48
ONE BATTLE
Clattering sounds, clanking and banging, intruded on Kale’s peaceful slumber. She stretched and opened her eyes. All the other occupants of the medic tent had disappeared. A tall woman swept into the tent.
“Gilda!”
The meech dragon hurried to her side. “Come, Kale.” She helped her sit up. “We have to get out of here.”
“What’s happening?”
“As soon as the forest fire was out, Pretender turned on Cropper’s army of bisonbecks. He rode overhead on his black dragon and hurled bolts of lightning at them. His scourge of an army came over the hills and attacked this bedraggled crew of Cropper’s finest. Compared to those under Pretender’s authority, they were the runts of a litter of kittens.”
Gilda threw an underrobe around Kale’s shoulders. “Help me here. I’m not accustomed to dressing anyone other than myself.”
Kale shoved her fist through the sleeve. Her hand still held Pretender’s globe. “I thought the armies were evenly matched. I thought that’s why the war had gone on so long.”
“Stox’s army stood up to Pretender fairly well, but since her death, her men have no leadership.”
“Crim Cropper?”
Gilda’s fingers worked to button a tunic over the first garment. “A lunatic hermit. He knows nothing of military tactics, nor how to lead men. Drive animals, maybe. But lead men, no!”
The meech dragon leaned back and inspected Kale. “Bah! I’ll do this the better way.”
She squinted her eyes, and Kale felt the material of her clothing shift, twist, and expand. She examined her arms and found the sleeves to be of an elegant cream-colored silk. She stood and yards of soft fabric swirled around her legs. The green fabric shimmered as she took a step.
“Not exactly my style, Gilda.”
“More’s the pity. Come on.” She grabbed Kale’s arm and tugged.
“Where are we going?”
“We’re escaping! Isn’t that obvious?”
Kale stopped in her tracks. “I can’t. My dragons. I have to find the dragons. The eggs. I have to find the eggs, too.”
Gilda turned and put a fist on her hip. The meech dragon’s disgust curled her lip and raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t Leetu Bends come and collect them for safekeeping?”
“No, it was a bisonbeck woman who…looked…a little…like Leetu Bends.”
“Right.” Gilda grabbed her arm again. “It was Leetu Bends.”
Kale still dragged her feet. “She took my moonbeam cape, too.”
Gilda stopped again and didn’t disguise her anger. “Don’t you realize that anything you own, once you enter an army medic tent, is fair game for anyone who can still walk?”
“She took them for safekeeping?”
“Yes.”
“No! I don’t believe you.”
“What?”
“Why should I? What are you doing in the enemy camp? Why did Pretender treat Regidor like a good friend?”
“What are you talking about? When did Lord Ire treat my husband like a friend?”
“The night they were here. Regidor came first to soften me up. I know how it works. Then Pretender came and patted him on the shoulder and took over.”
“Took over? Took over what?”
“Winning my confidence. Bringing me over to his side.”
“Whose side? Regidor’s side? Lord Ire’s side?”
“I was weak and in pain, lots of pain. Pretender offered to take the pain away. All I had to do was—”
Gilda’s voice became calm. “All you had to do was…what?” She came close to Kale and put a gentle hand on her arm. “What? Do what?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Oh, I very much doubt that. What are you supposed to do, Kale?”
Kale drew her clenched fist closer to her heart. She needed to be strong to stand up to Gilda. Gilda’s gaze shifted from Kale’s face to the closed hand. The meech dragon opened her own hand and held it in front of Kale, palm up.
“No.” The word came quietly out of Kale’s strangled throat. Though nothing touched her, she could barely breathe.
“Let me see it.”
“No.”
“He gave you something to carry.”
“No.”
“You just lied to me, Kale. Is it like you to lie?”
“No.”
“Now, that was the truth. What did Pretender give you to carry?”
“I can’t.”
“You can’t what?”
“Open my hand.”
“Oh.” Gilda studied her for a moment. “I don’t know what to do about that.” She gently pulled on Kale’s arm. “Come on. Let’s go find Regidor.”
“What’s he doing?”
“Besides fighting Cropper’s crazed troops and Pretender’s forces, who don’t seem to care what they destroy as long as they crush every bisonbeck in the wrong army, Regidor is battling a swarm of vileness that has broken loose. We believe Crim Cropper freed every poor malformed creature from his experimental lair and thrust them out upon the world. Perhaps to even his odds against Lord Ire. Regardless, my husband is fighting against whichever evil steps into his presence. At any moment, it might be any one of the above. He blew our cover as spies.”
Kale followed Gilda to the tent flap. They both peered out at the chaos. A dragon roared in the sky above them.
“I almost forgot,” said Gilda. “Your father is here, as well, with a battalion of fighting dragons.”
Kale felt a surge of love. Her fingers loosened their grip on Pretender’s globe. She gasped and clenched it tighter. She’d almost dropped the gift.
Gilda no longer looked out of the tent but studied Kale. Kale tried to make her face look calm, unbothered by the panic and confusion churning inside.
“What does the orb do, Kale?”
“It took away the pain. Gilda, you can’t conceive how excruciating the burning was.”
“I think I can. The marks of it are still on your face and through your hair.”
Kale’s fingertips went to her cheek. She felt new skin healed over her wounds. The skin was ridged, lumpy, and tender. Gilda pulled a hand mirror from her pocket and held it in front of Kale. Tears filled Kale’s eyes. She grabbed the mirror from Gilda and held it closer. Jagged red lines ran across her face. Gaps in her hair exposed the same ugly scars in her scalp. The tears blurred her vision, but not enough to block out what she saw in the looking glass.
Gilda eased the mirror from Kale’s trembling fingers. She put it away and with her hands formed a hat with a veil, using material she pulled from her pocket. She kissed Kale’s cheek and settled the hat on her head, pulling the veil down to completely hide the scars.
She put an arm around Kale and squeezed. “We have to go.” Her head swiveled as she surveyed the scene. “Now, Kale.”
Kale looked at the stragglers rushing through the deserted camp. Most of them were bisonbecks, but a few were from the high races. The panic on their faces masked the differences in races.
“Yes, we have to go. But where?”