DragonFire (17 page)

Both men assented with a nod.

“Becca-ree has told Lady Lyll that there are six ships in two lines, three abreast. Since we don’t have enough salt in this load to annihilate all six nets full of quiss, we’ll have to make more than one trip.

“On this first attack, I want Greer to fly over the middle ship of the back line, and Yent will dump the salt on the quiss. Lady Lyll, Merlander, and I will see to the middle ship in the front row. Needless to say, we shall have to fly low. Bardon, do you have enough arrows and lances to cause sufficient diversion?”

“Yes. Greer’s packs were loaded for battle when we left the others behind.” He raised his eyebrows. “Regidor is going to be displeased that he was left out of this scuffle. Our reconnaissance mission was not supposed to involve fighting.”

Sir Dar chortled. “We will have to listen to him bellyache when we get back.”

Yent lifted his head from his work of tying sacks to Merlander’s cargo apparatus. “Who is this Regidor?”

Lady Lyll laughed. “A swashbuckling meech dragon who likes to be in the thick of things. I agree he will be quite put out that he wasn’t included in our raid.”

In addition to the riding saddles and the cargo contraption, the dragons carried a lightweight netting that Dar and Yent would be able to crawl over. The net provided something for them to grip with their hands and wiggle their feet into for secure footholds. Bardon knew Regidor wouldn’t mind clinging upside down to a dragon’s belly while in flight, but he’d rather ride on top. He was glad the nimble kimen and doneel were on hand to do that tricky maneuver.

“Are we ready?” asked Sir Dar.

Yent said, “Aye.”

Sir Bardon gave him a salute. Lady Lyll smiled as she climbed onto Merlander and hooked her knees into saddle guards.

The marione who seemed to be in charge of the others said, “We’ll bag up more salt for your second run. It’ll be ready when you get back.”

“Thank you,” said Sir Dar. “It is imperative that we strike fast. After the first hit, the sailors will be expecting us and may have a defense arranged to complicate our delivery.”

Becca-ree sat on Lady Lyll’s shoulder and directed them to a stretch of water just south of Eden Bay. Six large barges plowed through the water at a slow speed. The two dragons circled at a high altitude.

“At least these heavy boats won’t outrun us,” said Yent.

Bardon agreed and looked to Dar for a signal. The doneel crawled out of his safe seat and, with a knife between his teeth, crept to a place where he could open the bottom of the sacks. Yent followed his example. When the two small men were in position, Greer and Merlander swooped toward their perspective targets.

Bardon held on with his knees. The wet, cold sea air rushed around him as they descended. He had a dozen thin-shafted lances in a scabbard at one knee and his bow and arrows at the other.

He heard a bisonbeck shout as he raised the warning of attack. The sailors took up arms, crossbows.

That’s interesting,
he thought.
Sailors equipped for battle like a land militia.

Greer’s take on the situation was more pragmatic.

You can fly as fast as you want, dragon friend,
Bardon answered.
I have no wish to see you poked full of holes, either. Fortunately, the nets are dragging a good distance behind the barges. These sailors will have to be very good marksmen to hit you.

“I’m ready,” Yent hollered from behind Greer’s wings.

Bardon couldn’t see the kimen, but he took him at his word.

Now, Greer. Dive as low as you can to give this brave little warrior a good chance at hitting his target.

He grinned at his dragon’s response.
Aye, aye, Captain? Since when have you acknowledged any authority I might have over you? And where did you pick up the “aye, aye” bit?

Greer didn’t snap back a reply. He banked over the swarming mass of quiss trapped in the net. Yent sliced through the cloth, and the sacks emptied into the target. Only a small amount of white grains fell beyond the rim of the net as Greer soared upward.

“Good work!” Bardon exclaimed and glanced over to see how Merlander and her crew had fared. “Our comrades have made a direct hit as well.”

Yent climbed to the top of the saddle and sat behind Bardon.

“Greer tells me,” said Bardon over his shoulder, “that Merlander is relaying a message from Dar.” He paused. “Dar wants us to observe the effect of our drop. We won’t fly back immediately.”

The quiss in the targeted traps ceased movement at once, but their bodies bubbled as the carcasses disintegrated.

“Look at that,” yelled Yent. He pointed to the nets being pulled by the four other barges.

The quiss in the hammocklike trawl nets pulled by the outside boats panicked. Squeals and screeches filled the air. The frantic quiss threw their many arms over the edges of their confinement. The ropes from the nets to the barge became a bridge, and the sea beasts piled one on top of the other as they fled the water. Their appendages had not stiffened, allowing them to walk, but they dragged themselves across the ropes, over the rails of the ships, and onto the decks. The quiss slithered across the vessels with great speed and captured many of the men.

The military discipline of the sailors on the barges collapsed. Each man tried to save his own skin. Many climbed into the rigging.

Bardon turned to the kimen. “Dar is wondering if the panicked quiss will go ashore. He wants me to set you down so you can warn the people and tell them about using salt to deflect any attack. We’ll go back and get the prepared bags of salt to deliver to the coastal people.”

“I agree,” said Yent. “The normal rhythm of the quiss invasion has been disrupted. But we’re better prepared than we’ve ever been in the past. What will be the outcome of today’s events?”

         
24
         

T
HE
D
ONEEL’S
S
TORY

Kale leaned forward to touch her father’s arm, nodding toward the back of the tavern. “Not the innkeeper or the owner. Doxden appears to be the cook.”

Her father twisted in his seat to watch the man approach. Doxden couldn’t be missed. The quick-stepping doneel fairly hopped across the room, his bright clothing dusted with flour and a baker’s cap sitting jauntily on his head, covering one ear. Waving a hand to the men who pulled tables and chairs back into place, he climbed into an empty chair. His shoulders only reached the edge of the table, so he tucked his feet under himself to give some additional height.

He squinted one eye at Sir Kemry. “You’re going to Greenbright Valley?”

“We might be,” answered the knight. “Is that where the dragons are?”

“That’s where the dragons are rumored to be.”

“What can you tell me?”

Doxden looked around the room. “Botzy,” he called, “bring me a drink.”

The woman waved a hand at him and yelled, “In a minute.” She went back to her conversation with a well-dressed urohm and two kimens aglow in shades of pink roses.

A few of the customers had left the room, seeking their warm and cozy beds. Others were quietly talking. The musicians stood around talking, having packed up their instruments for the night. The lateness of the hour called the villagers to leave the pleasant tavern, brave the storm, and return to the comfort of their own hearths.

Doxden jumped down from the chair. “I’ll be right back. Do you want your drinks refilled?”

“No, thank you,” said Sir Kemry.

“My glass is still half full,” said Kale.

The doneel cook dipped his head in acknowledgment and trotted off.

What do you think? Can he help us?

“He hasn’t decided yet if he wants to. But I think if he is willing, he can tell us precisely where this valley is located.”

Gathering information with disregard for a person’s privacy troubled Kale’s sense of ethics. Life had been simpler when Bardon directed their paths. She’d chafed against his strict adherence to principles from time to time, but she never fretted over their direction. Her husband certainly had a clear picture of right and wrong.

Fewer customers sat at the tables. One man snored while his wife continued an intense conversation with another woman. The well-dressed urohm gentleman carried on a quiet debate with the kimens. The atmosphere of the room had changed after the band shut down and the room began to clear. The people here in Black Jetty had a comfortable life and just wanted to live day to day without complications. A big complication existed in Amara when one considered the war being waged between evil forces. The citizens of Black Jetty were a part of the world whether they wanted to be or not.

Kale and her father desired to do good. The wizards’ conclave ordered their quest, and Paladin backed them. But did she and her father have permission to gather information unscrupulously? What would Bardon do if he were here?

Her father watched the other people in the room. After the dance, Kale felt more allied with him, but did she really know how closely he walked within the guidelines of Wulder’s principles?

She ached to know exactly what he planned.
You could get the information you want by invading his mind,
she suggested.

“And I will if he remains reluctant. But let’s give him the chance to aid the cause.”

That statement didn’t wholly dispel her doubts. Perhaps she should be more direct.

Father?

“Yes?”

Is it wrong to pry into the minds of these good folk, taking what we want without their by-your-leave?

“Many times in life, the answer to hard questions is ‘That depends.’ Sometimes you have to test the waters, so to speak.”

I don’t understand.

“If you are ever mindful of what causes Wulder pleasure and what displeases Him, then you are better able to judge whether your motives line up with His desires.”

Kale said nothing. Her father’s answer did not give her freedom to dive into other’s thoughts, nor did it give her permission to ignore the quest she and her father had undertaken. His words did nothing to help her make a choice.

Her father sighed.
“Kale, sometimes the answer is either yes or no. You will know without a doubt.”
He spread his hands in a helpless gesture.
“Even when we have clear direction, we do not always choose the correct path. It is the nature of us all.”

He rubbed a hand across his head, smoothing his graying hair.
“And then there are the times when the answer is not clear.”
He held up his hand with his index finger extended.
“In those cases, your first consideration is to not harm anyone. Not physically, not mentally, not in any way.”

He put his hand back down in his lap and surveyed those around to see if any were watching. His serious voice continued to speak within Kale’s mind.
“Your second consideration is to not harm yourself. You must not pollute your mind or body with even a taint of evil. Your third consideration is to achieve your goal. Achieving your goal must never be first.”

He studied her for a moment, his eyes probing hers as if to uncover her soul. She hid her thoughts. He looked away, apparently not happy with what he’d determined.

“My advice cannot be any more obvious. If you do not understand, then you shall have to gain understanding through experience.”

Kale laughed.

“You find that amusing?”

Not your advice, Father, but that I have received the same admonition from another source at another time. I suppose I should heed the suggestion.

Her father only harrumphed and glanced toward the returning doneel.

“Our doneel cook is approaching, and he’s decided to trust us.”

The cook placed his tankard on the table, then jumped into his seat. He took a swig of his ale.

“It’s this way,” he said. “Many years ago I lived in Wittoom. I know what it is to have the authority of Wulder deeply ingrained in the culture. Here, we think of Wulder when it is convenient, if at all.”

“It is this way in many parts of Amara,” said Sir Kemry. His tone did not condemn the people of Black Jetty. “And there are parts of Amara who have forgotten Wulder altogether. They choose to follow their own pleasures.”

The doneel gazed at his drink, his face solemn. “I know of those depraved places. I used to be a traveling man like most of the folks in this room. But I came upon this small town and decided to stay.” He took a long draw from his cup. “We’re not a bad lot. But we are not as good as we could be either.”

Kale’s father rested his hand on the doneel’s shoulder. “There are very few of us who are as good as we could be. I don’t claim that distinction.”

Doxden leaned forward. “Maybe it’s because I was raised in Wittoom.” He glanced around the room. When his eyes came back to Sir Kemry, he paused a moment, then nodded as if he’d made a final decision. “I seem to notice things the others don’t. Things that speak of evil encroaching upon the region. You know, situated as we are, we have great good to the north of us, the urohm and kimen lands. And we have great evil south of us where Crim Cropper and Burner Stox have dominated those lands for years.”

“Yes, I know.”

Kale twisted her hands in her lap. Would this cook ever get to the point?

“Patience, my daughter. This is not only hard for him, it is dangerous as well.”

He’s stalling.

“We have time. Let him tell his story in his own way.”

Kale stifled a sigh of exasperation. She didn’t want to distract the man and give him an excuse to further delay the telling of his tale.

Doxden leaned back in his chair. “Dragons have always been scarce in this part of Amara. But there were rumors of egg clutches hidden away. Men went into the mountains, searching like they would search for rich ore—gold or silver or the like. But there were no stories of anyone finding the dragon eggs.”

He took a drink, looked around the room once more, then leaned forward. “About two years ago, the men who went looking for the clutches no longer came back. They vanished.”

Kale’s hand went to the row of six small bulges at her waist. She could find eggs hidden in those mountains. Would she vanish as well? She looked at her father, and he winked at her. His head moved slightly, indicating he understood her fear, and no, she would not disappear.

Again, Doxden glanced around. This time he smiled his pleasure at those who conversed in the tavern’s common room. “As you see by the company tonight, we are rarely troubled with the lower races.” He frowned. “About the same time the seekers of dragon eggs started disappearing, bisonbecks and grawligs were spotted in Greenbright Valley. Then it became impossible to penetrate the passes into the valley from any direction. A haze fell over that area, so you could not view the land between the ridges.”

“And the people believe…?” asked Sir Kemry.

“That a great and powerful wizard has taken over the valley, and it is not any of our business what goes on there. No one here would appreciate my giving you information. We keep away from those in the valley and pretend they don’t exist. The traders found alternate routes and do not even mention Greenbright Valley, as if to do so would bring bad fortune down upon them.”

“And the rumors of the dragons? There were sightings?”

“Not that I know of. Nothing substantial behind the rumors. But the whispers were persistent a year ago, and then they ceased. I don’t think these tales would have stopped abruptly for a natural reason. I believe there is something behind the gossip. And I believe that something is evil.”

“We wish to investigate, perhaps turn the tide of this invasion. Will you tell us where the valley is?

The doneel sighed. “Yes.”