"Was what magic, your highness?" Whittle asked absently, his thoughts having been preoccupied with ways he might catch a few fish without making a fool of himself.

"The cape you threw over me," the girl explained patiently. "Was it magic? Is that why the dragon didn't see me?"

"Don't you remember, your highness? Clayton said dragons aren't fooled by magic."

"I put little stock in anything that fellow says," she told him with scorn. "In fact, I wish you had never brought him to this island. I have a bad feeling about him. I don't believe he is to be trusted."

"You're telling me!" Whittle exclaimed, remembering how the man had struck him down at their first meeting. "But he does know a thing of two about magic, having been Cedric's apprentice, for a time at least."

"But you haven't answered my question. Was there magic in the cape?" Hope persisted, weary of talking about Clayton, whom she had taken a strong disliking to.

"Nay! No magic, just the fingers of a skilled tailor. Prick will be pleased when he learns that his creation saved your highness from the dragon."

"Why do you continue to address me as your highness?" Hope asked as they stepped out of the forest and into the marshy area around the small pond. "You know I told you to call me Hope."

"Where exactly did you find Timon when he was here before?" Whittle asked, purposely changing the subject because he didn't want to admit it was precisely because she had ordered him to call her Hope that he chose not to.

Hope sighed and moved toward the tree where Timon had sat watching as she shamelessly wept after her first encounter with the red dragon.

"Timon!" she called, gazing up into the tree. "Timon, are you there? Please come out if you are. We want to talk to you." When there was no response the girl turned toward Whittle and shrugged. "Perhaps he wants to be alone. He must be very upset that his mother is so ill."

"Well it won't do him any good to brood about it," Whittle said practically. "Timon!" he called so loudly that Hope put her finger to her lips and made a shhhing sound at him. In response Whittle lowered his voice a notch and tried again. "Timon if you are about would you be kind enough to show yourself? I am in need of your assistance."

He glanced at Hope who was gazing questioningly at him and whispered, "The young prince is very proud. He'll not show himself if he thinks we have come to pity him. He might if he believes we need his help."

And sure enough there was a buzzing in the tree above and Timon peeked his head out from behind some red leaves. "What you want?" he asked suspiciously.

"It has come to my attention, Prince Timon, that there are fish in the pond behind us. I was hoping you could give me some advice on how best to catch a few for supper."

Timon flew down and hovered in front of Whittle's face. The young pixie's eyes were red and swollen as though he had cried hard and long. Whittle considered how he would feel if he came home to discover his mother sick and his heart softened. "I am sorry to hear about your mother, Timon," he said sympathetically, "but Hope says Queen Atar is doing much better now that you have returned. If you will help us find some fish I'm sure Chester can make her a nourishing broth that will speed her recovery."

Hope watched the young man as he spoke, and was impressed with his compassion and intelligence. What better way to take the young pixie's mind off of his woes than to put him to work helping find food for his ailing mother? A sudden vision of Prince Alexander of Briar, the man her father had told her she must marry, came into her mind. She compared the brash self centered Alexander to the quiet but brave young man who stood in front of her trying to give comfort to a grieving son and felt an unusual warmth rise to her cheeks.

"Not easy to catch fish," Timon said dubiously. "Much easier for fish to catch Timon!" The young prince laughed, and Whittle looked at Hope as though to say, 'Don't worry, Timon is back to his old carefree self.'

"The water is quite clear, Timon," Whittle said. "Perhaps you can fly above it and see if you can spot any fish."

"No!" Hope cried out, but it was too late, the young pixie had already flown away. "Oh, why did you tell him that?" she wailed. "He has no fear and is apt to be eaten. You have no idea how high those fish can jump, nor has he."

As though to prove her point a massive fish broke from the water below Timon, but the fairy was quick and darted upward before the large mouth could close over him.

"There, you see!" Hope exclaimed. "Didn't I tell you so?"

"That was a big one!" Whittle said in awe. Cupping his hands together he yelled to the pixie. "Can you lure it over this way, Timon?"

Timon's bubbling laughter drifted across the water as the pixie darted down and rose again as the fish surfaced.

"Oh you are both mad!" Hope cried and walked stiffly over to a log where she sat, arms crossed, frowning at Whittle as the young man pulled a dry vine off of a tree trunk.

She watched in fascination, but simmering resentment, as Whittle pulled an arrow out of his quiver and tied one end of the vine around the arrow and the other end to his belt. Then he wadded out into the water and pulled his string taught, waiting as Timon flew toward him, the fish rising now and again and snapping at the small figure that bobbed up and down over the water.

"What a stupid idea!" Hope muttered under her breath. "How am I going to explain to Tid-Bit that his son was used for bait and eaten by a fish!"

For many minutes they played the game. Occasionally the fish seemed to tire and it would be some time before he again rose to the bait. Then suddenly Whittle let loose of the string and his arrow went flying toward the fish as it rose from the water in an unusually high leap, its large mouth so near Timon that Hope leaped to her feet with a cry of concern.

She was relieved to see the young pixie flying toward Whittle who was pulling in the fish which he had managed to shoot.

"How cruel!" Hope cried as Whittle reached down and lifted the flapping fish out of the water.

Seeing the girl's expression as she gazed at the fish with the arrow through its middle Whittle suggested, "Perhaps your highness had best keep watch for the dragon."

Whittle took no pleasure in killing, but he was a man, and therefore duty bound to provide for the others. He would club the fish as soon as he got it to land and put an end to its suffering. He knew that the princess was sickened by the violence and wished to spare her any further pain. Hope realized that he was aware of her sensitive nature and was trying to protect her from further discomfort and was both touched and embarrassed by his thoughtfulness.

"Timon find more fish!" the young pixie cried gleefully, enjoying what had been a game to him. But Whittle shook his head.

"Let's not press our luck, Timon," he told the pixie as he waded out of the water. "This fish will be enough to feed us. Besides, I expect it isn't safe to remain out in the open too long."

"Timon not afraid of dragon!" the young prince said proudly. "Timon too fast for dragon to catch."

"Pixies can outrun dragons for a short distance, Timon, but in a long chase it would be the dragon who would win," Hope said firmly.

"Your mother will be waking from her nap and wanting to see you, Timon," Whittle pointed out before the young pixie would argue further.

"And I can't wait to see the look on Chester's face when he sees what we've brought him," Hope laughed, happier than she had been for many long months. "Imagine his chagrin when he learns that there has been food on the island all along!"

A little ways into the woods Timon darted off toward his family tree. Left alone the young man and girl walked silently along the forest floor where Whittle found himself the object of several sideways glances.

"I have never seen such skill with bow and arrow," Hope said at length. "Perhaps there was magic involved in your feat."

Whittle laughed and then, seeing the anger flash behind the girl's eyes he explained. "It's not you I am laughing at, your highness, but the idea that I could perform any sort of magic."

"Have your tried then?" Hope asked and Whittle shook his head.

"It is my brother who desires to become a wizard, and he who has the gift, not I," Whittle explained.

"But you don't know whether or not you also have such a gift, since you haven't tried to use it. Isn't that true?"

"I have no interest in such matters!" Whittle said firmly. But Hope was not so easily put off.

"What is magic?" she asked, apparently much interested in learning more about what Whittle knew little.

"My brother can explain it better than I," he told her. "I've been told that it has something to do with being in touch with nature," Whittle said, digging deep into his memory to bring forth the little Julian had tried to explain to him about how magic worked.

"And you are not in touch with nature?" she asked a little too innocently.

"Not so that I can use its force in magical ways," Whittle insisted.

"And yet your music calmed evil spirits, or so others have said. Isn't that a miraculous feat?"

"Should we be talking so freely, your highness?" Whittle asked, seeking to end a conversation that was making him feel uncomfortable. "What if the dragon should be out looking for a mid-day meal?"

Hope was about to explain that the dragon seldom ventured out of his cave before late afternoon when a shadow passed overhead. Raising startled eyes upward they saw the massive form make a wide circle above them and come back in their direction. Wordlessly Hope grabbed Whittle and pulled him to the ground.

"Don't move!" she whispered hoarsely in his ear. But Whittle disobeyed the command as letting lose of the fish he unfastened Prick's cape. Then he threw it green side up over the girl, covering her fiery red hair.

"I am going to draw the beast away," Whittle told her. "Once I am gone wait until you are sure it is safe, and then return to the others."

Ignoring Hope's heated protest, Whittle rose to a crouched position. Only when the dragon reappeared directly overhead and pause to hover as though inspecting the young man below, did Whittle spring to life. As fleet as any deer Whittle ran across the forest floor, the dragon following silently overhead.

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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