DragonQuest (20 page)

         
35
         

M
ISSING
P
ERSON

Five minutes passed. Then ten. Kale focused on the healing circle. Gymn relaxed as the bond between the three deepened. She felt the pain ease away from Bardon’s head. At the same time, a fresh current of life invigorated her spirit. This paradox of renewal while the act of healing drained her physical body brought a strange feeling of lazy peace. She could easily slip into a contented dream state.

Metta sat on one of her shoulders, humming. Dibl sat on the other.

Bardon’s eyes fluttered open. “Kale?”

“You got hit on the head with a brick or something.”

He sat up.

Gymn rolled off Bardon’s head, bumped his shoulder, and slid down his back. When he hit the ground, he stood on wobbly legs, shook his head, and then cast a disgusted look at his patient.

On Kale’s shoulder, Dibl did a little dance that ended with a flip. Kale giggled.

Bardon quirked an eyebrow at her.

“Gymn is put out because you dumped him after he healed you. To make it worse, he was almost asleep. Dibl, of course, thinks it’s all very funny.”

Bardon twisted to look behind him. He picked up the disgruntled green dragon.

“I’m sorry, Gymn. I didn’t realize you were napping on my head.” With one hand he reached up and felt for the wound. “All that’s left is drying blood.”

Kale wrinkled her nose. “Sounds attractive.”

Bardon looked around. “Where are Regidor and Dar?”

The mist turned into a drizzle. She pulled her hood over her head. “Good question. I never saw Dar during the brawl. Regidor went back to get him and his monk robe.”

“Why in the world did he start the fight?”

“You think he started it?”

“He didn’t have to challenge those drunks.” Bardon stretched his arms out, testing his muscles. “Regidor could have just walked away. But no, he throws off his disguise and starts beating the pulp out of them.”

“Are you all right?”

“Yes.”

Kale felt her muscles relax as she watched him flex his limbs to restore their vitality. She closed her mind to the incredible link between them and thought of something else.

“Regidor
is
amazing. Have you ever seen anyone that quick?”

“No. He seems to roll into his punches, fly toward an opponent. Oh, I give up! There’s no way to describe how he fights—like a circus acrobat and a dancer all in one.”

Kale remembered Wizard Cam saying Bardon fought like a dancer. She remembered his ears and quickly shuttled her thoughts down a different line.

“Are you sure you’re all right?”

“I feel a bit lazy.”

She laughed. The term lazy just didn’t fit Bardon.

He stood and stretched. “Let’s walk back toward the waterfront and see if we can find Dar and Regidor. I have an uneasy notion.”

“Is this notion based on your mindspeaking talent or reasoning?”

“Reasoning. Don’t you think it odd that Dar didn’t appear during the fight? He’s never been shy to lend his sword to a just cause.”

“But there was no just cause. It was a senseless riot.”

Bardon raked his fingers through his hair, smoothing the sides over his ears.

“Maybe this rain will wash the bloody mat out of my hair.”

Again, she kept her thoughts to herself. Bardon had a reason why he didn’t reveal his dual heritage. She fought the urge to ask questions.

“Kale, where’s my sword?”

“I guess you dropped it in the street.”

“Somebody probably picked it up, but let’s go back and see.”

Kale got to her feet and shook the mud from the bottom of her moonbeam cape. The top now glistened with raindrops. Gymn landed on the front of the cape and darted inside. He apparently was tired and wanted a nap in his pocket-den.

Dibl perched on Bardon’s shoulder, and Metta flew above Kale. Briefly, Kale gave thought to the egg in the pouch around her neck. And then she remembered the four eggs still kept in the pockets of the moonbeam cape. She shoved aside the thought of eight dragons flying around her head sometime in the future and trudged after Bardon toward a decidedly dangerous present.

Slick mud covered the remnants of a cobblestone pavement. Where lamplight shone through dirty windows, a pale square of light glistened, reflecting in the puddles.

The rain began to pelt them with greater intensity. Both Metta and Dibl took refuge in the cape. They passed under a streetlamp, and Kale saw a trickle of red water running down the back of Bardon’s neck from the blood in his hair.

The cape kept her comfortably warm, but she worried about Bardon. She knew better than to say anything. Even if he realized he would be better off with a cloak, a cloak was not available.

The rain poured as they reached the lane where The Horn faced the docks. No one lingered out in the torrent. Kale shifted the sweep of her gaze. She looked up and down the street, particularly in the shadows, for would-be attackers. Then she surveyed the mucky street for the lost sword. She used her talent to explore the area, hoping to detect any adversaries. But the buildings housed dozens of villains. She could not identify any who had malice in their hearts aimed at her and her comrades.

Bardon!

“What?”

I just realized something.

“You can’t pick up on Dar’s whereabouts.”

She nodded in agreement, even though she doubted Bardon could see her in the dark, rain-laden street. He would know her concern even without seeing her.

And Regidor.

“He’s disappeared as well.”

Concentrate, Bardon. We should be able to find them.

A moment of silence followed.

Both Bardon and Kale began to run as a glimmer of Regidor’s presence pierced the fog of evil shrouding their surroundings. Past two empty docks and three with swaying black hulks of ships, the two raced toward the strengthening beacon. They slowed as the sixth dock came into view. A ship bobbed in the water beside a landing pier. Large crates lined the plank walkway, stacked in uneven rows. Lights flickered from the portholes in the side of the foreign vessel.

Kale and Bardon joined Regidor in the shadows between two warehouses. Regidor mindspoke to them both.

“Dar’s aboard that ship.”

Bardon identified the type of vessel.
“Frigate, a high-speed, medium-sized, sailing war vessel. Too bad we can’t see the flag. But I do know it’s from the Northern Reach.”

Kale surveyed the ship.
I don’t feel Dar’s presence. In fact, I don’t detect any occupants.

Regidor nodded.
“There’s some kind of shield surrounding it, blocking our perception. I wonder if we could figure out how to do that. We must try.”

Bardon glanced over at the meech. Kale knew his sentiments matched her own. It wasn’t the right time to indulge Regidor’s curiosity over the way things worked.

Bardon gave a half grin to Kale and spoke to Regidor.

“Yes, my meech friend. But not now. Now we must figure out how to rescue Sir Dar.”

         
36
         

F
INDING
D
AR

At the foot of the gangplank, a sailor sat on a barrel. Another stood guard at the top. The heavy rain must have driven all hands below. The same rain aided Regidor, Bardon, and Kale in their stealthy approach. The three conspirators hid behind a huge crate not more than six feet from the shivering sailor.

“He’s about your size, Kale,”
Bardon mindspoke to both.

Regidor scowled at the lehman.
“What does that have to do with anything?”

Bardon is going to knock the man out,
Kale answered.
I’ll put on his coat and sit in his position, so anyone on board will think the man is still on duty.

“And you know this because you and Bardon think together.”
Regidor tilted his head.
“I really want to know why that is. I haven’t found a thing in the books about such a phenomenon. But I haven’t finished researching.”

The sailor huddled miserably in a large coat, with the collar pulled up around his neck and an oilcloth hat pulled down over his head.

“And what do we do with the man at the top of the gangplank?”
asked the meech.

Bardon pointed to the more alert guard.
“Go into his mind, Regidor. Distract him with images he can’t resist. Right now I would assume that would be a cozy chair by a blazing hearth with a mug of mulled cider.”

Regidor stared at the man for a moment.
“You’re wrong, Bardon. He’d rather be in his bunk below deck. The man’s been too long at sea to be thinking fireplaces and comfortable chairs.”

“Can you distract him?”

Regidor snorted.
“Leave him to me.”

Kale edged her way back to where the pier joined the land. She stepped out into the open and approached the first sailor. When the old man noticed her, she projected questions into his mind.

What’s she doing out on a night like this? Where’s she going? Does she think I’m going to let her board?

She smiled and nodded at the befuddled man and strolled on by. As the guard turned his head to follow her movement, Bardon slipped out and grabbed him. With a hand clamped over the sailor’s mouth, Bardon hauled him to their hiding place. Kale followed on the lehman’s heels.

Regidor stood in the shadows, his eyes trained on the figure at the top of the gangplank. Kale wondered what method Regidor had used to trick the man’s mind into thinking nothing unusual was happening on the dock. Sometimes her friend surprised her with something so innovative she couldn’t have predicted his actions at all, and she was supposed to know him better than anyone else. Librettowit said this quality made Regidor a genius.

The meech dragon had matured in a short time. Was she still supposed to “manage” him? She didn’t think anyone except Paladin could actually control Regidor.
At least he still listens to me when I reason with him. But he is so much smarter than me, one day my opinions won’t matter. He’s such a stubborn dragon.

The dragon watched the snared man struggle. With one finger, he touched the captive’s temple. The sailor passed out.

Bardon held the suddenly limp form. “What did you do?”

“Put him to sleep.”

“Will he wake up?” Bardon’s sharp tone cut through the air.

“Yes, with a headache.”

“Where did you learn to do that?”

“From one of Librettowit’s old books. But I hadn’t tried it until now.”

Kale felt tension surge between the two. Bardon didn’t appreciate the dragon’s interference. Regidor chafed because he knew he should have consulted the lehman before he knocked out the sailor.

“Enough,” she said. “We have to get to Dar. Give me the hat and coat.”

She settled on the barrel at the bottom of the gangplank. The man at the top remained oblivious to any unusual activity. Regidor obviously controlled his thoughts. She hunched down, assuming the same position as the sailor. She pictured that man in her mind. They’d left him in a heap behind the crate.

One down, one to go. But how many sailors are between us and Dar, once we board the ship?

That thought sent a shiver down her spine.

She waited for Regidor and Bardon to approach the second man. This time Bardon would make the bold advance. Regidor would approach while obscuring the guard’s vision of him through his talent.

Kale shivered.
My feet feel like they’re encased in ice. My cape and the sailor’s coat should be keeping me warm. I bet the goose bumps are from nerves. Why are they waiting?

A noise behind her answered the question. Someone had come out on deck. Two men stood about twelve feet behind her and some distance above her head. She heard the mumble of voices.

Dar!

Bardon’s voice entered her mind.
“He’s coming off the ship alone. We’ll find out what’s going on once he’s safely away.”

Dar came down the gangplank, his footsteps sounding light on the sodden wood. She peeked out from under the hat to see the doneel diplomat pass by. The transparent shield he used during a fight was up and repelling the rain. He walked away without acknowledging her presence.

But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t know I’m sitting here.

“Regidor has you covered,”
said Bardon.
“Come on.”

Kale hopped off the barrel and joined the two hiding behind the crate. She shed the sailor’s coat and hat.

“Let’s go,” whispered Bardon.

“Wait,” said Regidor. He pointed to the crumpled figure at their feet. “We can’t leave this old man out here in the cold.”

Bardon looked down. “What do you suggest we do with him?”

“Take him to The Horn.”

“Why?” The word exploded from Bardon’s lips.

“Shh!” Kale hissed.

Regidor sighed. “Because that would be easier than tucking him into his bunk on the frigate.”

“But why move him at all?” Bardon’s exasperation poured into Kale’s feelings.

She shut them off. She was tired of her friends’ bickering and wanted to go home.

“I feel responsible for him.” Regidor reached down and hoisted the limp figure over his shoulder. “Come on.”

Bardon looked at her for an explanation. She shrugged, pulled up the hood of her cape, and traipsed after the meech dragon.

“Oh well,” muttered Bardon. “Perhaps we’ll find my sword.”

Dar had vanished again.

This has to be the strangest adventure I’ve ever been on. I don’t feel particularly frightened, not with Regidor and Bardon beside me. But what is Dar up to? And Regidor? Why did he start that fight? I sure hope someone is going to explain all this. And I hope it’s soon.

Regidor marched up the two wooden steps to The Horn, tramped over the wooden porch, and pushed in the swinging doors without one sign of trepidation. Inside, most of the clientele had gone home. Several workers were sweeping up evidence of the fight. They stopped and, with open mouths, stared at the three comrades.

“Look here.” The marione who’d taken their dinner order came forward. He carried an unlit, broken candle in his hand. “I don’t want any more trouble.”

Regidor plopped his burden down in an empty chair and rested the sailor’s head on the table. He then turned to the man with a pleasant smile.

“No trouble. Just looking for my robe and my friend’s sword.”

A sudden movement across the room caught Kale’s attention. She’d found the man who’d picked up the sword from the street. She glanced at Bardon, and he nodded.

The marione blocked their way and waved the candle in front of Regidor’s face. “You’re not welcome here.”

The meech dragon continued to smile. “Would you like me to light that for you?” He pursed his thin lips, and with a tiny blow, sent a small stream of fire to ignite the wick.

Regidor stepped around the stunned marione and retrieved his robe from the floor. Bardon crossed to the tumanhofer who had his sword across his knees under the table.

“My sword, please.” Bardon’s voice sounded smooth and polite.

The tumanhofer swallowed hard. His eyes traveled to Kale and then to the meech dragon. Slowly, he pulled out the weapon and laid it on the table.

“Thank you,” said Bardon. He examined the blade, then slipped it into his scabbard.

Kale breathed a sigh of relief.
Good! Now we can go home.

One of the doorways to the back rooms opened. Dar emerged, immaculately dressed with only a slight hint of dampness around the bottom of his pant legs. He surveyed the shattered hall.

“Seems like you’ve been busy,” he said.

Regidor stopped with only one arm inserted into his monk’s robe. “No less busy than you, Sir Dar. I think it’s time we had a talk.”

Dar cocked his head. “Ah.” He looked closely at the faces of his three companions. “Yes, I think you’re right. But first let’s find a carriage to take us home. I think we can chat best at our own fireside.”