The Lazy Dragon and Bumblespells Wizard (17 page)

Great and Mighty rubbed her hands on her robe. But her clothes, like her hair, were still soaking wet. She shook her head, and then waved her hands as if to airdry them. “I might have seen something in my book to help us. A lot of the stuff I skimmed through looked like history. There's got to be a chapter on dr'gons and, well, you know … ways to get rid of ….” Great and Mighty shivered, wrapping her arms around herself for a moment.

Cl'rnce drank in a deep breath and held it for a second, until it warmed in the hot spot next to his stomach, his fire chamber. Then he flexed his claws at Great and Mighty to signal her to come near. She stepped up. He took hold of her hands and blew a warm breeze into them.

She stood still while the warmth rushed to her, then she twirled on tiptoes in his long, hot breath. When he ran out of air, she smiled. “All dry.” She pulled her book out of her pouch. But the leather pouch was not waterproof, and neither was the book. It was a soggy mess. “Oh.”

“No book. So we're on our own,” Cl'rnce said. “We need a plan.” The only plans he'd ever worked on in his life were his practical jokes (the best in the world) and his patented plan for skipping class and napping undisturbed by the river.

The class-skipping-napping plan utilized a number of rather complicated practical jokes to keep Dr'gon Wiz Academy students and faculty busy. It also required an entirely new plan each time he wanted to skip class, so that no one was sure who was responsible. Cl'rnce loved his own cleverness. If he could concoct such complicated schemes, he could definitely work out how to get to Ghost Mountain no matter who was chasing them.

He was counting on one of the Council being in the mountain when they arrived so his questions could be answered. If Great and Mighty was correct, once they got to the mountain, he'd really, truly be officially in line for the Primus. His mission was not a joke, and it was dangerous. Not that he wanted to be the Primus, but he sure didn't want Hazel to win. Especially if by some weird chance she was actually trying to get him killed.

He and Great and Mighty needed to start by getting away from the pool and on the road to Ghost Mountain. Night was falling. Less than three days left.

Moire Ain couldn't believe she'd ruined
Magicks Mysteries
. She laid her book on the rock. With the tips of her fingers, she tried to pry the soggy leather cover away from the soaked pages. But the cover wouldn't budge. She sat back on her heels and stared at the mess.

“I don't suppose your breath could dry my book?” She looked up at Cl'rnce, who wore a big smile on his face and was kind of jittering up and down on his back paws. “What's up with you?” she asked.

“I can't wait to get going. We'll get to Ghost Mountain. I'll finish my errand no matter what Hazel is up to. She's a sneaky one, but I … well, I just can't see her facing Mother if Hazel managed to get me assassinated. See? Hazel can't be behind Nasty Sir George.” His eye ridges rose as if he was trying to convince himself as much as her.

“I can help with that. You said we had to be there soon. We need to travel faster. If I could learn a spell, I could help you fly.” She stopped.

Cl'rnce stood statue still. His face settled into a frown,
then went blank. “We do have to get to the mountain in less than three days, but
forget
the flying stuff.” When Moire Ain started to tell him how she was sure he could learn to fly, he waved a paw and said, “No. I don't want to talk about flying. Forget it. What else do you have?”

She shrugged. “If I could look through the magick book, I might find some kind of spell to get us to that mountain real fast.” She looked down and patted the waterlogged book. “But it's too wet to open. Can you dry it out?” she asked again.

Cl'rnce took a deep breath. She heard rumbling from his upper chest. Then he bent over the book and blew a gentle sip of warm air over it. He repeated this until at last she could pry apart the book. Careful not to rip the paper, she turned the pages. On one blurry leaf, there was a picture of a dr'gon flying, but the words below were all run together and some were even washed away.

Cl'rnce shook his head. “Too dangerous to try a spell unless you have all the correct words. You could end up blowing me away or something. Now will you give up on the flying thing?” He decided to not mention how many of her spells had been bumbled.

Moire Ain nodded, but she continued to turn the pages. Some were partially ruined. Some were partly okay, and the diploma at the back was fine. But how on earth was she going to earn a wizarding diploma and become an official wizard when so much of her book
was … an unreadable mess?

Having gotten to the end of the book, she turned back, desperately hoping there was some spell in the book that she'd missed. She had to become a real wizard. The book was a bit of a disaster until halfway through she realized the middle two pages were undamaged. “Why didn't I notice that before?” she whispered to herself.

The damaged page before the middle was the flying dr'gon picture, and the damaged page after was something about creating a big hole. But these two middle pages had pictures of a mountain with caves in the side that made it look like a skull, and fog curling out of the ‘eyeholes' like escaping ghosts.

There was also a smaller picture of a group of six dr'gons sitting around a big stone table. Each of the dr'gons looked very different from the others. One was orange with two horns behind its ears and a third on its forehead. One was a dark purple with large ears lined with bright pink feathers, and wide pink wings were folded on its back. The third was a dark brown with glowing green spots and the happiest golden eyes. The fourth was glittery red and much smaller than the other five. The fifth was a washed-out gray with scarlet eyes and black wings edged in red. Something about this one made Moire Ain shiver. But the sixth was a handsome green and purple dr'gon with beautiful jade wings. It looked a lot like Cl'rnce. Probably a relative.

“Is this Ghost Mountain?” she asked. “Is that the Dr'gon Council?”

Cl'rnce studied the page. “Yep. The ugly green one doing all the talking is Hazel.” He dug a claw into his nostril and flicked his nose contents at the page. The snot bounced off the book and splashed back onto his muzzle. “Figures.”

Moire Ain smothered a giggle. “I think your sister is quite beautiful. Her wings are the largest and prettiest.” She was only a little surprised when the picture came alive. The dr'gons in the picture all stood and stretched their wings, then bowed to each other, and all the rest nodded to Hazel.

“Stop about the wings,” Cl'rnce said.

“Why?” Moire Ain would have let it drop, but there was so much pain in Cl'rnce's tone. She had always wanted to heal anyone in need, whether it was sickness or unhappiness. She couldn't stand Cl'rnce's pain about not being able to fly.

“I can't fly because my wings are too small,” Cl'rnce hissed, and turned away from her.

Moire Ain looked at his back where his wings were folded. They didn't seem any smaller than any of the dr'gons in the picture. “Are you sure?”

Cl'rnce did not turn around to her. Instead he slipped around the curtain of the waterfall. Moire Ain followed him. He stepped off the rock, over the pond's
bank, and stood on the road. He didn't look at her when he said, “Of course I'm sure about my wings. Hazel measured them when I turned one hundred eight. She told me the bad news: I would never fly. She did it in front of Mother, so I know it's true.” He glared at Moire Ain. “Satisfied? Now can we start walking so I can get to that dratted mountain and do what Hazel thinks I can't do?”

“How long ago was that? That you measured your wings?” Moire Ain put her book back in her pouch, but she had a feeling that there was a lot more to this wing thing. She stood in front of Cl'rnce, blocking his way.

“Three-hundred-plus years ago.” He nodded his head toward the road leading away from the pool, as if to point the route they needed to take.

“But they could have grown since then,” she said.

“No. They couldn't have. I'd know. And Hazel wouldn't keep nagging about curing me. There's no point to this. Can we just get going?” He began to walk.

Moire Ain paced beside Cl'rnce. After only a few minutes, she yawned. She'd gotten an inspiration, and she wanted to try it. “I'm awfully tired. Do you think we could get some sleep? I promise I'll run faster than a deer tomorrow and make up the time.” She yawned again and made her eyes into sleepy slits.

“Oh. Yeah. We could do that,” Cl'rnce said, yawning along with her. He looked around. “Since we don't know if Nasty Sir George is coming back, I think we should
sleep in a tree. So we can see and hear him coming.”

“Good idea.” Moire Ain looked around at the forest until she spotted an old oak that she was sure would hold Cl'rnce's weight. It had thick branches halfway up and higher. “That one?”

“Nice choice.” Cl'rnce bent down, his digits intertwined into a kind of stepping stirrup.

She put her foot on Cl'rnce's paw, and he lifted her up. But she was too short to reach the first branch. He tossed her, and she flew up to the branch, grabbing hold. “But how will you get up? It's way over your head,” she called down. She hoped he'd forget and try to fly.

But Cl'rnce sank all four paws' claws into the tree's bark, and faster than she could say, “Cl'rnce!” he climbed the tree and was on the branch above her. He held a paw down to pull her up with him, but Moire Ain shook her head. “That's okay. I'll sleep on this branch. No offense, but we don't know how strong these are. I don't want to put too much weight on them.”

Cl'rnce nodded and curled up, his tail twined around his branch. She wedged herself into a fork on hers and closed her eyes. She waited until she heard Cl'rnce begin to snore, then took
Magicks Mysteries
out of her pouch and opened it to the middle pages. While there was still light, she found some text in her own Common Language, with a lot about the Dr'gon Council. What she learned made her heart beat harder. She had to get
Cl'rnce to that mountain, and fast.

He was wrong about his wings. Male River Dr'gons didn't develop until they hit their first teens, four hundred and older. Either Hazel had lied to him, or he'd spent too much time napping and not enough time learning about his own kind. It was true that up until now only a male River Dr'gon had ruled the Dr'gon Nation. And it seemed Cl'rnce was the hereditary designee. Also it was true that if Cl'rnce did not complete his errand, another dr'gon could be elected.
Or
if he had a twin … and this was where the book was vague. It said twins were rare in River Dr'gons, and it said nothing about a female twin being unacceptable as the heir if the male could not serve.

The book said that the eldest twin of a rare pair of River Dr'gons would serve as Primus. There were no recorded male and female twins, so nothing in the book addressed Hazel. If Cl'rnce didn't get that Whisper Stone to the Council, Moire Ain was sure Hazel could take the Primacy. But if Hazel wanted the Primacy, why didn't she just forget to tell Cl'rnce about the Whisper Stone delivery? Why didn't she do it herself and claim her right by birth order? Cl'rnce had said something about her being seven minutes and seven seconds older. Moire Ain thought the rules were fuzzy enough that Hazel had a claim.

Moire Ain couldn't continue reading history. Her mind wouldn't let go of trying to find a way to get Cl'rnce to try to fly. First, of course, she'd have to get him to open his wings and see if they'd grown. She peered up through the leaves. Cl'rnce's belly hung over his branch, but she couldn't see his wings. They were probably folded across his back, as usual. Quietly, she tucked her book back in her pouch. Balancing on her branch, she slowly stood. The wood beneath her feet creaked but didn't crack. She held still, waiting for the noise to wake Cl'rnce.

He continued to snore. “So far so good,” she whispered. She edged around until her nose was inches from the trunk. She placed her stretched fingers on the bark. With her digits splayed, she noticed her nubby nails, worn down from digging herbs and doing all the hard work Hedge-Witch ordered. Moire Ain hoped her torn nails would be long enough to help her climb.

She squinted up the tree's trunk, but there weren't any small branches to grab. The first branch above her
was the one on which Cl'rnce lay stretched out and around. Moire Ain reached up and was just able to grip the branch. Kicking with both feet, she managed to swing herself up onto it.

She froze, hoping the branch wouldn't creak or move and wake Cl'rnce. But she'd done it correctly. Since she had landed close to the tree trunk, she was on the most stable part. But when she stepped toward Cl'rnce, the branch gave a sharp
crack
. Moire Ain wobbled and almost lost her balance as the limb dipped.

“Uh-oh.” She backed up to the tree's trunk.

Cl'rnce snorted in his sleep and mumbled. It sounded like he said, “Need a wizard to unlock the spell. Could fly if called.”

The branch cracked again. His eyes popped open, and he shrieked.

Moire Ain jumped away from him and fell out of the tree.

As she dropped, Cl'rnce's paw swooped toward her. Snatching at her robe collar, he caught her. For half a second, Moire Ain's heart slowed its panicked pounding. Thirty feet below her lurked the forest floor, but Cl'rnce had her.

And then her robe tore.

“Great and Mighty!” Cl'rnce screamed as she fell.

There was nothing she could do. Her brain couldn't even pretend to come up with a spell or a plan to stop
her fall. The only thing she could think of was how handy Cl'rnce's wings would have been. “I wish I had wings,” she chanted over and over. Before she finished the fourth repeat, Cl'rnce dropped beside her. He grabbed her arm and pulled her next to him. But Moire Ain was furious. Not only had she caused this accident, but now Cl'rnce would fall to his death along with her. It was all her fault. She should have figured a way to make Cl'rnce fly before the book was damaged, before they were both about to die.