Dragon Trouble Read online

  Prologue

  LEGEND HAS IT THAT THE people of Zoriak originally came from a green valley called Zor, beyond the dreaded Black Mountains, and that fierce men known as Kradens drove them out and renamed the valley Krad. Some Zorians believe the legend. Others say that Zor was a mythical place and the great hairy-faced Kradens are nothing but fairy-tale creatures. No one knows for sure, because no one has ever ventured into the Black Mountains and returned to tell of it, until now.

  When a runaway wagon carried Darek’s best friend, Pola, and four baby Blue dragons into the Black Mountains, Darek and Rowena, daughter of the Chief Elder, felt responsible. It was their selfishness that had led to the accident. Together they defied the laws of Zoriak and went after their friends. Now the three children are back safely, and they have rescued three of the four Blue dragons, including Darek’s beloved dragon, Zantor. But all is not well. It seems that Darek’s, Pola’s, and Rowena’s fathers and Darek’s brother, Clep, went into the mountains after Darek and Rowena, and have not returned. The children are desperate to get their loved ones back, but they can’t even remember how they got back. Their memories were erased in Krad. Zantor, who can send mind messages to Darek and Rowena, is helping them piece the past together, but it is slow going. Will they remember in time to save their fathers? Or is it already too late?

  1

  DAREK SAT ON THE PADDOCK fence, staring. Out in the fields Zantor and the two female dragons, Drizba and Typra, grazed peacefully. The zorgrass obviously agreed with them. They had grown tremendously in the few weeks since Darek had been back at home. Zantor still insisted on sleeping by Darek’s bed each night. But that couldn’t go on much longer. Zantor could barely squeeze through the door anymore!

  Little by little, Darek was trying to piece together what had happened to him since Zantor had come into his life. He and his friends Pola and Rowena had been to Krad and back. He knew that much. But someone, or something, had taken away their memories while they were there. Not just their memories of Krad, but their memories of several anums before, too. Darek’s mother had been doing her best to fill in those anums for him.

  Zantor was helping too. He was able to send Darek and his friend Rowena mind pictures of things he had heard and seen. These mind messages were giving them back memories of Krad. Darek hadn’t shared these memories with his mother yet because he didn’t want to worry her. They were too awful to share—scenes of a bleak, smoke-shrouded land, where Zorians were prisoners and fierce, hairy Kradens ruled. Darek swallowed hard. His father and brother were still in Krad somewhere, and Pola’s and Rowena’s fathers too. That is—if any of them were still alive.

  Darek heard a shout and turned to see Pola and Rowena coming up the road.

  “How’s he doing?” asked Rowena. She hopped up on the fence and nodded toward the scar on Zantor’s neck. Zantor and Darek had both been wounded by arrows in their escape from Krad.

  “Good as new,” said Darek. “Look at him.”

  The three friends watched as Zantor charged the other two dragons in a play battle. Drizba and Typra reared and screamed in mock terror. Darek, Pola, and Rowena laughed.

  “How about you?” Pola asked then. “How’s the leg coming along?”

  Darek rubbed his thigh. “A little stiff still, but nothing I can’t handle. Any further word on our punishment?”

  “No.” Rowena bit her lip. There was a law in Zoriak that anyone caught venturing into the Black Mountains was to be put to death. Pola did not need to worry. He had been carried into the mountains by accident. But Darek and Rowena had gone after him willingly. Under Zorian rule, when a child under twelve broke the law, the child’s father was made to suffer the punishment, even if that father was Chief Elder, like Rowena’s father. But Darek’s father and the Chief Elder were gone, along with Pola’s father and Darek’s brother. They had gone into the Black Mountains too, to search for the children. And they had not returned.

  “It’s all so confusing,” Rowena went on. “Mother says the elders can’t decide what to do. I worry what will happen when our fathers get back, though. Zarnak, the acting chief, seems very fond of that crown on his head. I think he will be all too glad of a reason to put my father to death.”

  Pola shook his head firmly. “Your father has too many friends on the Council,” he said to Rowena. “And Darek, your father is one of the most respected men in the village. Don’t worry about that old law. It was only made to scare Zorians away from the Black Mountains for their own safety.”

  “That’s not quite true,” said Rowena. “It was also meant to prevent Zorians from going over the mountains and provoking the Kradens, if they in fact existed.”

  “Thrummm, thrummm, thrummm!” The young dragons had noticed the children and come loping over. They stuck their heads on top of the fence to be petted.

  “Here,” Darek said, pulling some sugar cubes from his jerkin pocket. He handed a few to Pola and Rowena. “Zantor reminded me yesterday that he loves these.”

  The three children held out the cubes and thwippp, thwippp, thwippp! The dragons gobbled them eagerly.

  “Have you gotten any more mind messages from Zantor?” Rowena asked Darek as they watched the dragons munch.

  “Shush!” Darek glanced back toward the house. “I don’t think my mother, or anyone else, should know what we’ve found out about Krad until we can figure out a way to get our fathers back.”

  “Why?” asked Rowena.

  “Because I don’t trust Zarnak. As far as I’m concerned, the less he knows, the better.”

  Rowena and Pola nodded their agreement.

  “The last memory I can get from Zantor,” Darek went on, “is when the arrow struck my leg. But . . . how did we get home? We made it through the mists somehow.”

  Pola and Rowena nodded again. They had learned from Zantor’s mind messages that the mists in the Black Mountains were poisonous. The poison was deadly to Kradens and robbed Zorians of their minds.

  “We’ve got to find out how we did it,” said Darek.

  “Why?” asked Pola. “What are you planning?”

  Darek glanced toward the house and then lowered his voice. “I’m going back,” he said.

  A wry smile slowly curled Pola’s lips. “When do we leave?” he asked.

  “I didn’t say we,” said Darek. “I said me. I’m already in trouble. You’re not.”

  Pola bristled. “Oh, right,” he said, “like I’d ever let you go alone. My father’s over there too, don’t forget.”

  “And mine!” Rowena put in.

  Both boys turned to look at her. “You’re not suggesting we take you back there?” said Darek. “It’s too dangerous!”

  Rowena crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes. “Nobody takes me anywhere,” she said. “I go where I please. And if I please to go with you, I will. Just like I did last time.”

  “Rrronk!” came a sudden cry. The young dragons had finished the sugar cubes and gone back to their games. Apparently Zantor had started playing a little too rough, knocking Drizba down. As Darek, Pola, and Rowena watched, Drizba got to her feet, threw back her head, and spread her wings.

  “Grrrawwk!” she screamed in a very convincing imitation of an angry full-grown Blue.

  “Rrronk, rrronk!” cried Zantor. He barreled across the field, leaped the fence in a single bound, and dove for cover behind Darek.

  “Wow,” said Darek, “she’s pretty impressive when she gets mad. I thought for a minute she was going to breathe fire.”

  “Who?” asked Pola, grinning widely. “Drizba or Rowena?”

  2

  “MOTHER?” DAREK CALLED.

  “Up here,” Alayah answered.

  Darek climbed the narrow, winding staircase to th
e garret.

  “Rrronk,” cried Zantor. Darek looked back and saw him wedged in the doorway. The garret stairs were too narrow for him.

  “Silly dragon,” said Darek. He went back down and pushed Zantor free. “Just wait here,” he said. “I’ll only be a moment.” Zantor’s head sagged. He rested his chin on one of the lower steps and watched sadly as Darek climbed up, out of his reach.

  Alayah was just closing an old chest as Darek entered the garret. She dabbed quickly at her eyes with her apron.

  “What are you doing?” Darek asked.

  “Nothing,” she said, “just . . .” Her voice trailed off.

  Darek walked over and crouched down beside her. “What’s in here?” he asked. Before his mother could answer, he lifted the lid and looked in. The chest was full of yellowed letters and baby clothes. Some of his father’s old uniforms, medals, and archery trophies were there too.

  “Just memories,” Darek’s mother said softly.

  Darek lifted out one of the trophies and sat with it on his lap. He thought of the days when he and Clep were small. Often, in the evenings, after supper, his father would set a target up beyond the barn and let them practice with his great bow. At first Darek had been too small even to bend the string, but his father would twine his fingers through Darek’s and help him pull.

  “You did it!” Clep would cry when the arrow found its mark. Then Darek would feel proud, even though he knew he couldn’t have done it without his father.

  Tears sprang to Darek’s eyes. How he missed his father and brother. Sadly he replaced the trophy in the chest. He was about to close it again when he noticed something in the corner. It looked like a mask of some sort.

  “What’s this?” he asked, lifting the object out.

  “Oh, that old thing,” his mother said, wrinkling her nose. “That was your great-grandfather’s battle mask.”

  “Battle mask?” Darek repeated. “I’ve never heard of a battle mask.”

  “The men haven’t used them since the Red Fangs disappeared,” Alayah explained.

  Darek’s ears perked up. There were still Red Fangs in Krad—hundreds of them! It was their breath that poisoned the mists in the mountains.

  “Why did the men wear masks to fight the Red Fangs?” he asked.

  “Something about their breath,” his mother replied. “It was poisonous, I think.”

  Darek’s heart thumped quickly as he turned the strange mask over in his hand. “And the masks filtered the poison out?” he asked.

  “I believe so.” His mother nodded.

  Darek couldn’t believe his ears. This was it! This was his answer! Now he could go back to Krad.

  “Are there any more of these?” he asked.

  “A few perhaps, in the archives in Elder Hall. Why?”

  When Darek didn’t answer right away, a cloud of fear darkened Alayah’s eyes. Her hand went to her chest.

  “What are you thinking?” she asked worriedly.

  Darek looked at her. He couldn’t lie to her—couldn’t leave her again without an explanation.

  “These masks make it possible for me to go after Father and Clep,” he said.

  A small cry escaped Alayah’s lips and tears filled her eyes again. “Oh, I was afraid of this,” she said softly.

  “I must go,” Darek said gently. “Please . . . don’t try to stop me.”

  His mother wiped her tears and put her arms around him. “I would try, if I could,” she said with a sigh, “but I know I can’t. Trying to stop you from following your heart is like trying to stop a river from flowing. You’ll only boil and churn until you find another way to burst out and rush away.”

  Darek looked up into his mother’s eyes. He’d never known she was so wise, and brave. “Thank you for understanding,” he said.

  “Thank you for giving me a chance to say goodbye this time,” she answered.

  3

  DAREK, POLA, AND ROWENA CROUCHED in the bushes below Elder Hall. The building was tall and imposing. Fierce stone dragon heads glared down at them from the rooftop. A pair of armed guards flanked the door.

  “How are we supposed to get past them?” Darek whispered.

  “Maybe there’s another way in,” said Pola.

  Rowena shook her head. “The back door is kept chained and barred,” she said. “There’s only one way in, and you’re looking at it.”

  “Then we need a decoy,” said Darek. He looked at Rowena.

  She frowned. “Why me?” she asked. “Why can’t one of you be the decoy?”

  “Because they all know you,” said Darek. “Your father’s Chief Elder.”

  “Which is why Zarnak hates me,” Rowena reminded him. “He’d love another chance to humiliate me and my family.”

  “But the guards are still loyal to your father,” said Darek. “They’ll help you. You know they will.”

  Rowena looked at Darek doubtfully. “What do you want me to do?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. Pretend you’re hurt or something.”

  Rowena huffed. “I don’t like it,” she said. “Why do I have to be the damsel in distress while you get to have all the fun?”

  Darek snorted. “Fun?” he said. “Sneaking around in the dungeons of that creepy old hall? I’d be happy to trade places, but be serious. If Pola or I go up there and fall on our faces in front of those guys, they’ll just laugh their heads off.”

  Rowena rolled her eyes. “All right, I’ll do it,” she said. “But I won’t like it.”

  “Nobody’s asking you to like it,” said Darek. “Just get going, okay? Time’s wasting.”

  Rowena slipped around to the side of the building and back down the hillside. Darek and Pola crept farther up the bank. They waited, hidden, just below the front steps.

  “Lady Rowena!” they heard one of the guards shout after a while.

  “Good morning,” they heard Rowena call from below. Then a cry. “Aaagh!”

  Darek winked at Pola. “Very convincing,” he whispered.

  “Milady!” both guards cried at once. They dropped their lances and hurried down the stairs.

  Darek and Pola crept out of the bushes and up the steps, keeping deep in the shadows.

  “Oww, oww, oooh,” they heard Rowena moan.

  They could see her writhing on the ground with both guards bent over her.

  “Hurry,” said Darek as he pushed one of the great doors open. Both boys slipped inside, scurried for a dark corner, and stopped to catch their breath.

  There was no one in sight. They listened for voices or footsteps, but there were none. Elder Hall was silent and forbidding, lit only by flickering torchlight. Darek and Pola stared in awe. Neither had ever been inside before. They were in a small entry hall. An arched doorway beyond led into the council room. Darek and Pola crept forward to have a better look.

  “Wow,” whispered Darek. Adorning the walls were dragon skins of all colors. They hung at angles as if diving out of the sky. Their tails curled up and across the great, high ceiling. Their glassy eyes were fixed on the council table, which stretched the length of the room. Their mouths gaped open, fangs barred, in imitation of battle screams. On an elevated platform at the far end of the room stood the Chief Elder’s throne. It was carved in the shape of a sitting dragon. The head was real—it was the stuffed head of a Great Blue.

  Darek shuddered. “I’m glad we didn’t bring Zantor,” he said.

  Pola nodded. “Yeah. Let’s get this over with. This place gives me the creeps.”

  Darek looked around. To one side of the front doors a stairway wound down into darkness.

  “Grab a torch and follow me,” he said.

  He and Pola grabbed the two closest torches and started down. The stairs grew steeper and narrower as they went. At the bottom was a long, narrow passageway with doors opening off each side.

  “Where do we start?” asked Pola. “We don’t have much time. Those guards aren’t going to listen to Rowena whine forever.”

  Da
rek pushed a door open and thrust his torch inside. “Lord E . . . !” he cried.

  “What is it?” asked Pola, trying to peek around him.

  “I think it’s an old dungeon of some kind,” Darek whispered. “Look.”

  He stood to one side and Pola peeked in. The room was so thick with cobwebs, it was hard to see. Chains dangled from ceiling and walls.

  “Lord Eternal,” whispered Pola.

  “And we thought the Kradens were cruel,” said Darek. “Looks like Zorians can be pretty cruel too.”

  Suddenly they heard something overhead. It sounded like footsteps. Darek and Pola froze. A minute went by, then two. The sound didn’t come again.

  “Our imaginations must be playing tricks on us,” said Darek. “Come on. Let’s find those masks and get out of here.”

  They peeked into a number of other chambers and cells, until at last they came to a room filled with dusty trunks and cupboards.

  “This looks like the archives,” Darek whispered. “Hurry.”

  They put their torches into holders on the walls and started tearing open drawers and throwing back the lids of trunks. They found stacks of old books and scrolls, chests full of rusted armor and old weapons.

  “Here they are!” Pola cried at last.

  Darek ran over and looked down. In the chest at Pola’s feet lay a mound of battle masks.

  “Great!” cried Darek. He grabbed several of the masks and shoved them inside his shirt. Pola did the same.

  “That should do it,” said Darek. “Let’s go.”

  They turned toward the door, but then froze in their tracks. Leaning against the doorframe, arms folded over his chest, was Zarnak!

  “Interested in history, are you, boys?” he asked wryly.

  4

  DAREK, POLA, AND ROWENA WAITED off to one side. Their mothers stood before Zarnak. The battle masks lay in a heap on the council table.

  “Why were your children in the archives?” Zarnak demanded. “What use have they for these masks?”