The Lazy Dragon and Bumblespells Wizard (25 page)

Hedge-Witch began to chant. Moire Ain's heart sped up with the old fear she'd lived with over the years. Hedge-Witch began to smile. For all Moire Ain's life, the old hag had smiled each time Moire Ain showed fear. When the witch was this pleased, next came something
truly awful. Moire Ain couldn't think of a spell, so she did the only thing that popped into her mind.

She kicked Hedge-Witch as hard as she could. The old crone folded to the stone floor screaming, “My leg, you little brat. You broke my leg.”

Moire Ain was sure this time the witch wasn't lying. Hedge-Witch's leg stuck out at an unnatural angle. For half a second, Moire Ain felt badly, but then Lasair roared. She whipped around to see Cl'rnce on his stomach in a corner, his chin flat on the rocky floor. The Killer leapt at him.

“No!” Moire Ain screamed. Thinking only the word
reduce
, she generated a ball in one hand. With all her strength, Moire Ain threw the silky white orb at Lasair. It splat against the Killer Dr'gon, melting down his scales. Instantly, Lasair shrank to the size of a spider.

Moire Ain wanted to dance her happiness. Her spell had worked. “Was that great or what?” she shouted. “Watch this. Tiny, tiny, bug tiny.”

Cl'rnce rose to his knees at the same time Moire Ain tossed another ball.
Splat.
The second sphere missed, flying over Lasair and into Cl'rnce's face.

“Uh-oh,” Moire Ain said.

Cl'rnce shrank to the size of the small Killer Dr'gon. Once again, the dr'gons stood face to face. Cl'rnce's tiny voice squeaked.

“What did he say?” Moire Ain leaned down but
jerked back up when Lasair stabbed her nose with a tiny flame.

“Ribbit, ribbit, ribbit, CROAK!” A frog wearing the top half of a suit of armor clunk-hopped into the cavern.

“What?” Moire Ain stared.

“Nevermore! Sir George!” Raspberries cawed.

“It can't be! Can it?” Moire Ain watched the frog's lopsided hop. It leapt up close to her and stared at her. The frog's helmet had the sinking sun crest Moire Ain remembered from Sir George's new armor. “Are you Sir George?”

The frog nodded, turned, and hopped toward the two tiny, battling dr'gons.

“What happened to him?” Moire Ain asked.

“You are a stupid girl,” Hedge-Witch snapped. “He's been mermaid-bit. The poison from that pond has finally taken hold. Any fool knows that. First they bite, then you turn into a frog, then they eat you! Usually they hold their food captive, waiting in a circle and humming as the poison takes hold. Somehow he got away from the pond before he turned into a frog and they could eat him.”

“Nevermore!” Raspberries cawed and flew over the witch, bombing her with his freshest raven poop. “Spider web,” he added and flew to a ledge over the two tiny dr'gons.

“Huh?” Moire Ain watched Lasair and Cl'rnce. She
looked up at Raspberries. “You want a spiderweb for what?” The two battling dr'gons were bug-small now. Cl'rnce climbed a stone wall and, flying low, veered into the shadows across the cavern. He dodged and hid. He kept moving, but each time he slowed, the chasing Lasair threw a flame that missed Cl'rnce by fewer and fewer inches.

Moire Ain knew Cl'rnce must be tiring. He wasn't used to life without a nap and lots of good food; Moire Ain was sure of that. On his empty stomach and after days with little sleep, how long could he dodge Lasair? But why didn't Cl'rnce turn and fight? Was this about the old Dr'gon Curse that said if a dr'gon killed, it turned into a killer?

“They're so tiny,” Moire Ain said to Sir George. Now the flying dr'gons looked no bigger than a fireflies. “What can I do to stop Lasair?” Sir George sat on the floor watching the pair. His tongue zipped in and out like he was trying to catch a fly. “Oh!” She knew what to do.

She cast the spell. At the same time, Hedge-Witch screamed her own chant. Moire Ain ignored Hedge-Witch. Moire Ain held the crystal staff and focused. She felt like her concentration was a lance, armed and aimed at its target. “Web, web, web,” she sang, keeping it simple in hopes that she wouldn't bumblespell it this time. Using the rod to add power and direct the spell, she aimed the web behind Cl'rnce and in front of Lasair.

Cl'rnce scurried behind another stalagmite. Running as fast as he could, he listened to Great and Mighty. After she said, ‘“Web, web, web,” her voice seemed to be in his head. He heard her add, “I must be so careful. Use a small motion.”

He glanced up at her to watch as she passed her hands in tiny circles, one over the other. When she stopped and cupped her hands together, a white ball formed. He slowed to stare at the orb. But Cl'rnce jumped when Lasair, only an inch away, screamed.

Cl'rnce sped and passed Great and Mighty as she tossed her sphere. Watching it arc, he managed to run fast enough so that it landed behind him and in front of Lasair. Cl'rnce glanced over his shoulder in time to see the ball splat on the floor and unfold into a web. Seeing the web gave Cl'rnce an idea. He turned, leapt into the air, and flew headlong at the web. Lasair kept chasing, his teeth gleaming in a salivating smirk.

Cl'rnce's wings stuttered in the air when he felt
Great and Mighty's panic and confusion. She didn't understand what Cl'rnce had in mind. For a moment, feeling all her emotions rolling off into him confused Cl'rnce. But he heaved his wings harder; there was no time to doubt his plan.

An inch from the web's sticky silk, Cl'rnce swerved sharply to the left. Lasair, flying much faster, slammed into the web. The killer thrashed in the gluey strands, tangling himself from blood-red eyes to tail tip.

“Good one, Cl'rnce,” Great and Mighty called. “He'll never get free. Now I'll restore you to your real size.”

Cl'rnce was taking a bow when a tiny
ping
rang like a cathedral bell. Lasair broke the first of the web's strands. His neck moved freely. The witch cackled from the floor.

Great and Mighty's voice went terror-high, scraping at Cl'rnce's ears and ringing in his head when her panicked emotions hit him. “I can't remember the spell to restore you, Cl'rnce. How long will the web hold? Will he stay small?” Great and Mighty pressed the palms of her hands hard into the sides of her head. But it did nothing to stop the storm in her head from echoing inside Cl'rnce's.

Using all the focus he'd ever learned in designing and executing exquisite practical jokes, Cl'rnce stared at his enemy. The tiny Lasair snorted flame. With a precision Cl'rnce had never had a chance to practice, the
Killer melted strand after strand with short blasts. His left wing wiggled free. He turned to fire-liberate the other.

“I could send another ball of web. Maybe hold him until we can get out of here. Cl'rnce, move aside,” Great and Mighty called.

“RIBBIT! RIBBIT! RIBBIT! RIBBIT!” An armored frog leapt away from Great and Mighty's side.

The web snapped apart as Lasair broke the last string.

In two long hops, the frog was between Cl'rnce and Lasair. The frog leapt again, and in midair, his tongue shot out and slurped back in. Lasair disappeared into the frog.

“Grulp.” The frog clattered back to the cavern floor. He swallowed the dr'gon whole and sat very still. “Ribbit. Yack. Ribbit.” The armored frog took a small, pathetic hop.

Cl'rnce peered down from the ledge he'd flown to. “He sounds sick.”

Great and Mighty ran to the frog. “It's Sir George. He says the dr'gon tasted bad.” Great and Mighty bent, peering into the frog's big yellow eyes “You're right. He doesn't feel well.”

“Sir George?” Cl'rnce looked harder. Had Great and Mighty bumblespelled the nasty knight into a frog? That was pretty slick.

“Ribbit, rib-bit. Blach.”

“Whoa.” Great and Mighty jumped back from Sir George. She fanned the air beneath her nose. “Frogs belch? That was so much worse than your burps, Cl'rnce.” Great and Mighty scooped up the frog.

Sir George leaned into the little wizard's arm. “Feeling better?” Great and Mighty asked.

“Ribbit. Ribbit. Ribbit. Croakkkk!”

“I see. Sir George says a tummy ache is worth finally getting to slay a dr'gon from this clan,” Great and Mighty said.

Cl'rnce squeaked a laugh. “I guess you can't change a nasty knight. He'd rather eat his former employer's boss than miss the chance to slay a dr'gon. Thanks, Sir George. Great and Mighty, thanks for the webs. Can you un-shrink me? I want to go home.”

As Cl'rnce spoke, the cave floor rolled like an earthquake was about to tear apart the mountain. Great and Mighty stumbled backward, and Sir George tumbled off her shoulder with a ribbit.

Over the frog's panicked call, the sounds of wind rattling in tree branches, waterfalls pouring into ponds, rocks tumbling down mountain faces, talons scratching on slate, sneezes, and burps filled the cavern. A glistening granite table rose out of the floor. On the tabletop, six stones sparked—red, yellow, purple, green, silver, and orange. The sparks grew to flames. The flames
became dr'gons, and then voices. Cl'rnce recognized one at once. “Hazel?” Cl'rnce said.

His sister's voice rang from the transformed jade green stone, “Well done, little brother. You've come a long way from a lazy nap-dr'gon to Stone Deliverer.”

“Just Deliverer?” Cl'rnce snorted. “She,” he pointed to Hedge-Witch, “killed Amythyst. I have this feeling that makes me the Primus.”

“Is that what you want, little brother? To become the Primus at the expense of Amythyst?”

“Hey! I didn't kill him. That witch did. I don't want him dead. I want ….” Cl'rnce slowed, not sure what he wanted. For a moment, he'd felt important and like he could do a lot of things that would make him feel good. But the next second, he thought about how much work being Primus would be, being king of the Dr'gon Nations.

“He's not dead, dr'gon,” Hedge-Witch said. “But only I can return him to life. Before it is too late.”

“She's lying!” Great and Mighty said. She pointed the crystal rod at the witch. The tip of the rod bulged with black.

“But what am I lying about?” Hedge-Witch said. “Is the Primus dead? Can I bring him back? Which is a lie, and which is truth?”

Great and Mighty marched up to the crippled witch. She started to lower the rod at her.

A voice iced into Cl'rnce's head, “Stop her!” It was a voice at once unfamiliar and familiar. It wasn't Great and Mighty's, but there wasn't time to waste wondering where it came from. He knew the voice was right. He couldn't let Great and Mighty kill. He flew to Great and Mighty and leapt at the rod, hoping in his tiny form he had enough force to knock her back.

When he hit the staff, he exploded into normal size. The weight of his usual self against the rod sent it and Cl'rnce crashing toward Hedge-Witch. Cl'rnce snapped at the stick, grabbing it in his teeth, and backpedaled his wings faster and harder than he'd ever even thought to try. The witch reached, her fingers lengthening to grab at Cl'rnce and the wand.

“Use me!” the voice in Cl'rnce's head commanded. He dug into the air harder and moved out of range of the witch. The voice wasn't in his head, but coming from the floor, where Amythyst's body rested. For a second, all he could do was stare. Then the voice roared, “
USE ME!
”

“I know how,” Great and Mighty said. She was right beside him. “Give the Stone to me.”

“I can't,” Cl'rnce said. “I don't have it, remember?”

“Then you have to do as I say,” Great and Mighty began.

But Hedge-Witch was chanting. “One then Two, Two then Three. Three then One. End the One.”

Before she finished the last, Great and Mighty yelled, “Three again. Three again. Three again. No time.” She dropped beside Amythyst's body. As her hand hovered over the little dr'gon, a blast of light hit her and flew on to Cl'rnce.

Everyone in the cave froze. The stone chamber became a hall of statues: dr'gons, wizard, frog, witch. Only one being moved. Raspberries soared to Amythyst's still form, grabbed the Whisper Stone, reformed and glowing in the midst of the blazing light. Raspberries stood with his head cocked to one side as if waiting. “Nevermore?”

Nothing happened.

At the same time that the raven cawed, Cl'rnce felt himself free to move. He trotted over to Amythyst's glowing remains and the raven. Below him, the little dr'gon was no longer a tiny body. In the radiant halo of purple and gold, Cl'rnce thought he saw two glowing figures.

But he didn't have time to examine the lights. Behind him, Cl'rnce heard Great and Mighty. She argued with Hedge-Witch. He turned to watch.

“You!” Great and Mighty said as if she wanted to spit but was trying not to. “You did this. I have lived all my life mending broken bodies you've damaged. This time you went too far. This time you killed the king. You will pay. Whatever the dr'gons' worst punishment is, I will make sure you are given it.” Her chest rose up and down in her ragged robe like she was a race horse trying to catch a big breath.

Hedge-Witch laughed. “They will do nothing. It is what makes my plan so perfect. The whole of the Dr'gon
Nations is too fearful of becoming killers themselves. They will never punish me enough to stop me. I murdered their king, and they will do nothing!” She squinted at Great and Mighty. “The dr'gon calls you Great and Mighty? A bit pretentious, Moire Ain, don't you think? Can you do magick enough to defeat me? Are you so very great or mighty? I think not. Your spells are always a little wrong, aren't they?” She scrabbled at the rocky wall behind her, trying and failing to get to her feet. “Give me my rod,” she said in the same terrible, threatening tone that Cl'rnce was sure had sent Great and Mighty into hiding in the past.