19
HEALING
Kale’s memory latched on to one of Leetu’s instructions.
The purple root cleans a wound and kills the pain.
Kale tore the buttons of her cape out of the buttonholes and whipped the special garment off her shoulders. She turned the cape inside out and laid it on the barn floor. Kneeling, she began to empty the two side hollows. Gymn poked his head out of his pocket-den and watched intently as Kale sorted through the many different items.
“Where is it? Where is it?”
Finally, she pulled a purple tuberous root out of the pocket.
“A knife. I need a knife.”
Gymn darted out of his hole, dove into a hollow, and came out seconds later with a pocketknife in his mouth. He dropped it in front of Kale and lunged back into his own pocket.
Kale muttered, “Thanks,” and picked up the knife. By scraping the root with the edge of the blade, Kale made a pile of creamy violet powder. When she had a handful of the precious medicine, she took it over to Celisse.
“I think you’ll have to lay on your side in order for me to reach the wound,” she told the huge beast.
The dragon, already in a prone position, shifted, and her bulky torso rolled over. Exhausted, she stretched out her neck and closed her eyes. Her shallow breathing barely stirred the bits of hay on the dirt floor. Occasionally, a moan escaped her throat.
Kale went right to work. She spread the powder over the swollen flesh, around the protruding arrow shafts, and put an extra amount where heat radiated from pus-filled sores.
“I suppose it would have been better to make a poultice, but we don’t have what we need.” She spoke aloud, but when she looked at the dragon’s face, the huge beast seemed to be unconscious.
“I’m doing the best I can, Celisse.”
I really hope it’s enough. Granny Noon, you should be here.
Kale remembered something the old emerlindian had said as they parted at the gateway. “My hope goes with you.”
Kale leaned against the ailing dragon’s side.
“Will that help? Will Granny Noon’s hope help?” she asked in the cool, dark barn.
Kale waited. The medicine needed some time to work, but not much. Leetu had said powder from the purple root worked quickly. While the minutes ticked by, Kale went over some of the other medicinal objects Granny Noon had put in her hollow pockets. She remembered a brown vial with a cork stopper. She returned to the cape to rummage through the collection.
“Here it is.”
She walked back to the dragon, pulling the plug out of the neck of the bottle as she went. She held it under her nose and sniffed. Her head jerked back, and her nose wrinkled at the strong odor of scarphlit.
Kale inspected the open wound where she’d applied the purple root powder. It already looked better.
She started to pour on the oil and then paused to speak to the dragon, “This won’t hurt.”
Celisse didn’t seem to hear.
Kale dripped the oil from the small brown bottle on the wooden shafts of the arrows where they entered the dragon’s body. Then she sang ten verses of “The Beggarman’s Wife” in her head, using the tune to measure off the twenty minutes needed.
The wounded flesh felt cooler under Kale’s fingertips. She carefully pulled on the first arrow and mentally thanked Granny Noon for the oil when the rod slipped out with no problems. In a few minutes she had extracted all of the huge poison darts.
“Now for the healing.” Kale went back to her cape and tenderly took Gymn from his pocket-den. “I don’t really know what I’m doing. I don’t suppose you do either. We’ll both touch her and touch each other because Dar said something about a circle. Then all we can do is leave the rest to Wulder.”
Kale leaned against Celisse’s side near the wound. She placed Gymn on the beast’s dark, scaly skin but kept her hands cupped around the tiny dragon. Then Kale relaxed. Her body molded against the hard-muscled Celisse, and her mind wandered much as it did when she was tucked in bed and ready to sleep.
In this half-awake state, she began to feel the same surge of energy she had felt when Dar played praises on his flute and the kimens appeared to dance in the cygnot bower. The feeling rose and fell, swelled up and drew back, much like Dar’s music. Kale liked both the calm parts and the wild, energetic surges. With joy, Kale realized Wulder was part of the healing circle. Celisse, Gymn, Kale, and Wulder. The truth nearly took her breath away; it was so wonderful.
Then the feelings left, drained away, leaving only a hum of gladness in her soul.
Celisse stirred, raised her head, and yawned. Kale saw new skin where the horrible infected wound had been. The healing had worked.
Kale moved back to her cape and sorted through the various objects she’d left in a heap. Gymn zipped back into his pocket while she tucked items into the cape hollows.
She heaved a big sigh. She had accomplished one part of her mission. Time to let her doneel friend know what was happening.
She’s healed, Dar.
“Good. But I think more time has passed than you’re aware of. It’s afternoon. The fog is holding. It’s a very sticky cloud we’ve been blessed with this day. But still we must get away.”
I understand.
“See if Celisse can fly.”
Before she could even ask the question, the riding dragon conveyed her enthusiastic answer into Kale’s mind.
Kale grinned. Dar, she can!
“Well, get busy!”
“We can’t waste time,” Kale spoke to the dragon. “Where’s your saddle?”
The dragon thought of her saddle, and Kale sensed the location. She moved into a stall, dragged out the heavy leather contraption, and pulled it toward Celisse.
Gymn came out of his pocket-den and climbed to perch on Kale’s shoulder. His eyes grew big as he saw Celisse wide awake and moving.
Celisse stretched her neck out until her huge head hovered directly over the minor dragon. She sniffed the little creature. With a whoosh, the air at Kale’s shoulder drew into the large dragon’s nostrils. Gymn gave a short, shrill cry and collapsed in a heap. Kale caught him as his little body slid down her chest. Startled, Celisse backed up.
In the dim light, Kale examined the baby dragon.
“Fainted again.” She went to her cape and carefully placed Gymn in the inside pocket he had claimed as his den. Then she returned to her most pressing problem.
“This is where Dar’s fine plan begins to fall apart,” she grumbled as she examined the odd contraption on the ground. The saddle had a place for two people to sit, one behind the other. Lengthy straps ran out of every large flap of leather. “I told him I’ve never been near a riding dragon, let alone put a saddle on and climbed aboard. I’ve never even saddled a horse.” She turned the saddle over and investigated the underside.
“‘You can do it. You can do it,’ he says. And I say, ‘What if we get into the air and this thing comes loose? Then what will happen, Master Dar?’”
Kale turned the saddle over once more. “I think this is the top and this is the front.” She looked at the large dragon. “How am I supposed to get this on you? You’re as big as a barn.” She looked around at the empty stalls and the bare hayloft. “Well, almost as big as a barn.”
Dar?
“What?”
Tell me how to put this saddle on Celisse.
The dragon lay down on the dirt floor. Following Dar’s instructions, Kale stood on Celisse’s leg. The small o’rant girl heaved the cumbersome double-seater over the dragon’s back, between her wings. The riding dragon stood to allow the buckles underneath to be secured. After several tries, Kale finally had all the straps going the right direction and fastened to the correct places on patient Celisse’s body.
I’m ready, Kale announced to Dar.
“Have you unlatched the barn doors and climbed into the saddle?”
No, just a minute.
Kale ran across the dirt floor. She put her eye to the crack, trying to remember if she had seen anything propped against the outside of the doors to keep them from opening. No, I remember the door was clear, and the bar brackets were empty.
One glance told her that no one had since barred the door. The afternoon haze swirled between her and the charred ruins of the farmhouse.
A breeze!
A patch of sun broke through the thinning fog. She could clearly see the bisonbeck on guard.
They were running out of time.