DragonLight (36 page)

Toopka’s head tilted to one side, and her eyes looked as if she were seeing something far, far away. “I think I know where my home is.”

“You do?”

She nodded her head decisively. “I do. But I can’t go there yet. I have work to do.”

“What work, Toopka?” asked Bardon.

“Saving the world.” She shook her head till her ears bounced. “Someone’s gotta do it.”

         
46
         

W
AR
C
OUNCIL

A chill breeze blew through the open window. The crackling flames in the fireplace radiated heat in vain. Only one side of the room held the warmth. In the same official chamber where they had gathered earlier, the meech dragon leaders met with Kale, Bardon, and Seezle. Lee Ark and Sir Dar joined them. Brunstetter sat outside an open window. The mothers of the village had to drag their children away. Not only was the giant fascinating, but he encouraged the youngsters to play.

The impromptu council sat around a huge table with platters of food down the center. The scrumptious meal was largely neglected. The serious prospect of Mot Angra breaking loose dampened their appetites.

The meech leaders’ attitude puzzled Bardon. He expected them to dominate the meeting. This was their territory and a problem they knew intimately. Yet they hung back, seemingly unwilling to get started. When the outsider Lee Ark took charge, Bardon sat back in his chair and watched, wondering if part of the colony’s problem could be related to a lack of direction.

Lee Ark’s military bearing shone through even as he sat in the old wooden chair. “The first thing to consider is whether or not we can stop this beast before he wakes. Can he be killed?”

Laire shook his head. “He can be annoyed greatly by sticking spears into him. He can be made very sick by poisoning his food. The results of that tactic are extremely messy. The last person to cut his throat learned Mot Angra heals quicker than he sheds blood. And that man became Mot Angra’s dinner.”

Lee Ark considered this for a moment and then asked, “What is it you do to keep him sleeping?”

Anyeld scooted back in his chair and sat straighter. “We never let him get too hungry. He doesn’t have a tremendous appetite, just a large animal such as a cow or a mountain sheep each week keeps him satisfied. He never fully wakes to gobble the food. The same with water. He receives ten buckets of water each day in a trough. He’s been known to rouse enough to eat one of the carriers bringing the buckets down.”

Lee Ark scowled. “Surely, there is something else.”

Bardon looked at the five meech men, hoping one would have the answer.

Seslie cleared his throat. “There’s the singing.”

Ellyk scoffed. “The singing? That’s more to keep up the courage of the men who carry down the water or the carcass for Mot Angra’s dinner. Few of us even remember what the words mean.” Ellyk snorted. “It’s not as if our songs are a lullaby.”

“What do you sing?” asked Seezle.

“Old relics,” answered Seslie. “Songs from the old world in an ancient language.”

Seezle’s face lit up. “May I hear one?”

“Wait,” said Kale. “If this is important, Metta should be here.”

Lee Ark nodded, and Kale silently called for the purple minor dragon. A moment later she flew past Brunstetter and in the window. She landed on Kale’s shoulder.

Kale got the impression that the minor dragon was flattered to be summoned to an important council meeting.

“I don’t understand,” said Ellyk. “Why is this minor dragon needed?”

“She’s a singing dragon,” explained Kale. “She has remarkable talents when it comes to anything pertaining to music, and particularly to songs.”

Ellyk’s eyes squinted in skepticism, but he didn’t say anything else.

Seslie said, “Should I sing?”

The visitors nodded their heads, while his fellow meech dragons looked bored.

In a mellow baritone, Seslie sang,

“O-gitaks to who

Derfor ess soo

Foress mur sees

Indoors forests

Rivers.

Ike awl to who

Der indess

Rest who

Der and sir

Me and set

Me inbraw de

Plae sess.”

“Enough,” said Ellyk. “The words are nonsense to us now, although I am sure they once meant something. Our parents were diligent to teach them to us.”

“Metta?” Kale turned her head, and her cheek rubbed against Metta’s outstretched wing.

“What does she say?” asked Lee Ark.

“The song is sacred, but she cannot pull the words out of the meech’s memory because these are the only words he knows. She is sure the lyrics are wrong.”

Lee Ark addressed the meech. “Are the words written anywhere?”

“It is said,” Laire answered, “that in the old world there were books with words from Wulder in them. None of the books came with us through the portal, so generation after generation learned what we could from what our parents remembered.”

“Kale,” said Bardon, “have Filia and Metta put their heads together. I think what Seslie has sung is a song that is recorded in the middle book of the Tomes. The tune almost sounds like something I should remember. The words tease me like I should recognize them.”

Metta landed on his shoulder and trilled notes softly in his ear.

“Yes, that’s it. Can you find the words?”

Lee Ark stood. “It is doubtful that our words to a song will be the same as those from another world. But Filia and Metta, I’d appreciate your pursuance of that idea. Gentlemen, I would like to visit the lair of the dragon. It would be good to know if there is some strategic advantage we can gain from the physical setting.”

Kale caught Bardon’s arm as he started to rise. “I’m going to stay here. Walking through the woods is hard on my back and legs.”

He kissed her on the forehead. “Fine, just don’t eat all the delicacies while we are away.”

“Be careful, Bardon.”

“I will.”

As Lee Ark led his council toward the cave, Bardon engaged Seslie in conversation. “I’m curious about your history. What did your people do when you first came through the portal?”

“The first order of business was to subdue Mot Angra. Unfortunately, he ate quite a few of our people in those early days. But once Mot Angra’s belly is full, he chooses a place to relax. He then acts rather like an intoxicated fool until he drops off to sleep. According to the legend, everyone worked together to move him a short distance into the cave.”

“Is there any kind of wizardry that seals him in?”

“We don’t have wizards. I suppose we may have had a few in the beginning, but there are no records of any.”

“Why is that? Why no records?”

Seslie cleared his throat. “There was the business of gaining control over Mot Angra. Then they had to put up shelters for the coming winter. We brought little with us. We even had to make paper, and you can understand that was not as high a priority as keeping the snow off our heads.” He sighed. “And I suppose, if we are to be truthful, no one wanted to put down on paper what blunderheads we had been.

“The other types of dragons were furious with us. As soon as they had contributed to securing Mot Angra, they washed their hands of us and went south. Many meech went south as well, but over the years they have drifted back. We attribute that to the collective dedication to our responsibility. We are peaceful to a fault.” He turned to look at Bardon. “I hear Regidor fights…and flies. Remarkable.”

“Do you know how Gilda is? We haven’t heard, and when Kale asked if she could visit, the matron in charge said that seeing the outsiders would set her off again. I don’t really understand what is wrong with her.”

“She has presented her egg.”

Bardon felt a surge of joy for his friend Regidor and relief for Gilda. “Really? Is she all right? Is the egg…um, is the egg, well, whole? All right? Like it should be?”

Seslie laughed. “They are both fine.”

“I was led to believe that the meech have very few eggs and do not cherish the family unit.”

Seslie laughed again, obviously more comfortable talking about their culture than their past. “We collect eggs for ten or fifteen years, and then for three years we hatch them out in a spaced pattern. That way the youngsters have playmates, and we can educate them in groups.” He chuckled. “Except that Sachael Relk. She’s a rebel. She has her eggs whenever she chooses and has them quickened as soon as she can. Why, we’d be overrun with children if all our women took to breeding and hatching the way that woman does.” He shook his head and sobered. “You
are
aware that meech mature rapidly?”

“I am.”

“Are you aware that our life spans are considerably shorter than yours?”

Bardon caught his breath. “No. No, I was not.” He thought of Regidor. “How short?”

“Forty, fifty years.” Seslie pushed aside a stray branch. The path to the cave was well worn. “As to our family units? I suppose the rumor that we don’t enjoy our families comes purely from not knowing us.”

“Is it true you need an outsider to quicken your eggs?”

“Now, that’s true enough. A few members of the high races live in this remote territory. We know each of them. They are as odd as you must think we are, and they choose to be reclusive as well. We had a tumanhofer living with us for a number of years.”

“Woodkimkalajoss?”

“Yes. Was it he who told you how to find us?”

“I’m afraid so. Reluctantly, but he told.”

“I suspect he got suspicious of the tremors. He knew about Mot Angra. I suppose he figured we needed some help. He wasn’t very complimentary about how we choose to live.”

“Are all of your people content, or do you have more rebels like Sachael Relk?”

Seslie frowned. “Sachael is no harm to anyone, but we did have a man who caused problems. He left us around ten years ago, and no one but Tulanny was sad to see him go.”

“Tulanny?”

“He was Tulanny’s son. A loudmouth. A persuasive talker. An ‘independent thinker’ he called himself, but he wanted everyone to line up behind him and follow his new way of doing things. When we didn’t fall in line, he got pretty ugly. Meech don’t generally yell and holler when we discuss things. His joy was in outshouting anyone who stood up to him. We told him that a bully never got what he wanted and he’d have to learn another way to win people to his side.

“He hated dragons too. He transferred all his fear of Mot Angra into hate for all dragons. He denied his own heritage, separating himself from the reality of his own dragon blood. He talked wildly about what he would do if he could rid this world of dragons. His contention was that the dragons should never have been allowed to pass through Wulder’s gateway. But it was Wulder’s gateway, and he never seemed to get it through his thick skull that it was up to Wulder who could come through, not up to him.

“He left eventually. I guess he got tired of hearing the same story from us over and over. He couldn’t change what we think. I wonder if he found anyone who would listen to him.”

A shiver ran down Bardon’s spine as he surmised where Tulanny’s son may have gone and what he was doing.

“Here we are,” whispered Seslie. “Try not to make noise. Mot Angra is restless these days, and we’d just as soon he stay asleep until we come tonight with his offering.”

Bardon felt oppression descend upon him as he neared the opening in the rock. The cold, clammy apprehension reminded him of the way they’d felt when the questers first entered the Northern Reach. Now his skin crawled, and he found himself expecting something to leap out at them. He looked at his companions and saw they, too, felt the unnatural atmosphere of dread.