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FIRST FLIGHT

Dar?

“I’m here.”

We’re ready.

“Good. This fog is going to blow away in the next few minutes. I’m moving into the farmyard. Don’t come out of the barn until you hear a long blast from my trumpet. When you come out, fly high and don’t look back. Got it?”

Got it.

Kale put on her cape and approached Celisse.

“Now, I’ve never done any riding of any kind unless you count riding in a wagon, and I wouldn’t count that if I were you. So I’m not going to be good at this. I guess I’m saying I’m a bit nervous.”

Celisse sent Kale an image. The huge, matronly dragon relaxed in the sun with numerous small children clambering over her. Then Kale saw the dragon in flight with a small boy clinging to Celisse’s saddle. The o’rant girl breathed a sigh of relief and climbed onto the dragon’s back.

She hooked her knees over hard leather braces on each side of the saddle horn. These braces made a three-quarter loop, providing a sturdy anchor for her legs to squeeze during flight. Kale assumed that she would clutch this safety device and any other within reach as soon as they were airborne. The saddle horn had two padded handles. A second seat, attached to the first, extended out behind her. The farmer’s saddle had no fancy scrolling in the leather—no ornamentation at all—but it was strong, well put together, and in good repair. Kale thought it was a splendid saddle.

No reins extended from Celisse’s head to Kale’s hands. The thought of using reins to direct a dragon was ridiculous. A dragon rider communicated to a dragon through mindspeaking. The dragon followed suggestions, if it desired. Dar had given Kale rudimentary instructions on flying with a dragon. No one thought of the dragon rider as master and the dragon as beast of burden. The two formed a team, and that was only if the dragon so chose.

Kale heard the rapid blasts of a trumpet. She recognized the melody within the first distinctive notes. “March of the King of Lightyme” was a popular tavern tune.

“What’s that?” a soldier’s rough voice bellowed.

“Music,” another bisonbeck answered with a sluggish voice as if he’d just awoken.

“I know that, you clout. Where’s it coming from?”

“Well, would you look at that?” exclaimed a third voice.

Kale very much wanted to see what was going on. To do so, she pictured the soldier who stood guard by the wagon. She repeated the words Granny had given her for protection in an evil mind and entered the man’s thoughts just as the soldier announced Dar’s arrival.

“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 along the dragon’s dark neck.

No, Celisse. Kale sobbed. The dragon soared upward, changed directions, and dove for another attack. This time she killed the last three bisonbeck soldiers, one with her teeth and two with a swipe of her tail.

Kale clung to the saddle horn, weeping as the dragon circled rapidly upward. The air became cold and the wings of the dragon slowed to a less frantic beat. Just as Kale began gasping for air, the dragon stopped the skyward climb and began to glide back to earth in large, unhurried loops. Kale’s body ached from the sobs that had torn at her while she begged Celisse to stop. A keening wail reached Kale’s ears. She felt spasms radiate through the enormous dragon. That’s when Kale realized Celisse was crying as she flew back to the farm.

Kale discarded each thought of condemnation as it came to her mind. She would not judge the dragon. Kale had been long enough in the world outside River Away to understand there were things she did not know. She was building a new system of discernment based on truths she had never known existed. Paladin had sent her on a quest to find a meech egg. But maybe on this journey she would discover some important things valuable to her alone.

She wondered how Paladin would feel about the dragon’s attack. When Kale asked if Paladin approved of killing, Leetu had said, “Paladin believes in protecting his people.” Did Paladin also approve of avenging his people? And wasn’t it up to Paladin and Wulder to judge where only they could possibly know all the facts?

She placed a hand on the thick, black scales in front of the saddle’s horn. Celisse had fought the monsters who killed her family. She’d won, but she’d need a friend to fight the battle of loneliness ahead.

It’s my place to be your friend, Celisse.

Kale shook her head as she realized something. Her “place” used to be village slave. She was to stay in her “place” and do the chores assigned her. Then she’d been given a position in a party going on a quest. In that instance, too, it was an outside force determining her “place.” She’d just offered her friendship to someone in need. And it truly was “her place” to do so.

This is what it means to be free. I can choose to do what’s right. I choose to follow Paladin. I choose to search for the meech egg. I, Kale Allerion, choose to find Leetu Bends and help her escape if I can.

The words “if I can” echoed in her mind.

Granny Noon said that if a mind was blocked I could get in by saying, “In Wulder’s service, I search for truth.” What if the means to rescue Leetu is blocked? Will Wulder help me get past trouble? I could say, “In Wulder’s service, I search for Leetu.” Would that work?

A strong image interrupted Kale’s thoughts. A kaleidoscope of books and faces with mouths moving rapidly in speech flashed through her mind. A tornado-like wind swept aside these images. The pictures of a multitude of words were replaced with a heart.

“Not the right words, but a heart in the right place.” Kale’s eyes widened as she recognized the voice delivering the message. Granny Noon!