"It seems Garreth decided to leave before his son comes back and finds him hanging around his treasures," Whittle answered knowingly.

"If you understand dragon speech so well, boy, perhaps you'd best talk the red dragon into letting you go," Chester said, a little miffed, perhaps, that Whittle should understand Garreth better than he, who had served the old dragon faithfully for so many years.

"I did't really understand what Garreth said," Whittle tried to explain. "I just somehow sensed what he felt from the tone of his voice. Oh, perhaps I imagined the whole thing!" Whittle cried, for now that the old dragon was gone he wasn't certain what had actually happened.

"Come on girls, if Garreth decided it was time to leave, than I think we'd best be on our way as well," Chester said after an anxious look down the dark passage, as if fearing he might see a new pair of eyes approaching. Eyes not as amiable as old Garreth's had been.

"Please be careful, Whittle," Hope pleaded, laying a hand on his arm and looking up at him with an expression that caused Whittle's heart to soar with a new and unexpected hope. A hope that he quickly squelched. That the beautiful Princess of Lark should care for a common peasant lad was a ridiculous assumption. Doubtless she would show the same concern for anyone, hers being the tender and loving nature that it was, he told himself, feeling both relief and disappointment at his deduction.

Perhaps it was as Garreth had believed, the music had wooed and won a mate. Perhaps it was the young man's brave actions, or, perhaps, it was his gentle demeanor, and his desire to do the right thing. Or perhaps it was a combination of a great number of things. Whatever the cause, Hope found herself strongly attracted to the young man who stood returning her gaze with what she took to be cool indifference.

Whittle patted her hand rather awkward. "I shall do my best, your highness, but if for some reason I don't survive, I ask that you see Julian continues my quest. A great many lives depend on its success."

"I give my word that I will do everything I can to help, in whatever way I can," she promised solemnly.

"Thank you," he said, bowing slightly and a little stiffly because he didn't know how else to respond.

"Let's go, Hope!" Chester commanded, taking the girl's arm and dragging her away from Whittle.

"I'll come back tomorrow, after the dragon leaves!" Hope promised the young man who stood straight and solitary in the flickering light of the waning torch. Then pulling her arm free from Chester's grip the princess turned her back on Whittle and walked proudly out of the cave.

They were extra careful on their trip down the hidden path, with Alanna only lighting her wand when necessary and with many a glance up into the starlit sky.

When they returned to camp they found Julian asleep with one arm clutching Todd's walking staff, and the other curled around the balloon's dimly burning lamp. Clayton lay sleeping nearby snoring loudly.

"You must be exhausted, Hope," Chester said sympathetically, chalking her dropping shoulders and bleak expression up to weariness. "I know I'm all done in, and my day hasn't been near as taxing as yours. I see Clayton has snatched both our blankets. I'll get them back from the selfish lout and then you and Alanna can share one, while I cover the young boy with the other. I reckon an old fool like me and a blackguard like Clayton can sleep with just the stars for cover."

"Don't disturb him," Alanna ordered as Chester moved purposefully toward the sleeping man.

"I doubt he'd give up his comfort without a fight, and we don't need the blankets. I know a spell that will warm the air around us so we won't suffer from the nighttime chill."

As Alanna spoke some words and waved Dagu's wand about a few times the air around them lost its chill and became just the right temperature for sleeping.

"It's nothing," the girl said shyly when Chester expressed his admiration at her skill. "I just wish I could do the same for Whittle."

Hope drew Whittle's cape more closely about her body, regretting that she had not returned it to the young man. She gazed toward the cliff where the dragon kept his coveted treasures wondering if she would find Whittle alive and well on the morrow.

As expected, the red dragon returned to the cave the next morning, and though Hope waited eagerly for it to leave that evening, it didn't emerge until quite late. So late, in fact, that Chester had forbidden Hope from climbing the difficult trail, which was just as well, for the red dragon only stayed away for a few hours, and it was most likely she would have been discovered had she kept her promise and returned to visit Whittle. She was disappointed not only for herself, but also for the young man who had to remain in the cave with only a foul tempered dragon for company.

Days passed and the dragon showed little interested in leaving the island. Seldom did it venture out, and when it did emerge and fly off there was no telling when it might be back. Hope took some comfort in the fact that when the dragon did return from one of its trips it often had food of one sort or another clutched in its large talon.

From a place of concealment Hope would watch as Whittle emerged from the cave each day and ate a solitary meal. There seemed no danger of him starving, she decided, and, if used sparingly, the bucket Chester had carried up to the cave contained enough water to last for a number of days. There was also a small spring of water flowing from a rock and down the hillside some distance from the cave, though she had no way of knowing if Whittle had discovered it, or been lead to it by the dragon.

But all was not as well with Whittle as one might suppose. Never had he been called upon to play such music. It wasn't the playing of the flutes that wore on Whittle's nerves and taxed his strength, but the stress of knowing that should the dragon tire of it, or find it not to his liking, he would doubtless kill the minstrel responsible for the sound. There was no warmth in the dragon's cold eyes as they watched the young man play. The dragon seldom made vocal sounds, but would thump its tail irately on the floor when the tune didn't suit him, and swish his tail gently back and forth when he was pleased.

On occasion Whittle's thoughts traveled to home, mother and father, and the young child that his mother had been carrying inside her body, next to her heart, when he and his brother had left. The baby had surely been born by now, he thought, and as he played his music took on the sound of his feelings. Often Whittle thought of the princess who was so near and yet so far from him. As he played, his concern for her safety, and his devotion to her were reflected in the melody. At first the young man hadn't realized that all the emotions he felt as he played, the dragon also experienced through his music. Once while he was playing Whittle thought of the evil knight who had threatened to destroy his whole village. The dragon became so incensed that the lad quickly forced himself to think of his beloved woods; the birds singing sweetly in the treetops, the leaves of the mighty trees that shaded him from the heat of the noonday sun, and the gentle brook that babbled across the forest floor. As the angry light faded from the dragon's eyes Whittle resolved to be more careful of his thoughts in the future.

Of course not even Whittle could play nonstop. While the dragon slept Whittle slept, when the dragon returned with food and laid it down in front of him, Whittle ate. Though never inside the cave. For the dragon had made it clear that all meals were to be eaten out in the open. So Whittle would emerge from the cave at least once a day to eat his solitary meal and breathe in deeply of the fresh air. On one occasion the dragon returned with a dead sheep clasped in his claw. (Just as Garreth had brought him many times when the young dragon was too young to fend for himself) The dragon watched with interest as Whittle made a small fire from some sticks and twigs and roasted the lamb over it. After that the dragon always 'cooked' any food it brought Whittle with a blast of its fiery breath. Even the basket of tomatoes the dragon returned with were roasted, leaving little but a puddle of soup. Being a wise lad Whittle thanked the dragon kindly, and did his best to eat what remained of his meal.

Down below the others were less fortunate. Without Whittle to shoot his arrows and spear food for them, they were forced to come up with a way to catch their own fish. After considerable thought Chester found a long stick to which he attached a thin but strong vine, very similar to what Whittle had tied to his arrow when catching their first fish. But on the end of his twine Chester attached the prong of a fork which he had placed in the fire and then beaten into a hook shape while it was still red hot. On this crude hook the old man placed a worm. Then he cast the line out into the pond and waited. After watching the hook and worm float on the water for several minutes without any success, he pulled in his line, fastened a small pebble onto the vine and cast it back out again. This time the worm sank below the surface. After several hours he was rewarded with a small fish, which he made into a broth. When Clayton grumbled and complained about the lack of 'real man's food' Chester snapped testy, "If you want something better go find it yourself!" but to Hope he said, "I'm sorry it's not more, Hope."

"It's not your fault, Chester," Hope assured. "I fancy fish don't like worms as much as they do pixies."

Chester looked thoughtful, but said nothing.

The next morning Chester took off early to do some fishing. Shortly after arising, Alanna and Julian put their heads together, trying to think up some kind of spell that would repair the balloon, while Hope, who was always up with the birds, bustled about gathering leaves and grasses.

"What's she up to then?" Clayton asked Alanna, jerking his head in Hope's direction as the girl plucked leaves from a blackberry bush which she added to a bucket of other assorted greens. "She ain't thinking of making a soup out of that stuff, is she?"

"Actually, blackberry leaves make a very good beverage," Alanna said, more interested in her conversation with Julian than in Clayton's curiosity.

Neither boy nor girl noticed when Clayton followed Hope into the woods. The man was an expert on staying out of sight, so Hope wasn't aware of him as she made her way across the island to a mucky area surrounded with high trees and a meadow full of grass. He watched from behind a tree as Hope called gently. As a small cow bellowed in response and approached a gleam came into the man's eyes. A gleam that Whittle knew, and dreaded.

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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