The Druid Queen - Douglas Niles [45]
The first thing Robyn saw about Newt, as always, was that wide, toothy grin that always seemed to extend farther to the sides than the width of his head. The faerie dragon was bright pink in color, reflecting his happiness at meeting his old friend, his hummingbird wings buzzing audibly now as he slowly settled to the ground.
No more than three feet in length, and nearly half of that was tail, Newt's body was nevertheless a reasonable approximation, in miniature, of a dragon's. Tiny scales coated him, except for his gossamer wings, and his face-perhaps in part because of its size-consistently bore a far more cheerful expression than one typically associated with the greater wyrms.
Now, resting on his haunches so that he could hold the cheese with both his forepaws, Newt busily stuffed the food into his mouth. Soon his cheeks bulged outward, and then he paused to chew contentedly. Robyn, relaxing again, let her old friend enjoy his repast. She had many questions for him, but she knew better than to press Newt for information.
Finally he finished, swallowing the better part of a full day's ration in one throat-stretching gulp. "So," he said, curling up in her lap, "what brings you back to the Vale?"
"Curiosity," Robyn replied evasively. The worst way to approach the faerie dragon, she knew, was with direct questioning. "After all, it's been a long time since I've been here."
"Me, too," Newt agreed. "I was over on Alaron for a little while."
A little while! Robyn smiled privately. The dragon had performed a duty there for twenty years! "Alicia told me. She said you were a great help to her and her companions."
"Say, I was, wasn't I?" Newt raised his head and puffed out his chest a measure. "I bet they'd still be wandering around the highlands over there if it weren't for me!"
"How long have you been back?" Robyn inquired casually.
"Oh, two or three days now-or is it two or three months? I always get those two mixed up. I got here before the firbolgs went over and smashed Cambro. Does that help?… What's the matter?"
Robyn had stiffened reflexively, stunned by the dragon's casual announcement. Cambro was the only dwarven community in Myrloch Vale. The queen had been there several times, albeit many years past. For centuries, the sturdy community had stood, a bulwark against the firbolgs that used to roam so aggressively through the highlands. Now, when the giant-kin had been all but obliterated, what force could propel them into such an attack?
"Anyway," Newt continued, "I came down to the lake here. I was doing some fishing along the shore when I saw you this afternoon. I chased you all the way to the woods, but then I lost you. Good thing you brought that cheese, or I wouldn't have found you. Say, you wouldn't have another little nibble in there, would you?" Newt's twitching nostrils revealed that he already knew the answer to the question.
Carefully Robyn broke a smaller piece off the block, asking as she passed it, "About Cambro-how badly was Cambro smashed? I didn't really hear much about it."
Newt shrugged. "Oh, you know-firbolgs and trolls dancing around a bonfire. They were waving a big silver axe around in the air and making a lot of noise. I couldn't even get to sleep until I flew a couple miles away!" he concluded indignantly.
"Firbolgs… and trolls. Are you sure, Newt?" Robyn asked intently.
"What do you think… I don't know a troll when I see one? Sure I'm sure!"
"What about the dwarves? Did you see any of them?" pressed the queen.
Newt shook his head in exasperation. "I told you-I saw firbolgs and trolls! You don't think the dwarves would invite them right in, do you?"
Robyn sighed and leaned back on her arms, frustrated and tense. She knew better than to ask Newt how many of the beasts he had seen. Suddenly she itched with the urge to fly north, to see Cambro and this brutal band of monsters. She didn't want to think of it as an army-there couldn't be that many