Dragonspell - Donita K. Paul [54]
Kale wished she could be so detached. She didn’t want to figure out why Dar had turned against Celisse. She didn’t want to think about the horrible things that had happened to the dragon and her family. She certainly didn’t want to think about the gruesome way Celisse had torn into the guards. She took off her cape, rolled it with Gymn’s pocket-den on the outside, and attached it to Leetu’s pack.
Dar stood ready to go, not looking at anyone but staring off into the trang-a-nog woods. Celisse lay with her neck stretched out, her chin in the dirt, and her eyes closed.
Kale approached Dar. Her stomach tightened. Her jaw muscles ached from clenching her teeth.
“I don’t understand.” She pushed her troubled thoughts to the surface and made herself speak. “I thought we needed Celisse. Are we just going to leave her? She has no one, Dar. She’s all alone.”
“We can’t trust her.”
Kale glanced at the dejected dragon. “Her heart is broken.”
“We can’t trust her.”
“What do you mean? She’s not a bad dragon. She loved her family of people. She cared for them and helped them.”
“And because they were killed, she threw all caution to the winds and came back with vengeance in her heart. She had you on her back.” His words came out like sharp blows of a hammer. “You who know nothing about riding a dragon. A novice. She knew that. She knew I was on the ground in the midst of the bisonbeck guards. And with hatred in her heart, she dove from the sky to kill. At that moment, it didn’t much matter to her who she might kill as long as she got those four bisonbecks.”
Kale spoke softly. “I can understand her rage, Dar. She was killing murderers. Those four bisonbecks will never torture, maim, or kill innocent people again.”
Dar looked from Kale to Celisse. The dragon still lay motionless next to tall trang-a-nog trees. The large, thick, richly green leaves contrasted sharply against the dragon’s dull gray and black scales. Some of the fierceness left Dar’s face as he gazed at the despondent creature.
“That’s your reasoning, Kale, and it had absolutely nothing to do with her reasoning.” He sighed heavily. “The truth is, she was beyond reasoning. She didn’t kill to protect innocent people in the future. No, that’s not why she tore through that yard and slaughtered those soldiers.”
“Why, then?”
Dar’s jaw clenched and the frown grew tighter across his brow. “She allowed anger to rule. That is never the way of Wulder or Paladin. Justice, yes. But not bloodshed to express rage.”
Dar pointed to Gymn. The little dragon had eaten his fill and had stretched out on a boulder to sun himself. “Get your friend. We have to go.”
Kale scooped the drowsy dragon into her hand and carefully tucked him into his chosen pocket-den. She couldn’t help but look with sadness at Celisse. The riding dragon’s eyes were squeezed shut, and she’d turned her face slightly away from the people in the clearing.
“Does she understand what we’re saying, Dar?”
“Oh, yes, and even if she didn’t, she would know the truth in her heart. A follower of Paladin does not demonstrate how upset he is by uncontrolled carnage. A follower of Paladin thinks. He thinks of the consequences of his actions. People in this region instruct their children in these simple truths as soon as they can listen to the stories of old. Celisse has lived among the high races. She has embraced the ways of Wulder.”
“What will happen to her?”
“I don’t know.” Dar shrugged his shoulders and turned abruptly toward the path that led into the woods. “To endanger you and me in order to satisfy her need for revenge shows that Celisse can’t be trusted.” Without another look at the riding dragon, he started down the shaded pathway. But he continued to lecture Kale. “We may get into another perilous situation, and we need to know that those by our side will follow orders, follow the way of Wulder, follow the teachings of Paladin