Dragonspell - Donita K. Paul [51]
“It’s a fancy-dressed doneel!”
Through the soldier’s eyes, Kale saw Dar in brilliant yellow and blue court dress with a horn pressed to his lips. The little doneel came high-stepping out of the fog, playing the small silver trumpet as if he were leading a marching band. He strutted right into the open area in front of the barn.
Kale held her breath, wondering what her little friend would do next. He had never divulged the details of the distraction he would create.
“Oh, be careful,” she whispered. She watched through the mind’s eye of the soldier as two bisonbecks circled and flanked Dar. She squealed when they charged. Celisse shifted nervously beneath her. Gymn curled into a tight ball in his pocket-den. She felt him tremble. But Dar leapt into the air as Kale had seen him do before, and the two soldiers collided with each other instead of trapping the doneel.
Dar lost not one note in his tune as he landed and continued his cocky march around the farmyard.
“Why, you little—” The soldier on guard by the wagon suddenly charged Dar. Kale threw the enemy bisonbeck an image of blinding light just before he would have tackled the doneel. Unfortunately, she also blinded her vision of the action being played out in front of the barn door.
A long blast interrupted the pleasant tune from Dar’s trumpet.
“Oh,” said Kale, startled. “Let’s go!”
Celisse needed no more prompting than that. She ran full tilt ahead, smashing the wooden barn doors into pieces. Two steps out in the open, her mighty wings extended. With a lurch, she rose into the air. Kale held on tightly to the horn handles in front of her. She tried to open her eyes, but they remained scrunched tightly shut. Wet, cool air rushed into her face, preventing her from forcing her eyes open. She ducked, cowering over the front of the saddle, pressing her forehead against the hard scales of Celisse’s neck.
She stayed that way as long as the position of the dragon’s body beneath her indicated they were climbing into the sky at a sharp angle. Finally, they leveled off. Kale forced her eyes open. Below them the fog swirled, thinning, breaking up. Trails of misty white hung over pastureland, wooded areas, and furrowed ground. She saw patches of green, a river, a road, and a few buildings.
Celisse banked, her body tilting to one side as she glided in a circle and headed back the way they had come.
“No, Celisse,” cried Kale. “Dar said to fly to safety and come back to pick him up later.”
Through the dragon’s mind she saw little children, a plump woman with a kind face, an old lady in a rocker on a farmhouse porch, and two men, one old and one young, but so alike in looks they had to be father and son. These people were Celisse’s family, and Kale felt her own heart clench with grief as she responded to the creature’s sorrow. But another emotion was mounting within the dragon’s breast. Anger. Wild, intense anger.
The anger became so hot it burned Kale’s mind. It grew and lost control and surged out of the dragon’s heart as rage. Celisse meant to return to the farm and avenge the deaths of her people.
No, no, Kale begged as the dragon’s speed increased.
They flew over the farm now, and Kale saw the tiny figures below. Dar in his bright clothes, a tiny smudge that jumped out of the way of the larger, darker bisonbecks as they tried to capture him. It looked like a game from so high in the sky.
Celisse folded her wings and started a plummeting descent.
NO! You can’t. Dar is there in the middle. You’ll hurt him by mistake. This is wrong, Celisse. Wrong! You can’t kill them. You’ll be a murderer too.
Celisse gave no response to Kale’s pleas. No coherent thoughts flowed from the dragon’s mind, only unrelenting hatred. Kale watched the ground rushing toward them and closed her eyes against the terrifying sight.
A bisonbeck shrieked just before Kale heard a sickening thud. She felt Celisse jerk and knew from the shift in the huge body beneath her that they were climbing again.
She opened her eyes and saw red blood splattered thickly