DragonLight (39 page)

He glanced at Holt, and a small smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “I appreciate that you did not bring them along. After we’ve settled our business with Mot Angra, we’ll send council members to interview these Followers individually, and the state of their hearts and minds will be determined. Those whose characters are not hardened in the heretical doctrine will be given a chance to put aside their allegiance to the Voice. With counseling, I’m sure many will see how they were led astray by fancy rhetoric.”

Paladin studied Dander’s impassive expression. He glanced at Tulanny’s miserable countenance, then turned to Regidor and nodded for him to come forward. “Regidor, I put Dander and his mother in your care. Please, escort them through the portal at once. Establish them at my palace and return as soon as possible.”

Regidor first opened the door and commandeered several officers. He explained they would be escorting the prisoners to the dungeon. With only the soft sobs of a despairing mother, the room cleared. Paladin’s soldiers took the prisoners back through the portal to the palace. Paladin excused himself and left to look over the prisoners being held outside his headquarters. Only Kale, Penn, Fly, Bardon, and Holt remained. Holt came to sit next to Kale.

“May I see him?” he asked. He reached for the blanket and drew back quickly at Fly’s hiss.

Kale giggled. “Don’t take offense, Holt. We haven’t labeled you as a ne’er-do-well who must not associate with our son. Fly treats everyone as if they are too lowly to look at her boy.” Kale addressed the guardian. “Holt may hold the baby.”

“Wait! I didn’t say I wanted to hold him. One peek will be sufficient.”

“Oh, that’s right. Your arm.” Kale looked sympathetic. “Does it hurt much?”

“It’s not the arm. I could manage holding a sword if I needed to, but not a baby.”

Penn yawned and smacked his lips.

Holt tilted his head and bent a wee bit closer. “He
is
cute.”

The room shuddered.

“That’s the third quake since I’ve been here.” Holt stood. “Is there a place to clean up? Are there clothes other than these dratted Follower robes?”

“Let’s wait just a minute to see if the black dragons come this way.” Kale wrapped the blanket closer around Penn and got up. “I’m proud of you, Holt. You’ve done a good thing.”

Holt rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. “I suppose you’ll find this hard to believe, and, Bardon, you can laugh at me if you choose, but I enjoyed doing it. Every time I disengaged someone from the Follower’s hold, I felt lighter somehow. Strange for me to be operating under no ulterior motive.”

Bardon slapped him on the back. “You did have an ulterior motive, my friend.”

“No, really,” Holt protested. “I wasn’t doing it for show. The good Mardell already approved of me.”

“I disagree,” said Bardon, ignoring Kale’s disapproving glare. “The ulterior motive was to clean yourself of guilt for what you finally realized were your nefarious ways. And you were showing yourself that you could do honorable deeds.”

Holt frowned. “Well, is that bad?”

“Not in the least. But understand this, Holt. If you died today, you would be accepted into Wulder’s other home for us. You don’t have to present a list of good deeds. There is no magic number of how many times you have to do the right thing before you are granted admission.”

Holt released an exaggerated sigh. “So I can go back to being a lazy bum?”

Bardon laughed. “You don’t want to. You enjoy being Wulder’s man.”

They left the sanctuary of Paladin’s office and edged through the crowd. A soldier asked Bardon to come settle a dispute. Kale told him she was going to the camp to see to the injured. Once at the outside door, she and Holt surveyed the skies. No horde appeared over the southern houses. In the street, Holt produced his most charming smile and offered Kale his arm.

A mighty quake rattled the village. Houses shook, windows crashed out of the walls, and fences twisted around the well-manicured lawns. The street beneath Kale and Holt rippled, squeezing pieces of the cobblestone out. The stones flew into the air and thudded where they dropped.

Holt clasped Kale and Penn in his uninjured arm to steady them, but they all fell. The marione pulled Kale around so she fell on top of him and not on the stones. Kale was grateful for the cushion between her and the ground and more grateful that she managed to keep Penn safe in her arms.

In a moment the earth stilled. They stayed where they were for a moment, then sat up. Bardon charged out of headquarters and came to Kale’s side.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

“No,” Kale answered.

Fly flew in circles trying to get close enough to examine her child.

Bardon looked at Penn, pulling back the cover. The baby blinked and cooed. Fly landed on Kale’s shoulder and leaned as close as she could get to Penn.

Bardon turned to Holt. “You?”

“Fine.”

Bardon helped Kale get to her feet, then offered Holt a hand. People began to move around. None of the houses had collapsed. A strange, sweet odor wafted through the streets, getting stronger with each breeze from the south.

Kale sniffed and thought the smell unpleasant. She started to ask Bardon if he knew what it was. A shiver ran down her spine, her flesh reacted with tiny bumps, and she held her breath as if she suddenly felt the presence of a beast of prey.

From above the forest, she heard a steady beat of wings. A roar heralded the approach of a great creature. The bellow paralyzed her with fear. Penn cried. Bardon grabbed her arm and they ran, but Kale had no idea where they could go.

Like a shadow of a cloud racing across the landscape, a huge black dragon sailed across the sky.

         
51
         

T
HE
P
RICE OF
P
EACE

Bardon watched the dragon disappear over the rim of the cliff. Paladin ran out of headquarters and conferred with his commanders, giving orders and pointing in several different directions. Bardon took a step toward Paladin. The men he had been training would need Bardon to lead.

“Kale, you had better seek cover with Penn.”

She grabbed his arm. “The people at the cave!”

He looked deeply into her eyes, letting her thoughts mix with his. He kissed her soundly, then touched his son’s head with his lips. With his forehead pressed to Kale’s, he couldn’t say all that was in his heart, but he knew she understood, and that eased the pain of parting. He released her. “Yes, go help at the cave.”

She raced off toward the forest path, and he turned on his heel to report to his leader. Holt followed Bardon.

Paladin welcomed them with a grim nod. “Regidor and Gilda have flown to locate Mot Angra. Position your men on the east rim of the canyon for the time being. Kimens will be carrying our messages. Holt, stay with me for now.”

Bardon gathered his men and ordered them to muster out with weapons and camping gear.

“I don’t know if we’ll be back to Bility any time soon.”

He led them to the crack in the canyon wall that was the easiest exit to the outside world. Other units gathered there, and Bardon and his men took their turn hiking out single file. From there they doubled back and climbed a stiff slope that brought them to a spot where they could survey the canyon and the plains. From their vantage point, Bardon could see many of the other brigades setting up defense positions.

In the canyon he saw a great crater where the cave had been. The wall with the image of Wulder’s creation stood exposed to the sunlight. The opposite wall had crumbled. A deeper pit into the mountain must have been where Mot Angra burst through to the open air. To one side on the canyon floor, warriors struggled to reestablish a camp. The departing dragon had made a passing blow at the men stationed there to guard the entrance of the cave.

What had the monster done? Swiped his tail across the tents? There was no sign of fire. Could Mot Angra not breathe fire? That would be a blessing.
Better not count on a smokeless dragon.
Bardon signaled his minor dragon to come to him.

“Mikkai, survey the area. I’d like to know where our strengths and weaknesses are.”

The minor dragon took off and returned four hours later. Bardon sat down and sketched out Mikkai’s report, making a credible map of the placement of their troops.

“No Mot Angra?” Bardon puzzled over the whereabouts of such a huge adversary.
Where is he hiding?

Bardon sent the rolled parchment map to Paladin by a kimen courier. By return messenger he learned Regidor and Gilda had seen nothing of Mot Angra in their flight over the plain.

The sun set. Cook fires sprang up, fragrant with the smell of burning wood and various stews. Chill air crept through the mountain trees and sent tendrils of frost across the plains. The grass crunched as Bardon walked from one fire to the next and spoke to his men.

He stopped last at the rim of the canyon. The design of the houses hid the village lights, but where the dragon had knocked down trees, Bardon could see the camp near the cave.

The remains of the cave. Are you there tonight, Kale? Did you return to the village? Is Penn fussy or quiet? Did you find your parents and Gymn? Are they safe? I’d appreciate having Regidor’s wings. I’d fly down and see for myself—

He heard Kale’s laughter and turned quickly, but no one stood near his lonely spot.

“I can hear you. And I think the image of you with wings is funny.”

You can hear me? I’d think this would be too far, especially with all the trouble you’ve been having with your wizard skills.

“Troubles with my wizardry have all but vanished. Regidor is back to full steam as well. We’ve been theorizing all evening as to what caused the dampening of our effectiveness.”

How’s Penn?

“Adorable. He’s so alert! Fly tells me when he’s wet or hungry. She’s a tyrant and wants her baby attended to immediately. She’ll spoil him for sure.”

No chance of our spoiling him.

Her delightful laugh rippled through his mind.
“None whatsoever.”
She paused. “
I hate the waiting.”

Yes, I’d rather locate Mot Angra and storm his location.

“I’m amazed at what little damage he did on his way out. There are injuries, but very minor. He knocked over trees and tents and left.”

Bardon sniffed the air.
I smell him. That nauseating sweet odor. Warn the others! You and the baby get under cover.

He ran back toward the camp, hearing voices raised in the distance. The men grabbed weapons as they ran to their posts.

The calls to one another didn’t sound frantic, as if these men had never faced an enemy of superior strength. But the confusion of an unseen foe of unpredictable action stirred the tension and brewed an uneasy wariness.

“Where is he?”

“At least the moon is full.”

“I hear the beat of his wings.”

“The smell’s getting stronger.”

Bardon took his position under a ring of cover with a fire at the center. He prepared his bow, took an arrow from the supply by the fire, and waited.

The camp grew quiet. A great shadow loomed over the grassland. Strong wings steadily beat the air. The beast passed over one of the camps east of Bardon’s brigade. Mot Angra shuddered and from his body showered scales.

The mass fell like dead weights, then scattered as the discarded pieces transformed into fighting black dragons. This was the battle Paladin’s army had prepared for. What to do with Mot Angra was a mystery. But these dragons, the size of a man’s thumb, spat fire and stung. They also died.

The men focused on the swarming foe. Bardon stuck the tip of his arrow into the fire. The end erupted in flame. He straightened, pulled back his bowstring, aimed, and released. His arrow shot into the onslaught of black dragons along with a hundred other burning shafts from this camp alone.

Volley after volley of blazing arrows penetrated the oncoming cloud. The close formation of the beasts’ flight acted to the warriors’ advantage. The blazes struck and ignited one dragon, and those flying too close were also engulfed in flame. The dragons flew straight into the counterattack, losing three-fourths of their throng before they got within range to do any damage to Paladin’s army.

When the remnant of the horde swooped into camp, Bardon and his men picked up torches and swung at the invaders. Whereas in previous attacks the horde had flown on quickly, these beasts circled and struck again and again. The men had counted on this part of the fight to be merely a show of force before the mass flew on. However, they found themselves in earnest combat with beasts so small and quick they were difficult to hit. The knights threw down their clumsy, flaming clubs and drew their swords. As the number of dragons diminished, the men could target those who had picked one man to bombard.

Bardon sighed with relief as he sliced the last one tormenting him. He turned and saw three tiny beasts harassing another warrior. He came from behind and downed one the next time it made a pass. As if to prove the creatures had no ability to rethink strategy in the middle of an engagement, the last two returned in exactly the same pattern as before. The warrior dispatched one, and Bardon eliminated the other.

Small grass fires presented the next immediate problem. The men soaked blankets and beat out the flames where blazing dragons had fallen to the ground. Fortunately, most had burned out before thudding into the undergrowth.

Just as the men’s rush of energy generated from battle abated, Mot Angra appeared again in the sky. A roar from the mighty dragon sent shivers down their backs and put goose flesh on the arms of many hardened warriors. The black monster sailed overhead and shook loose a second barrage of scales.

Weary men picked up their bows.

“Our strategy works, men. Do not lose heart.”

Again they fired into the cloud of oncoming dragons. Again they ended the fight in close combat. This time as the men stomped out fires and beat flames into the ground, they picked up fallen arrows. Some were merely stubs and had to be discarded. Others could be used once more.

Mot Angra did not roar as he came back into view. This time the sound resembled a sinister laugh, one that mocked the men who had to struggle with each advance of the enemy. The monster roared with glee as he shook loose another layer of scales.

The men nocked charred shafts onto their ready bows and took aim.