"Quick, get behind the treasure pile where you can't be seen," Whittle ordered, shoving the princess toward the mound of trinkets and treasures that made up the dragon's horde.

Princess Hope was not accustomed to being manhandled by anyone, especially a common peasant lad. For a moment she planted her feet firmly in the ground and resisted. Then, seeing the dim gleam of yellow eyes in the distance, she grabbed Alanna's hand and dragged the girl around the mound where the two crouched, Hope's arm thrown around the girl's shoulders as Alanna buried her face in her hands to muffle her sobbing.

Chester, however, did not join them, for as the old man had bent to grab up the bowl of fish chowder, lest the dragon wonder where his new treasure had acquired it, he had happened to glance down the hall. The same glowing eyes that had sent Hope and Alanna flying made the old man pause.

"I think, my lad, that you had best join the girls behind the mound," he advised Whittle. "Unless my eyes deceive me, that be the dragon Garreth approaching, not his son."

Whittle didn't know Chester as well as Hope. Had he been better acquainted with the old shepherd he would have realized that Chester's mind was still sharp, and his advice was not to be ignored. The simple truth was that Chester, who had spent many long and lonely years in the cave standing guard over Garreth's treasures, had seen the old dragon's eyes coming toward him in the darkness numerous times. He had also seen enough of the young dragon to recognize one pair of eyes from the other. Garreth's eyes he knew to be a pure yellow with a look of self-restraint, while his son's eyes were rimmed with red, and held a wild angry light in them that turned a fellow's blood cold.

"I'll not leave you to face either old or young dragon on your own," Whittle announced, drawing his sword.

"Don't be a fool, son!" Chester snapped. "Garreth ain't going to hurt me, but if he sees you standing here among his treasures, he might take the notion that you've come to rob him. He'll either kill you on the spot, or carry you out over the sea and drop you in. Hurry! I tell you that's Garreth, and not his son! Only old Garreth would move so slowly."

Whittle had been raised to respect his elders. Still, he didn't like the idea of leaving the old man to deal with a dragon on his own. For a moment he hesitated, then as the dim form of a large beast came into view he reluctantly returned his sword to its sheath and joined Hope and Alanna.

"Where's Chester?" Hope whispered loudly as the young man knelt peeking around the side of the pile ready at the first sign of trouble to go to Chester's aid. "You didn't leave him to face that horrid beast alone, did you?"

"At his insistence," Whittle replied, pricked in his heart that the princess should think him such a coward. "He is positive that it is Garreth approaching, and not the red dragon. If you wish me to disobey his order and join him, I will, your highness, for it goes against my nature to hide like a hunted animal."

Hope hardly heard the last of his explanation, so excited was she.

"That won't do at all!" she cried, removing her arm from around Alanna's shoulders and rising to her feet. "The red dragon will kill Garreth if he finds him in this cave!"

Whittle grabbed her arm as she was about to rush past him.

"Wait, Hope," he said in a firm voice that sounded very much like his father's. "I will not let you expose yourself to harm."

Hope was about to give him a piece of her mind, though secretly she rather fancied the young man's protective attitude, but just then Chester spoke, and both young people forgot all else.

"Now don't look at me like that, Garreth," they heard the old man say in a coaxing voice. "I ain't here to help that hot headed son of yours. Your old Chester was just checking to make sure your treasures were all accounted for and in order. Ain't that why you brought me here? To look after your things?"

In response the dragon growled softly. To Hope it sounded like the snarl of an angry cat, but Whittle thought he heard words in what sounded like an ancient voice.

"He's missing something," Whittle whispered. "The red dragon must have made off with some of his father's treasure."

"No," Hope said soberly, "Garreth's treasure is all here, he just can't see it. Stay hidden with Alanna until Garreth has gone. It is me that old Garreth seeks. I must show myself or Chester will suffer for not taking better care of the old dragon's belongings."

"Hope, no!" Alanna sobbed, the darkness hiding the tears that were rolling down the young girl's face.

"Don't worry, Garreth won't hurt me," Hope said reassuringly. "Just pray that his son doesn't return and find us here. I fancy even Whittle's music won't be able to calm his wrath if he discovers us so near his recently acquired hoard."

"I don't like this, Whittle," Alanna whispered as Hope left them to join the dragon and Chester, who was talking in a steady streak, trying to soothe the agitated dragon. "Even a 'good' dragon is still a wild beast and this one sounds a very angry beast."

"Not so much angry as confused and hurt," Whittle corrected.

"Whittle! Can you understand dragon speech?" Alanna asked in astonishment.

Whittle shifted from one foot to the other uneasily. "Not exactly, but there's an inflection in the voice that tells me what the beast is feeling. Do you not hear it, Alanna?"

"What I hear is an irate dragon, who might do great harm if he feels he has been wronged," Alanna said, her voice tense as she got to her feet and stood next to Whittle.

As dim light filled the room Whittle pulled Alanna down to a crouching position and put his finger to his lips, tipping his head toward the dragon, indicating they should be more careful of their speech, and listen to what was taking place between the dragon and the humans who were trying to reason with it.

"You shouldn't be here, Garreth," Chester was saying. "Coming to brood over your treasure ain't safe, with that son of yours looking for an excuse to thrash the daylights out of you. You know he considers all this wealth his now."

"Wrong thing to say, Chester," Whittle muttered under his breath as the dragon bellowed in rage and frustration.

"You still have me, Garreth," Hope reminded once the dragon had finished expressing his anger. "Your son will get tired of this island in time, and all this will be yours again."

"Blime, Hope!" Chester exclaimed. "Will you, look at the pile! I know every item Garreth has, and there's a fair number of trinkets missing. I'll wager this isn't the first trip Garreth has made to the cave while his son is out and about. I wonder where he's taking his treasures. Some other island not too far off, I expect. He's too old and tired to travel a great distance with a heavy load."

As if to dispute the statement Garreth let out a loud roar that made Whittle stuff his fingers in his ears. But he took them out as Alanna tugged at his sleeve.

"Whittle," her low voice was filled with emotion. "Garreth considers Hope to be one of his treasures. If he carries her off to some new place we many never find her again. We must do something!"

Whittle's hand went down to his sword, but Alanna shook her head. "Swords will not avail you against this threat, Whittle. Many a brave lad more skilled with a blade than you has tried to slay a dragon, to his own ruin. But none but you knows how to woo one with a song."

Whittle hesitated and then as he heard Hope scream he withdrew a pipe and began to play.

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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