Calling on Dragons (14 page)

“Oh.”

“You found Telemain,” Cimorene said to Morwen. “Can't you use the same method to find a way out of here?”

“I could if there were any magic left to trace,” Morwen said. “Unfortunately, there isn't. Pick a direction.”

“That way,” said Cimorene, and they started off.

Walking through the swamp was hard work. With every step, the ankle-deep mud sucked at their feet. Twice, Cimorene almost lost one of her short leather boots, and even Kazul had difficulty making headway. The only one who had no problem was Killer. Telemain's added weight did not pull him down at all; his hooves stayed a dry six inches above the muck no matter what. Morwen found herself wondering a little sourly whether the donkey could walk across water the same way he did across the endless mud.

Around noon, Morwen passed out chicken-salad sandwiches to everyone. Her sleeves had protected them from the mud, which was doubly fortunate since Cimorene's pack had leaked and the remains of breakfast were inedible. Unexpectedly, no one complained of a stomachache (though Killer complained about the taste of the lettuce and the bread), and the sandwiches disappeared rapidly.

When they finished eating, they went on. Morwen kept a close but unobtrusive eye on Telemain. Though he did not stir, he did not appear to grow any worse, either, which surprised her a little. She kept both her surprise and her worries to herself.

On and on they waded, until the shadows began to thicken as did the fog. Beads of moisture glistened on Kazul's scales, and the cats complained loudly of the damp. Morwen gave up trying to keep her glasses from clouding over. Telemain remained unconscious, and the worry line between Cimorene's eyebrows grew deeper.

“It'll be dark soon,” Cimorene said at last. “We should find somewhere to camp. If there is anywhere. We haven't seen a dry spot since we got here. Killer, where do you think you're going?”

“I'm hungry,” Killer said. “If you're going to make me haul people around, the least you could do is let me eat. It's been a long time since lunch.”

“There isn't anything
to
eat,” Cimorene said.

“Not for you, maybe, but those things over there look edible to me.”

“What things?” Feeling slightly annoyed, Morwen took off her glasses and began hunting for a clean patch of robe to wipe them on.

“Those things wrapped around the trees,” Killer said, cocking a bright blue ear to his left. “The viney things with the silver leaves. There was one patch of clover back home that had silver leaves sometimes, and it was especially good. Sweet and tart at the same time, and quite strong.”

“You're seeing things,” Cimorene said. “There aren't any vines on those trees.”

“There are, too. You must be looking in the wrong place. Here, I'll show—”

Morwen shoved her glasses back onto her nose and snapped, “Killer, stop right where you are. Don't you take another step toward those vines of yours. If they're really there, they could be very dangerous.”

Killer looked at her in disbelief. “They're just
plants.
”

“Possibly. Kazul, do you see anything?”

“Trees, fog, and mud,” the dragon replied. “Lots and lots of mud. And I agree with Cimorene. We should be trying to find somewhere to camp, not arguing about imaginary vines.”

“Not imaginary,” Morwen corrected. “Invisible. To be exact, invisible dusk-blooming chokevines.” She peered at the trees, wishing she had time to collect one or two of them. Then she shook her head. Cimorene and Kaz­ul were right, and they'd wasted enough time already.

“They don't
look
dangerous,” Killer said stubbornly. “And I'm
hungry.
”

“The last time you said that, you drank Morwen's wizard-melting water and turned blue,” Scorn said.

“Quiet,” said Trouble. “Go on, Killer. I would if I were you.”

“You hush,” said Morwen. “Keep away from those plants, Killer. They're called ‘chokevines' for a very good reason. Try to remember you're carrying Telemain, and avoid anything dangerous. And let us know if you see any more of those vines.”

“Oh, there are patches of them all over,” Killer said. “We've been walking by them for the last hour. You really can't see them at all? None of you?”

“I can,” Trouble said.

Morwen gave him a look. “We'll discuss it later.”

As she turned away, a soft globe of light blossomed from the side of one of the trees Killer had pointed out. “What on earth is that?” Cimorene said.

Another light appeared, and another, and suddenly the swamp was full of ghostly radiance. “Invisible dusk-blooming chokevines, all right,” Morwen said. “The sun must be setting.”

“It's beautiful,” Cimorene said. “How long will it last?”

“An hour, maybe two.” As she spoke, Morwen moved to Killer's side to check on Telemain's condition once more. His color was no better, and the skin of his wrist was cold and clammy where she touched it to take his pulse. Of course, everything was cold and damp after hours of laboring through the mud. At least his pulse was strong.

“Will he be all right?” Cimorene asked, joining her.

“Probably,” Morwen said with more confidence than she felt. The worst case of backshock she had ever seen prior to this trip had regained consciousness in a little over an hour. Telemain had already been out more than twice that long and showed no sign of awakening. Bouncing about on Killer's back should not have delayed his recovery
this
long.

“Look at the bright side,” Scorn said. “As long as he's unconscious, he can't go on about things no one else understands.”

Realizing that Cimorene and Kazul were watching her anxiously, Morwen shook herself. “What he really needs is warmth, rest, and a bowl of hot broth . . .”

“. . . and we aren't going to find them standing here,” Cimorene finished for her. “Come on, Killer. We'd better keep moving while we can still see.”

In one way, the next half hour of walking was easier than the last couple had been. The invisible dusk-blooming chokevines lit the swamp with a silvery glow, like the light of a hundred miniature moons. As the group went farther along, the vines grew more and more thickly, and their blossoms shone more and more brightly, until even the mud seemed to glisten like liquid silver. Not only was it pretty to look at, but it also made it much easier to see where they were stepping.

After a while, they paused to rest. Morwen checked on Telemain again, with no better results. Frowning, she turned away. If they didn't find somewhere dry and warm soon . . .

“Cimorene, Morwen,” said Kazul, “look at these lights.”

“I have been, all the time we were walking,” Cim­orene said. “They're useful as well as pretty.”

“No, I mean
look
at them.” Kazul stretched out her neck and swiveled her head from one side to the other. “They aren't just growing at random. They're in rows.”

Morwen studied the lights. “Not quite. The trees aren't in rows, so the vines can't be, either. But they're close.”

“It's as if someone arranged them to light a path,” Cim­orene said after a moment. “I don't know if I like this.”

“I do,” Morwen said. “Paths lead somewhere. And if someone has gone to the trouble of lighting this one up, there's a good chance it leads somewhere useful.”

“In that case, why didn't they pave it?”

“Maybe they like mud. Come on, we've only got another hour or so before the lights go out.”

With renewed energy, they went on. Less than a quarter of an hour later, they reached a dead end. The invisible dusk-blooming chokevines covered the trees on either side and hung in swirls of glowing silver across the trunks ahead. The only way out was the way they had come.

“Useful, huh?” said Scorn.

“This doesn't make any sense,” said Cimorene. “Why would anyone make a path that leads nowhere?” She drew her sword, eyeing the vines doubtfully. “Can we cut our way through, do you think?”

“I don't know,” said Kazul, “and I don't care.” Her tail thumped into the mud for emphasis, spattering thick, sticky gobs in all directions.

“Uh-oh,” said Trouble. “Hang on, Scorn.”

The dragon sat back and arched her neck. “I am
not
going to spend another two hours fighting the same mud we just came through. If I must wade through mud, it is at least going to be
new
mud. Get out of my way, the rest of you.”

“If you're thinking of diving through the vines, don't,” Morwen said, moving sideways. “Invisible dusk-blooming chokevines are very strong, and there are enough of them here to kill even someone as large as you are.”

“Not if they've been toasted first.” Stretching her head forward until it was only a few yards from the chokevines, Kazul opened her mouth and blew. Long streamers of bright orange fire shot between the trees. Kazul's head moved back and forth, sweeping the flames across the end of the path.

Steam hissed from the mud, and glowing silver blossoms winked out in puffs of ash. As Kazul's flame moved across the tree trunks, it left smaller flickers of fire behind hanging in midair. On the second pass, the flickers spread, outlining leaves and stems in tongues of flame. Blackened spirals slowly materialized around the trees as the fires burned upward and the charred vines lost their invisibility.

“I think that's enough, Kazul,” Cimorene said at last.

The fire died. “Good,” said the dragon, sounding a little out of breath. “Shall we go on?”

“I think we'd better wait until the mud cools off,” Morwen said. “You got a trifle overenthusiastic, I'm afraid.”

“No kidding,” said Scorn. “Next time, warn us before you do that.”

“Killer!” Cimorene shouted. “Come back here!”

“Why?” said the donkey. He stood in the middle of the path Kazul's flame had cleared through the chokevines, flecks of ash drifting through the air around him. Beyond, the fog and darkness closed in once more. “You said it was the vines that were dangerous, and they're gone.”

“Even so, we shouldn't split up,” Morwen said. “There may be other dangerous things around.”

“We haven't seen any so far.”

“And that's supposed to mean it's safe?” Scorn shook her head. “Rabbit logic.”

“Isn't that a contradiction in terms?” Trouble said.

Morwen sighed. “We may not have seen anything but the chokevines, but that doesn't mean there aren't other dangers.”

“All right,” Killer said. “But I thought you wanted to get this wizard of yours somewhere dry.”

“He's a magician, not a wizard,” Morwen said automatically. “And just because Kazul dried out some of the mud—”

“No, no, I'm talking about that tall building in the open space.” Killer pointed both ears into the gloom ahead of him and a little to the right. “It looks dry. Why don't we take him there?”

G
INGERLY, MORWEN MOVED FORWARD
to take a look at whatever Killer had found. The acrid scent of burned chokevines made her stomach feel queasy again, but the mud turned out to be cool enough to wade through without discomfort. Where Killer stood, it was almost dry enough to be solid ground, and the warmth that remained to filter through her shoes was very welcome.

“Now, where—ah, I see.” Dimly visible in the foggy dark, a white tower stood among the trees ahead of them.

“Yes, that looks promising. Let's go.” Morwen started forward, and the others followed.

Less than five minutes later, they stood at the foot of the tower. It was at least four stories high, and made of something smooth and pale that did not feel like stone. Ten feet from the base of the tower, the mud changed to hard, bare ground. This gave Morwen and Cimorene a comfortably wide area on which to stand, though Kazul was a little cramped.

“There's no door,” Cimorene announced after circling the tower. “No stairs on the outside, either, but there are four windows at the top. One of them is showing a light, so somebody's home.”

“But how could anybody get in?” Killer asked.

“Through the windows,” Morwen said. “What a pity I didn't bring my broomstick.”

“Maybe whoever lives here has some other way of getting inside,” Cimorene said.

“There's one way to find out,” said Kazul. With Morwen, Cimorene, and Killer in line after her, the dragon edged around the tower until she stood below the single lighted window. Then she sat back and stretched her neck upward, until her head was halfway up the side of the tower.

“Here we go again,” said Trouble, wrapping all four paws tightly around one of Kazul's back spines.

“Hello, the tower!” Kazul bellowed. “Who's home? Come out and meet your visitors!”

The window flew open with a force that ought to have shattered the glass. “Go
away!
” shouted someone inside the tower. “She doesn't live here anymore, and if you keep pestering me, I'll burn you to cinders!”

Cimorene's eyes narrowed and she muttered something Morwen could not hear. Then she motioned Morwen and Killer to move back. After a moment's consideration, Morwen stayed where she was. If there were any real danger of being burned, her cats would not still be clinging to Kazul's spikes; their instinct about such things was very good.

“Come out and talk!” Kazul roared again.

A man's head appeared at the window, silhouetted against the light. “I don't want—Good lord, a dragon.”

“Don't go away!” Cimorene shouted. “We need to talk to you.”

“I wasn't going away,” the man yelled down. “Not yet, anyway. What is a dragon doing in the middle of the Smoking Swamp?”