image 6 image

DRUDDUMS

Granny Noon led the procession through tunnels lit by blue lightrocks. Bardon followed, third in line, behind Kale, with Regidor and Gilda straggling along at the rear. Sir Bardon didn’t like the feel of this trip.

A frown had deepened the old emerlindian’s face all morning. Grannies did not frown, nor scowl. Serenity was their hallmark, yet Granny Noon’s expression bespoke apprehension. Where was the peace that normally cloaked the old lady like a garment?

With cheerful calls to his siblings, Dibl dived, combed his talons through Bardon’s hair as he passed over, and darted on ahead to circle the newlyweds.

At least the minor dragons liked caves and underground tunnels. Ardeo’s glow dimmed and brightened as he flew. When he went by a cluster of lightrocks, his luminescence faded, but his pale skin reflected blue. The other minor dragons flitted around like disoriented bats.

Kale wouldn’t appreciate Bardon’s likening her little friends to unintelligent flying pests. They landed on her shoulders or in her hair, carrying on conversations that she understood readily. In her presence, he could usually interpret all the chatter through the mindspeaking link with his wife. But for the most part, he didn’t bother to keep up with their nattering.

Bardon glanced over his shoulder. The meech dragons strolled together, Gilda’s arm tucked in the crook of Regidor’s.

“It’s a wonder they don’t fall on their faces,” he muttered.

Kale sneaked a peek at the couple. She snickered and shook her head at him. “They’re newlyweds. You can’t expect them to watch the path in front of them when they can gaze into each other’s eyes instead.”

Bardon looked back again, this time studying the two dragons. He couldn’t decide who wore the sappier expression. Regidor looked positively besotted.

“We never carried on like that.”

Kale said nothing.

“Well, we didn’t.” Bardon took Kale’s arm and guided her past a pile of rubble. Several pieces of shiny metal stuck out of the debris.

Kale nodded ahead toward Granny Noon. “She isn’t particularly friendly this morning. And last night, she actually scolded us. The ‘self-absorbed bubble’ hurt. Of course, she meant all of us. Regidor obsessed over finding a cure for Gilda. We honeymooned in The Bogs. Still, I’ve never heard her speak in anything but a calm and kind tone.”

“She had a statement to make. One we weren’t hearing on our own. ‘A pointed word spoken by a friend can open the eyes of an endangered sleeper.’”

“She aimed to burst our bubble with her point?”

Bardon’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Right. She knew we’d respond as she expected. ‘A few heavy words will not crush the hearer. The fool won’t listen, and the wise man will place the words on the scale of righteousness.’ She trusted us to hear the words and act as Paladin’s servants.” Bardon’s eyes narrowed as he watched Regidor and Gilda. “On the whole, our meech friends don’t look especially crushed by Granny Noon’s reproach.”

“Not listening or using the scale of righteousness?”

“I’m not sure they’ve decided whether to heed the instruction or shelve it for a more convenient time.”

Kale spared them a fond glance. “Considering the miracle of Gilda’s recovery, who could blame them for not wanting to face a harsh reality?”

“‘Consider the circumstances in which a man reacts before you think you can predict his action.’”

“That’s enough principles for one morning, Bardon.”

He chortled and bit down on the next maxim that had sprung to his lips, but Wulder’s principles still streamed through his consciousness. He had no doubt that one would answer the unease he felt.

A druddum barreled through the tunnel. The small furry creature ricocheted off the walls and around their legs in a frantic effort to avoid crashing into them.

Gilda squealed, causing the creature to jump in the air before it careened around the next corner.

“They’re harmless,” said Regidor. “Their only vices are an obsession with speed and the collection of shiny objects.”

Gilda’s voice returned to a deep, lazy drawl. “They look a bit too much like rats.”

Kale chuckled, but Bardon sensed she, too, suffered from a strange mood.

He came up beside her as they passed into a wide stone corridor, placing his arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him for just a moment before they continued on through the tunnels, still following Granny Noon. Kale’s sense of security grew from the interchange, and because of their connection, Bardon experienced the same surge of well-being. Of all the gifts Wulder had bestowed upon him, Kale was the best.

He sought to lift her spirits further. “Neither Paladin nor Wulder is angry with us. We were establishing a new order in The Bogs, Kale. We were doing just what Wulder had assigned as our responsibility.”

“And now we have a new direction?”

“Yes.”

Although the sob did not come through her body, Bardon, nonetheless, felt her shudder of despair. Her soul whispered to him. “I want to go back to my safe home.”

I think the point of what Granny Noon was trying to tell us is that soon there will be no safe homes in Amara.

Kale didn’t answer but kept her eyes on the smooth black hair of the emerlindian she followed. The path narrowed, and Bardon let Kale go before him.

A second and third druddum scurried through the tunnel, making Gilda squeak and causing Kale to let out a shaky laugh.

He admired his wife. Her purposeful stride and straight posture revealed her determination. At fourteen, she had answered a call to serve Paladin. On that first quest, she discerned her own strengths and weaknesses.

The next quest brought her, now a beautiful young woman, together with him, a rather solemn lehman. At the time he’d thought her undisciplined, clumsy, and inept.

Her next thought interrupted the pleasant memories he had of the adventure that taught him what a treasure Kale was.

“We’re always learning our strengths and weaknesses, aren’t we?”

He grinned. Whether she had done so consciously or not, she had picked up a phrase from his musing.

He answered her question. Every day.

She giggled. “Don’t you have a principle to quote on that?”

A dozen. But he didn’t quote them to her. He glanced over his shoulder at Regidor and Gilda. The husband seemed overprotective of his clinging wife. The two whispered with each other. “What’s going on with them, Kale?”

“Gilda is tired. That’s all. Remember, for many years she escaped that bottle for only short lengths of time. And conversely, she feels claustrophobic in this tunnel. She longs to be out in the open.”

Bardon didn’t respond. But he didn’t dampen soon enough the frisson of apprehension that shivered through his soul.

“Why are you worried?” Kale asked.

“Gilda may not be an asset on this quest. Whatever it is that Paladin wants us to do, I’m sure it will be arduous. Gilda has always been pampered.”

Kale turned to study Regidor. Bardon felt her emotions well up, but not a muscle in his wife’s face betrayed her turmoil.

Bardon whispered. “Regidor appears strong, sophisticated, intelligent, and unflappable.”

“Yes,” Kale agreed, “but his vulnerable spot walks beside him.”

Gilda fussed over a smudge on her dress. Bardon and his lady exchanged a look.

Bardon sighed. I’m not sure Gilda’s loyalty to Wulder is stronger than her love of self.

Pat flew from some distance ahead of them and circled Kale’s head, chirring a distress signal.

“What is it?” asked Bardon.

“Druddums.”

“Druddums?”

“A lot of druddums.”

Granny Noon stopped and turned to face them. “I hear them,” she said and came back to clutch Bardon’s arm. “We need to get out of their way.”

“Get as close to each other as possible,” Bardon ordered. “Kale, a shield!”

Regidor hurried to join them, pulling Gilda with him.

She joined hands with her meech wizard colleague, and within a second, they had thrown up a barrier as clear and hard as glass but unbreakable. The six minor dragons flew in circles around the top of the protected questers.

The noise increased. A stampede of small, dark creatures hurtled through the tunnel. Some slammed into the protective sphere, but most of the steady stream of animals separated, ran around the obstruction, then merged again as a treacherous torrent. The glistening shell vibrated against the disturbance but did not shatter.

Kale and Regidor maintained the shield after the inundation of druddums subsided.

“My,” said Granny Noon. “I’ve never seen the likes of that before. Whatever do you suppose got into them?” She patted first Kale’s arm and then Regidor’s. “Thank you for your quick action. That could have been quite unpleasant. But we’re all safe.”

Regidor started, and the protective bubble expanded and contracted as if with a hiccup. “Where’s Gilda?”

Bardon looked around in amazement. The female meech was gone. “Where is she?” he repeated.

“She was inside the shell.” Kale, too, peered from side to side as if hunting for a lost child. “She was here. I saw her!”

Regidor dropped Kale’s hand and touched the inside of their haven. “She couldn’t get out any more than those druddums could get in.”

“Then,” asked Kale, “where is she?”