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BLIMMETS

They rode in comfort high above the countryside. Kale sat in the riding master seat on Celisse with Librettowit, Shimeran, and Seezle as her passengers. The two minor dragons rode for long periods of time on Kale’s shoulders, but they would get cold and dart inside the moonbeam cape to warm themselves in their pocket-dens. Dar carried Leetu with him on Merlander. Brunstetter took the Trio family kimens with him. Lee Ark, the appointed leader of this portion of the quest, escorted Wizard Fenworth.

The old man muttered about his age and his position as leader due to wisdom gained “through the ages, bleak ages, blessed ages, boring ages, and blasphemous ages.” Last Kale had heard of his mutterings, he was trying out other b words that might describe ages he had experienced. “Bothersome. Yes, indeed there were plenty of those. Tut-tut. Bilious. No, not quite the right word. Boisterous? Hmm? Battered. Yes, I like battered. Very descriptive. Must have been some battered ages along the way.”

Librettowit graciously accepted his part in the quest after a period of scowling and stamping about the meadow, picking up his belongings, mostly books and pens and paper, three pairs of reading glasses, and a pot of razterberry jam. After he had said his piece about being dragged along, he turned out to be a delightful companion.

On the back of Celisse, as her strong wings carried them farther and farther from The Bogs, the librarian told stories one after another. The kimens and Kale listened intently as he pointed out landmarks below and related historical facts, tidbits of local tradition, and fables reflecting the citizens’ heritage. His entertaining lecture lasted all day, even when Seezle handed around packets of food prepared by Lee Ark’s wife for their noontime meal. Occasionally, Metta would sing a folk tune.

“Librettowit, how does she do that?” asked Kale. “She’s only a few hours old. How can she know these songs?”

“She plucks them out of your mind. Well, my mind in this case. She’s a mindspeaker, of course. If you have the memory of a song, even one you have only heard once, she will appropriate it. She will also give back to you words you’ve forgotten so you might sing along.”

“And she can give me the words to a song that you remember, and I’ve never heard?”

“That’s right.”

The idea intrigued Kale and her kimen passengers. They spent several hours in the afternoon singing songs from myriad heritages: kimen songs of praise; marione songs of planting and harvesting; tumanhofer songs of earth, sky, and sea; and dragon songs of clan and ancestry. Kale discovered that Celisse and the young minor dragons had a fierce pride in their genealogy. Librettowit provided Gymn and Metta with heroic tales of minor dragons.

An hour before the early autumn dusk, Lee Ark signaled for their descent. The four dragons landed in a vale with a stream for water and a stand of trees offering wood for the campfires.

Brunstetter took off on foot to bargain for a herd of sheep from a local shepherd they had passed over. He carried a heavy purse of coins and came back with enough mutton to satisfy the hungry dragons. Kale gratefully watched the urohm lord escort the dragons to the other side of the trees to meet their dinner. She didn’t mind Gymn’s, and now Metta’s, antics as they looked for food, catching bugs in the air and gobbling them down. Even the snaring of an occasional mouse did not upset her. But there was nothing entertaining in watching a large dragon devour an animal whole.

Pleasantly tired after the uneventful day of traveling, the troupe soon finished an evening meal and bundled up to sleep warmly in tents and blankets. The moon hid behind a bank of snow-filled clouds. The fires smoldered as glowing embers. No more flames leapt. No sparks shot heavenward from brightly burning logs.

In the darkest hour of the night, the blimmets attacked.

Kale heard a terrified screech and sat up. In that moment, shrill cries of panic multiplied to fill the air.

She crawled hastily out of her small tent and sprang to her feet, trying to decipher meaning from the clamor. She heard Lee Ark’s strong voice call out, “Blimmets!” and then she knew. Weasel-like creatures with luxurious dark fur and razor-sharp teeth, blimmets devoured warm-blooded animals.

The cacophony of shrieks came only partially from the victims of the attack. Blimmets gave full voice to harrowing screams. The noise frightened and confused those they descended upon.

To Kale’s ears, the chaos sounded like hundreds of women and children screaming as they were torn apart. But the questing band numbered only eighteen including the dragons. It was the slaughtering blimmets who numbered in the hundreds.

“Light!” Lee Ark’s voice trumpeted above the havoc around Kale’s tent.

She rushed to the nearest fire and grabbed a stick. She stirred the coals, throwing on kindling that had been gathered for morning. A blaze leapt up.

Not enough! They need a blaze above us to light the whole camp in order to fight off blimmets.

Holding the stick ready to swing at an attacker, Kale listened to the contest for life. Her comrades defended the camp. The large dragons roared. They would stomp on the small enemy and crunch those they caught in their mighty jaws. But blimmets won by sheer numbers in most cases. They swarmed out of the ground, attacking anything in their way. They did not engage in a battle but in a feeding frenzy.

Kale ran to the next campfire. She brushed past a tall figure, and only knew it was Wizard Fenworth when she heard him speak.

“What are those two things that make water?” he asked.

“Hydrogen and oxygen, Fen,” Librettowit’s words came between grunts. His breathing sounded labored.

Kale wondered what he was doing as she stirred the next bed of coals. She coaxed a flame to dance above the wood as she quickly fed twigs into the hesitant fire. Her eyes darted back and forth, searching out the shadows. Why the blimmets had not overtaken this small, central part of the camp, she did not know. The light from the fire extended only a few feet and did not illuminate the tents on the fringe.

Am I helping? Is this firelight enough?

She saw silhouettes of two people swinging swords in a downward motion. Lee Ark and Dar. The blimmets were mere shadows undulating around their legs.

“One part hydrogen to two parts oxygen?” Fenworth puzzled aloud.

Kale wanted to scream at the old man to do something useful. How could he talk such mumbo jumbo when their friends were in mortal danger?

“No!” Librettowit screamed. “The other way around.”

“Light!” Lee Ark commanded again.

Where do I get light? Illusion? Can I make a light like I did in Risto’s garden? No, that was an accident.

A swirl of white blinded Kale. Cold wet flakes stung her cheeks.

“Wrong temperature,” yelled Librettowit.

“Oh dear, tut-tut.”

In an instant the snow disappeared. A swooshing sound drowned the screeches of the blimmets and the cries of the questing comrades. A blast of water fell from the sky with enough force to knock Kale flat.

“Now that’s better,” said Fenworth from the ground near her. “Should I do another?”

“Perhaps once more,” Librettowit answered.

This time when Kale heard the swoosh above her, she covered her head with her arms and squeezed her eyes shut. The second deluge did not catch her off guard.

The fires were out. Pitch dark engulfed her. The smell of wet, charred wood filled Kale’s nostrils. She moved back.

The horrible screeches had ceased. Around her, moans oozed through the black night. She shivered and sat up.

She wanted her cape. She wanted to check on Gymn and Metta. She wanted to see something. The darkness felt heavy against her skin. Her heart raced. She fought the urge to cry out for Dar or Leetu to come rescue her. What had happened to the wizard and his librarian? Why didn’t they do something? She had to have light. She had to!

A pop and sizzle above her turned into a long glowing cord of light. It hung over her, some twenty feet above the campsite. It grew as she watched, the ends extending outward like tendrils of a vine. She rose to her feet, her neck still bent backward as she stared at the slender rope gently pulsing with a soft glow.

Wizard Fenworth and Librettowit both came to stand beside her. They, too, stared upward as the light wormed its way through the black night, dispelling the dark. The tube twisted and then branched out. Thin fingers of willowy light popped out of the side, sizzled a moment, and then began to stretch. As each new appendage grew, it, too, sprouted new limbs of glowing tubes.

“Remarkable,” said Librettowit.

“Unique,” said Fenworth. “Well done.” He turned and placed a hand on Kale’s shoulder. “You and Gymn are needed this night. Librettowit and I will practice the art of healing in our way. You minister in yours.”

Kale tore her gaze away from the intricate lacework created by the intertwining vine of light. The shadows of night disappeared under the moon-white glow from above. A circle of clear ground encompassed the wizard, the tumanhofer, and Kale. At its edge began a gruesome spectacle, piles of blimmets, sodden corpses, their sleek black fur glistening on lifeless forms.

“We have no time to waste, my dear.” Fenworth stroked Kale’s shoulder. “Go to our friends. Stop the bleeding. Stop the pain. Put each into a deep sleep and move on to the next. When we have relieved their suffering and the immediate threat of death, then we will return and repair the damage done to their bodies.”

Kale looked up into the face of the old man. His strength shone through the sadness in his eyes. She nodded and moved back to the tent, crawled in and found Metta crooning over Gymn’s still body.

“Wake up, Gymn,” she said. The sound of her own voice surprised Kale. Her tone held authority as if she were suddenly in the position of Lee Ark, responsible for their safety and unwilling to brook any nonsense.

Gymn stirred. Kale picked him up. Metta flew to land next to her neck and leaned under her chin. The touch of the singing dragon comforted the o’rant girl.

When Kale stepped over the line of blimmets piled in a circle around the inner camp, she realized they had been held back by some force, though she did not have time to figure out what. Fenworth and Librettowit moved among the felled dragons. Kale approached Lee Ark. His shredded trousers barely covered his bloody legs. His wounds freely bled. Kale dropped to her knees beside him.

Lee Ark turned his head to her, and a twitch at the corner of his mouth told her he tried to smile. His expression told more of great pain and courage. “Next time,” he whispered, “I go to bed with my boots on.”

Kale nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She put Gymn on his barrel chest and concentrated. Vaguely she heard Metta singing as she and Gymn worked to heal their leader.

No pain. Sleep. Stop the lifeblood from flowing out.

She felt Gymn shudder. When she looked at Lee Ark, she saw his handsome features relaxed in sleep. She moved on.

Dar was already unconscious. She repeated the procedure, following Fenworth’s instructions even though she wanted to stay and completely heal her friend.

Leetu had fallen among the ravenous blimmets. They had shredded most of her body, digging with sharp claws as if burrowing into their victim, and at the same time, biting and tearing away small mouthfuls of flesh. Curled in a ball, Leetu had protected her face and chest.

Kale cried as she and Gymn saved the emerlindian’s life and then rose to search for the kimens.

They found them huddled together. Their wounds were less severe since they had leapt into the trees as soon as the attack began, except for Glim. He had been the first one assaulted. Zayvion cradled Glim’s lifeless body in his arms.