Dragons of the Valley - Donita K. Paul [95]
The journey to the mountains would take a week. What kind of reception would he get? A sly grin spread across his lips. The schoergats would be as wary of him as he was of them. But he’d done his research well. The creatures had three vulnerable spots—tender skin at each armpit and a spot an inch back from the underside of their pointed chins. The chin was the only part of their bodies that grew hair.
The Grawl doubted that the schoergats had reference books. And in any case, since he was the only grawl, no book recorded his traits.
He studied the one sketch he’d found in all of the books. What was the relationship of schoergats to schoergs, cave dwellers of limited intelligence and bloodthirsty ways? The schoergs lived in darkness, crawling in the bowels of the earth. The schoergats thrived in blaring sunshine, oppressive heat, and stark exposure. Their wings appeared too frail to support their bodies, yet they flew with incredible speed and abrupt twists and turns. Were they mutants? Or were they the result of crossbreeding, like himself?
He closed the volumes, one at a time, and leaned back in his chair. He’d travel to Icardia, where the mountains rose straight to the sky and dragon-slaying creatures dwelled. How long would it take to persuade them to join his cause? How long before they found the Valley of Dragons spoken of as the realm belonging to the Chiril Paladin?
He lifted the entire rack of lamb from the platter, tore it apart, and devoured the succulent meat. Grease dripped down his chin. He threw the bones, gnawed clean, into the fireplace.
It was good that he was a patient creature. Precision and cunning came naturally to him. He cultivated habits that supported his skills and shunned habits that undermined his ability. The schoergats would be found. The wizard would be killed.
Pulling a blank paper from the stack at his elbow, he drafted a note to his butler.
“I shall be traveling, Sanders.”
That was as much information as he ever left his staff. He rose from the comfortable chair and went to his room. He shed all elegance and re-created himself as the ruthless hunter in rough, sturdy garb. He grinned. He’d found something interesting to do, and he had a goal of his own making. Enlist the schoergats and kill the old man wizard.
Hollee peeked around the corner and watched her wizard. She and Librettowit had been banished while he worked on the finishing touches of the great room. The librarian read from several big books while she basted a jimmin chicken in the oven the two men had constructed. Her curiosity dragged her to the archway for just one quick look.
Fenworth sat on a rock and contemplated a column he’d just sculpted from the salt-saturated sandstone. “Excellent.” He jumped to his feet as if he were a young man and planted his fists on his waist. “Hollee, Librettowit! Come see! I am finished.”
His two helpers emerged from a vestibule carved in one of the walls of the main chamber. Librettowit carried a thick volume, and Hollee’s hand clasped a dripping spoon. She licked the sauce before more could soil the floor of the cathedral-like cave.
Even though she had seen every step of the transformation, the beauty of the underground tribute filled her with awe. Huge crystals made up the major part of the walls. Wizard Fenworth had fashioned lightrocks out of the raw material so that red lightrocks glowed from within red crystals. Blue lightrocks illuminated blue crystals. Since a myriad of colors naturally decorated the walls, the lighting projected rainbow hues on every surface.
He’d placed golden lightrocks in the circle of statues. Dark shadow silhouettes marched across the brilliant crystals. While Hollee skipped around the perimeter of the room, she watched the opposite wall. The statue shadows seemed to slide forward in a motion matching her own.
Parts of the cavern were not the spectacular crystals but plain salt-sandstone pillars. Hollee had suggested they remove them, but according to Librettowit’s studies, it was imperative to the integrity of the structure