"There's no need to fear," Hope finally told him gently, "The monster will most likely sleep for several hours. You're in no immediate danger."

"I doubt that is what Clayton is concerned with," Whittle said, leaning back on his heels and studying the man's face. He had seen the same light shining out from behind those narrow eyes at their first meeting and knew all too well what it meant. "It's a way up to the cave and its treasures he's interested in. Isn't that so, Clayton?"

"And what's wrong with wanting to take what's free for the gathering?" Clayton asked. "Only a fool would pass up such easy pickings."

"Only a fool would take what belongs to a dragon," Whittle said firmly. "Didn't you hear Alanna? Dragons' treasure is cursed."

"Then you had best leave me here," Hope said with a light hearted laugh. She didn't believe in curses, and was amused at the simple peasant lad who held such primitive beliefs. "For I belong to Garreth the dragon. Or so he believes. He's saved me from his son on more than one occasion, and I expect someday he will battle to the death for me. When that happens I will become the property of his son. But he will not be so kind to me as Garreth as been, for the young dragon cares naught for beauty, and has no compassion in his cold heart."

"If this Garreth is so fond of you why doesn't he take you off this island before his son sinks his claws into you?" Whittle asked curtly, for he sensed that Hope was secretly mocking his comment about curses and his pride was wounded.

"I doubt he has thought of it. This is where his treasures are kept, and I am one of his treasures," Hope pointed out calmly. "I think the spell is wearing off. I see your boots."

Whittle had spied Hope's dainty feet some minutes earlier, but as he was a young man of few words, hadn't commented on it.

"I am glad," the princess added half ashamedly, "for I will admit that I was a little worried about your brother's spell. He seems very young to be a wizard."

"Ha!" Clayton sneered, "That young pup is no more a wizard than old Clayton! He just happens to have a wizard's staff. If I were to get my hands on that staff I'd show you a thing or two about magic! I was once a wizard's apprentice, don't you know!"

At the man's proud statement a new worry entered Whittle's mind. Was it possible the older man would try and steal Todd's walking stick and use it for his own selfish purpose? Whittle resolved to warn Julian and Alanna when he got back to the shelter. Perhaps they could find a hiding place for the staff until the balloon was mended and they were able to leave the island.

"We haven't found many vegetables," Hope's voice broke into his worried reflections. "And I'm afraid we've dug up everything the dragon didn't destroy."

"There's hardly enough for one," Clayton grumbled. "What say we eat what we dug up and tell the others there weren't nothin' to be found?"

"What say we let the dragon eat you so there's one less mouth to feed?" Whittle snapped angrily.

"Chester can make a soup from the roots," Hope said, gathering her small collection of beets and carrots up into her tattered skirt. "It might not be as filling as we'd like, but it will keep us from starving."

"For a few days, perhaps, but what then?" Clayton asked.

"I'll think of something," Whittle promised as holding his small bunch of vegetables he followed after the now visible girl who was walking proudly, in spite of her grimy hands and face, across the garden.

"Not as good as mother's, but not bad, not bad at all," Julian commented as the group of castaways sat around the small fire over which Chester had cooked a watered down vegetable soup. "I think it was the strange looking herbs you threw in the pot that did the trick, Chester," the boy added. "I don't think we have anything like that back home."

"I don't 'spect you do," the old man said as he gathered up the empty bowls and spoons, "Was brought over by the fairy folks. They spread the seeds all about the island when their king and queen first came, so now it's growing most every place."

"Fancy that, Whittle," the boy smiled broadly, "We've eaten fairy food. Speaking of fairies, where's Timon gotten off to? I haven't seen him nor Obil since we arrived."

"Timon is most likely with his mother," Chester said soberly. "The young prince will be the best medicine she could get, if she ain't too far gone already."

"Don't say that, Chester," Hope exclaimed, her eyes unexpectedly misting. "Nothing must happen to Queen Atar. It would kill Tid-Bit to lose her."

"Is the queen that sick then?" Alanna asked her own eyes reflecting sympathy. "Timon must be very disheartened. Is there anything I can do? I can't cure sickness, but I know a few spells that might help calm her so she can sleep."

"I'd be careful using spells for big folks on fairies," Clayton advised in a superior tone. "Might do more harm than good."

Julian was about to come to his friend's defense, but Alanna placed a hand on his arm and shook her head. "Clayton's right, Julian," she admitted. "I should have known better than to suggest it."

"Well, you were only trying to help!" the boy said, shooting Clayton a resentful glance. Then his face brightened. "Say! why don't you play her some of your music, Whittle? I'll bet that will help. Mother used to brag how Grandma Irene had you play for folks who were having trouble sleeping cause they were in so much pain. And if it can calm Avery's evil spirits, think what it can do for a good fairy. And a queen at that."

"Your music calmed evil spirits?" Hope asked, her face skeptical, but curious. "Perhaps you would be good enough to play for us so we can hear this wondrous sound."

"After you've washed out the bowls, Hope!" Chester said firmly.

Whittle expected the princess to object to such a brisk order, but to his surprise the girl rose to her feet and took the stack of bowls and utensils the old man held out to her.

"Come with me, Whittle. After I clean the dishes I will take you to the fairy-tree and you can play for Queen Atar," the girl said cheerfully.

Ignoring his brother's snickering, Whittle scrambled to his feet and followed the young princess as she moved swiftly through the woods.

Whittle watched as the girl dipped the bowls in a clear flowing stream and scrubbed them out with care before rinsing them and placing them out of sight under some nearby bushes.

"We can collect them on the way back from visiting King Jakin and Queen Atar," she told him. "Not that there will be anything to fill them with!" she added with a faint smile.

"Is there no other food source on the island, then?" Whittle asked as they walked side by side across the forest floor.

"The season for berries is past, and the cows are all dead, except for one, which I have hidden from the dragon. She is a poor skinny creature with big brown eyes and a feisty nature. She was the first cow I milked and I have grown quite fond of her. It would grieve me to have her slain."

She spoke the last firmly as though she expected him to protest, but Whittle had a soft spot for animals himself, and understood her position perfectly.

"Is the queen dying of starvation?" he asked.

"Oh no! Tid-Bit can always find something for her. She doesn't eat much, being so small. And Chester and I often give them some of what we have, though King Jakin spends most of his time with his wife nowadays and seldom visits us anymore. It's all very sad. When her son was sent way and the dragon discovered he wasn't alone on the island she had to spend more time inside her tree-house. It was very hard on her. Fairies hate being confined," she explained.

"Yes, I know. They had Timon caged for a time, before we rescued him."

"I see you have a story to tell," she said, glancing almost shyly up at the tall young man who walked next to her. "Perhaps we can talk later, after you have finished comforting the queen."

Not knowing what to say, Whittle said nothing.

"There is the tree," the girl announced, after a rather awkward silence. "You stay here until I get permission for you to approach."

While she moved toward the tree Whittle remained behind, fingering his flutes nervously. It wasn't the prospect of playing for the king and queen that caused his uneasiness, but rather the prospect of having a private talk with Hope. The thought came that perhaps he could tell her that Julian was a better storyteller and spare himself further humiliation. And, of course, he was bound to make a fool of himself if he tried to make conversation with the beautiful Princess of Lark, he thought, watching her slender form wistfully as she bent and put her lips close to the base of the tree.

A few moments later Tid-Bit appeared. There was a brief conversation and then the pixie flew back through the small hole at the base of the tree.

Hope returned to Whittle, her expression troubled.

"Is she worse then?" Whittle asked softly.

"No, the visit from Timon did her good, and she is sleeping. But it seems Timon has gone missing."

"Perhaps he went to be with the others," Whittle suggested, but Hope shook her head.

"Obil has just returned from there. None of them have seen him. I think I know where he may be. When I first met Timon he was hiding from his parents by a pond. It's likely he's gone back there to think things over. But I fear for him. The last time he was there he was nearly snapped up by a fish."

"Fish?" Whittle repeated. "You say there are fish on this island?"

Princess Hope's startled eyes met his and then she laughed and grabbed up his hand.

"Come!" she cried joyfully. "Let us find Timon, and then the three of us will catch some supper!"

Dragon's Claw Book One
Price $12.95  
    by Charles M. Clark
(Browser Readable E-Book on CD-ROM contains Music & No Sound Options)

FROM THE BOOK STORE

Prince Adam returns home to find his father, the King, gravely ill, some say dying. Feeling unprepared for the duties of kingship, and unhappy about a proposed marriage between himself and a rather plain princess, Adam makes a plea to the Powers that be for guidance and help. Adam then falls into a deep sleep and awakes in an unfamiliar land full of sinister foes and wild men. Yet it is one of these wild men that takes Adam under his wing and teaches the young prince what it takes to be a real leader. Charles M. Clark has written this book for older children and teens, but older folks enjoy it as well. All Antelope Publishing's fantasy books are browser readable and come on CD-ROM. The CD-ROM contains TWO books. One book with music and special electronic enhancements, and one book without, for times when a quieter read is desired. For more information about browser readable e-books CLICK HERE

The Making of a King
Price $9.95  
    by Charles M. Clark
(Browser Readable E-Book on CD-ROM contains Music & No Sound Options)

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