Dragons of the Valley - Donita K. Paul [55]
“What do we do now?” asked Bealomondore.
“Do you have your sword?”
The artist looked down at his nightshirt and shook his head. “Not at the moment.”
“Harrumph! What good is a sword if you don’t take it with you?”
Bealomondore started to protest, but a noise from the hallway silenced him. A thud on the landing followed a grunt from their guard. He tensed as unnatural quiet conjured up all sorts of dire images in his mind.
Librettowit signaled for him to step aside. Bealomondore mimicked the older tumanhofer’s actions. Picking up a leg from a broken chair, he stood with his back to the wall beside the door. It would seem he and the librarian were ready to bash the head of anyone who came in the room.
21
Sword of Valor
Bealomondore raised his table-leg club and then stretched to raise it higher. He didn’t think he had the height to whack a bisonbeck on the head. The dark room added to his apprehension. His eyes had adjusted to the light, but he saw only a shadow where he thought his friend now stood.
He didn’t want to accidentally clobber Librettowit or Edrina Posh should she be the one to come through the door. He and the librarian would both swing their meager weapons in the same direction. Would the clubs collide, bounce off each other, and do no harm to the villain? Would he miss and knock out Librettowit? Would Librettowit miss and knock him out? They should have thought of a better plan.
A key rattled the lock. The doorknob turned. The door eased open and stopped.
The light in the hall must have gone out. The shadows deepened. A cloud over the crescent moon? Or was the evil lurking outside the door overcoming shades of gray to bring a black triumph?
Bealomondore readied his weapon to strike.
“Down here,” Maxon whispered from beside his ankle.
Bealomondore jumped, dropped his club to his side, and put his other hand on his heart. “You scared ten years off my life.”
Librettowit leaned through the open entry. “The guard is out.”
Bealomondore pulled the door all the way open. The oversize bulging mass on the floor could easily be the crumpled figure of a bisonbeck.
He looked from the fallen guard to the tiny man. “You did that?”
Maxon nodded. “It’s an old kimen trick. I’ll tell you about it later. Go get dressed and ready to move. Rayn, Taeda Bel, and I are going to free Tipper.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“No, you’re too big. Meet us at the raft.”
Librettowit put his hand on Bealomondore’s arm and propelled him around the unconscious guard.
Bealomondore wrinkled his nose at the odor that arose from the body. “Is he dead?”
Librettowit spoke hurriedly. “No, knocked out. And he won’t see very well when he comes to.”
“Why?”
“The kimens have the ability to produce a flash of light. I presume they did this to the guard. He stumbled and probably hit his head. The light by itself wouldn’t render him unconscious.”
Bealomondore didn’t think that was a good explanation. “They wouldn’t clobber him?”
Librettowit let out an exasperated sigh. “Or they could have clobbered him.”
“Librettowit, I don’t like bringing this up again, but the man who captured me said he was ordered to kill us. Ordered! I’m a bit nervous about wandering around this inn. At any turn we might run into one of them, and this time they might not imprison us.”
The librarian sighed and turned to look directly in the artist’s eyes. “He said that with the purpose of intimidating you. He wants you to be afraid.”
Bealomondore thought about this as they crept down the stairs. The bisonbeck’s threat had indeed intimidated him.
“Come on,” said the older tumanhofer. They reached the second floor. Librettowit leaned closer. “We’re almost out.”
Bealomondore took a deep, steadying breath. “I should go help rescue Tipper.”
“Let Rayn and the kimens handle it. They won’t make any noise, and they can be practically invisible.”
Bealomondore grumbled. “Tumanhofers are next to the smallest of the high races and yet we’re too big?”
“Don’t be affronted. They know what they’re doing. Go get dressed, and this time remember to strap on that sword.