Dragons of the Watch - Donita K. Paul [63]
Bealomondore turned away from the sight. It seemed the hellions poured from every building. “Run, Ellie! Get to the library.”
“Don’t you hurt them with that sword, Bealomondore.” Her voice sounded too near. Hadn’t he said to run?
“Go, Ellie. I’m not going to hurt them, just scare them. I can’t keep that promise if you’re in the way.”
He felt rather than heard her retreat. Their bond was proving useful. He had just enough time to glance at the Sword of Valor in his hand. One of the sword’s peculiarities was that it changed its shape according to the needs of the battle. A shorter, thicker blade now reflected the setting sun. He would have liked to read the inscription on the hilt. Perhaps he could get a clue about this battle, some advice from Wizard Fenworth.
A big bully ran right up to Bealomondore and reached forward as if to tackle him. The tumanhofer ducked, spun, and landed a sharp blow with the flat side of his sword against the child’s rear end. It sounded like the impact of a paddle stick. The ageless, intrepid warrior howled, much as Bealomondore and his brother had when receiving correction from their father.
“We can take ’im!” A lad led a charge of four more boys. Bealomondore whacked arms, legs, backsides, and stomachs, all with the flat of his blade. He doubted the showy sword would even cut in its present state. The thought gave him comfort. He really did not want to injure any of these children, especially now. A band of girls set upon him. He battled the nasty mob until they ran on.
He sighed his relief and then realized that these hoodlums were chasing Tak and Ellie. He pursued them. The children ran after the cart and stopped to pick up packages of daggarts. One would snatch a fallen treasure, and several would surround the lucky one. Perhaps lucky did not describe accurately what happened. A weaker child had everything jerked from her hands. Stronger ones had to share in order not to be tackled by all those who surrounded her.
Bealomondore jogged past numerous children who had given up the chase to have their first taste of daggarts. He stopped to pick up the diaries that littered the street. Every now and then he passed a smashed raw egg. Evidently Tak pulled the cart at great speed. At every turn, the objects in the cart’s bed had bounced out. Ellie would be disappointed.
He recognized the streets around him now. Only a block or two to the library. He sheathed his sword. The children did not like being this close to Old One. Old One! Oh, Wulder, Bealomondore prayed, let there be enough daggarts left to have tea with the old man.
As he turned a corner, he looked up, and there on the third floor of the library, the window framed a white-bearded urohm. Bealomondore could not see the man clearly, but from his stance, he guessed Old One was angry.
Bealomondore met Ellie at the back of the library. She had unloaded the remaining diaries and a few packets of daggarts. Now she concentrated on loosening the harness from Tak’s back and shoulders.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
She nodded. “You?”
“I’m fine.” He showed her the diaries he’d rescued and put them down on the walkway. Then he helped lift the leather straps and hung them over a fence that ran next to the building. “I’m sorry about the eggs and the daggarts.”
“Did you hurt any of those children?”
“I dusted the britches of several. And protected myself from each one that attacked. None are maimed.”
She turned away to rub her fingers through Tak’s hair, flattened by the harness. “I’ve been thinking. The plan isn’t ruined. We need to adjust a bit. That’s all.”
She went to the gate of the library park and let Tak in.
“So what’s the revised plan?”
“This might even work better than the original plan.”
The vent squeaked when Bealomondore opened their hidden entry. He stood aside for her to go through first. “Well? Tell me. I’m curious.” He gathered up the diaries and