Dragonquest - Donita K. Paul [98]
She gasped as a light appeared out of one of the bentleaf trees. “Kimens,” she whispered.
Bardon sat on the grass and leaned against the boulder. They watched as more of the tiny creatures slipped out into the open. They danced beneath the minor dragons and sang with Metta. Their clothing glowed in shades of lavender, yellow, and gold.
Unlike the first time Kale had seen the little people dance, she did not feel compelled to join them. Instead, she basked in the pleasure of their simple song and beautiful dance.
Bardon felt it too. The strong link between them startled Kale out of her reverie. From her perch on the big rock, she looked at Bardon seated on the grass. She expected to see his back or shoulder touching her. But six inches separated him from her knee. Still, a steady vibration emanated from the lehman. The sensation felt like a cat’s purr, and she realized it matched, thrum for thrum, a similar tremor in her being.
Harmonizing notes to Metta’s song recaptured her attention. Across the stubby field, Librettowit, Regidor, and Dar stood with musical instruments. The librarian played an oboe, the meech dragon played a flute, and the doneel drew a bow across the strings of a violin. Toopka skipped into the open area and joined the dancers.
From the center of the field, among the kimen dancers, a radiance grew. Like the colors of a rainbow, a pool of light ebbed and flowed, pulsating with the chords of music. With each pulse, the borders extended out and returned, but the height of the image grew taller and continued to stretch upward. When the melody ended, a rainbow column soared far above their heads. For a moment the lights quivered, and then the image streaked upward, disappearing like a comet into the heavens.
“What was that?” asked Bardon.
“Worship,” Kale answered, her voice still hushed with awe.
Bardon walked with her back to the tents. None of the questers spoke as they went to their beds. The serenity following the musical interlude hovered over them like a peaceful blanket.
Toopka settled on her pallet. But as soon as Kale pulled up her own covers and nestled down to sleep, the little doneel popped out of bed, scooted across the space between them, and slipped under the blanket. Kale cuddled her little friend, and they slumbered peacefully through the night.
The dawn exposed a glistening frost upon the ground once more. The sun’s rays infused thin banks of clouds with rich coral colors. The wood smoke from Dar’s cooking fire mixed with heavy spices he’d sprinkled in mugs of tea. Toopka hovered close, hoping to be the first to fill her plate with fried mullins.
The dragons tolerated the cold but preferred warmer weather. They stroked the air with their leathery wings to stir their sluggish blood. Anyone who did not know this ritual prepared them for flight might have thought they were doing homage to the rising sun.
After the companions ate breakfast and broke camp, Kale tucked Toopka inside her moonbeam cape for the journey. The other companions dressed warmly in clothing lined with thick, knitted wool. Once they were in flight, the warmth generated by the dragons’ labor seeped through the leather saddles and warmed the passengers.
They soared above the countryside for only an hour before they spotted the Guerson River. The dragons descended, landing in a harvested field to the east of River Away. A farmer and his two sons came out to greet them.
Dar led the others to address the marione men.
“Good day to you,” he began. “We come in the name of Paladin. He has commissioned us to aid you in your difficulties with the dragons. My name is Sir Dar. My companions are a meech, two warriors, a historian, and a child. I would like to speak to your councilmen.”
The farmer looked to his sons for a reaction to this speech. The young men nodded solemnly.
“I’m Farmer Deel. These are my eldest sons, Mack and Weedom. We’ll take you to Master Meiger,” he said. Then he looked at the four dragons standing in his field. “Your dragons?”
“Safe,” Dar assured him. “But if their