To Enter a Tapestry

Chapter Six -- On dragon's wings.

Monica was too amazed to be frightened. It had happened so quickly. The dragon's red eyes had held hers even as he had dashed Rhondin out of the way, and then his head had reared up on its long neck and she had found herself grasped against its cold chest by scaly forelegs. The embrace was surprisingly gentle. At first all she was aware of was the beating of his wings in rhythm with the beating of her own heart and then she saw the ground swirling away from her, Rhondin standing and running forward, staring up into the sky after her, Jolie clinging to Naragor who was in turn clinging to Dep.

Her first thought was relief that Rhondin was unhurt, her next thought was for herself. Where was the dragon taking her? Looking down was beginning to make her feel sick as she and the dragon rose ever more swiftly, spiralling up to dizzying heights.

They swung hard to the east and flew straight for the rocky cliff. Rushed toward it at such unnatural speed Monica was certain she would be dashed against the jagged rocks. Why had she ever said that nothing really dangerous could happen to them in another world? What would happen if she were to die right now? Would her crushed body fall out of the tapestry into Auntie Vanda's bedroom, or would no one ever know of the end that had befallen her?

Monica didn't have more time for any other philosophical thoughts. The cliff face was approaching so rapidly that all she had could do was to close her eyes and scream. But instead of being bashed upon the rough edges of stone, the dragon performed a tight turn, the rushing air stilled, and she dropped from the dragon's talons upon something soft that broke her fall. She opened her eyes and saw that she was in an immense cavern, the walls encrusted with sparkling crystals that reflected from one to the other to make it bright and cheery. She looked down to make out what she was lying upon and saw that it was a large round bed with a beautiful embroidered eiderdown. She turned to see that the dragon had landed a few yards away from her and was glaring at her with its red eyes.

"Well, eat me, why don't you?" she cried. "Just get it over with!"

The dragon cocked its head on one side and suddenly Monica realised it wasn't glaring at all. It actually appeared to be quite mournful. In fact, there was a tear rolling down one scaly green cheek.

"Okay, I'm sorry," she said. "I guess I misjudged you. But what was I to think, the way you swept down and caught me like that. I thought I was your prey. Why did you grab me, then?"

The dragon looked a little mollified. It opened its mouth but no words came out, only a dragonly hiss and a few curls of smoke. It quickly shut its mouth and covered it with one of its taloned forepaws.

"I'm not a princess, you know, so there's no use keeping me here to get rescued by a knight. I'm just an ordinary girl."

The dragon rested on its haunches and dragged its talons across the stone floor. It made a few indecipherable scrapings and then sighed and flopped its head down on the edge of the bed.

"Were you trying to write?" asked Monica.

The dragon nodded.

"How does a dragon know how to write?"

The dragon pointed at his chest and then shook his head.

"You don't know how to write?"

The dragon waved his talon and shook his head again.

"Ok -- you know how to write, but for some reason you can't write."

The dragon nodded and its lips moved into a grimace that just might be taken for a smile.

"So -- we have to find some other way to communicate."

The dragon nodded again, then pointed at his chest and shook his head.

"You agree with me, but you don't agree with me?"

The dragon threw his forelegs out and fell backwards in exasperation, letting out a big cloud of steam at he did so, and a small flame. The light of the flame glanced from one crystal to another, zinging backwards and forwards across the whole expanse of the cave until it looked to Monica like it was completely on fire.

"Stop doing that!" she yelled. "You're freaking me out, and you're making the air so dry that my lips are getting chapped." Then she remembered the lip-gloss that was in her pocket. She pulled it out and applied it to her lips.

Oh fair maiden, would that you could understand me!

"My goodness!" cried Monica, looking all around. "Little bird, are you here?"

Tis not a little bird, but an incongruous flying beast, I fear.

Dragon? Is that you talking in my head?

Strangely, yes. I know not how it came about, but it is eminently preferable to the sign language I was attempting. How did you manage to achieve this extra-sensory communication?

I did it?

Well I most certainly did not, or I would not have been performing those foolish charades just now.

Monica thought for a minute. Earlier in the day the bird had been able to communicate with her, and now the dragon. Was there a common denominator? And then she had it. My lip-gloss!

I beg your pardon, young lady?

It was my lip-gloss! Monica pulled it out and waved it under his nose. See! I put this on earlier today and a bird spoke in my head. I put it on again now, and we are speaking together! It's like an instant translator stick. So, tell me Dragon, why did you bring me to this cavern?

I brought you to my eyrie because I am a dragon. That's what dragons do. It was feral instinct and nothing more.

What do you plan to do with me?

I want you to help me, if it is in your power, maiden.

Monica could feel the wistful longing in his words, and the underlying feeling of hopelessness as well. I will try my best -- but what can a young girl do to help a mighty dragon?

That is just the thing -- I am not a dragon.

Monica stared at the great beast in front of her. From everything she knew about dragons, and she didn't know much besides the fact that they were mythical beasts that looked something like huge lizards and could fly and breathe fire and liked to sleep on hordes of treasure, she could have sworn this was a dragon.
Then what are you, if not a dragon?

He sighed, a great lusty sigh that billowed white smoke and made Monica cough. My apologies. I have not been a dragon for very long and have not learned the art of controlling my inner fire.

I thought you said you weren't a dragon at all.

I am not. I am an ensorcelled prince. My wicked uncle turned me into a dragon so he could steal my kingdom from me. Can you help me beak this spell and find Princess Caramine?

The prince! The princess! This was the quest!

I will do whatever I can. My friends and I had just set out in search of you when you captured me. We will need them to help us -- I don't know what I can do stranded up at the top of the mountain like this.

Again, I apologise. The dragon in me grows strong during the day. At night I am more myself.

Night? Monica got off from the bed and walked to the great angled entrance they had flown through. She glanced around the edge of the rock and felt the wind. The sun had set and the sky was velvet black, ringed with stars. There was no leaving till morning light. She turned back to the cave, At least there was a bed, Even though she would have to share it with a dragon she was sure it would be more comfortable than a heap of swords and crowns and goblets, shields and necklaces and candlesticks, coins and jewels and medals, and whatever else it was that dragons liked to sleep on.

Monica suddenly felt cold. She ran back into the cavern and got onto the bed, rolling herself up in the luxurious eiderdown.

I hope you don't snore -- I don't want to wake up and find myself burned to a crisp.

Chapter Seven -- First course at a dinner for trolls.

When they got to the troll's hovel, the girls discovered that it was possible for something to reek more than the troll brother and sister that had captured them. The trolls lived in a shack half dug out of the hillside. The other half was made of logs and rocks, the gaps between them stuffed with mud and what looked like bones of an amazing array of shapes and sizes.

"Thars me maw!" yelled the boy troll. "You better tells her all yer news about the princess."

"We will," said Chisti.

The other girls looked at her in dismay. They knew nothing about any princess, and the mother troll was huger and uglier than her kids. And she was carrying a gigantic two-headed axe that was stained with blood.

"What a scrawny lot o' children you done brought me!" she cried in a great booming voice. "Good thing I killed us an ox for they isn't more than an appetiser. And I've whetted up a good appetite in the woods today."

"It's not food," said the daughter. "Though if you says I can eats them, I eats them fast."

"No, I eats them," said her brother. "Was my net! But they say they isn't food, Maw. They say they got secrets to tell you bout the princess and the bridge."

"You been talking to strangers bout the princess?" asked their mother, her eyes growing dark and fierce, her face turning a deep, angry red.

"Messengers, madam," said Chisti, bowing with a flourish. The rest of the girls took her lead and copied her bow. "We come from your master with new instructions about the princess and the bridge. He said we are not to be harmed -- especially not eaten by your children."

"What are these orders you brought me?"

"How many hours do you stand sentinel at the bridge now?"

"All the day! My weary bones -- and this lot do nothing to help. Running off in the woods with their nets behind me back -- isn't surprised if they's eatin the spoils without bringin them home ta me."

"Not us Maw!" cried the boy and girl.

"They are fine children, and very obedient, I must add," said Chisti. "You have no worries there. The master will be pleased. But he knows how overworked you are, guarding the bridge and keeping the princess safe."

"She be locked in the tower and the key thrown away, just as he wanted, and so you may tell him!"

"Very good indeed," said Chisti. "The bridge over the river leads to the tower and both are secure. The master will be pleased to hear that."

"Hah!" the mother troll cried. "Fat lot you know. The bridge be over the chasm, not the river back behind our house. And it leads to the impenetrable garden of thorns. Nothing leads to the tower."

"But the tower is beyond the chasm in the middle of the thorn garden."

"As he well knows." She eyed them suspiciously. "What be all this useless talk? I knowed everything we says already. Me thought you was telling me something new."

"Indeed," said Chisti, "I am. But the news must wait till tomorrow. We will go to the bridge together and I will explain the master's plan."

"Does this mean we isn't gonna eat them tonight, Maw?" asked the boy.

"You isn't gonna eat them never unless you behaves. Now makes me a fire you two lazy children -- we gots an ox to cook." She glanced over at the girls, her beady eyes hard on them. "You girls be wanting to share our food?"

"Oh, no thank you," said Chisti. "We have some of our own, if you don't mind."

"Mind? I was worried you was goin ta eat half me supper."

While the ox was roasting over a big bonfire, and the girl and boy trolls were busy ripping hunks of burning flesh out of the flames and eating them, Chisti showed the girls how to build their own, small fire, and she started cooking some of the grain Sindor had given them.

"Grain again?" said Tina. "I could go for a nice steak."

"Ask the trolls for a piece of barbequed ox, then," said Sharna.

"Ew, no! It reminds me of that stupid pig roast over at Uncle Rich's that summer, remember Roxanne?"

"I don't want to think about it. I don't want to see those trolls eat, or I won't be able to eat anything. They are so disgusting."

"Shh," said Chisti. "Don't let them hear you. We have to pretend to like them."

"What are we going to do about the princess?" asked Tina.

"We are going to tell them to do what the master told us," said Chisti. In a lower voice she added. "I know they are stupid, but I don't want to take any chances. Just follow my lead and agree with everything I say and I think we will be able to escape and save the princess too."

"What the master told us," said Roxanne, nodding exaggeratedly. "Of course -- we knew that."

Sharna grinned and Tina tried to stop herself from giggling. Roxanne stomped on her foot to help her. Once Tina got onto a giggling jag, it was almost impossible to stop her.

They ate their boiled grains beside their fire with their backs to the trolls. Unfortunately they could still hear all the slurping and grinding sounds and the loud belches that proved the trolls were enjoying their meal. By the time dinner was over it had become dark. The mother troll made them sleep in a back room of the hovel -- even though they were messengers from the master she wasn't taking any chances on them escaping.

The room was beaten out of the hillside mud. It was airless and humid and filled with the overpowering smell of must and rot, but that was much better than the rest of the house which smelled like the body odour of the trolls. They unrolled the bedrolls that they carried in their shoulder bundles and tried to get comfortable in the cramped, uneven space. Surprisingly they slept soundly though the entire night, even though the troll family's penetrating snores ripped throughout the house.

Chapter Eight -- When fools must lead.

Jolie was incredibly frustrated. Sure, she was walking through the woods with a great looking guy, but it wasn't as wonderful as it sounded. After all, a vicious dragon had carried Monica into the sky, and Rhondin had run after them in what Jolie now realised was a pathetic attempt to save her. How was he going to fight a dragon with a wooden sword, even if it did have the magic of cari trees in it? And to make everything worse, Dep kept mocking Naragor and smirking. He was such an idiot.

"So, where do you think the prince has been taken?" she asked Naragor, looking up into his handsome face.

"He hasn't a clue," said Dep.

She glared at him. "Can't you even attempt to be supportive?"

Dep thought about it for a moment and then grinned, "I'll give it a try."

"I say we head for Lorgar's rock and ask the oracle," said Naragor. "He must know of all the hiding places in the forest."

"If you ask me," said Dep, "I think the prince is enchanted. He could have been turned into a tree by his wicked uncle, for all we know, and we'd never be able to find him -- one tree looks much the same as another in a forest such as this."

"A tree?" asked Naragor. "You think the Prince could be a tree and I not recognise him? I would know him whatever form he took. I have protected him all my life -- we are like brothers."

Dep shrugged. "Or he could be a mouse," he said.

"You are being such a great help," said Jolie.

"I am simply pointing out that we might not know the prince when we see him. I don't think that charging through the forest to talk to an elusive oracle is going to help much. We have to go back to the castle and study the clues, interrogate the witnesses, or better yet, torture Duke Fremor until he confesses what he has done to his nephew."

"There are no clues," said Naragor. "The fire in the bedchamber burnt them all. And Duke Fremor has at least a hundred bodyguards trained in all the highest forms of fighting."

"I'm sure there are only ten at the most," said Dep. "Don't tell me a great dragon-slaying knight like you can be scared away by ten common soldiers."

Naragor stopped and pulled his sword from its scabbard. "Call me craven will you?"

"I thought I already had," said Dep, dancing out of the way of the blade, "But if you insist . . ."

"Stop it!" cried Jolie. "Naragor, ignore Dep -- he's just being a fool. Is he the court jester or something? Going into the forest to ask the oracle is a way better idea than fighting a hundred trained bodyguards -- that would the act of an idiot, not a coward."

"Don't say I didn't warn you," said Dep, as Naragor sheathed his sword and took Jolie's hand to lead her through the trees.

Half an hour later they were in forest that was so thick they could barely slash their way through it with Dep's machete.

"I'm sure we should have turned left at the hollow tree," he muttered under his breath.

Naragor pointed east and said, "My sense of direction is one of my greatest attributes. We will continue this way, due west, and be at Lorgar's rock before sundown."

"Whatever you say, fearless leader," said Dep, "but I think you might want to invest in a compass."

"Which way do you think we should go?" asked Jolie.

Dep pointed in the opposite direction.

"But we just came from there!"

Dep shrugged.

"Well, I'm following Naragor -- he's the one with the good sense of direction. I don't even know how you can see where you are going with your hat pulled down over your eyes like that."

They continued on and the forest opened up once more. Dep was able to put away his machete and now he walked along whistling, with his hands in his pockets, staying a full two paces behind Jolie and Naragor.

Naragor was telling Jolie all about his fearsome battle with the dastardly dragon that had laid siege to the kingdom ten years earlier.

"He was swooping down upon me, breathing great plumes of fire. I stood my ground, for I knew I had to plunge my trusty sword through his bared breast and directly into his callous heart."

"Kind of like what he did this afternoon when the dragon captured Monica," said Dep from behind.

Jolie ignored the comment. "And then what happened?" she said, as she admired Naragor's strong, stubbled jaw and the dimple in the middle of his chin.

"I do not want to scare you, dear maiden, but I was certain I had breathed my last. The heat was searing, flames surrounded me, my blade turned red hot in my hand, but I waited until I could see the rift between the scales and then I thrust my sword up, parting . . ."

Naragor's narration ended abruptly when both he and Jolie suddenly sunk neck deep into quicksand.

"Why, we've arrived at the Dell of Shivering Sands!" said Dep. "Oh, yeah, that's not really where we wanted to go."

"Can you stop being a wise guy and get us out of here?" Jolie yelled.

"Why don't you let Sir Galahad there rescue you?"

"He's just as stuck as me -- and sinking faster!"

Naragor's dimpled chin was now under the sand. "Help," he sputtered as sand filled his mouth. Soon one hand was all that was left of him.

"Aren't you going to do something?" cried Jolie.

"No," said Dep, sitting down cross-legged to watch. "I find this all rather fascinating."

"But . . . but we are going to die if you don't!" Jolie was getting desperate. She wriggled around trying to free herself, but it only made her sink deeper. All she could think was that if she ever got out of there alive, she'd strangle Dep and feed him piece by piece to jackals.

"It'll just be a moment now," he said, a smile of anticipation on his face.

"You are so sick!" cried Jolie, and then she shut her mouth as her head went under. A moment later there was a strange gurgling and then a weird turbulence bubbling all around her. She felt herself being bounced around by the liquid mass of sand until there was a huge eruption and the next thing she knew, she was flying through the air. She landed with a thud on top of Naragor who had been thrown out with her. Dep was standing over them both and holding his hands out.

"That was truly amazing!" he cried. "I've heard about it, but never seen it before. The great belch of the Shivering Sands!"

"You knew what was going to happen and you didn't tell me?" asked Jolie.

"Why spoil the surprise? I thought it would take the fun out of the whole experience."

"Fun!" cried Jolie as he pulled her up to her feet. "I'll show you fun!" She waited till Dep let go of her hand and was leaning over to help Naragor up. She gave him a hard push that set him off balance and rolling into the gelatinous sand. "See how you like it now!"

She had to admit it was find of funny to watch him struggle in the sand and to see how he sank faster the harder he struggled. Soon he disappeared from sight. Naragor was standing now, and they both stared at the smooth surface of the sand, disturbed only by the occasional bubble.

"I must save him," cried Naragor, striding forward and then stopping just short of the edge of the sand. He made no other effort to do anything. "He is lost! Ah, Dep! My loyal page, I have failed you. Now I only have this fair maiden to help me rescue the prince. But I swear on this very sand that sucked you to your doom that I shall continue my quest in your honour! You, who have toiled by my side, day in, day out, for nigh on five years . . ."

Jolie had stopped listening to Naragor. What had she done? Dep had been under the sand much too long. She had been belched out immediately.
"Dep!" she cried. "I never meant for anything like this to happen!"

She lay down on the ground and reached her arm into the sand. "Hold my feet!" she yelled to Naragor, "I'm going to try to find him and pull him out."

Jolie held her breath and pushed her way down into the quicksand, all the time reaching for some part of Dep. She felt something solid and grabbed on. It seemed to be his wrist, Just then she realised she hadn't given Naragor a code for when to pull her out. She wiggled her legs, hoping he would understand what it meant, but instead, he lost hold of her ankles and she felt herself slipping deeper into the sand until her whole body was under again.

‘Oh, God, now I'm really in trouble,' she thought.

Then the sand bubbled and heaved once more and she found herself thrown through the air again. This time Dep landed on her. His hat had fallen off and she could see his face for the first time. His eyes were closed and his skin was pale, and she couldn't tell if he was breathing or not. She rolled out from under him and lay him flat, resting her head against his chest to see if she could hear him breathe. There was no sound.

"Do you know CPR?" she yelled to Naragor as she began to pummel Dep in the chest.

"Crown Prince Royal?" he asked. "We are on a quest to save him, if you recall. But how fares my loyal page? He cannot be dead?"

Dep began to choke and cough, then he sat up. "Are you trying to kill me, girl?" he asked.

"So, don't thank me for trying to save your life!"

Dep grabbed his hat and put it back on his head, pulling it down over one eye again. "As you wish," he said. Then he smiled and held his hand out to her. "That was just as much fun as you promised. Would you care for another go?"

Jolie ignored him and turned to Naragor. "I hate to say this," she said with a sigh, "but I think we have to go back in the opposite direction until we come to a hollow tree."

As they walked through the forest again, Jolie kept glancing over at Dep. His hat was covering his face again, but she couldn't forget how he had looked, his eyes closed, his face still and white, his hair all tangled. He had reminded her, in that frightening moment, of Edward Scissorhands.

Chapter Nine -- To hunt a dragon.

Rhondin charged along the trail and into the forest, ignoring the cries from behind. He could not believe that none of them had been able to stop the dragon from carrying Monica away. Naragor was supposed to be a notorious dragon slayer but he had acted more scared of the dragon than anyone else. And then they had refused to help him try and rescue her! He didn't care what anyone said and what their task was supposed to be, but Monica was more important than any stupid prince. Not that the prince was stupid. Rhindin sighed. It was just that he was incredibly worried about Monica.

He tried to keep his eyes on the mountains so that he would go in the right direction, but the forest thickened and the path narrowed and began to wind like a twisting snake. Soon he couldn't see the mountains at all, so he had to rely on his sense of direction. Every fifteen minutes or so he took a break from the quick hiking he was doing to climb a tree and make sure the forest had not tricked him into going the wrong way.

The mountains were very far away, and so tall, that Rhondin was afraid it would take him days to get there, if he could keep up his present pace, which was doubtful. Who knew what could happen to Monica in that time?

He needed some way to get there faster, but how? There was enough magic hidden in the forest to make it possible for him to grow wings and fly, but he had no idea how to access it. He kept trudging on, thinking about magical pinecones and enchanted toadstools. He even took out his Sword of cari wood because he knew it had some supernatural powers of its own, but he could not wish himself to the top of the mountain with it.

He walked along the path deep in thought, swishing his sword absently at the underbrush, when he unexpectedly came out into a clearing that was dominated by a massive rock. In a hollow in the centre of the rock sat a very old man. He was tiny, with a grey beard that draped across his knees. He was staring straight at Rhondin with strange white eyes that had pupils like a cat's.

"You need to fold space," the man said in a voice that sounded like the ringing of a church bell.

"What?"

"I only answer one question per visitor,"

"But I never asked you anything yet."

"Your question came to me long before you arrived, my son."

"I need to fold space?"

"That was my answer. Make good use of it."

The old man stood, and grasped at the air in front of him. He pulled his arm forward, and suddenly he, and the immense rock, were both gone. Before Rhondin's eyes, the forest thickened to fill the space where they once had been, until there was only the same winding path that Rhondin had been following for hours.

Rhondin rubbed his eyes. Had that been a dream, a hallucination, or had it really happened? The ancient man had seemed to understand he needed an answer to a question. Had his whole purpose in being there been for Rhondin's sake and nothing more? If so, the old guy must have been telling him how to use the forest's magic to get himself to the mountain faster. And his answer had been to fold space. How on earth was he supposed to do that?

Space was intangible. How was he supposed to fold something he could neither touch nor see? Rhondon thought about how the old man had reached out as if he were pulling something towards himself, and then disappeared. Was that what he was doing? Folding space? Reaching forward, Rhondin grabbed at nothing and pulled his hand sharply back. He felt a slight jerk, but nothing seemed to have happened. He tried again, this time focussing on a tree about five yards ahead of him. He reached out, grabbed at empty space, and pulled towards himself. His head hit the tree with a thud and he staggered back a step or two.

But it had worked. He'd folded space and gained five yards. What he needed to do now was figure out how to reach further, and how to avoid running into the object he was folding forward for.

Rhondin stared far ahead until he pinpointed another tree, then he focussed on the air about a foot before it, reached, grabbed, pulled, and found himself facing the tree. He did it again and again, each time looking deeper into the forest for his focal point. With each transition there was a bit of a jerk, a swift flash of movement in his peripheral vision, and a momentary feeling of nausea in the pit of his stomach.

By dusk he was out of the thick forest and in the lower reaches of the mountains, where the vegetation was sparse and the land all rocky. Two great peaks rose up into the darkening sky. Rhondin had no idea which of the two peaks the dragon had taken Monica to. He tried to scan them for caves, but from what he could see there were a number of caves spread about on the way up both craggy peaks.

He decided that all he could do was take a gamble and choose one, so he decided to begin searching every cave on the closest mountain of the two. He reached up as he had been doing for quite some time, grabbed space a foot before a rocky outcrop, and pulled. He suddenly found himself falling and grappling at the rocks as they rushed by. Scraped and bleeding, he pulled himself up onto the crag.

‘I'll have to adjust for the angle of the rock face.'

He searched the ledge he was on but found nothing more than an abandoned eagle's nest. He continued on, folding higher and higher, searching any hole or gap or cave that he could find, but there was no Monica and no dragon -- nothing. It was becoming so dark that he couldn't see well enough to focus properly on his next folding point. After smashing against a cliff wall so hard that he almost lost consciousness, Rhondin decided that he had better call it a night and continue searching in the morning. He wouldn't be of any use to Monica if he killed himself.

He found a crevice in the rock that he was just able to squeeze himself into. It was hard and cold, but it was out of the chill wind that was swirling around the upper reaches of the mountain, and it afforded some protection from whatever night predators there might be on the barren mountaintop.

Rhondin tried not to think of predators as he huddled in the crevice. He undid the bundle from his back and wrapped himself in the bedroll the best that he could, in an attempt at comfort and to keep in what little warmth there was. He also tried not to think of how frightened Monica must be, alone of the mountaintop with a fierce dragon. And he hoped more than anything else that Monica was still alive and safe, and had not been the main course in the dragon's dinner.

How he managed to sleep, he wasn't sure. He had no recollection of falling asleep, just of huddling interminably in the dark, his legs so numb that they had stopped shaking from the cold. But the sunrise hit his closed eyes with a light so bright that it woke him. He squeezed out of the crack that had housed him and tried to rub some life back into his stiff legs. Ever inch of his body ached from sleeping in such a cramped and hard place. The only consolation was that the sun, though it had barely risen, was taking the chill out of his bones.

There was a bag of grains in his bundle and a flask of drinking water, but nothing to make a fire to cook his food. He took a swig of the water and then popped some of the grains into his mouth, and chewed on them. Not the best of breakfasts, but it served to stave off his hunger. The important thing, though, was to find Monica. He drank again from the flask, and then packed up his bundle and tied it to his back.

Rhondin looked up and scanned the rest of the peak, He hadn't realised he had made it quite so high the evening before. He was almost at the very top. He looked down once, and wished that he hadn't because the height was dizzying. Staring up the cliff face again, he searched for the most likely spot that a dragon might use as a lair, but saw nothing that resembled the mouth of a cave deep enough to house such a great beast.

He felt his heart sink. He must have come up the wrong mountain. He would have to make the treacherous route down again, folding space as carefully as he could, and then start up the other mountain. He looked across at it and considered doing a fold directly from one peak to the other, but he couldn't trust himself to fold to a place so distant. If he made a mistake in judgement he could fold himself into empty space and hurtle towards the ground before he had time to do an emergency fold.

He sat and gazed down the mountain, barely warding off vertigo while seeking out likely points of projection, so that he could plan the safest route down. His head was beginning to swim, so he closed his eyes and lay on his back on the rough rock of the ledge. He opened his eyes again and stared up at the mountain peak, a bright silhouette against a sky that was turning a pale blue, tinted with creamy yellow. It was then he thought he saw a movement up in the crags. There was a flash of blue and yellow against the grey rock.

Monica had a blue dress with yellow trim! Rhondin stared hard at the place the flash of colour had come from. It hardly looked like a ledge was there at all, let alone the mouth of a cave. Still, he didn't think his eyes had played tricks on him. He focused, held his breath, reached upward, and folded.

Chapter Ten -- Dealing with a reluctant dragon prince.

Monica awoke to a strange rumbling sound. She opened her eyes and saw the dragon lying very close on the bed, his back facing her, his sides heaving in and out with his every breath. Little plumes of smoke curled up around him. He was snoring.

The room still gleamed with reflected light, though only one small lamp burned in the centre of it. Monica wondered what time it was, and slipped off the bed without disturbing the dragon prince. She tiptoed to the large fissure that led to the cavern entrance and looked around the corner. Golden light glowed at the mouth. She went forward, almost to the edge, and stood in the brightness of the newly risen sun. The wind had died down completely and the sky stretched away from the mountain, cloudless and streaked with lemon-yellow and persimmon.

She told herself not to look down, but the temptation was too strong. One glance ground-ward from that dizzying height was too much for her. She sank to the floor and crawled back behind the wing of rock. Resting against it, she took deep breaths, her eyes still closed. For a moment the world had whirled around so fast she had been afraid that she would fall. Now she was fearful she wouldn't even make it back into the cavern without fainting.

A sudden thunk made Monica's eyes flash open. Standing against the wall grasping at the jagged rock was Rhondin, wide eyed and anxious.

"Monica!" he said in an excited whisper. "You're alive! Did the dragon hurt you?"

She shook her head.

Rhondin held out his hand. "I'm here to rescue you -- let's go!"

Monica shook her head again.

"Quick, before the dragon notices. I don't want to fight him if I don't have to."

"You don't have to," Monica finally managed to say.

"Is he sleeping?"

She nodded.

"Then let's go before he wakes up. I can have you back in the forest in no time. We can hide in the dense underbrush -- he won't find us."

"There are only two fast ways down," said Monica. "Flying and falling. We can't do the first, and if we do the second, who will be left to save the prince? We'll be dead."

"We can fold space," said Rhondin. "How did you think I got here so quickly?"

"I had no idea," said Monica. "I've never been so surprised to see someone in my entire life. I couldn't even speak at first -- I was trying to figure out if you were a hallucination or a magic spell."

Rhondin came closer and caught her by the hands, pulling her up. "See, I'm real."

They hugged each other then, Rhondin out of relief that Monica was safe, and Monica because she was just so happy to see her friend.

"Let's get going," said Rhondin.

"We can't leave the dragon. We have to help him -- that's why we're here in this land to begin with."

"To help the dragon? I thought we were supposed to find the prince."

"The dragon is the prince. His wicked uncle cast a spell on him and we need to turn him back into a prince."

Rhondin's eyes brightened with interest. "Ensorcelled! But how do you know this?"

"He told me," said Monica.

"He can still talk?"

"No, but he spoke in my mind, just like the bird did. Come and meet him."

When Rhondin entered the sparkling cavern, he stared around in awe. Then he looked at the dragon, soundly sleeping on the bed, little whirls of smoke drifting from his nostrils as he breathed.

"I thought dragons were supposed to sleep on piles of treasure," he said.

"Not this one," said Monica. "And I'm so glad. That's about the most comfortable bed I've ever slept in."

"You should see where I had to sleep last night! I've got a crick in my neck that probably will never come out."

"Sit down and I'll give you a massage," said Monica, "And we can try to brainstorm ways to break the spell."

Rhondin sat on the edge of the bed and Monica kneeled on it behind him. "Crouch down a bit, it's hard on my arms at this angle. So, what do you know about magic?"

"Nothing. How about you?"

"Nothing as well." Monica pushed her thumbs into his neck and kneaded his shoulders. Rhondin let out a sigh. "But if you don't know magic, how can you travel by folding space?"

"Magic is all around us," said Rhondin. "We just have to discover how to harness it."

"How did you figure it out, then?"

"An old man told me. How are you able to talk in your mind with animals?"

"Magic lip-gloss."

Rhondin turned and stared at her. "What?"

"My lip-gloss that was in my pocket from home -- for some reason it's magic here. You'll need to use it if you want to talk to the dragon too."

Rhondin made a face. "The things one is forced to do to when on a quest."

"It's not so bad," said Monica. "It's strawberry flavoured."

"Great, now you've reminded me how hungry I am. Is there any way we can make a fire and cook some of our grains? I ate some raw ones this morning, but they are hard to chew."

"Make a fire?" asked Monica. "We've got a living breathing fire sleeping right beside us."

"So all we need is a cooking pot."

They got up and searched around the cavern till they found a wide pan leaning on its side in a corner. Monica wiped it clean with her skirt, and Rhondin piled up some sticks and twigs, which looked like the remnant of a disused eagle's nest. They poured some of their meagre supply of water into the pan and put a few handfuls of grain in to soak.

"When do you think he'll wake up?" said Rhondin, eyeing the dragon doubtfully.

"You'd better give him a nudge," said Monica.

"And have him blow fire in my face?"

"Oh, all right. I'll do it." She went over to the bed and leaned over the dragon, careful to stay over to one side. "Prince Egaldaron. Wake up," she said as she gave him a small shake on the shoulder. He only twitched and snorted. "Wake up, your highness!" she yelled more loudly.

The dragon woke up with a loud snort and a sudden burst of flame. The room suddenly flashed with orangey light.

Oops. I'm sorry Miss Monica. I hope I didn't hurt you.

I'm fine, prince, but we were hoping you could light a fire for us. We're hungry,

We? The dragon looked around and saw Rhondin. He bobbed his head in a hello and then turned back to Monica. Where did he come from?

It's a long story, but he's here to help us. Can you set that pile of sticks on fire?

I'd be more likely to burn it to cinders in a second flat, but I'll try.

The dragon leaned his head towards the sticks and breathed ever so lightly. They caught fire right away, and burned quite slowly with the weight of the pan on them, which was a good thing because there was no other kindling to be had.

As the cereal cooked, Monica and Rhondin talked, and Monica and the dragon talked, all of them trying to figure out spell breaking strategies.
Monica soon got tired of repeating everything the other two were saying, so she tossed her lip-gloss over to Rhondin and told him to put it on.

"How do I look?" he said, throwing it back to her.

"Definitely not your colour."

Maybe if we used some kind of incantation, the dragon said.

Hmm. Skin of newt, juice of quince, turn this dragon to a prince! tried Monica.

It's no joking matter, said the dragon. Anything you name in an incantation you must have, to put into a circle of light or throw into a fire, or into a witch's brew.

Do you know any magic? asked Rhondin.

Sadly, that part of my education is severely lacking, but I did once spy on my uncle and that's the sort of thing he did. I saw him change a gardenia into a lizard. He must have been practicing for a spell to work on me.

Do you remember anything he said? asked Monica.

The dragon sat and stared up at the twinkling ceiling, his forehead wrinkled up in thought. I think he said something about fire and night in the darkling light. Bring scale and claw and a dragon's maw.

They tried as many variations on this theme that they could think of. The candle was moved so that it shone more brightly off one group of crystals than the rest, throwing a golden bowl of light upon the floor. Monica threw her earrings into the middle of the circle, with the cry of "Silver and gold, do this I say. Turn dragon to prince in light of day!"

Night to day and fire to flints. Make this dragon back to a prince. Was the dragon's best effort.

"Scale and claw and long hoary snout, may this gold cast you out. With flame so bright it'll make us wince turn him again into a prince!" shouted Rhondin.

Try as they might, there was not one change in the dragon's appearance.

"I give up," said Monica. "Let's eat our breakfast."

They offered the dragon some but he admitted that he had been off his food ever since he had become a dragon.

I get these most horrifying urges to eat raw meat while it is still alive. I cannot bear the thought that I could harm some defenceless creature while in this form. I must be changed soon. And then we must find where they have imprisoned my beloved Princess Caramine.

Why don't you carry us on your back and we can fly over the kingdom and look for her? asked Monica

Oh no! I daren't go abroad. Why, look what happened when I went out yesterday. I captured you! This cavern is the only place I am safe. Here, at least, I can cling to my humanness. Outside who can tell what may happen? I become feral when the light of day sends its warm glow across my scales. I could be capable of any atrocity.

Monica and Rhondin looked at each other and groaned.

"I think he's being a bit melodramatic," said Rhondin, "After all, he didn't even try to hurt you. Didn't he say he captured you to help him?"

"You know what I think?" said Monica. "I think he's afraid to let his girlfriend the princess see him when he's a dragon, in case she might think twice about marrying him."

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