, Burner Stox and Crim Cropper. They’ve been involved in some mighty peculiar enterprises of late. Maybe even the spider drop on Vendela.”
We were there.
“When the spiders attacked?”
Yes, we hadn’t gone through the gateway yet. I was poisoned, and it’s taking a long time to get well.
There was a pause. “Kale, very few victims of Creemoor spider poison survive.”
Paladin helped—and Gymn and Fenworth.
“I’m glad you made it. We’re landing now, west of The Bogs. We’ll camp tonight, and I’ll walk in tomorrow. I can’t wait to see you, my friend.”
Give Celisse a hug for me. I’ve already greeted her and Merlander. I wish I could fly out to meet you all.
“I am not going to hug Celisse, but I’ll give her a pat and maybe scratch behind her ears.”
Kale laughed again. It was going to be good to have him around.
“Mordakleeps!” screeched Regidor.
“Where?” Kale searched the shadowed landscape outside the castle window.
“Not here. There. Where that man Dar is and the two dragons.”
Dar! Kale screamed the warning with her mind.
“Mordakleeps!” came the doneel’s cry.
Fenworth came out of his chair in one swift, powerful motion and stretched a sinewy arm into the air. “To the rescue!” he shouted, and the room began to spin.
11
LEFT BEHIND
Beams of light surrounded them, shining brighter and brighter until Kale had to close her eyes and duck her head. Strong winds rushed through the room. Kale put her arm around the meech and pulled him to the floor. She crouched there with Regidor and Toopka.
“Now this is more like it!” shouted Fenworth. “First, off to rescue the doneel, and then on to the caves. Spiders, beware!”
One after another, smells rose around them and then blew away. A flower garden, a bakery, piney woods, and apple cider vinegar.
Fenworth sounded very close. “Did that doneel fellow say he was east or west of The Bogs?”
Kale tried to yell “west,” but a rush of wind filled her mouth and stifled her shout.
“West, you say, Kale? I believe you’re right. West makes sense. Thank you, my girl. Be good now. We shan’t be long.”
Librettowit wheezed near her ear. “Let go of me, you confounded wizard.”
Fenworth didn’t answer him, but a trumpet blew the quick notes of a charge, and the wizard’s voice rose above the quacks and brays and oinks of barnyard animals. “Prepare for battle, Bardon!”
“Yes sir,” the lehman answered.
His voice sounded muffled. Kale felt as though she was floating in a vast empty space but knew better than to open her eyes. The light still turned her eyelids blood red with its brilliance.
The light began to fade. The force of the wind eased. Normal swamp noises filled the night air. Kale opened her eyes, expecting to be in a field just outside The Bogs.
Beneath her knees, broad planks formed a solid floor. Her body curved over the huddled figures of Toopka and Regidor. She patted their backs and straightened up.
“It’s all right now,” Kale said, but she glared at her surroundings.
Flames crackled in the fireplace. Bardon’s book lay open on the floor. Librettowit’s mug still sat on the kitchen table. The wizard’s hat was gone from the hook by the door, and so were the three men—Bardon, Librettowit, and Fenworth.
“We’ve been left behind,” said Regidor.
“No!” hollered Toopka. She scrambled onto the windowsill to peer out as if she could see Wizard Fenworth departing with Librettowit and Bardon. “No, no, no! This is my first adventure. Kale, do something!”
“What?”
“Take us there. You’re a wizard.”
“I’m a wizard without any training. I can’t take us anywhere.”
Regidor pounded a fist in the palm of his other hand. “Then we’ll walk. If Dar could walk in, we can walk out.”
“Through The Bogs?” Kale’s voice squeaked. “At night? With mordakleeps attacking?”
“I’m not afraid of mordakleeps,” said Regidor, planting his fists on his hips.
“Me either.” Toopka jumped down to stand beside her friend, mimicking his stance and his obstinate glare. “You chop off their tails, and they die. I’m not afraid.”
“Listen to me.” Kale stood and faced the two children. “Mordakleeps are dangerous. They don’t let you chop off their tails. They try to surround you and cut you off from everything. They’re fierce and fast and deadly.”
Regidor ran to the kitchen and grabbed a meat cleaver. Toopka followed and soon waved a paring knife in front of her tiny figure.
“We’ll go without you,” she said.
“No, you won’t.”
Kale brought images to her mind that she suppressed at all other times. Mordakleeps had attacked while she was traveling with Dar and Leetu Bends. She projected to these would-be child warriors the images of dark, oozing creatures looming out of the trees.
Kale remembered black shadows rippling and becoming hideous monsters. Their bloblike heads silently wagged back and forth. As the mass of dreadful shadows became more distinct, she saw that each mordakleep had two thick legs and a thin tail disappearing through the leaf floor of cygnot planking.
The mordakleeps trudged silently toward their victims. Small red eyes glared from gray hollows. Grotesque mouths chomped, and green tongues flicked over sharp, yellow teeth and thin lips.
The mordakleeps’ great weight made the cygnot planking undulate like waves on an ocean. Kale waited for a monster to lumber close enough for her to hit. Two more mordakleeps emerged through the cygnot floor. Kale’s attention focused on the ugly black slime menacing her. In spite of its size, the monster twisted and turned cleverly.
Along with the hideous vision of the swamp creatures, Kale conjured up her terror and desperation as she and her comrades battled a force much stronger than their own. When she reached the despair she had felt at the end of the struggle, she jerked away from the emotions, cutting short the glimpse of horror she had given Regidor and Toopka.
Toopka clasped Regidor’s arm with both hands, her eyes wide with fear. Regidor looked pale but stood straight, clenching his jaw.
Toopka shuddered. “They’re bigger than I thought.”
Kale opened her arms, and the doneel ran to her. Scooping the little girl up, she hugged her close. “Who told you about mordakleeps?”
“Sittiponder. He’s an orphan tumanhofer, and he used to live in the mountains, and he knows all sorts of stories about mordakleeps and grawligs and bisonbecks and all the seven low races and all the seven high races, too. He sits under the wooden steps of an old warehouse near the docks. He’ll tell you a story if you bring h
im something to eat. He’s blind.”
“Oh dear,” said Kale.
“Harrumph,” said Regidor, sounding exactly like Fenworth. “Seems you better learn to read so you can tell if his stories are true or not.”
“Oh, pooh on your old reading. I don’t have to read ’cause you’ll read stories to me. It’ll save time if only one of us is in charge of finding the best books.”
“I won’t always be around.”
“Why not?”
“I’m going to grow up.”
“Well, I’m gonna grow up too.”
Regidor shook his head. “I’m going to grow up fast, and you’re going to grow up slow. Pretty soon I’ll be an adult, and you’ll still be a baby.”
“That’s not true!”
“Yes, it is.”
“Can’t be. I’m already not a baby.”
“You’re the one clinging to Kale’s neck.”
Toopka squirmed out of Kale’s arms and plunked herself down on the floor with her fists on her hips. “If we were in Vendela, you’d need me to take care of you. You wouldn’t know where to get food or where to sleep or who to avoid to stay out of trouble. You’d be hopeless unless I took you by the hand and led you around.”
“Stop!” Kale shouted. “This is foolish arguing. Only fools argue foolishly, and you aren’t fools. Not another word out of either of you!”
Another quote directly from Mistress Meiger’s lips, but Kale was too agitated to care. She strode across the room and sat down in Fenworth’s chair. With her elbows on her knees, she put her chin on her fists.
“I’m going to try to find out what’s going on.”
Regidor and Toopka followed her. They stood on each side of the armchair, watching her with wide eyes.
“You shouldn’t sit there,” said the dragon. “Fenworth gets hopping mad if he finds me in his chair.”
“Please be quiet,” Kale answered. “I’m concentrating.”
“What are you concentratin’ on?” asked Toopka.
“Dar.”
Regidor dropped to the floor and sat crossed-legged by her knee. “Are you mindspeaking?”
“No, just trying to see what they’re doing. They’re fighting, and they don’t need me talking to them.” The rapid succession of images she saw in her mind was hard to sort out. Questions from Toopka and Regidor interfered.
“Regidor, close your eyes and see what impressions you pick up. Toopka, be quiet for a bit.”
Toopka put her elbows on the arm of the chair and put her chin on her fists, mimicking Kale.
Kale couldn’t touch Wizard Fenworth’s mind at all. She knew from past experience that he guarded his thoughts with a powerful spell. When she sought Librettowit, she found a mixture of rants against mordakleeps and the wizard. Lehman Bardon’s mind was almost devoid of thought, but she could feel energy flowing into decisive moves of combat. He performed with drilled precision. Dar fought from beneath a protective shell, his movements not as regimented as the warrior trained at The Hall.
It was easiest to touch the minds of Metta, Gymn, and Celisse. Metta and Gymn flew in sweeping dives, spitting thick gobs of caustic saliva they used in battle. Each minor dragon became increasingly frustrated as their weapon proved ineffective against the mordakleeps. Celisse, with the minor dragons, fought from the air. Her attitude was ferocious but also cautious. She used her powerful tail to batter the monsters. The dragon Merlander stood beside Dar.
Regidor nudged Kale’s knee. “Fenworth is trying a dehydration spell.”
“You can mindspeak with the wizard?” Kale focused on the meech dragon’s face.
He closed his slanted eyes and pursed his thin lips. He nodded in answer to her question. “It won’t work. He wants to cast the spell around each mordakleep’s tail and sever the connection with the swamp water. It won’t work. It takes too long.”
“Can you help him?”
Regidor’s expression twitched in annoyance. “No. I don’t know how.”
His eyes popped open, and he stared at Kale. One word came out of his mouth in a horrified hiss. “Blimmets!”
Kale stood up. Regidor sprang to his feet beside her.
Toopka grabbed Kale’s leg below the knee and squeezed as if nothing would pry her loose.
“I can’t sense them,” Kale said, her voice shrill with fear. “Where are they?”
“Coming to join the fight.” Regidor’s grim words sent a shiver down Kale’s spine.
“Are you sure?” she demanded. “No one controls blimmets. They tunnel through the earth at random and come forth to devour anything alive only when they’re hungry. They couldn’t have a goal. They’re almost mindless.”
“They have a goal. It’s our friends.”
“It’s impossible.”
Kale didn’t want to believe the destructive horde of weasel-like creatures could actually search for victims. She reached out and put a hand on Regidor’s shoulder, wanting to give him a shake to make him change his opinion. As soon as her fingers rested on his shoulder, a sensation hit her thoughts with whirling intensity. She saw the squirming mass of dark bodies burrowing rapidly toward the field west of The Bogs. She felt the blimmets’ collective desire to consume dragon flesh.
“We have to help. We have to warn Dar and the others.”
Kale leaned her head back and screamed. “Wulder, help!” In the same instant, she knew what He expected. Wulder had chosen her to be that help.
“No, no, no.” She beat clenched fists against her thighs.
“Open your hand, Kale, and I will hold it.”
Kale sucked in a surprised breath. The voice belonged to Paladin.
12
JOINING THE BATTLE
“It’s up to us,” Kale declared.
She looked from Toopka’s wide eyes and open mouth to Regidor’s serious expression.
“Regidor, tell Fenworth the blimmets are coming.”
“How?”
“Mindspeak. You can do it.”
Regidor dutifully closed his eyes and scrunched his face into his thinking grimace. A moment later his eyes popped open. “I did it!”
Kale hugged him and then dropped to her knees. She focused on the patch of worn floorboards in front of her and concentrated.
What should we do? If only Dar or Leetu were here.
Kale shook her head in frustration. “We have to think of a way to help.”
She looked from Toopka to Regidor. Both shrugged.
“Water,” Kale said as a memory struck her. “Fenworth drowned the blimmets when they attacked our camp.”
Regidor’s face brightened. “There’s water in the swamp.”
Kale nodded. “We have to figure how to dump it on them.”
“Buckets!” said Toopka, bouncing on her toes with excitement.
“Too small,” said Regidor.
“Weather,” said Kale.
“Weather?” Toopka’s and Regidor’s voices harmonized, with Regidor’s bass almost burying the little doneel’s squeal.
“Yes!” Kale clapped her hands together. “Fenworth used a storm.”
Regidor ran out of the room. His footsteps rapidly pounded through a hallway and then faded away as he ascended one of the many spiral staircases. Soon the soft tattoo thudded back through the hollow branch corridor, becoming louder as he jumped down the stairs. The meech returned to the common room, holding a huge volume bound in exquisite blue leather and two smaller tomes covered in what looked like moss.
“Weather spells.” He huffed as he dropped the heavy books on the short table between the sofa and the armchairs.
He opened one of the smaller volumes and leafed through the pages. Kale bent over the largest, running her finger down a lengthy table of contents. Toopka picked up the smallest and held it against her chest, her thin arms cradling the valuable book.
Tears swam in her eyes. “I can’t read,” she moaned.
Regidor curled a lip and spoke through clenched teeth. “That one has pictures
.”
“Oh,” said Toopka and clambered onto the nearest chair. She nestled in and reverently opened the small book. “Ooh, pretty. A rainbow.”
“Look for something helpful,” barked Regidor.
“Dumping water,” she muttered, and with a scowl examined the pages.
In the book Kale held, the chapters were in alphabetical order. She thought about turning to “Chapter 3: Clouds,” but scanned further down. Hurricanes seemed too big for two apprentices who hadn’t even had one lesson from the master wizard. A short chapter, “Lightning,” attracted her attention just because it was short. She didn’t stop to figure out what “Noisy Weather” might be. “Rain” stood out in bold letters, but a title a few lines down caught her eye.
“Tornado!” Rapidly, she turned the pages, searching for number 549. Toopka slipped off the chair and hopped to her side.
Regidor cheered. “We can suck up water from the swamp and dump it on the blimmets.”
“Yes, yes!” Toopka jumped up and down, clapping her furry hands.
Kale found the chapter and began to read. A frown tightened her face.
“I don’t understand all of this,” she said.
“We don’t have to,” explained Regidor. “Fenworth says Wulder does all the work anyway. Being a wizard means understanding His creation and working with His universal laws. Fenworth says Wulder has systems for everything, and they always work.”
Kale shook her head, not bothering to ask for explanations. She kept reading. Toopka continued to hop beside her. Regidor moved to Kale’s other side to peer at the pages. She slowly skimmed the brown words in fancy script, faded by time.
“Here it is,” she jabbed her finger at a paragraph beginning with, Waterspouts are developed by creating a low pressure area over dense moisture and surrounding it with a strong circular wind.
“The swamps are dense moisture,” said Regidor.
“What’s a low pressure area?” asked Kale.
“I don’t know.”
“How do we make circular wind?”
“I don’t know.”