Dragons of the Valley - Donita K. Paul [84]
Paladin rushed into the fray. He cut off the second renegade bearing down on the artist. Rayn dived from above and spit in the eyes of the enemy. Librettowit charged down the hill, bellowing a tumanhofer war cry, “About, you fiends!”
Bealomondore saw Tipper frantically scooting backward. She used her booted foot to propel her. Taeda Bel stood between her mistress and a charging foe. The tumanhofer artist raced to intercept the villain.
Tipper yelled, “Be careful!”
Of course he aimed to be careful. He wanted to tell her to take cover but didn’t have the time. He pinned his attention on the marione he opposed at the moment.
The young man, who had pretended to be the son of the owner, fought with vigor but not much skill. The tumanhofer worked to keep from stabbing the fellow with a fatal blow. Injuring Danto Posh so that he could no longer fight was Bealomondore’s goal.
The chaos around him grew less frenzied as Librettowit and Paladin downed their opponents.
“Give it up,” said Bealomondore to Danto. “I’ve no wish to kill you.”
With a panicked look around him, the young marione saw that he alone still stood from his party. He cast a glance behind him, where Librettowit now blocked a retreat.
“Don’t run,” commanded Paladin. “Talk to me.”
Danto lowered his weapon.
“Drop it,” said Paladin.
The marione’s knuckles turned white before he loosened his grip and let his sword fall.
Bealomondore heard a rustling behind him and jumped to defend himself. Wizard Fenworth stood a few feet away on the bank of the river. Leaves and vines still clung to his garments. The wizard scowled.
“Pesky invaders. They disturbed my deliberations.” He shook his head as if clearing something from his brain. The usual multitude of tiny bugs flew out of his hair and beard. “No matter. I have a plan completely formed and ready to implement.”
“Really?” Librettowit snorted. “Completely? Ha!”
Bealomondore cleaned his sword and sheathed it. The bisonbeck lying at his feet groaned. Librettowit glared at him.
Fenworth stretched out a hand, pointing at the downed warrior. “So untidy, leaving bodies all around.” He snapped the fingers of his other hand, and the man disappeared.
Bealomondore gulped. He looked at Danto and saw the marione’s eyes widen as his face paled.
The wizard repeated his pointing and finger snapping until only Danto Posh remained of the outfit from the boat stop. The captive’s eyes darted from one of the wizard’s companions to the next. Bealomondore thought he would jump out of his skin.
The tumanhofer artist took a firm grip of Danto’s sleeve.
“Are you going to kill me? Am I a prisoner?” Danto Posh jabbed a finger at the spots where his comrades had fallen. “Where’d they go?” His body jittered, and his tongue kept spewing out questions. “Who are you? You’re not regular citizens of Chiril. You don’t look like an army unit. Who are you?”
Fenworth wagged his head. “Talks too much.”
A long snake slid out from under the wizard’s robe and shot across the grass toward the marione captive. The man screeched. Bealomondore lifted his sword, but the snake shot past him and disappeared into the pond.
Fenworth’s scowl grew deeper, and he wagged his head again. “I can’t abide the excitable people on this side of the globe, Librettowit. I think we should go home.”
“In all fairness,” said his librarian, “the people of Amara also tend to shriek and holler under snakish situations.”
“Quite.”
“And Wulder would not have us leave before our task is done.”
The wizard patted his stomach. “Did we have refreshments?”
“We did,” said Hollee. “I saved you some.”
“What a good kimen you are.” He smiled benevolently at them all. “I shall eat, then be on my way. Librettowit, I shall ask you to accompany me on this urgent venture.”
The librarian closed his eyes, as if drawing on inner strength. “It’s not a quest, is it?”
“No, a building project.” Wizard Fenworth beamed and gave his tumanhofer friend a wink. “And the outside is already made.”
Librettowit sighed. “I’ll go.”
“Me too,” said Hollee.
“Of course,” said the wizard.
Hollee frowned.