Dragons of the Valley - Donita K. Paul [67]
Tipper looked to the shore and saw The Grawl standing erect and glaring at Wizard Fenworth. As she watched, Fenworth grew taller, until his height matched the huntsman’s. The Grawl withdrew a step, not as if he would flee but as if readying himself to spring.
The sword left the ground and landed solidly in the old wizard’s hand.
“Go,” said Fenworth, pointing the Sword of Valor. “I don’t have the time to deal with you now. Go!”
The Grawl sprang sideways, landing among the foliage above the embankment. Tipper heard a crash of splintering branches and tearing limbs, then nothing. She knew he had gone, but she heard no further noise announcing his retreat. Still, the heavy presence that had terrified her all morning no longer permeated the forest.
Librettowit and the kimens pulled Bealomondore’s body across the river, toward the raft. Fenworth strode through the underbrush to reach the flatboat. His size diminished with each step. Tipper put Rayn on the pile of blankets and helped hoist Bealomondore onto the wooden barge. Fenworth knelt behind him and touched his neck.
The wizard leaned back, sighed, and shook his head. “This is no way for an artist to die.”
26
Life or Death?
Tipper wailed, “No-oo!”
Reaching for the wizard’s arm, she searched the tumanhofer for some sign of life. Bealomondore couldn’t be dead. She clutched Fenworth’s sleeve and shook it. “Isn’t he alive? Fenworth? Fenworth, do something.”
“He’s not breathing, but he’s still alive. Don’t have one of your excitable fits, Tipper. You’ve been doing so well.” The wizard went back to wagging his head. “Tut, tut. Oh dear, oh dear.”
Fenworth carefully straightened Bealomondore’s arms and legs. “The Grawl has not treated our friend as a decent tumanhofer should be treated.” He sat down, cross-legged, at the unconscious man’s head. “Could use some help from that dragon of yours, Tipper.”
“He can’t.” Tipper bent over, dripping water onto the blankets and splashing the minor dragon as well. “He’s unconscious. That Grawl grabbed him.”
Fenworth looked sharply where Tipper pointed. “Oh my! I don’t like that color. Hold him, Tipper. He’ll recover more quickly in your hands.”
She hoisted herself onto the raft and cradled Rayn in her arms.
The wizard pointed at Hollee. “I’m going to need preparations from my hollows.”
He stood and took off his robe. Stepping onto the shore, he spread his cloak inside out over some bushes. “Librettowit, she’s going to need your help identifying the objects I call for.”
Librettowit waded to the shore with Hollee. Fenworth came back to his patient and took up his position at Bealomondore’s head. He turned the tumanhofer’s neck so that his mouth pointed to the side of the raft. “Wit, I need that thingamajig for air in, water out.”
The librarian nodded and murmured something to Hollee. She dove into one hollow as he reached in another.
“Tipper, I need you to hold his chin this way. But stay clear of his mouth. Our friend has swallowed some of the river.” Fenworth tapped his patient’s stomach. “Maxon, jump and land with both feet right here.”
The kimen did as he was told.
“Once more,” said Fenworth.
The second pounce produced the contents of Bealomondore’s stomach. With a glare from Fenworth, the mess congealed and wiggled off the boards of the raft.
“Good, good. Now to get the water out of his lungs and some air in.” He gestured to Librettowit.
The librarian pulled his hand out of a hollow with a contraption of two oval bulbs with four dangling tubes.
“Right on top, Fen. You haven’t used it lately, have you?”
“No, not at all. Maxon, would you be good enough to carry things to and fro?”
Maxon raced to Librettowit and back.
Tipper sat on her heels and watched the wizard. Soon he had two tubes thrust into Bealomondore’s mouth and one hanging over the edge of the raft. The two bulbs he held in his hands. He pumped the flexible orbs with his fingers. Water dripped into the river through one of the small hoses from his patient’s mouth. Bealomondore’s chest rose and sank.
“Very satisfactory,” muttered the wizard.