The Dragonbards

Chapter 12

I feel complete trust in only a handful of our soldiers. Garit is one. I would trust my life to Garit. It was he who taught the children to ride, who trained their first ponies—he has been like a brother to us.

*

The sky was the color of copper, the sun gone behind the mountains, when Seastrider and Windcaller winged up between streaks of cloud. Below, on the island, Marshy and the otters were crowded together, waving. The five dragonlings had settled obediently among the rocks. Take care, they thought. Take care.

Soon Nightpool was only a speck below on the burnished sea. Ahead shone the lights of Ratnisbon. Colewolf and Camery were already there, in the Palace of Ratnisbon, making battle plans with Ebis the Black. Camery carried the lyre now. Teb would not take it into Aquervell, so near the dark leaders. If they failed in this rescue, Quazelzeg must not have the Lyre of Bayzun.

But they would not fail. The unliving would not keep the bard children.

As they winged above Ratnisbon Palace, an image touched them of Camery and Colewolf standing before Ebis’s hearthfire beside his tall, broad figure. Outside the palace, the black shapes of Starpounder and Nightraider paced the rocky shore. Our love is with you, the dragons thought.

And ours with you, Teb said.

Go with the Light, Camery said.

With the Graven Light, said Colewolf.

Kiri tasted salt on her lips and scrubbed at her dried tears. She hadn’t known she was going to cry when she left Papa. They had been parted a hundred times in the war on Dacia—she should be used to parting. Not half an hour ago, Colewolf had held her, stroking her hair. We are together always, Kiri wren, even when we are apart. You are bone of my bone, child. Blood of my blood—courage of my courage.

Yes, she thought. Yes, I will be like you, Papa. She looked across at Teb, filled with a sudden and reckless wonder, both that she could have the courage of Colewolf, and that she was with Teb, the two of them going to outwit the dark alone. She saw Teb silhouetted against the burnished sky, against endless spaces, and she felt dizzy with excitement. He grinned back at her, and joined his hands in a sign of strength.

The dragons cut north. The continents and small islands lay like black jewels on the copper sea, each circled by a ring of white waves. Their world was so beautiful. The dark must not have all this. Ahead lay three large continents nearly hidden by tall clouds rising like golden mountains. Beyond these was Dacia. They would pass high above her home. She thought of Gram down there, alone, and missed her. There was so much she would like to tell Gram—you could tell Gram anything.

The dragons flew straight into the clouds, where the heavy mist turned the wind chill. Kiri huddled down against Windcaller. They had been flying through the clouds for some time, and it was nearly dark, when Teb twisted around to look back. We’re followed.

Kiri turned, her hand on her sword, and saw a white shape cutting through the mist. A white owl? No, too big for an owl. As the two dragons lifted, it drew closer, its wings pulling the mist into scarves.

Dragonling, Kiri thought.

Iceflower! said Seastrider.

Lose her! Teb said. The dragons banked away fast. Go home! Teb said angrily. You have no business here.

The dragonling was silent, beating at the mist with powerful strokes, gaining on them. When Seastrider spun and dove at her to drive her back, they saw Marshy hunched down between her wings.

“Go back!” Teb shouted.

“No!” Marshy cried. “We’re coming with you.”

“No, you’re not. Go back! It’s too dangerous. Iceflower is too weak.”

“We came to help. She’s strong—she’s all well.”

Teb’s anger made him silent. Then, You can come as far as Dacia Palace. You will stay there, Garit will look after you.

We don’t want to be looked after! We came to help. We don’t want to be left somewhere.

Teb said nothing more. Kiri knew he was smiling and saw him shake his head, as much with admiration as in anger. Marshy and Iceflower were a stubborn team. Seastrider and Windcaller moved close to Iceflower, escorting her on between them.

When they crossed the next high mountains, the cold wind pushed up so hard that the dragons were lifted with it. Kiri shivered. Marshy must be freezing. The little boy sat very straight, his chin jutting. When they quit the cloud cover, below them lay Dacia.

The crowded city dropped steeply down the black mountain to the wharfs and the sea. It was lit more brightly than Kiri had ever seen it. As they swept low, she could see that these were not the once-familiar lights of taverns and brothels, but the lights of cottages and shops and street corners where vendors had set up booths. She could see folk strolling the streets, and on one corner they were dancing. Nothing could say more sharply that Dacia had been freed of the dark. The dragons banked across the wind, toward the black mountain.

They passed over the palace courtyard lit with the wavering light of the torches set in its walls. The black mountain ridge rose above the palace towers. The moon was lifting above the mountain, spilling light along the jagged stone. The big dragons headed for the ridge, forcing Iceflower between them.

They came down carefully among boulders. Iceflower dove into a hollow between boulders and huddled there, waiting to be scolded. They could all feel Marshy’s defiance. Teb went to Iceflower and laid a hand on Marshy’s knee.

“You are not going to Aquervell,” Teb said quietly. “You were wrong to follow us. You will—” He was interrupted by a whirring wind and wild screams. The bards spun around, their swords drawn, as the dragons reared, spitting flame.

But then the bards lowered their swords, laughing, and the dragons calmed. A band of tiny owls was sweeping around their heads.

“Elf owls!” Kiri cried, holding out her arms to them.

They landed on her arms and shoulders and head, soft gray owls no bigger than her hand. They flew to Teb and Marshy, and perched along the dragons’ backs.

“Who are you?” they hissed. “Ooo-ooo, who has come to the mountain?”

“Dragons,” one hissed. “Only one folk bring dragons.”

They had spectacled faces, round yellow eyes, and no visible ears. One owl tucked down under Marshy’s chin, another beneath Kiri’s hair. Their leader hung in the air in front of Teb’s face, his wings fanning.

“Ooo-ooo. A name, young bard. What is your name?”

“Tebriel. I am Tebriel.”

“And the others?”

“Kiri, of Dacia. Marshy, of Dacia. Who will you take your information to?”

“You tell me, young bard.”

“To Garit the Red,” Teb said. “You are a fine cadre of guards Garit has chosen.”

The owls hissed and fluttered. “Go tell Garit,” said the leader. Three owls sped away, over the ridge toward the palace.

It was not long until Garit came galloping up the mountain, led by owls and holding his lantern high. He jumped off his moving mount and grabbed Teb and Kiri up in a wild hug. “Where did you come from, in the middle of the night! Where’s Camery? Colewolf? What . . . ?”

“They’re fine,” Teb said. “They’re at Ratnisbon. We’ll tell you all of it, all that’s happened. But meantime . . .” He glanced toward Iceflower, nearly hidden among the boulders, and the dark lump that was Marshy, sitting on her back.

Garit stared. His silence was long, broken by a sigh of astonished pleasure. He went to stand before the young dragon, looking up at Marshy.

“You have found your dragon,” he said softly. “You have found each other.”

Marshy nodded but remained quiet.

Garit held out his arms. “What’s wrong?”

Marshy looked down unhappily, then slid down into Garit’s hug, hiding his face against Garit’s heavy red beard.

“They followed us secretly,” Teb said. “They are waiting to be scolded. They were supposed to stay in Nightpool.” He put a hand on Marshy’s shoulder. “Well talk about it later.”

“Come,” Garit said. “Come down to the hall and get warm.”

The dragons took to the sky to hunt their supper, Iceflower tagging behind. The three bards moved down the dark mountain beside Garit’s mare.

“Iceflower will get her scolding privately,” Kiri said.

Teb nodded. Garit reached down from his mare and tousled Kiri’s hair. The tiny owls banked and dove around them. When they reached the palace stables, the owls perched on rafters and barn doors while Garit unsaddled the mare.

Walking from stables to palace, Kiri stared up at the black stone wall uneasily, filled with memories of her years as a palace page. Too many errands through those dark rooms, too many times when she had stood hidden, spying, terrified of being caught. The palace was a maze of dark passages and heavy draperies where anyone, or anything, could be concealed. How many times she had crouched behind some piece of heavy furniture, listening to the plans of the dark leaders.

She could not shake the sense of King Sardira here; her mind was filled with his frightening captains moving through the shadowed halls.

But Sardira was dead; his officers were dead. Teb took her hand, and she walked more easily beside him, up the stone steps.

Garit flung the doors open, and she had taken two steps into the hall before she caught her breath, staring.

The hall was not the same.

It was not dark and crowded and depressing; it was not at all the same. The walls had been painted white. There was little furniture; no draperies concealed the tall windows, now lit warmly by the courtyard torches. The floor of the huge square hall had been scrubbed to a pale, buff stone, and just a few simple pieces of furniture stood before the fire, with a clay jug of leafy branches decorating the hearth. The far end of the room held a long pine table with benches, clean and bare against the white walls.

Garit stood by the mantel watching her, looking for her approval.

“It’s wonderful!” she said. “It’s been only a few days since we left, but you’ve made it beautiful.”

Garit smiled hugely, his red beard and hair as bright as the flames. He was so pleased that she liked the hall, and so glad to see them, he couldn’t stop smiling. His great bulk and broad shoulders were clad in the same kind of familiar leathers that she had known since childhood.

“We’ve whitewashed the main sleeping chambers, too,” he said, “and closed off the darkest rooms and passages.” Many of the palace rooms were black stone caves carved into the mountain. “The whole city has helped. We moved all the orphan children, and the children who were slaves, into the royal chambers. Many of the rebel soldiers have moved in, too.” He smiled with accomplishment. “We’re turning it into a regular fortress of young soldiers. But come, help me get some seedcakes and tea.”

She tucked her arm in his and tried to copy his long strides as she had used to do when she was little. It was easier now. His voice was filled with happiness as he told her about the children.

“They’re beginning to get their strength back, though it will take many of them a long time to get over the effects of the drugs the dark had fed them. They’re very pale and weak.” He shook his head. “Some can hardly keep their food down. They remember nothing but being chained and beaten, being hungry and cold and hurt. They were delighted just to have beds of their own and warm covers.”

Kiri put cups on a tray, glancing up at Garit. It was wonderful to feel this kind of caring in the palace where, only days before, Sardira’s dull, heavy cruelty had festered.

“Most of the children want to train as soldiers,” Garit said as he cut bread and cheese and cold meat. “We’re still rounding up the horses that ran off during battle. We’re going to get the farms working again. But come, the hot tea will warm you. Put that pie on the tray, with the seedcakes. I want to hear all that has happened. I want to hear how you found the young dragons. How many are there? Oh, I have a hundred questions.”

Back in the hall, the little owls crowded around the hearth, chattering, waiting eagerly to pick seeds from the round, flat cakes. Garit and Kiri set down their trays on a low table before the fire. “Come,” he said, “make yourselves comfortable.” He put his arm around Kiri, laughing down at her. “You’re as fidgety as a colt. Some owls have gone to fetch Gram. Go on, Kiri— go meet her.”

Kiri hugged him and ran out, her eager mind filled with Gram. It had been only a few days, but it seemed like forever. She ran across the courtyard and through the main gate, and was halfway down the path when a flight of owls burst out of the darkness. Right behind them was Gram, her cloak blowing away from her thin body as she hurried along into the flickering torchlight.

“Gram! Oh, Gram . . .” Kiri grabbed Gram up in a wild hug, swallowing back tears. Gram squeezed her so hard, Kiri forgot how frail the old woman was. Then Gram held her away, to look her over.

“Only a few days,” Gram said, “but you look different.” She studied Kiri’s face. “You look—oh, Kiri— all grown up. You look wonderful.” Gram’s tears started, but she was smiling. “You look very like what you are. The power—the power of the bard shows, Kiri.” Gram’s eyes were bright and laughing. “The power of the sky is in you. And the magic.”

*

When Marshy was warm and fed and yawning, Teb sat down close to him and studied his serious face. Garit left them, to brew more tea.

“Well,” Teb said, “let’s hear it.”

“I mean to go with you, to Aquervell.”

“You didn’t say anything when we were making plans.”

“You wouldn’t have listened. You wouldn’t have let me. You would have said I am too small and Iceflower is too weak.”

“There is some truth in that.”

The little boy looked evenly at Teb. His fists were clenched. “I must go. I am needed.” Teb remained still, caught by Marshy’s urgency.

“I am a child, Tebriel. And that is why I must go.”

Teb waited.

“If I were chained among the slave children, I would look just like one of them.”

Teb’s jaw tightened.

“It might be the only way,” Marshy said.

“It’s too dangerous.” Teb studied Marshy’s set face. “Think of this—if Kiri and I die there, or are captured, there must be other bards to carry on in our place.”

“Camery and Colewolf.”

“And if they die in battle . . . ?”

“There is always that chance, wherever we are.”

Marshy looked at Teb with a seriousness that made Teb forget how young the child was. “I must go. I might get hurt, Tebriel. But I am a bard. I have as much right as you to go against the dark.”

Teb held Marshy’s shoulders, looking at him. Marshy’s gray eyes stared back, steady and earnest.

“There’s something else,” Marshy said. “I know something that neither of you know. I know where the slave children are caged.”

“How do you know?”

“Hanni made a vision, just for the two of us. We saw the children sleeping in cages.”

“And you mean to trade that information for permission to go with us?” Teb shook his head, trying not to smile.

But he knew he didn’t, truly, have the right to stop Marshy. One bard did not hold authority over another.

Marshy looked back, waiting.

“Get to bed early,” Teb said. “Who knows when we will sleep peacefully again in a safe country.”

Marshy hugged him, took a lantern from the table, and went obediently to find an empty bunk. Teb knew that once he was alone, he would speak in his mind to tell Iceflower. When Teb turned from watching him, he saw Gram and Kiri standing in the doorway, framed by an aura of torchlight. He went to them and held Gram in a tight hug. She hugged him back, laughing. Gram had helped him once, risking her own life, when he badly needed help. He felt a special tenderness her courageous ways. And because she was so dear to Kiri.

The little group had hardly settled before the hearth when the hall doors burst open and three great cats, big as wolves, came bounding in, surrounded by the little owls. Elmmira leaped at Kiri, nearly knocking her down. The pale buff cat pummeled her, growling and licking her face until Kiri doubled up, laughing. When Elmmira backed off to look at her, her long whiskers twitched. “You look fine, Kiri wren. Not too grand after all, even if you do travel with dragons.”

Kiri hugged her. “Oh, Elmmira, it’s lovely in the sky.”

Chocolate-brown Mmenimm snuggled close to Garit, then reared up and began licking his neck. Black Jerymm rolled over before Teb, his great paws waving in the air. But soon the cats settled down, and everyone began asking the bards questions.

Teb and Kiri told them everything that had happened since they left Dacia. When they got to the part about Sivich marching to attack Nightpool, and his soldiers being cut down by Ebis the Black, everyone knew. An owl had brought the news the night of the battle.

Teb said, “Sivich has sent for reinforcements, to attack again. Camery and Colewolf are assembling an army; there are owls on the way to tell you.”

“Then why are you here, if not to bring the message?” Garit said. “What could be so urgent as to take you away from destroying Sivich and winning back Auric?”

“We have learned that there are two more bard children,” Teb said. “Thakkur brought a vision of them. They are held as slaves, in the palace at Aquervell.”

The great cats stopped purring. No one moved or spoke.

Teb described the white otters’ vision of the drugged children.

“And you are headed for Aquervell,” Garit said. ‘To free them.”

The owls were very still. Deep in their round eyes, fear shone. The great cats stared unblinking at Teb and Kiri, their eyes, too, filled with concern.