Dragonquest - Donita K. Paul [18]
“I’m fine,” Kale protested, but her head felt light, and her chest tightened. She tried to take a deep breath, but her lungs refused to expand. A searing pain greeted the effort. She concentrated on breathing in and out, short, quick puffs.
Bardon put Toopka down. The child huddled against the stone wall of the tower. Kale wanted to speak, but her tongue had grown dry and too big for her mouth.
Maybe I don’t feel so well after all.
Librettowit, there’s something wrong.
The tumanhofer rose quickly and clambered up the last few steps.
“The poison is already past the arm. She’s mute.” He glared at them all. “Bardon, pick her up before she falls over. Gymn, ride on her chest and see what you can do to help. We must get her through the gateway and to Fenworth.”
Bardon sheathed his sword. He scooped Kale into his arms as if she weighed nothing and charged up the metal steps. The clatter of his boots hurt her ears.
Gymn landed on her. His feet bore down as if he were digging his claws into her skin. Kale knew he weighed less than Toopka. The minor dragon wasn’t causing the pain. It was the poison.
She felt Gymn’s sympathy and concern coming through to her mind, but she couldn’t feel the soothing effect he usually had on her nerves. He lay down and stretched out, covering as much of her as he could with his tiny body.
I can’t feel it! The panicked thought circled in her brain. I should be able to feel his healing. He’s trying to heal me, and I feel nothing! I can’t feel it! I should be able to feel the healing.
She looked up at Bardon’s chin. The muscle in his jaw worked.
She closed her eyes. Paladin, you said you would be watching out for me. Do you know what’s going on?
Bardon stopped. Kale forced her eyes open and looked around. Without moving her neck, she could see little. Her muscles ached, all except her arm. Her arm felt nothing. Her vision blurred. No, she could see well enough, but the space between her and the walls shimmered in places.
The lehman had carried Kale into the center of a round room. The walls slanted inward to a point above their heads. On the outside, each of The Hall’s turrets looked as though it were crowned with an onion, a golden bulb tapering up to a spire pointed heavenward.
The air quivered. Ripples of iridescent colors radiated from the wooden floor to the curving ceiling. Gateways! Side by side, in a ring around the room, there were gateways. How would Librettowit know which one to go through?
Bardon’s arms tightened around her.
He’s nervous. Why is he nervous? She knew the answer. He’s never been through a gateway. Toopka hasn’t either. Is she scared? I’ve got to tell them it’s all right.
Her lips would not open. Her tongue took up her whole mouth. It was harder to breathe.
Hurry, Librettowit. Hurry!
Kale heard the near hysteria in her plea to the tumanhofer. The top of his cloth hood appeared above the hole in the floor, and he climbed the last few steps with Toopka in his arms. He glanced at Kale with a worried eye but quickly looked away.
I know I’m dying, she told him.
“Not yet, you aren’t! Fenworth will have my hide if I don’t bring you to him.”
Toopka whimpered. Metta landed beside her on Librettowit’s shoulder and sang gentle, melodious notes designed to pacify her fears.
It’s all right, Toopka. We’re almost there.
The little doneel’s frightened eyes turned to Kale, and a small smile quivered at the corner of her thin black lips.
Bardon shifted from one foot to the other. His eyes darted around the room, flicking from one gateway to the next, never resting on any of the shimmering spots for more than a second.
It’s all right, Bardon. The light clings to you when you walk through, and the air squeezes, but it only takes a second. Take a deep breath first and blow out as soon as you’re through.
“You mindspeak!”
He said it out loud. His chin whipped down. His widened eyes met hers.
She tried to smile, but her face would not move. She no longer felt the pain in her shoulders and neck. She could no longer feel Gymn pressing against her heart.