Dragons of the Valley - Donita K. Paul [130]
“So where is this cousin?”
“Banished. He was never good at his job. Actually he never even tried to watch over Tipper. He doesn’t believe in tradition. He mostly likes to have grand parties. So now he goes to grand parties somewhere else. Maybe even in Baardack. That’s why Verrin Schope left Sir Beccaroon in charge of Tipper.”
Wizard Fenworth nodded to the visitor. “Suppose you tell us the rest of your bad news.”
“Odidoddex’s army has secured Ragar, and their general has dispatched a battalion to conquer this valley.”
“I suppose,” said Wizard Fenworth as he stood, “there are thousands of them to our mere two hundred or so.”
The messenger looked very gloomy. “Yes sir.”
“And I have ascertained that they are quite near.”
“Yes sir.”
“I seem to remember something about a part of the army that was not trapped inside Ragar. They were cut off from the main forces and were headed this way.”
“Were,” said the kimen without looking up.
“Oh no!” Hollee froze. “They were all killed? Ambushed?”
“No.” The kimen sighed. “They went home.”
“Understandable,” said Fenworth. “They probably considered the war lost. Only the official surrender needed to make it final. Oh dear.” He turned back to the cave opening. “Hollee, you can stay aboveground if you wish to help. I shall tell Librettowit and make a last-minute check on our statues. I am so glad we had time to make all the preparations so that they will not fall into Odidoddex’s hands.”
The wizard came out of the same opening the tumanhofers used for their mining operation. After some time, he went back in.
The Grawl grinned and noticed the schoergat he called Torn Shirt shiver. He made the schoergats nervous. Even his satisfied smile caused alarm among these fierce allies. The time had come to reward their patience and set them free.
He raked his eyes over his three companions and watched them squirm. The Grawl appreciated beauty. The schoergats reeked of sweat and rancid food. They looked like stone ogres, smaller than grawligs and smarter. His association with them grew out of necessity, and soon they would not be needed.
The Grawl would go into the mine, come out the victor, and go home. He placed a hand on the pocket that held his silver box. His fingers outlined the square. Soon this tedious journey would be done.
“Tonight,” he said to the three he’d brought with him, “we will invade their valley. I’ll show you exactly where the dragons are most likely to be. You take care of them, and I will take care of the wizard.”
52
Battle Cry
The people of the valley skipped the songfest after their evening meal. They also omitted turning in for the night. Instead of posting guards, Paladin dispersed all the men to cover entry points in the mountain walls. Dragons perched at intervals where they could observe the enemy and communicate their movement.
Hollee had chosen to stay with the commander of this small Chirilian force and run messages to the wizard in his cave. When Wizard Fenworth walked up behind Paladin, he startled both the young man and the kimen.
“I’ve been out and about, doing a few things,” he said. “I thought I might help a bit before I return to sentry duty over the statues.”
“Any help is appreciated,” said Paladin. “We’re vastly outnumbered.”
Hollee gritted her teeth and scrunched her eyes. From experience, she knew that, at times, some help from the wizard was not worthy of appreciation. Things generally worked out in the end, but his contributions to a cause could be disconcerting. She opened her eyes to peek at the men.
Fenworth winked at her. “I am providing a disguise for your people and dragons, a masking non-sheen.”
Paladin focused on the older man. “Non-sheen?”
“Yes.” He began pulling jar after jar out of his hollows. “While the tumanhofers were busy, and on occasions when they didn’t need my direct supervision, Librettowit