DragonKnight - Donita K. Paul [101]
The beast carrying N’Rae abruptly dropped her. She sat up and straightened her skirts around her legs. Glaring at her captors, she remained where she was, with her arms crossed defiantly over her chest and her chin tilted in the air.
“No good.” The grawlig grunted and looked at those around him. They echoed his profound statement. “No good.”
The spokesman stepped over N’Rae and walked a few steps toward Bardon, who held his sword ready in his hand.
“We go,” said the grawlig. “No like woman. No like men. No like…that.” He pointed to Greer.
Greer sneered, his lip curled, and sharp teeth clicked against each other.
“Dragon,” said Bardon. “Do you not see dragons here?”
“We go.”
Bardon waved his sword. “No, you answer some questions. Do you not see dragons here?”
“High in sky.” The beast grunted. “Not belong on ground.” He puffed out his chest. “Ground belong to hunters.”
Greer hissed, and the hunter’s chest deflated.
“We go.”
“No, you answer some questions first. Do you know of a castle in the mountains?”
The brute’s forehead collapsed into deep furrows. “Castle?”
He looked at his cohorts. They muttered, “Castle?” and shook their heads.
“Big house?” asked Bardon.
They repeated their performance of confusion.
A voice from the ridge opposite Greer spoke with deep authority. “You won’t get anything out of them.”
The horde of grawligs gasped in terror. In sheer panic, they scattered, bolting in every direction, right through their captors’ wall of defense as if the warriors held no weapons. Some of the beasts cried out as they encountered the swords but kept on running.
Bardon turned to face the newcomer. Against a backdrop of brilliant blue sky stood a tall, lean figure dressed in black, with a cape billowed by the wind, and a broad-rimmed hat shadowing his face.
“Welcome, Squire Bardon of the Castle Pelacce, Dormenae, Wittoom.”
34
AN OLD FRIEND
The figure shifted, striding several steps along the top of the cliff.
Bardon smiled and lowered his sword. “Regidor!”
The meech dragon stepped off his perch, dropped ten feet, and landed lightly beside the squire. His tail, glistening, green scalelike skin with a dark ridge down the center, swooped out from under the long cape, then back under. With one forefoot on the hilt of his sword and the other a fist against his waist, he smiled his long, flashy grin. Two rows of gleaming, pointed teeth showed between thin lips. His hairless jaw line extended from a squarish chin with a deep dimple in the center to the almost indistinguishable ears on the sides of his head. Even with the oddness of his appearance, Regidor was handsome.
Bardon considered the seven-foot meech dragon. “You’ve matured a great deal since last we met, my friend.”
Regidor agreed with a downward jerk of his head. “Almost too fast. It was more fun chasing Toopka around and trying to get Librettowit to let me stay up late to read.”
Bardon gave a slight nod. Sounds like a typical, though short, childhood. I have no recollection of the years before I entered The Hall. Wonder if my childhood included chasing friends and reading at night.
This is awkward. What do I say next?
His comrades inched closer to him and the odd visitor. They still had their weapons drawn and looked ready to pounce should Regidor make a threatening move.
Bardon nodded to Captain Anton. “This theatrical fellow is a friend, Wizard Regidor of The Bogs.”
The guard relaxed on their leader’s signal but continued to watch the meech dragon, now out of curiosity.
On the crest of the hill, Ahnek whispered earnestly to Sittiponder. A few feet away, Granny Kye stood beside N’Rae, who had gotten up and was dusting off her clothing. It seemed everyone but the minneken had gathered at the gully.
“So.” Bardon shifted on his feet as he sheathed his sword. “How’d you get here?”
“Sir Dar sent a message, and I came. I wasn’t far. In Dael, in fact.”
What in the world would he be doing in the tumanhofer underground capital city? The universities! I bet he