Dragon Tears Page 9

  The noonday sun shone bright overhead, and the dragons had stretched out their wings to catch every bit of its warmth. All the travelers had agreed that resting up for the day was in their best interest. Even though their mission was urgent, even the wizard agreed that the dragons were too tired to fly, and that Rat needed an extra day to recuperate.

  From where he stood, Patrik could see Rat prowling around, restlessness making her tail twitch from side to side like some kind of furry cuckoo clock. She wasn’t taking her recovery well, and she hated the improvised leash they had attached to her collar. She gnawed at it, scratched at the collar, and mewed incessantly.

  By tomorrow, Patrik thought, she should be ready to fly again.

  The boy finished his scrubbing and started up the small hill toward their campsite. Wizard Allard greeted him, “All done, boy?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I should cut down a willow branch and blister your backside for your disobedience. You know that, don’t you? Or, I could send you back to your parents in disgrace.”

  “Yes, sir.” Patrik fought to hide his smile. The wizard always threatened to whip him or to send him home to his parents, but he never followed through on either threat.

  “Whatever prompted you to take off in the middle of the night? Do you know how much danger you could have gotten yourself into?”

  “Redwing was with me. I just couldn’t leave our friends out there alone, without at least trying to find them.”

  “Hmph! That may be as that may be, but you still disobeyed me.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “It better not happen again, or I will switch your backside until you can’t sit down.”

  “Yes, sir. But we did find them,” he said at last.

  “Well there is that.” The older man turned his back on Patrik and resumed searching through their packs.

  “Can I help you find something?”

  “No, I don’t think so. If we’re going to spend the day resting up, because somebody was up all night, I thought I’d spend the day reading up on dragon lore. I’m looking for a particular scroll. Ah, found it,” the wizard said, pulling out an ancient scroll from the pack. Its normally cream-colored parchment was brown with age, and the wizard handled it as carefully as he would a baby. “Come sit by me, boy. The others may have a day off, but you can have a lesson while we wait.”

  Allard sat down on a tree stump, with Patrik at his feet. Rat winced her way over to them and curled up beside the boy. Patrik reached out a hand and gently scratched her chin, as the wizard unrolled the scroll.

  “There is only one race of mankind,” the wizard read, “and all are related to each other, having the same blood and the same skills. Humankind is marked by its use of magic in that all humans are magic users. Thus it has been and thus it will be.”

  The wizard looked down at Patrik and snorted. “Obviously, they didn’t know about you,” he muttered.

  Patrik shrugged. There was nothing he could do. He had no magic and nothing was going to change that. He picked up a twig and began drawing in the dirt as he listened.

  The wizard resumed reading, “The dragons are divided into four races.”

  Patrik dropped his twig, paying close attention to the words on the old scroll.

  “Dragons belong either to the earth dragons, the sky dragons, the water dragons, or the phoenix dragons. Each race of dragons has a realm over which it rules. The earth dragons rule the earth and the realms beneath it. They are the masters of the caves and the tunnels. The sky dragons rule the heavens and the clouds above. They are the masters of the wind and the rain. The water dragons rule the seas and all that is in them. They are the masters of the tides and the currents. However, no one knows what the phoenix dragons rule. For no one has been able to ascertain their skills or their domain.

  “Larkin said he was a phoenix dragon,” Patrik interrupted. “I bet if we asked him, he’d tell us.”

  “We shall do that. Now don’t interrupt again. Where was I?” The wizard asked himself as he scanned down the scroll. “Here we go. The earth dragons are charcoal. The sky dragons are silver, and the water dragons are blue. The phoenix dragons however come in all colors except white and black. No one has ever seen either a white or a black dragon.”

  “But Skyhawk is white, that’s what Larkin said,” Patrik interrupted again. “How is it that whoever wrote that scroll doesn’t know that?”

  The wizard laid the scroll in his lap and gave the boy an exasperated look. “Because no human has ever had a friend that was a dragon. How do you expect the author of the scroll to know things that only dragons know, if no one had ever talked to one?”

  “Then you should write a scroll with the right information in it,” Patrik said, proud of his answer.

  “No, boy, you should. That will give you time to practice your writing and your reading at the same time. Now go get the pen and ink, and a fresh parchment from my pack, and you can spend the afternoon correcting the mistakes in this scroll.”

  Patrik felt as deflated as an empty water flask. He had thought he was being so smart, but instead had managed to talk himself into one of his most dreaded lessons — writing. He was rummaging through the wizard’s pack, looking for the pen and ink, when the dragons returned from hunting. Larkin’s mouth was full of fresh greens for their evening meal which he carefully deposited in the empty stew pot.

  “Larkin, what do phoenix dragons rule?” Patrik asked him as the dragon spread out his wings to catch the afternoon sun.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, the earth dragons rule the earth, and the sky dragons rule the skies, and the water dragons rule the seas, but what do the phoenix dragons rule?”

  Larkin’s great yellow eyes turned orangey-red and began to whirl as the dragon thought. “I don’t know.”

  “Do you think Redwing might know?”

  “She might.”

  Both of them walked over to where Redwing lay on a large rock, the afternoon sun dancing on her crimson scales like flickering sparks from a campfire. She only shook her head when asked the question. “I think I’ve heard every dragon history lesson twice,” she said, “and I’ve never heard any mention of what phoenix dragons rule.” She laid her head back down on the rock, signifying that at least, for her, the matter was closed.

  Patrik scratched his ear, thinking. He couldn’t understand why there was such a difference in the two dragon histories. The possibility that the two races had never communicated before seemed absurd. It also seemed incomprehensible that the scrolls could be wrong. But on the other hand, it seemed improbable that Redwing wouldn’t know the answer to his question.

  His thoughts kept his mind occupied as he spent the afternoon recopying the scroll. He hated every minute of it. He’d rather do anything, even scrubbing pots, than practice his copying skills. Rat continued to recover, and when the evening meal came, ate a large portion of rabbit stew.

  “I think she’ll be able to ride saddle-back, by tomorrow,” the wizard said, watching Rat as she made her way from her dinner bowl to the bedrolls. “She’s getting around pretty good now.”

  Larkin sniffed at Rat’s wound causing the large cat to hiss at him. “I don’t smell any fresh blood. That is a good sign, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it is. Sometimes those shallow wounds are the hardest to heal as they keep reopening. You did a good job of getting her down safely and keeping her still.”

  Larkin’s snout turned ruddy brown as he blushed with pleasure at the compliment. “I didn’t know dragons could blush,” Patrik said.

  Larkin turned toward his friend. “Dragons can do a lot of things you don’t know about,” he said with as much dignity as he could manage.

  Patrik thought about teasing Larkin about the fact that the young dragon still couldn’t flame but thought better of it. He knew what it felt like to be different, and how much it hurt to be teased about those differences. “Maybe I’ll find out someday,” he said at last, rubbing Lar
kin’s head ridges. “Tell me again about Skyhawk,” he said, continuing to scratch the dragon’s large head.

  “There’s not much more to tell.”

  “I can tell you of him,” Redwing said, joining the conversation. “What do you want to know?”

  “Everything!”

  “He is the creator of this world,” Redwing said. “The only dragon to use magic, except for Blackheart, that is.”

  “Yes, but where does he live? How will we find him?” Patrik would have gone on with his questions, but Redwing interrupted.

  “He lives in the Singing Mountains. In order to find him, one must be pure in heart and action.”

  “What! Pure in heart and in action, what does that mean?” asked Allard who had been listening to the conversation.

  “I am not sure, good wizard, but that is what we are taught.”

  Only bird calls broke the silence that followed Redwing’s words. Each one looked at the other. It was clear they were each thinking the same thing.

  “Well, I guess that leaves me out,” Larkin said at last.

  “Me too,” Patrik added.

  Redwing and Wizard Allard each nodded their agreement.

  “Why didn’t you tell us this before we began this flame-cursed journey?” Allard’s brow was creased with frustration and anger. “I would never have agreed to let Patrik accompany you, let alone follow you halfway around the world, if I had known this.”

  Redwing hung her head. “I forgot.”

  “You forgot! How could you forget something so important? Let’s say we do manage to find a way across the Sea of Lights, and survive the Valley of Death, and for the sake of argument, let’s say we do find these mythical Singing Mountains of yours. We travel all that way just to be stopped because none of us is pure in heart and in action? What’s the flaming point?”

  He strode out of the campground, his dark robes flapping behind him like the angry wings of a bird.

  Patrik looked at Larkin and Larkin looked at Redwing, who just looked down at her forelegs.

  “We can’t quit now,” Larkin said to Patrik. “It’s the only chance our world has. We’ve got to try. There’s no other way.”

  “I know. He’ll see reason in a little while. Just let him be by himself.”

  Raindrops began to fall, and Larkin looked up at the sky and mumbled, “Another cold rainy night.”

  Redwing shuddered, and Patrik laid a hand on her head. “It’s all right, Redwing. Everyone makes mistakes. We’ll find a way to see the dragon king. I know we will. You have sacrificed so much to come on this journey with us.”

  She shuddered again. “I’m sorry. We left in such a hurry, and…well, I just forgot that part of the story.”

  Larkin rubbed his nose against hers. “It’s okay, Redwing, we all understand.”

  The red dragon let out a great sigh.

  “Quit worrying,” Larkin said. “Come on, let’s get over to the fire, and for as long as it lasts, try to stay warm.”

  Patrik never knew if it was the rain that drove him back, or if the wizard had finally realized they had to continue on, but it wasn’t long before Allard joined Patrik in the lean-to.

  “If we had any chance of success on this flame-blasted trip, our chances just got slimmer,” he said as he entered.

  “I know,” Patrik said. “Does this mean you think we should go on?”

  “I can’t see as if we have much choice. We’ll just have to hope that we can find a way to the dragon king in spite of the fact that none of us are pure in heart or in action.”

  He flopped down on the bedroll and turned away from his apprentice. Patrik knew enough about the wizard’s temper to leave him alone.

  By morning, Allard’s mood hadn’t improved and they broke camp in silence. Rat was recovered enough to sit in her harness. Patrik double-checked its knots. The last thing they needed was another accident.

  Allard’s mood was contagious and neither of the dragons or Patrik felt much like talking. Each one worried about what they would find at the end of their journey and how they would accomplish their mission. No one had to be reminded of its importance for that was first and foremost in each of their minds.

  Only the occasional flapping of the dragons’ wings broke the silence as they flew throughout the morning. Gone were the giant evergreens, replaced by scraggly-looking pines. The lush grasses had also disappeared and in their place, spiky thorn-covered bushes dotted the sandy soil and clumps of wiry grass that sprung back into shape when crushed.

  After a short break, they resumed flying, heading straight into the sun. Its white-hot glare almost blinded them until it began to sink below the horizon. It was only then that they saw what lay before them.

  “Look!” cried Patrik, pointing straight ahead.

  A shimmering expanse of water filled their vision and stretched farther than their eyes could see. Below them, sand dunes rose to meet the sea, and all around them lay an emptiness as vast and as wide as the sea itself.

  Without being told, the dragons prepared to land, folding back their wings, and circling around in a slow, gentle dive. Even Redwing had a difficult time landing in the sand. Her giant legs sank into its softness and prevented her from using her usual running glide. Larkin didn’t even try to glide. He simply sank into the sand, and jolted to a stop, his passengers bumping into each other with the jerkiness of his landing.

  Rat dismounted and yowled her displeasure at their new surroundings. Patrik followed, his head moving slowly from side to side as he tried to take it in. “This must be it,” he said to the wizard who had joined him at his side.

  Both dragons turned their heads toward the humans, listening, and reluctant to try walking across the sand.

  “I think you are correct,” the wizard said.

  “The Sea of Lights?” Larkin asked.

  “Yes, I believe so, since it lies directly in the path we took, and it’s the only large body of water on the map.”

  “What do you suggest we do now?” Redwing asked.

  “I have no flaming idea,” the wizard said, “and I’m open to suggestions.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Advisor Blackwell strode through the palace halls unaware of those who scurried out of his way. No one wanted to face his wrath, or even his pleasure, for both were equally unpleasant.

  His booted feet echoed down the vastness of the corridor and off its marble walls. Light streamed in through the multi-paned windows and reflected off the rings on his fingers. Each one was encircled by a different gemstone, and they cast rainbows of color on the white marble walls. His long red robes barely touched the floor, and the sound they made as he passed was a whisper of the evil he planned.

  Blackwell rounded the corner and entered the king’s audience chamber, focusing his attention on the jewel-encrusted throne at the far end of the room. The chamberlain backed away from the man. He knew better than to ask if the advisor had an appointment. The king always made time for Blackwell. King Harrold, noticing the arrival of his advisor, motioned to the petitioner kneeling at the foot of his throne and said, “This audience is at an end.”

  The petitioner didn’t protest and rushed out of the audience room as fast as he could on his knees.

  Blackwell made a perfunctory bow before the king’s throne, waiting for the king to acknowledge him. He didn’t wait long.

  “Blackwell, how are things progressing?” The king’s voice trembled with age and fatigue.

  “Very well, my lord.”

  “Tell me.”

  “All the wizards of the first order are ready. All the second and third order wizards have been assigned their backup positions. The other magic users have been arrayed behind the lines to provide support to the wizards. Those with minimal magic are armed and ready to march.”

  The king’s fingers drummed the arm of his throne. “Are we finally ready, then?”

  “Yes, your highness. All is ready. We cannot fail. The dragons have no defense against the power of
our magic.” The advisor’s expression never changed as he lied to the king.

  “Excellent. We will march in the morning.”

  Blackwell bowed to the king’s wishes, hiding the smile that twisted his face into an evil grin.

  ∞

  “What do you mean?” Patrik asked.

  “Just that. I have no idea what to do now, “ Allard said. “The map ends here, at the Sea of Lights.”

  Redwing shuffled, the sand dragging at her legs, as she plodded over to where the two humans stood.

  “Aren’t there any of your towns or villages on the map?” she asked.

  “No. I guess we’ll just have to fly up and down the coast until we find one, and then hire a boat to take us across.”

  “Why can’t we fly across?” Larkin asked.

  “No one knows how far it is to the other side, and we can’t risk getting stuck in the middle someplace when you get tired,” the wizard said, pointing out to sea.

  Patrik shook his head in disbelief. “Nobody’s going to let two dragons on board their ship, even if they have one large enough. Besides, how would we pay them?”

  “With these,” the wizard replied, pulling a felt bag out of his robes. He opened it and out spilled a dozen different gemstones, their colors catching the sun and turning the wizard’s hand into a rainbow of color.

  Patrik’s eyes grew as wide as his open mouth. “Where did you get those?”

  “I gave them to him,” Redwing said. “We dragons value them for their beautiful colors, but we know that humans will fight to the death over them. I thought they might be useful, so I brought some along.”

  Larkin sniffed the stones in the wizard’s hand. “I probably mined some of those,” he said.

  Patrik eyed the glowing stones in the wizard’s hand. Allard’s plan might work if they could find a fishing village along the coast, and if someone had a ship large enough to hold them all. They also had to be willing to try and sail across the Sea of Lights. There certainly seemed to be a lot of ifs.

  “So what do we do now?” Patrik asked.

  “We set up camp,” the wizard replied, “and wait until morning.”