DragonKnight - Donita K. Paul [2]
When does a day pass that someone, important or not, isn’t visiting? Dozens of outsiders, along with the bustling staff, roam these hallways.
While his mentor gazed fondly at a group of giggling women, Bardon watched the finely dressed, diminutive doneel ladies and strove to keep his face neutral. I’ve given up trying to keep Sir Dar’s extended family straight. Are those cousins? I can’t remember who’s who. There are dozens of families, not just dozens of individuals.
The uncomfortable memory faded. Bardon put aside the aggravation of court life as Greer passed between the two peaks and headed south. The rough terrain beneath them looked even more uninhabited.
I’m thankful this time of reflection is required before I take my final vow to Paladin. I’m already enjoying the peace of being out of civilization. Nothing within the city compares with the beauty I beheld last night as I watched the heavens from my campsite. Even the stars seemed to celebrate my freedom. That comet rising from the southwestern horizon may be my herald of a contented sabbatical.
I can be gone from a month to a year. At this point, I intend to take every day of a whole year to relish the isolation. Searching my soul as I count the cost of this alliance is only part of what I must examine.
Bardon stroked Greer’s neck. By using the wordless communication of mindspeaking common to a rider and his dragon, the squire often confided his thoughts to his dragon. The young squire was well aware that his closest companion already knew every detail of his life. Nonetheless, when he talked to Greer, he didn’t feel like he indulged in melancholy musings. Friendly chats with the droll dragon often lifted his spirits.
Bardon gazed at the unpopulated mountain region. He would have to guard against falling into self-pity. The solemn reality of his lonely life threatened to accompany him on his chance for a relaxed time of meditation.
I lived at The Hall from the time I was six, he told Greer, until I was eighteen—a dozen years in a room with five other occupants. Dormitory life doesn’t allow much time for solitude. I don’t mind telling you, Greer, I crave really being alone.
Greer beat his powerful wings and rose several hundred feet to soar over a broad mountaintop. On the other side stretched a highland valley, cradling a long lake.
“That water looks to be the shape of a boot.” Bardon leaned over the neck of his mount. “Sir Dar said the cabin is on the east side, close to the heel.”
Greer banked and headed for the eastern shore at the southernmost end of the clear lake. Clouds reflected in the blue water, and as Greer passed over, an image of the dragon’s purple body and cobalt wings glided across the rippling surface.
They landed on the shoreline where stubby grass and tiny, fragrant, white mountain flowers covered the bank for twenty yards before undersized trees erupted in dense woods. The vegetation grew lush because of a long tropical growing season but was short due to the altitude.
A one-level, split-log cabin sat at the edge of the forest.
Bardon swung his leg over the saddle horn, unhooked his other leg, and slid to the ground. With hands much practiced at his task, he unbuckled the straps of the saddle and laid it and the saddle packs on the ground. The young squire stood with his fists on his hips and surveyed the peaceful scene.
Greer stretched out his wings and shook them with a rattle of the thin leather hide. He then tucked them close to his body and rolled in the sweet-scented grass. When his itches were subdued, he strolled to the edge of the lake and took a deep drink. The dragon lifted his head with water dripping from his chin and looked back at his rider.
“Yes,” agreed Bardon. “I bet some very big fish swim in these waters.”
He picked up two bundles of personal belongings, leaving the other gear to stow later. Right now he wanted to inspect what would be his secluded home for the next few months. He would read the books he’d brought, contemplate life,