DragonKnight (22 page)

         
26
         

P
LANS TO
R
ESCUE

“Count to ten!” Bardon exploded. “You’ll prepare the way?” He drew his sword. “What kind of a crazy minneken are you?”

He charged through the gateway without his usual trepidation and emerged to find a six-and-a-half-foot, three-hundred-pound bisonbeck in uniform on his knees, doubled over, wailing, and holding his ear. Jue Seeno scaled Bardon’s leg, jumped to his arm, and scampered to his shoulder.

“Let’s get out of here,” she said. “Go through those trees. His comrades will be coming from the opposite direction.”

The wounded soldier never looked up. Bardon sidestepped around the collapsed bisonbeck and slipped into the forest. The woodland insects made more noise than he did as he moved swiftly into deep foliage. He’d always excelled in this particular training exercise. Even back in his youth, when all the scholars escorted their pupils to the mountains for several weeks at a time, he’d taken to the woods. None of the other boys at The Hall had ever been able to find him when they played their catch-and-evade games.

He crouched and went under low-hanging branches of an armagot tree.

Jue Seeno lost her footing on his shoulder, grabbed a hank of his hair, and hollered. “Watch it! I’m not used to riding on a giant’s shoulder.”

Bardon slowed to a stop. “I think we’re safe here for the moment.”

The minneken scrambled back to her perch next to his ear.

A broad root buckling up out of the ground provided Bardon with an adequate seat. “May I lift you down from my shoulder, Mistress Seeno?”

“Make a fist, and I’ll sit on it,” she commanded.

He clenched his fingers against his palm and placed his hand close to where she stood. She hopped on and settled herself. Bardon rested his elbow on his knee and held the minneken at eye level.

“There are a few questions I would like to ask you.”

She tilted her head at him, and he noticed the feather in her hat was bent, and the hat itself sat at an odd angle. As if she noticed his attention to her headgear, she reached up a hand and straightened it.

“I’m afraid,” he said, “that your feather is broken.”

She made a moue and shrugged her shoulders. “The fortunes of war.”

“How did you disable the guard?”

“I jumped on the brute’s shoulder and pierced his eardrum with my sword. One quick jab with a twist, and then I jumped clear as he fell.”

“Your strategy certainly was effective.”

“Yes.” She smirked. “It was, wasn’t it?”

“I don’t believe I will underestimate you again, Mistress Seeno.”

One tiny, whiskered eyebrow went up on the little minneken’s face. “Oh, I think you will.”

Annoyed, Bardon bit back a response. The little woman certainly knew how to irritate him.
“When emotions strangle you,” Sir Dar would say, “stick to business.”
“Do you know what part of the country this gateway has led us to?”

“Creemoor, near the eastern seacoast. I overheard two of the bisonbecks discussing how long it would take to deliver our friends to Chellemgard. The captain of their unit said he had orders not to move from this spot, and he wasn’t going to. He did send a report of the capture to his superiors.”

“Did you hear how long it would be before they had a response?”

“They consider themselves to be forgotten out here and like it that way. Several of the men discussing it were quite irritated that their captain insisted on following procedure. If anyone pays attention to their report, the answer should come by tomorrow.”

“Do you know why they’re here? Gateways aren’t usually guarded.”

Jue Seeno shook her head. “No mention was made of the purpose of their watch. They said it was an easy duty, and they didn’t want to lose it.”

Bardon’s doneel mentor had impressed upon his young squire that noticing the unusual could save his life. He remembered Sir Dar pointing out a number of anomalies in a visiting dignitary’s entourage. “Always take note of that which is out of place,” Sir Dar had instructed him. “Why does the man travel without proper escort? Why did he not bring his own secretary?” On that occasion, Sir Dar had uncovered political trickery and avoided entanglement with a deposed leader of a neighboring principality.

Bisonbeck guards on a remote gateway set off alarms in his mind, but he couldn’t figure out why. Right now it was important to rescue his friends from danger.

His eye fell on the frumpy, furry creature preening herself on his fist. He never thought he would be depending on a minneken for aid, let alone one so disheveled, but he now trusted Mistress Seeno to be a valuable ally.

“Your moonbeam cape has hollows,” he said.

She wrinkled her brow, and her whiskers quivered. “What makes you think that?”

“Your parasol has disappeared.”

She hunched one shoulder. “It is fortunate for you that I am well prepared.”

“Do you have a plan to free our comrades?”

“No, but I can slip into the camp and cut the ropes that bind the prisoners when you give the word.”

“Now I’m in charge again?”

“You have always been in charge, Squire Bardon.”

“Right.” He stood. “Where do you want to ride?”

“Where are we going?”

“To observe and evaluate the enemy’s camp.”

“A pocket. Your shoulder is precarious when you dip and dodge through the trees.”

She gave him a precise description of the layout of the ground in and around the camp before she dived into a breast pocket inside his tunic.

Bardon had no problem sneaking up on the bisonbecks and observing them. The tents lined up in a half circle around a central community area. One soldier bent over a fire, stirring a pot that probably contained their dinner. The squire’s nose said it was a meat stew with lots of spices.

A larger tent stood with its flaps pinned back. Inside, several men sat around a table and were engaged in a discussion that held their attention. At one end of the encampment, the prisoners huddled in a circle with their backs to each other. In the center, Granny Kye sat on a log with a sleeping baby in her lap.

Bardon pulled one side of his tunic open and whispered, “Come out.”

Jue Seeno scurried to her perch on his shoulder.

“I don’t see how we can do this without revealing your presence, Mistress Seeno.”

“I, too, have come to this conclusion. I don’t mind telling the children. And Holt is bothersome, but I’ve come to believe he has a good heart beneath that rascally exterior. But that mapmaker…” Her tail twitched, her whiskers trembled, and a shudder shook her small frame. “That mapmaker is the real threat.”

“Bromptotterpindosset? He seems harmless to me.”

“You don’t have a home that has been a carefully guarded secret for centuries. None of us on the Isle of Kye want to be put on the map. Tourists! There might even be tourists invading our home.”

“They can’t get to it. You said so yourself. Only occasionally, a very strong dragon or some other flying creature makes it through the natural barriers.”

“No one has had a compelling reason to reach Kye before this.” She sighed heavily. “Well, if doing right in the eyes of Wulder exposes us to the outside world, then Wulder will provide the means to deal with the consequences.”

“Doing right for the wrong reason,” Bardon muttered.

“What was that, Squire?”

“I was wondering what my mentor would say to this situation. He lectured me on doing right for the wrong reason.”

“You’ve lost me, son. And now is not the right time for philosophical debates. What are we going to do to free our comrades?”

Bardon nodded and looked over the camp again. “We need a distraction.”

Silence fell between them as they both thought for a moment.

Jue Seeno cleared her throat. “Would fireworks help?”

“You have fireworks?”

“Small ones. Firecrackers.” She patted her cape. “Skyrockets don’t fit in the opening of the hollow. You do know that the hollows will hold almost anything as long as they are small enough to fit through the opening.”

“I’ve never possessed a garment with a hollow myself, but my friend Kale has one, and yes, she did mention that.”

“So I’ll give you the poppers—”

“Do you have a flintbox?”

“Of course!” Jue Seeno shook her head over his foolish question. “I shall give you the poppers and the flintbox. I’ll cut the ropes binding our comrades and explain what is about to happen. I think you should stay here until I come back to tell you all is set.”

Bardon nodded with a grin.

“What?” asked the minneken. “Why do you have that goofy smile plastered on your face?”

“I’m in charge?”

“Of course you are, silly man. A good leader listens to counsel. You could always veto my plan. This is merely a suggestion, after all.”

“I wouldn’t dream of vetoing your plan, Mistress Seeno. It is an excellent one.”

“Yes, right.” She looked at him askance. “Well, then, I’d best be off. Try not to be seen while I am busy in the camp.”

Bardon agreed. “I’ll try.”

The minneken skittered down the front of his arm, hopped onto his knee, slid down his leg, and disappeared beneath the bushes.

Bardon closed his eyes.

Wulder, by Your might and wisdom, may our mission succeed.

         
27
         

R
ESCUE

“We’ve got a problem,” said Jue Seeno as soon as she returned and settled on Bardon’s shoulder. “Bromptotterpindosset says the gateway is deteriorating. Each time someone goes through the passage, it unravels a bit. This portal hasn’t been used recently and has fallen into a state of disrepair. Crim Cropper intends to come and repair it and then use it to let loose crazed quiss in Wittoom.”

“I see,” Bardon said. “How did our mapmaker glean all this information?”

“He noticed the state of the gateway when he passed through. In a tightly woven structure, you should feel pressure on your lungs as you exit. Of course, I didn’t notice because smaller creatures like me don’t feel the pressure.”

“Now that you mention it, I didn’t feel the usual tightness when I came through. I was distracted by the sight of the bisonbeck and didn’t take note.”
And that just proves I’m not as observant as Sir Dar expects me to be.
“Do you suppose Granny Kye knows how to weave the border?”

“She says she does not. It takes a wizard.”

“I helped Wizards Cam, Fen, and Lyll Allerion once when they were constructing a huge gateway.”

Jue Seeno eyed him with a speculative gleam. “Do you think you could do it on your own?”

“Not a chance. I needed the other wizards, Kale, and Regidor to even keep up with the weaving.” Bardon looked away from her beady eyes. “What will happen if the gateway unravels before we all get through?”

“Granny Kye thinks those in the passage will be thrown out at different spots along the way. That mapmaker thinks everyone will be annihilated.”

Bardon growled deep in his throat. He hated making decisions with only conjectures to consider. “Neither one knows for sure, so it’s just speculation.”

Jue Seeno spoke softly. “There is One who knows for sure.”

“Thanks for reminding me, Mistress. And He is our guide. We will trust Him to show us what to do.” He placed her on the ground. “Now I shall take your poppers and lead those men on a merry chase. You usher as many of our party as you can through the gateway. When I’ve taken those soldiers far enough away, I’ll double back.”

“The gateway may be in too dilapidated a state at that point for you to come through.”

He shrugged and mimicked her moue. “The fortunes of war, I’m afraid.”

He loaded his pouch with her supply of poppers.

Jue Seeno handed one string of poppers after another to Bardon as she whispered, “That mapmaker says the Himbernese have developed a way to put the black powder from the poppers into a metal tube with a pellet of iron. When the powder explodes, the pellet is propelled with great force out of the tube. To anyone standing in its way, the strike can be most injurious…This popper dust always irritates my skin.” She rubbed her palms over her fur.

Bardon likewise cleaned his fingertips on the rough material of his tunic.

Jue Seeno’s whiskers quivered. “Sounds like a fool toy to me. A pea-shooter is bad enough in the hands of rough and thoughtless boys.”

“It sounds like an ominous weapon to me, Mistress.”

She tilted her head in thought for a moment. “It does, indeed. And a dangerous thing in the hands of rough and thoughtless men.”

Bardon cocked his head, remembering a principle. He decided to paraphrase it instead of quoting. “As is a rock in the hand of one with evil intentions. It is not the rock that is the problem, but the heart of man.”

Jue Seeno smiled at him and nodded.

He slipped away from the camp and stole through the forest to enact the plan that Jue Seeno had communicated to the prisoners. He stopped two hundred yards beyond the last tent and lit a half-dozen poppers, quickly tossing them to the ground. At the sound of their explosions, he darted through the trees and ignited another set.

The plan was for the bisonbecks to follow him. At the sound of the first explosions, Holt and Bromptotterpindosset were to watch for an opportunity to grab weapons and deal with whomever had been left in the camp. N’Rae, her grandmother, and the children were to run to the gateway, with Jue Seeno as their guide, while the two men guarded their retreat.

Bardon heard deep shouts from the camp. The crashing of bulky bodies through the underbrush told him soldiers were in pursuit. He ran a short space, exploded some more of the harmless toys, and ran on. He repeated the pattern, sometimes allowing his pursuers to gain some ground in order to keep them interested. When he’d used the last of Jue Seeno’s supply of poppers, he made a wide circle and returned to the gateway.

Only Bromptotterpindosset and Granny Kye stood there.

Granny had a sketchpad in her hand and drew rapidly, her concentration on the shimmering gateway. The tumanhofer looked up as Bardon approached.

“We can hope the first managed to go through. Holt was the last, and he entered twice before pushing beyond.”

“What happened?”

Bromptotterpindosset picked up a stick and threw it. The leafy piece of wood splatted against the surface of the opening, clung for a moment, and then dropped to the ground. Bardon picked it up. He pushed the stick into the quivering air. It sunk in, and then he could push it no farther. The resistance increased, and Bardon was forced to allow it to resurface on his side of the gateway.

“Any ideas?” he said over his shoulder to the tumanhofer and the emerlindian.

“Granny Kye has been drawing the gateway. Come look.”

Bardon moved behind the small woman and looked over her shoulder. The lines on the paper clearly depicted the gateway. Around the edges, Bardon saw the unraveling threads.

He glanced up at the surface. The lights playing in the air had dimmed.

Granny Kye looked at Bardon over her shoulder. “Jue Seeno said you have woven the threads before. She said if you could see them, you could do it again.”

“She has more confidence in me than I have. Besides, the colors of the threads are important, and I cannot see the colors in your sketch.”

“Put your arms around me so that your arms are draped over mine. Put your hands on the backs of my hands.”

Bardon reluctantly followed her instructions. He did not want her help to see the threads. If he saw them, he would be required to make an attempt at weaving, an attempt he was sure would fail.

“You can do this, Squire Bardon,” said Granny Kye. “Concentrate on the edges, relax, follow the pattern. I see what needs to be done, and although I have never tried, I am willing. Show me, and I’ll follow your lead.”

“This is pointless, Granny Kye. I merely did what the others did. I don’t remember.”

“Relax, son.”

More to appease the old woman than with a real conviction that something would happen, Bardon stared at the flowing threads of color. At first the frustration of being put in this position rumbled through his brain. Then Greer’s presence seemed so real that Bardon glanced away from the weakening gateway to see if the dragon were really in the glen. The feeling faded immediately, so he turned back to focus with Granny Kye on the threads binding the edge of the portal. Greer’s presence returned, and Bardon realized it was in his memory. The likeness and voice of Sir Dar also flitted through his mind.

The next image was of Kale, and the impression strengthened with every breath he took. He wanted to reach out and touch her. He heard her voice.

“It’s like the beat of a drum behind the music, Bardon. Just react to the rhythm.”

He knew she had said these exact words to him before.

The sensation of his friends being at hand intensified the comfortable state of mind that Greer had started. He saw a loose thread and where the end should pass between two others. The colored line moved of its own accord and slipped into place. He spotted the next errant strand and located its true position. The thread moved. When he aided in the building of a huge gateway in a swampland in Trese, he had acted in response to the arrangement established by someone else. He would never claim it was his own instinct. Now he realized he was the one creating the sequence and beat.

In addition to Kale, Bardon recognized the presence of Cam, Fen, Lyll, and Regidor. He knew these people did not physically stand beside him, yet their proximity seemed more real than that of Granny Kye, who stood within his arms with her back against his chest and her head tucked under his chin.

Out of his peripheral vision, he saw Bromptotterpindosset approaching the gateway. He wanted to call out, to say, “Not yet.” But the words would not form in his throat. The tumanhofer stood close to the brightening lights and seemed to examine them. Bardon chose to ignore him. His presence interfered with the rhythm. Bardon did notice when the tumanhofer moved away from the gateway. A sense of gratitude washed over him. He wanted to be left alone with his task. Granny Kye’s synchronized assistance made her feel like a part of him rather than an annoyance.

A blow to his back shattered his concentration. He loosed the granny and whirled around to see the mapmaker engaged in a fight with two soldiers. Bardon was surprised to note the coolness of the air, the dim light of dusk. Night hovered, about to take over.

The bisonbecks loomed over the battling tumanhofer. Bromptotterpindosset wielded a spiked club, obviously one he had picked up in the enemy’s camp as he escaped. Bardon drew his sword, and his movement caught the attention of one of the men.

This soldier growled and left his comrade to batter the short, old tumanhofer. Bromptotterpindosset had been holding his own against the two. Now he hurled his body sideways at the remaining soldier’s knees and knocked him to the ground. Bardon had no more time to observe the mapmaker’s next move.

Bardon’s attacker opened his wide mouth and roared as he charged. The beastly man clenched two knives above his head in powerful arms. He seemed determined to plunge his weapons into the squire. Bardon sidestepped and sliced the man’s torso as he passed. The bisonbeck bellowed. An answering roar sent shivers down Bardon’s spine. The hair on his arms stood.

Reinforcements echoed the bisonbecks’ war cries. Somewhere in the woods, other enemy warriors closed in on the dilapidated gateway. He and his friends would soon be trapped.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the tumanhofer had gained another weapon from his opponent. Bardon ducked a blow from the soldier he fought. He vaulted into the air and flipped to come down on the hulk’s other side. He kicked a stout arm out of his way, spun, and thrust his sword into the brute’s chest. If these warriors had been dressed in battle array, the fight would have lasted longer.

He turned to assist Bromptotterpindosset and found the tumanhofer standing over a downed soldier. Blood flowed from the man’s forehead where the mapmaker had planted the club.

A howl arose from the woods.

“Time to leave,” said Bromptotterpindosset. He rushed to Granny Kye’s side and took hold of her arm. She hadn’t moved from the spot where Bardon had left her.

“Oh, I agree,” said the small emerlindian. “I’ve never seen a bisonbeck up close before. They are extremely tall, aren’t they?”

“Extremely,” answered the tumanhofer and guided her toward the gateway.

“It isn’t completely repaired,” objected Bardon.

“Neither was it when we came through before. We shall have to chance it.” With a firm grip on the old emerlindian, he plunged into the clinging light and disappeared.

Bardon followed. This time he noticed the lack of pressure on his chest, but the lack of resistance made the atmosphere slick. He pushed and felt he made no headway. He thrust a leg forward and it returned to his side. Leaning his body forward, he hoped he could just fall into the meadow where he had left the driver of Wittoom Coastal Transport. A twinge of nausea gripped his stomach, as if a part of him would be left behind when he took the final step. He bent one knee and shoved with all his might against the slippery surface beneath his foot.

A crowd cheered when he emerged into the late afternoon light, a golden hue with a tinge of rose. The children swarmed around him, all talking at once. In N’Rae’s arms, the baby pulled at a bottle with vigor. Behind them stood the driver from the transport company. The look of befuddlement on his face hit a chord of understanding in Bardon. He had felt that way many a time in the past few weeks. The young squire laughed.