Chapter 17. Taking Sides

[ THE BEGINNING OF THE BOOK OF BOOKWORM CAN BE FOUND HERE: http://stihi.ru/avtor/yanastihiru&book=4#4]

To Magda's great relief, Bookworm announced that they did not have to go back through the tunnel. He had taken a few surveying flights and was able to find a way back through the air. While Magda's memories of flying with the dragon were not enticing, she preferred the discomforts of the journey above the ground to the terrors of being underneath it. Besides, flying would take much less time.

They arrived at their camp without any mishap and found the horses safe and sound. The travelers agreed that in the morning, they would set out for home.

At dawn they were awakened by the duke's war horse. The stallion was snorting and pawing at the ground, straining at the halter. Then they heard the call that brought the horse into such excitement: far down in the gully, a trumpet rang out, its sound faint, but clear. Magda assumed that this was a hunting party that had strayed close to the dragon territory. But Bookworm decided to investigate. In a moment, he was on the wing, circling above the awakened forest.

"Seems like an army is camped in the gully," he reported, when he landed. "I wonder what they are looking for here."
"Are they looking for us?" asked Magda, frightened. "Let’s get out of here before they come all the way up." Suddenly, Bookworm walloped himself on the forehead. He rumbled a single word in the dragon language. Seeing Magda’s incomprehension, he gave a hurried explanation: “Mother! They are going to Rendtalon’s lair; they probably think she is the dragon who tricked their duke. I have to stop them! Stay here; don’t you dare to follow me!” he ordered Magda, seeing her leap up and grab the saddle. He took off.

“Stay here!” Magda ordered Bobtail and the duke’s horse. Then, saddling Acorn, she galloped off after Bookworm.

Magda heard and smelled the battle before she saw it. The smoky air reverberated with men shouting, horses neighing, weapons clashing. Now and again there were thumps followed by clangs and shrieks; Bookworm was using his heavy, serrated tail as a weapon.  Reining in Acorn, Magda peered down into the stream gully. It was seething with activity. She could not tell how many fighters there were, but it was clear that Bookworm was outmatched. Several heavily armored knights were attacking him from both flanks. Archers, concealed in the bushes, were showering him with arrows. A large stone propelled by a catapult whistled through the air and hit Bookworm on the neck, causing him to stagger. Magda clamped her hands over her mouth to stifle a scream. She heard the familiar and hated voice of the duke shout something. Another stone whizzed towards Bookworm, who managed to duck this time, narrowly avoiding being hit.

Magda bit her lip, then dug her heels into Acorn’s sides: “Go!” Skirting the battleground, she galloped up along the stream, fording it close to the place where she and Bookworm had camped on the way to the grotto. Bursting through the underbrush she skidded to a halt in front of Rendtalon’s lair. To her relief, the old dragon was there, lying on her gold hoard as usual. Rendtalon must have heard the horse gallop; her head was up, her eyes surveying the clearing in front of the grotto.  “Come! Now! Bookworm, I mean Scorchfire, is in trouble. He needs your help!” Magda shouted, as soon as she saw the gold-crested head poking out of the grotto.

The old dragon blinked in astonishment. She did not understand a word that Magda was saying. It was hard to believe that the shrieking, wild-haired girl, with face scratched and clothes torn after a heedless ride through the thickets, was one and the same with the timid maiden that had followed Scorchfire into the tunnel a couple of weeks back. But, luckily, dragons have a keen sense of smell and a faultless memory. So, Rendtalon realized that this was, indeed, Scorchfire's maiden. Yet, where was he? Had the maiden run away from him? But then why did she run straight to another dragon’s lair? Was this some trick? Rendtalon was considering whether it might be a good idea to simply incinerate this troublesome creature on the spot and ask questions later. Magda, in the meantime, continued to shout and jab her finger in the direction that she came from. She was weeping in frustration. Suddenly, she ripped off her bracelet and showed the small golden dragon to Rendtalon. She then mimed a battle: an archer bending a bow, a knight riding forward with a lance. The old dragon’s eyes flared with comprehension. She lunged out of the grotto and spread her wings. “Follow me!” Magda shouted, galloping back towards the battlefield.

Soon, Magda was back on the high bank of the gully, looking down upon the confusion below. It was hard to see what was going on – the damp wood and reeds around the creek were smoldering in several places, shrouding the battlefield in smoke. Rendtalon, still unnoticed by any of the fighters, circled overhead silently, also trying to figure out the layout of the battle. Finally, Magda made out Bookworm's position. Beset by a dozen knights, he was retreating slowly, reeling unsteadily on his paws.

Suddenly, Magda heard the crashing of a heavy horse galloping towards her through the bushes. Wheeling Acorn around, she saw a knight coming straight at her. He shouted something in a fury. It was the duke! Before Magda even gave her direction, Acorn leapt aside and struck out for the forest. But another knight emerged from the trees, then a third, cutting off her route. The duke raised his sword. This was the end! Magda shut her eyes. But instead of a blow, she felt a huge rush of wind and heard the crash of metal. She opened her eyes and saw the duke’s armored body lying in a heap on the ground. His terrified horse ran off into the forest. There was another rush of wind as Rendtalon circled back, a jet of fire sweeping towards the two knights who had been trying to cut off Magda’s escape, They fled. Landing, Rendtalon seized the body of the duke with her jaws and walloped it hard against the ground. This was unnecessary; he was already dead. Two heavy lances came whizzing at Rendtalon from the forest. But the old dragon turned out to be an agile, even graceful, fighter. In a single sinuous motion she ducked her head under one lance, while deflecting the other with her tail. Then, picking up a lance with her paw, she threw it back into the forest with great force. There was a clang and a crash.

The limp body of the duke still clamped in her jaws, Rendtalon plunged into the smoky haze below. By the time Magda made her way down to the stream, the battle was over. Seeing a huge dragon drop out of the sky, clutching the lifeless body of their commander, the duke’s army beat a hasty retreat. Neither Bookworm nor Rendtalon prevented them from picking up their wounded or riding away. Bookworm was in no condition to pursue his enemies and Rendtalon was too busy.

Bookworm sat down heavily. He was bleeding from many wounds, blood was dripping from his mouth and his left eye was swollen completely shut, having been hit by a catapulted stone. Jumping off her horse, Magda rushed to the wounded dragon across the smoldering turf and tried to use her jacket to staunch the blood that was spurting out of a deep cut in the wing joint. But the jacket immediately caught fire. Rendtalon rumbled something in a grouchy voice and pushed Magda aside with a single taloned finger. She shook her head with great disapproval and took off in the direction of her lair. Bookworm lay down on the ground and shut his right eye. Magda had to run off to the stream to put out the fire that started to smolder around the bottom of her skirt.

In a few minutes, Rendtalon was back. She was clutching a sack that Magda recognized: it was part of the gift that Bookworm had brought to the dragon lair. In another paw she had something glittering: it turned out to be a gem-encrusted scabbard. The old dragon stamped out the burning turf around Bookworm.  She shook out the coins onto the ground. Taking pawfuls of gold, she softened them by breathing fire and molding them with her paws. Then she began to apply the pliant gold to Bookworm’s wounds. Magda understood what the old dragon was doing: she was making poultices! From time to time, Rendtalon plucked a ruby or an emerald from the scabbard and pressed it into the gold. Noticing that blood was dripping out of Bookworm’s mouth, she made him open his jaws. He had a deep sword cut right in the middle of his tongue. Rendtalon gave another disgusted shake of her head. She plucked out the pearls that decorated the scabbard’s strap and made Bookworm swallow them one by one, like pills. Finally, satisfied, she sat back and surveyed her patient. He looked like his entire body had erupted in great golden zits, some of them topped with sparkling gems. But, at least, the bleeding had stopped.

Rendtalon spent some time stamping out the forest fires that were beginning to spread in the gully. Even a fire-breathing dragon does not appreciate looking at a burnt-out landscape when she pokes her head out of her lair in the morning. By the time she finished, Bookworm sat up shakily. “Thank you, Mother,” he lisped with his wounded tongue. Rendtalon emitted a puff of black smoke. “Scorchfire, I have said it before, and I’ll say it again: you have to learn some dragon sense. When I told you that you need regular exercise, I was clear: one or two knights per month. But you go and get yourself a whole blazing army! I have to grant you,” she added after a pause, “you do have fire in your belly. And that maiden of yours, she really is something! I’ve never before heard of one that takes the side of the dragon. I suppose it may have been worth the trip here to get one like that. But don’t get any more lizard-brained ideas. You are not in the egg-shell anymore! So don’t expect Mom to come haul your tail out of trouble the next time you rot your scales with bad diet or decide to take on an army. Remember that!” With another black puff of irritation, the old dragon spread her wings and took off. "May your talons be sharp, your wings be strong and your fire burn hot for a long time!" her voice drifted down.
“Yes, Mother. Thank you, Mother. May your talons be sharp, your wings be strong and your fire burn hot for a long time, Mother,” lisped Bookworm in the direction of the soaring winged shape.

[ THE BOOK OF BOOKWORM WILL BE CONTINUED IN THE NEXT CHAPTER ]