The Lazy Dragon and Bumblespells Wizard (18 page)

Picturing him with wide wings, she wished with all her heart that he could fly. “Fly dr'gon, fly dr'gon, fly dr'gon.” She whispered the chant she hoped would work.

She glanced down. The ground was not coming at them as fast as it had been a second before. She turned to Cl'rnce. Behind him, enormous wings stretched, catching the last of the setting sun's rays slithering between the fading forest light. His wings were a deep jade, and the dusky sunlight reflected a thousand shivers of light. It was like green stars were caught in his membranes. His supposedly stubby wings were at least twice as wide as he was long.

They glided to the ground. At the last moment, Cl'rnce's wings folded. Moire Ain and the dr'gon made a hard Cl'rnce's-butt-first landing.

“You have amazing wings! They're not a bit stunted.”

Cl'rnce started hiccuping. “They are? Honest to River Water! You are going to be the death of me. What
if my wings had not been big and beautiful? Before, I only used them to glide a little. I didn't really know … Hazel said there was a painful spell ….” Cl'rnce shook his hiccup-bouncing head. “What if we both had fallen and broken our necks?” With each hiccup, he bounced a little where he sat.

Moire Ain couldn't hold in her giggles. “But we landed on our butts. My butt's not broken; is yours?”

Cl'rnce's hiccups folded into a deep laugh, like boulders rubbing together or thunder getting ready to grumble. “We landed on
my
butt, and no, I'm not broken. This time. You can't sneak up on me.”

“Aren't you happy to know your wings are perfect? You can fly, I know you can. Well, if I can learn to be a for-real wizard and unlock the spell, then you'll be able to fly, not just glide.”

Cl'rnce grumbled, but before he could say anything, Raspberries streaked through the trees, dropping a large poop on Cl'rnce's head, and settling on Moire Ain's arm.

“You mangy little bag of feathers! Now you show up, you little river waters-infested …. I'm going to teach you to dump on me!” Cl'rnce jumped to his feet. His eyes were wide, rimmed in hot red. A bit of flame leaked out of his muzzle. As he stood breathing hard, his wings unfurled and stretched to fill the empty space between the trees. “Nobody poops on me! Come here, birdie, birdie.” He crooked a claw at Raspberries, rolling his lips back
from his sharp fangs.

“Leave Raspberries alone.” Moire Ain scrambled away from the out-of-control dr'gon.

“
No!
That miserable flying poop-fest has defecated on me for the last time!” Cl'rnce vibrated where he stood, but he did not move closer to Moire Ain and the perching bird.

Raspberries made the famous spitting noise he was named for and flew at Cl'rnce. The bird zoomed past the dr'gon, bombing Cl'rnce with another big splotch, this time on the dr'gon's wings. The dr'gon's reddening eyes focused on the bird. Cl'rnce turned, and his wings beat one down-stroke, lifting him just above the ground and settling him back down.

Moire Ain screamed. “No, Cl'rnce! Leave him alone. You can't fly yet. You'll hurt yourself and Raspberries. Don't try.” She wasn't sure who she was more worried about, or why Raspberries was picking a fight with Cl'rnce.

“Seems I can. Somebody lied about flying,” Cl'rnce said, his wings taking another beat down. His feet left the ground.

Raspberries jetted through the woods, back in the direction of the pool. Cl'rnce launched himself upward, his wings taking huge digs at the air. He took off after the raven. Moire Ain raced through the forest after them. Dodging sticking vines and leaping over logs and
boulders, she ran as hard as she could. She kept an eye on Cl'rnce high above her. She couldn't believe how well he flew. How could he have been so sure he couldn't?

She was so intent on watching Cl'rnce that she didn't see the sword held across her path. Tripping over the weapon, she fell face first into a soft mound of mushrooms. The fungi exploded, and spores flew into her nose and face. She choked and swiped at her eyes.

“Well, well. The little wizard.” Moire Ain recognized Sir George's voice. “You'll come with me.”

“
No!
” she yelled as a cold, iron hand grabbed her hair and pulled. She screamed “No!” over and over, trying to keep on her feet, still blinded by the spores. She managed to pull away for a second, but then a rusty arm knocked her back down. Before she could stand again, Sir George tied a rope around her wrists.

Moire Ain feared he would bind her feet next, so she tried to kick, but he was too close. When he stepped back without tying her feet, she struggled again to get up and run. But her legs wouldn't work. Nothing would. All she could do was lie where she was, tears gathering in her eyes from the spores. She tried to wiggle her hands, but even they wouldn't move. She was paralyzed.

It had happened so fast, her head whirled. All she knew was that if she couldn't run, at least she could scream. So she did. She had to warn Cl'rnce so he could escape from the rotten knight.

“Cl'rnce, run!” she screamed again and again.

Her eyes shut against the itching spores, she smelled Sir George's rotted rutabaga breath on her face. “Quiet! Or I'll silence you. You don't want me to silence you. There's this little hitch to silencing someone. When I do, they not only can't talk, but they can't swallow or breathe. It's not a good way to die. Want to die, want-to-be wizard?”

Moire Ain swallowed hard. She wanted to live, but she couldn't let Sir George get to Cl'rnce. So she screamed again, “Run, Cl'rnce!” The tears in her eyes made her vision blurry, but she made out Sir George digging something out of a saddlebag on a blood-red skeleton horse.

He held the wadded-up something and waggled his head at Moire Ain. “You asked for this.” Clanking his way back to her, he shook the rag at her. When he got to her side, her tears had now washed her eyes clean enough so she could see. Sir George's eyes were red slits behind the opening in his helmet. For the first time, he looked like something out of a nightmare, like the nasty knight Cl'rnce kept saying he was, not an iota like the helpless knight she had rescued at the pool.

Sir George stuffed the rag into her mouth. Gagging, she waited for her breathing to stop, for her world to go black and end. But other than the rag smelling like it had recently cleaned out a skunk den, nothing
happened. She couldn't scream again, but maybe she didn't have to.

Above Sir George, Moire Ain spotted a glowing Cl'rnce soaring through the sky, spitting fire at Raspberries, who flew just ahead of him. Would Cl'rnce see her on the ground? Or was he too focused on chasing the naughty raven?

Sir George leaned down closer to her, and then turned his head, following her gaze. “Ah, company,” he said. He picked her up and threw her over the back of the skeleton horse. At least this horse was not trying to get away from Sir George. Moire Ain figured it took a dead horse to get one that didn't want to bolt from the knight.

Sir George jumped on the steed and kicked its sides. Quieter than a gentle spring rain on a newborn leaf, they raced through the trees.

As they slipped deeper into the rapidly darkening woods, Moire Ain heard Cl'rnce yell, “Great and Mighty, where are you?”

“Which way did she go?” Cl'rnce yelled at Raspberries. Slowing his wingbeats so he didn't soar far ahead of the raven, Cl'rnce scanned the ground. He nearly spun out of the sky when Raspberries swooped onto his shoulder and pecked his head. Cl'rnce shook, trying to dislodge the pesky bird, but Raspberries grabbed his right horn and tugged. Cl'rnce tried to shake him off again, rolling his shoulders and bucking a bit like a bull with a burr in its backside.

Raspberries let go and flew in front of Cl'rnce and then darted upward. “Stop it, bird. I have to find Great and Mighty. I heard her scream. Where is she?”

Raspberries hovered in front of Cl'rnce and cawed, followed by the spitting noise that sounded a lot like a fair-sized dr'gon fart. Next, the raven took off and flew straight forward. Cl'rnce ignored the rude bird and continued to scan the forest below. If there hadn't been a moon, everything below would have looked like nothing more than a shadowy lump. He spotted owls asleep
in trees and skunks patrolling for food, but no Great and Mighty.

When Raspberries returned and dumped a big hot steamy one on Cl'rnce's nose, the River Dr'gon lost patience and chased the raven. He flew after Raspberries for five deep wing-beats and was close enough to snap the bird up. But Raspberries plunged down, then lifted up, dropped down, then flew up. Cl'rnce slowed. “What is wrong with you?”

Raspberries flapped in a circle around Cl'rnce, then took off to the east. Looking closely to figure out why the bird was acting even stranger than usual, Cl'rnce finally saw it. Glowing with the new night's shine on the rider's armor, a figure on a flying skeleton horse raced across the face of the moon. They flew in a direct line with a mountain. The mountain they swept toward glared dead-bone white in the distance.

“Ghost Mountain,” Cl'rnce breathed. “I didn't know we were so near. Well, close as the dr'gon flies. I'm not sure we would have made it in time walking, even with a week.” Cl'rnce took a deep breath. “I smell his rotten rutabaga stench. That's got to be Nasty Sir George flying to Ghost Mountain. Why?”

A wingbeat later, he reached the answer. “He knows I'm headed there. He's trying to trap me. I need Great and Mighty. I saw something in her book that we could use against Nasty Sir George. A spell to rust him in
place. Great and Mighty wouldn't want me to kill him, even though he deserves it.” Cl'rnce shook his head and tucked his chin to check below again. “Where is the little wizard?”

Raspberries flew straight at Cl'rnce and landed on his muzzle, gripping so hard Cl'rnce was sure the rotten raven was drawing blood. “
GET OFF!
” he roared.

In answer, the raven pecked him between the eyes. Then Raspberries pushed off and flew ahead, as if following Nasty Sir George.

“Forget it. I'm not going after that killer knight without Great and Mighty's help, you stupid bird. I need her spells, or her book anyway.” Cl'rnce got ready to tuck his wings and descend for a better look at the dark forest below. But as he did, Raspberries dove beneath him and attacked, all screaming caws, beak, and claws.

Cl'rnce spread his wings and stroked back upward. The bird left him alone, and flew ahead toward Nasty Sir George again. Cl'rnce took a harder look at the horse and rider. He made out a dark bundle on the back of the skeleton horse. “Great and Mighty?” Cl'rnce sucked in his breath.

It was bad enough the knight wanted to kill Cl'rnce, but there was no way Cl'rnce was going to allow Great and Mighty to die for being his friend. Cl'rnce pumped his massive wings and took off as fast as he could fly.

Raspberries screeched again and landed on Cl'rnce's
shoulder. This time he gripped hard but did not peck or otherwise torture Cl'rnce. So the dr'gon let him hitch the ride. Cl'rnce beat his newly working wings harder, trying to catch up to Nasty Sir George. But he had never labored this hard. Gliding and dropping rotted fruit on the student knights as they practiced jousting wasn't hard work, or even really flying. To avoid being punished for that joke, he'd carefully maintained Hazel's belief that he of all the dr'gons couldn't even glide.

Not being a flying dr'gon had gotten him out of so much work Hazel and his professors would have assigned. It was hard to admit that by being so lazy, he'd missed out on something that now made him feel so powerful.

Cl'rnce's shoulders ached, but he kept pulling through the dark night air. “I think we're getting closer, gaining on him,” he whispered at Raspberries. “He looks bigger, not small and far away.”

Raspberries cawed, but it was not a reassuring congratulations. Cl'rnce focused beyond the knight's flight and saw how close Nasty Sir George was to Ghost Mountain. Cl'rnce pumped his wings harder, flying faster. But a moment later, Nasty Sir George disappeared. One second he was a blot of armor and glowing bloodied horse bones against the ghostly phantasm whites and darkest Stygian glooms pock-marking Ghost Mountain, and the next the knight had vanished.

Cl'rnce flew faster, his shoulders, wings, and back groaning with pain, a feeling the lazy nap-dr'gon had never experienced. Then things got worse. Sharp flashes of electric torture burst around him, shot at, and nipped him. One jolt darted past his nose.

“Huh?” Cl'rnce backpedaled to avoid another hit. He steered to the right. Was someone shooting lightning at him? Nasty Sir George? But as quickly as Cl'rnce flew to the right, another flash veered straight at him. He dove to the left and down. A ball of light followed.

Cl'rnce had never seen anything like this before. It couldn't be lightning; the skies were clear. And no one could shoot balls of fire or whatever and have them actually chase him like they were alive, matching Cl'rnce's dodges. He flew a zigzag pattern to escape the newest fire bolt. After twenty turns, he somersaulted in the air. “I'm going to be too tired to get to the mountain. No more running away from this. I have to get to Great and Mighty.” He back-beat his wings to stall in the air.

The ball of flame hovered in front of him. Then went out. For a moment, Cl'rnce was still blinded by the fire and couldn't see, so he tucked his wings and plunged to avoid whatever else might come for him. The sudden dive pulled the Whisper Stone out of his neck case. But Cl'rnce didn't care. If it was really his, he'd find it again easily. Right now he had to save Great and Mighty.

When his eyes adjusted three seconds later, he
heard a buzzing and looked up to see a smallish dr'gon diving at him.

“Stop!” Cl'rnce shouted. “I'm Cl'rnce River Dr'gon. In the name of the Council, I order you to stop.” Cl'rnce hoped this was not a Geilt Clan dr'gon. He'd hate to have to fight to the death with one of those killers.