Two Renegade Realms (Realm Walkers Book 2) (10 page)
The dragon’s head swung around to face them. “Bixby, hold Jesha and sit on Cantor’s lap. I don’t want you to fall out.”
Bixby scurried to get in place, holding on to the cat with one arm and grasping Cantor’s shirtsleeve with the other hand. “I’m ready.”
The air warmed. The vessel quivered, and Cantor closed his eyes. Sometimes when Bridger made a quick shift, the sight of his stretching, twisting, changing color and texture made Cantor sick to his stomach. When he opened his eyes, Bridger was under them, gliding along like a swan with her cygnets on her back. Instead of folding his wings, he had positioned them as high sides to his elegant form.
Bixby clapped her hands and bounced. She slid off Cantor’s lap and sat on the long saddle Bridger had provided. The dragon accelerated. Cantor leaned back and relaxed. They had
already lessened the distance between them and Dukmee’s skiff. And as Bridger propelled himself, his speed caused air to pass through his scales. The slight rattle offset the creepy silence of the lake.
The mage raised a hand in greeting. Neekoh’s teeth glowed in the light of the orb, his smile wide and delighted.
“I am so glad you came,” he said. “I haven’t ever had this much fun. I love watching Bridger’s and Jesha’s surprises. I hope you stay for a while after we free Chomountain.”
Cantor grunted. “Don’t forget we’re supposed to be saving the nine planes.”
“I did forget. Is it something you have to do right away?”
Dukmee looked with surprise at the man seated across from him. “Definitely.” He frowned. “Just how long will it take to free Chomountain?”
Neekoh’s smile did not diminish as he shrugged. “I have no idea. It’s never been done before.”
B
ixby watched as the last of the lights from the distant shore sank below the horizon. She whipped around and leaned to the side to see around Bridger’s powerful neck. In the distance, the glow of the underwater plants drew a light line across the horizon.
“Do you think we’re halfway there?”
Cantor shifted on the saddle behind her. “I hope so. My legs are getting cramped.”
Beside them and just a tad in front of Bridger, Neekoh pulled his oars out of the water and wedged them along the inside of the skiff. “I’m hungry! How about a break for food?”
“Yes.” At the thought, Bixby’s stomach growled. “I’ve got all sorts of nice things in my cold hamper. Shall we stop moving for a while? Could Cantor and I come over to your boat? We need to move around and get the kinks out of our legs.”
“I can transfer you,” said Bridger. “Would you rather I
picked you up with my teeth and lifted you over, or would you like to walk along my wing like a bridge?”
Bixby felt Cantor laughing. He managed not to let on, but his frame shook as he pretended to cough. When he could talk, his deep, rumbly voice sent tremors through Bixby.
“Why don’t you just park yourself as close to them as you can? I’ll step over first, then lift Bixby.”
Bridger used his tail to steer and gently propel himself. They skimmed over the water to the side of Neekoh’s boat. In a very short time, the adventurers were comfortably seated, and Bixby passed around chicken sandwiches, pickles, marmalade on rolls, and cold tea.
For Bridger, Cantor had a huge bag of donuts, several watermelons, a gigantic fried fish, a meatloaf baked in a twenty gallon washtub, three chocolate cakes, and a small keg of apple cider. The dragon allowed his arms and hands to come out of his swan shape so he could eat.
Neekoh sat with his eyes closed, chewing his food with a look of utter contentment on his face.
“Are we halfway?” Bixby asked the young man.
He continued to chew.
“Neekoh, are we halfway?”
He still didn’t forsake his pleasure but took another bite of the sandwich.
Bixby was both annoyed and tickled. She wanted an answer, but Neekoh looked like he could float away with the next bite.
She turned to Cantor and Dukmee. “What do you think?”
Cantor lifted one eyebrow. “I think we ought to be out of this mountain by now and on our way to do something about the Lymen.”
“I think,” said Dukmee, “that we should have a piece of Bridger’s second cake.”
Bridger graciously shared his chocolate cake. Bixby had thought Neekoh’s reaction to a chicken sandwich was amusing. His ecstasy over the dragon’s dessert had them all laughing.
Bixby felt more serene about being in the middle of the mysterious lake by the time she and Cantor went back to ride on Bridger’s back. But it wasn’t long before the gloomy darkness, permeating silence, and clammy air again encroached on her.
“Cantor, tell me something about your search for Ahma and Odem.”
“I’ve already told you what there is to tell.”
“Then tell me about something you saw on your travels that you’d never seen before.”
“Why?”
“I need to hear your voice.”
“Oh.” He didn’t begin fast enough for her. She pressed her lips together to keep from nagging. A sigh escaped after a long wait. “Cantor, didn’t you see anything?”
“We saw a lot of things. But you’ve traveled so much, you’ve probably seen the things I thought were unusual.”
“All right. Then give me hints, and I’ll try to guess.”
She felt him put up a shield so she couldn’t read his mind. She grinned. A wise precaution. Again she thought he’d never speak, but he finally cleared his throat.
“It looks like a desert except there is water. It sounds like a thick bowl of stew over the fire.”
Bridger turned his head sharply. “The mud flats on Bondoran.”
“Bridger,” Bixby protested, “you’re supposed to let me guess.”
“I might be wrong.”
Bixby squirmed to turn enough to see Cantor’s face. “Is it the mud flats of Bondoran? Is Bridger right?”
“Yes, I was thinking of the Bondoran mud flats. Bridger, let Bixby guess. It isn’t exactly fair since you were with me. It’s fresh in your mind.”
“I’m ready for another.” She faced the front once more.
“Let’s see . . . taller than a mountain but only from the bottom. Dry up and down, but wet in the middle.”
Bridger jerked. “Krossmore Canyon.”
Cantor and Bixby spoke in unison. “Bridger!”
“Sorry. It slipped out.”
“I’m going to try again. Bridger, pinch your lips together.” Cantor breathed deeply. Bixby felt his tension as he puzzled over what to use, and the moment the stiffness left him, she knew he had thought of something. “The father acts the mother, and the child carries a heavy load.”
“That’s too easy,” Bridger complained. “You know what it is, right, Bix?”
“Yes, a cammercon. But I’ve never seen one. Did you really see one?”
Bridger nodded. “We were in the jungle of Igid at night. Cantor was tucked in his hammock. The father cammercon strolled into our campsite with no more caution than if he’d known us all his life. The baby peeked out of the father’s pouch. Along came the mother, and they proceeded to rob us of everything that wasn’t stored away.”
“Each item,” added Cantor, “was handed to the baby, who dragged it into the pouch with him.”
Bixby sighed. “They’re cute in drawings.”
“They’re cute in person.” Cantor stretched his legs. “But once they’ve looted your camp, there is no way to get anything back.”
Cantor and Bridger laughed.
“What?” asked Bixby, aware that they were sharing a funny memory.
The dragon took a couple of deep breaths to stop his giggles. “With one hand, Cantor clamped the father’s mouth shut and held him in place while he stuck his other hand in the pouch to retrieve his flint box. The adult’s teeth were out of commission, but it was the baby who bit him.”
“Retrieving the flint was necessary. I didn’t want to be in that jungle with no fire. Besides, it would have been an awful lesson if the baby had managed to strike a spark inside his father’s pouch. But I thought I’d never shake that tiny mite off my finger.”
Bridger and Cantor succumbed to laughter once more.
Dukmee called from the other vessel. “It’s good to hear laughter instead of silence. We’ll be over the phosphorescent plants in a few minutes. Neekoh says in an hour we’ll be able to see the beacon, and two hours after that, we’ll land.”
“Three more hours.” Bixby leaned back against Cantor’s chest. “I feel like a nap.”
Cantor rested his cheek against her hair. “You don’t want to miss the pretty plants.”
“No, you’re right.” A yawn stretched her mouth to the point of hurting. “I’m suddenly very sleepy.”
“Bridger and I will sing some of the songs we learned on our travels. No lullabies.”
“You learned lullabies?”
Cantor chortled. “No, mostly tavern songs.”
Bridger sidled up to the other vessel. “Cantor sings quite well. Some day he’ll probably take a place in a great cathedral.”
Dukmee frowned. “He’d better find something other than tavern songs, if that’s his ambition.”
Bridger snorted. “He does know a few lullabies.”
The mage shook his head slowly. “Still not what he needs.”
Bixby pulled a face. They weren’t making any sense. If they were teasing her friend, he didn’t seem to care. But she took offense and decided to remind them of his ability. “We all heard Cantor sing with the cantors in sanctuary at Gilead. He knows what to do.”
“I think,” said Cantor, “we’ll start with ‘Old Man Podder Left His Mouth Turned On and His Mind Turned Off.’ What do you say, Bridge?”
“Sounds like an excellent choice.”
They entered the waters filled with underwater plants, singing the song of Podder’s woes. At the moment, they had no immediate troubles, and Bixby enjoyed laughing at the silly man’s trials.
A yawn surprised her, stretching her mouth and pulling an enormous amount of air into her lungs. She vigorously shook her head. What time was it? She tried to calculate how long they’d been on this trek. When had they left the library? They’d eaten on the water, but was it dinner or supper? Her mind felt wooly, packed with fuzz, and uncooperative.
Life in the dark presented many problems. Get out of sync with night, sleep, day, eat, play . . . That was the problem. They never played anymore. She stretched and cuddled back. She’d dream about playing.
C
antor roused Bixby to look at the glowing plants. She smiled and yawned and leaned to look around Bridger’s wing to get a better view. When she slid forward, he pulled her back and discovered she had fallen asleep.
He gently shook her. “Bixby, look up ahead. There’s a mist over the lake, and the droplets of water are reflecting the luminous plants.”
She opened her eyes and smiled. “Beautiful.”
Cantor decided he didn’t like the smile. Her eyes usually sparkled with interest. Now they looked empty. Her head drooped. He put a hand under her chin and lifted. Asleep.
“Bridger, there’s something wrong with Bixby. Can you get closer to Neekoh? I want Dukmee to look at her.”
“I’ve lost sight of their skiff. I’ll speed up.”
Immediately in front of them, the mist swirled in shining tendrils. Farther on, the thickness of the radiant fog obscured their view. Although the vapor’s slow drifting held a mystic splendor, Cantor saw the beauty as treacherous.
Bixby’s pale skin reflected the eerie glow. Under different circumstances, he might have admired the allure it added to her features. He tried to wake her again.
“Cantor, let me sleep.”
“You’re missing the show. Open your eyes, Bix.”
She obeyed. The same vague smile touched her lips, and she dozed off again.
Cantor reached with his mind, trying to connect with Dukmee. Nothing came back to him. He didn’t feel any response; not Dukmee and not Neekoh. He probably couldn’t speak to Neekoh, but he should at least be able to sense his presence. Aside from Bixby, the only other living entities he could pinpoint were Bridger and Jesha.
He concentrated on his sense of hearing. He used the tricks Bixby had taught him to survey the sounds around them. Beyond the swish of Bridger’s tail, he heard nothing, not the dip of an oar, not the drip of lake water returning to where it belonged.
“Bridger, do you know where they are?”