The Lazy Dragon and Bumblespells Wizard (14 page)

“Cl'rnce! HELP!”

Moire Ain shook her head. “Sir George, you are more trouble than a herd of cats! How did you get in this predicament? I'll get help.” She turned around on the boulder that hung over the clear pond and yelled again, “Cl'rnce! HELP!”

When she finished, she turned back to watch Sir George sink a third time, then splash his way back up to the surface. “Help me, girl!”

Moire Ain crept to the edge of the rock. “Help is coming.” She heard Cl'rnce thrashing his way through the thick bushes and trees. And she heard him cursing. This time the words he used to curse were very interesting. Not like “stupid pigsty dummy head” or “rotten frog farts,” like she would have said. But he said something about cursing a branch into growing backward and up into someone's—

Cl'rnce emerged from the forest. A branch from his right smacked him in the snout as he batted away a thicker one on his left side.

Moire Ain said, “I knew you could do magick! You cast a spell on that branch! It's like it's alive.”

Cl'rnce rolled his eyes. “Everything on a tree is alive. No magick. I broke the branch, which will go very hard with the wood elves. Pooped-on-dr'gon scales, I'll have to pay them a fine. And for what? You're perfectly okay. Why did you call me like you were being killed by Nasty Sir George?”

“Not me. Sir George.” She pointed to the bobbing knight. His nose and mouth were barely above water, but he wasn't splashing much. “I think he's drowning. We have to help him.”

Cl'rnce edged to the tip of the boulder and stared down. “Yep. Hi there, Nasty Sir George. Nice day for a bath. Save some for us.” He turned away, smiling.

Raspberries landed on Cl'rnce's shoulder, croaking like he was laughing along with the dr'gon. Moire Ain held out her arm. “Come here, Raspberries! It's not funny to let someone drown. We have to help.” She used her best serious stare. Raspberries quit croaking, fluttered to her arm, and muttered softly. She turned to Cl'rnce. “Hurry. Go get him out of there.”

Cl'rnce shook his head. “Nope. He tried to kill me. At least once today, and if he'd been able to stay on that kelpie, twice. All in one day, I'd like to remind you. Let him swim out on his own.”

“Cl'rnce, please. He's drowning. You can't let him
die. Dr'gons are the guardian angels of humans. I saw it in the pictures in my book. You are one of the good guys.”

“Not all dr'gons are good guys,” Cl'rnce muttered. “Take Philomena Flannach of the Geilt clan. I'm pretty sure she killed my father. Maybe I'm one of those Killer Dr'gons.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Moire Ain said as she tugged on a long vine. She leaned all her weight into her tug and almost pulled it free of the tree it climbed around. If Cl'rnce refused to help, she'd throw the vine to Sir George and drag him out herself.

Cl'rnce plucked the vine out of her hands. When he began to tie a noose in one end, she started to protest. “You aren't going to try to hang him while he's drowning?” she asked. If only she could do un-bumblespelled and reliable magick, she could raise Sir George up out of the water and float him over to the pond's bank. She reached for her pouch to get her book. But her pouch was gone. “
NO!
” she screamed.

“
Yes!
” Cl'rnce said. “I'm going to pull him out, if he'll hang on.” He threw the looped vine at Sir George. The frantic knight grabbed at the noose but missed as he sank again. “Suppose he'll float back up?” Cl'rnce peered into the water.

“Come on. We have to go after him.” Moire Ain felt the stupid tears start to build up again. In her whole
life, she'd never all-out cried, never before today. It was like she was falling apart. And maybe she was. She'd run away believing she could learn magick to protect herself, lead a life she'd be proud of, and not be a pawn used to kill a king. But the book she needed was gone. She couldn't do magick without it. And Cl'rnce didn't care that a human being was about to die. He was no better than Hedge-Witch.

“Oh, for poopy dr'gon scales' sake, don't cry,” Cl'rnce said. Paw over paw, he pulled the vine back in and threw it back at the spot where Sir George's armored hand was visible just below the surface. “If he doesn't grab it this time, I'll go in.”

“You can swim?” She sniffled, relieved that at least this time she hadn't started bawling. She willed Sir George to bob up one more time and grab the vine.

“Of course I can swim. I'm a River Dr'gon. I'm an expert. Really.” He stared down. “Hmm. I guess he's not coming back up. You think he's still alive?”

“Please! Save him!” Moire Ain couldn't stand to see anything die. Once, she'd nursed a spider that had foolishly set up its web in the corner of Hedge-Witch's hut, near the poisonous plants. The fumes had nearly killed the creature.

“I think he's floating back up,” Cl'rnce said.

Sir George's hand twitched a bit but didn't rise.

The dr'gon sighed and waited another second, like
he was hoping Moire Ain would tell him to forget it. When she just stared at him, he said, “Fine. Here I go.” Cl'rnce handed Moire Ain her book, stepped back, and started to take a running jump into the pool. But as he neared the edge of the boulder, he tripped on the rest of the vine and skidded backward, landing on his back. His head hit the boulder hard. His eyes closed, and he began to snore.

“My book!” Moire Ain hugged it to her. She would have thanked Cl'rnce, but when he began to snore, she realized she was all on her own. The knight was drowning, and she wasn't strong enough to swim out and carry an armor-covered knight back to shore. There wasn't time to search the book for a picture of a spell she could try to figure out. She did the only thing she could think of. She put together the first words that came to mind. “Float like a cloud, Sir George. Rise NOW!” She repeated it three times, as quickly as she could spit out the words, picturing the knight dripping water but floating over the pond's surface like a big, rusty cloud.

No sooner did she finish the last repetition than Sir George's limp body lifted out of the water. It hung face down in the air, raining water just like the cloud she had imagined. Moire Ain held her breath. Was it too late? Had he drowned?

Raspberries took off from her shoulder and buzzed over the knight, pecking at his helmet. Flying by again,
the raven pecked two more times. The third time, the rusty knight groaned.

“Hurray, you're alive!” Moire Ain cheered. “You're okay.”

Sir George raised his dangling chin enough to peer at her through the slit in his helmet. “I'm not okay. I'm hanging over a pond that tried to drown me. Get me out of here.”

“You really are rude,” Moire Ain spat back at him. “I saved your life, and you're not a bit grateful.”

“Get me out of here, and I won't kill you,” Sir George said. “Is that grateful enough?”

“Or you could just hang in the air until you figure your own way out, and I could leave. You can't kill me if I'm not here,” Moire Ain snapped back at the mean knight. She didn't want to tell him she had no clue how to move him. She started to picture how winds moved clouds, but stopped when he jetted to the far end of the pool, flipped over, and jetted back. Focusing hard, Moire Ain pictured him just floating again. “I guess that counts as a bumblespell,” she said. “I added a bit more than I should have.”

Since she had her book back, she considered finding a book spell. But then she wondered: what would happen if she freed Sir George completely? Cl'rnce was still out cold and helpless. The knight wasn't very nice, and something made her suspect a trick; plus, he might be
working with Hedge-Witch. Would he take advantage and kill Cl'rnce? If the knight gave her his knight's word, she might trust him. “If I move you to firm ground, will you go away and leave Cl'rnce and me alone? Give me your Knight's Honor oath that you will?” she asked.

“Maybe,” Sir George said.

“Wrong answer.” Moire Ain sat down next to Cl'rnce. She opened her book, then looked at Cl'rnce. He needed to wake up before the knight figured out on his own how to get out of hovering over the pond. She pushed on Cl'rnce's shoulder. He groaned and rolled to his side. “Come on, Cl'rnce, get up. Sir George is out of the pond, and we need to get out of here.”

“Get me down!” Sir George yelled.

“No,” Moire Ain said. “You'll hurt Cl'rnce. I won't let you do that.” The cursing knight was definitely mean enough to be working with the old witch.

“It's my job to hurt Cl'rnce, just like it's your job to do magick. Now get me onto the land!” Sir George yelled louder. He thrashed around.

Moire Ain held her breath, not sure if she hoped he would thrash himself back into the water or keep floating. He was her enemy, but she was not a killer.

He managed to flip again in the air.

She turned the pages of her book while Sir George cursed in far more colorful and common language than Cl'rnce had used. She found pictures of levitation spells,
which even without the Old Dr'gon translation didn't look much like the one she'd used to float Sir George. She skipped further into the book and found a picture of a spell for waking a sleeping princess. Moire Ain glanced over at Cl'rnce. He was drooling now, quite a pool of sticky, slightly purple dr'gon goo forming under his muzzle. His snores sounded a lot like a landslide and a pig snort wound together. He definitely didn't look like any princess she'd ever heard about. But he had said something about becoming the next Primus of the River Dr'gons. That was royalty, a king. Princess, king, royalty.

She shrugged and studied the several pictures on the princess-waking spell. Scattered on the page were words, maybe a third of which were in her language. Since Cl'rnce wasn't a princess, maybe all she needed was those few words. Maybe the part she could read would be enough. “Wake Sleeping Beauty,” she repeated three times.

Sir George stopped cursing and started laughing. “Beauty? Are you talking to the dr'gon? Cl'rnce of the River Dr'gons? He may be the most arrogant and conceited dr'gon, but he's the only one who thinks he's beautiful.”

Raspberries croaked out a laugh. Moire Ain snickered and covered her mouth. She couldn't help herself. Cl'rnce really was about the vainest being she'd ever
run into. Although he thought she didn't see him doing it, he took every opportunity to admire himself in anything that reflected his face. She didn't know what made a beautiful dr'gon, but Cl'rnce certainly would say it started and ended with him.

Cl'rnce's snores stopped, and he sat up. “What happened? Why is everybody laughing?”

Nasty Sir George swallowed a laugh, coughed, spit, and grumbled. “Get me down. Now!”

Cl'rnce growled back. “No way. I like you helpless.” He got up and looked from the water to the floating knight. Cl'rnce shot a look at Great and Mighty and pointed at her and back at the knight. “You did this?”

She nodded and smiled.

It was a bit of a surprise that the little wizard want-to-be had been so successful at saving Nasty Sir George, but then the knight was caught in the air, so maybe she was still a bit of a bumblespells wizard.

While Nasty Sir George was helpless, Cl'rnce decided to get information from him. “You tell me why you're trying to kill me.”

Cl'rnce wanted the knight to say it was just for a River Dr'gon trophy. But when George shook his head, Cl'rnce knew it was bigger. Nasty Sir George wouldn't miss a chance to brag unless someone else bigger and nastier was involved. Cl'rnce stabbed a sharp claw at the
knight and added, “And where did you get the goblin horse and the kelpie?”

Nasty Sir George shook his head again. “Get me down,” he said, not yelling this time but with a discouraged droop in his voice.

“Answer me.” Cl'rnce wasn't buying the poor sad knight act. He strode to the edge of the pond and leaned out. With all his claws out and taking a swipe at Nasty Sir George, he only missed the knight by a few inches. “I'm going to catch you and drown you myself,” Cl'rnce said.

“
NO!
” Great and Mighty threw herself in front of Cl'rnce. “You can't hurt anyone. That's not right.” She inched closer to Cl'rnce on the mossy rock, but her foot slipped on a wet spot, and she slid toward the water.

Cl'rnce grabbed for her as she skidded off the ledge. He snagged a bit of her robe, and for a moment, she hung angled backward over the pond, her arms pinwheeling as she grabbed at a sapling growing out of the boulder. But her fingers missed, her robe ripped, and she fell into the pond.

“Oh, great,” Cl'rnce said. “I'm coming.” This would be easy. He was the best swimmer of all the River Dr'gons. He squatted to push himself off the rock ledge into one of his elegant dives. This was his most graceful—head down and arms, legs, and tail spread wide until just before he hit the water. He called it the Dying Swan. Before he broke the pond's surface, he would bring his
ever so graceful arms over his head and cut the water without so much as a splash.

“I wouldn't do that, if I were you,” Nasty Sir George said, then slapped a gloved hand over his mouth.

Cl'rnce straightened up, first shooting a look at the knight, then staring at the water. The little wizard had gone under and not come up. “Where is she? I have to get her. She should have bobbed up by now.”

Nasty Sir George sounded like he really regretted helping, but he said, “I told you. The pond tried to kill me. If I hadn't been covered in iron, I would have been eaten alive.”

“What? You mean the kelpie is in there?” Cl'rnce looked for the tell-tale whirlpool of a kelpie on a circle-hunt.

“No. Or maybe. I don't know,” said Nasty Sir George. “If you get me to dry land, I'll help you save the little wizard.”