when Arthur and I were first around. If the local story is true, it’s possible this is one of the dragons I met.”
“And gave birth to,” Margaret added.
“Well,
aided
in the birth, you might say.”
By this time, they were quite near the little hill. “If you look at it right,” Welly observed, “it does kind of look like a sleeping dragon, head stretched out one way, tail the other.”
Troll, who was peering from behind him, said, “Trolls not like dragons. Dragons big and cranky and eat small folk.”
“Small folk like trolls?” Welly asked.
“Trolls, people, cattle. Everything smaller than dragons.”
Merlin had already dismounted. Waving back the others, he strode to one end of the hill. Rus stalked beside him until Merlin called to Welly to grab the dog and keep him away.
Unsheathing his Eldritch sword, the wizard held it high and jabbed it into the ground. Then, raising his staff, he began chanting in a language none of them knew. The horses fidgeted nervously, Rus howled from both throats, and the watchers moved back a greater distance to calm their mounts.
From there, it was harder to see what was happening by the little hill. The mists that often cloaked the Yorkshire Moors had risen suddenly and were clouding their vision. But mist could not disguise the vibrations they felt under their feet or the faint rumbling reaching their ears. The horses’ nervousness was turning to panic, and everyone dismounted and held their bridles, trying to murmur soothing words. The rumbling only grew louder and drowned them out.
The vibrations in the ground grew to violent shaking. As everyone strained to see through the mist, it suddenly swirled away. The hill shook as if in the throes of a massive earthquake. The rumbling ended in a thunderous crack, the hill shuddered, and its turf covering broke open and flew apart. Flaming pieces of grass and soil showered down on the watchers, sending the horses into screaming terror.
“If only Heather were here,” Welly cried as he clung to his rearing horse’s bridle. “She can always calm animals.”
Beside him, the Queen, struggling with her own stallion, called, “What about your troll friend? I’ve seen him talk with animals.”
Looking around, they saw Troll cowering flat on the ground, hands splayed over both large ears.
Handing her reins to Welly, Margaret walked to the quaking figure and crouched beside him. “Troll,” she said firmly, resting a hand on his shoulder, “you have an important Royal Duty here. You must talk to the horses so they don’t bolt and leave the King and the rest of us stranded.”
Troll looked up with fear-widened eyes. Then, fingering the plastic beads around his neck, he squeaked, “Right. Troll brave, do duty. Horses big hairy cowards.” Scuttling to the first horse, he scrambled up its neck and began talking in its ear. He repeated this until all the horses had been reduced to quiet shivering.
The people in the King’s party now weren’t paying as much attention to the horses as to what was happening on the moor in front of them. The exploding dirt and grass had settled to the ground. The air smelled of hot dirt and singed grass. A cloud of dust still hung over the hill. Slowly it began to drift away, exposing raw white earth. No, the watchers realized. That was not earth. It was moving.
The white shape, nearly thirty feet long, twitched, then rippled with motion, as if muscles were flexing along its whole length. A long snaky neck rose up, a triangular horned head at its end. The mouth opened and out poured a bone-sawing screech and a sulfurous stench. The creature’s sides shivered and, and in a renewed cloud of dust, great wings unfurled.
Standing below the rearing head, Merlin raised his staff and shouted, “Hold, Worm! Twice now I have freed you. This time, I claim my lawful debt of service.”
The dragon curled its neck down, bringing its head so close to Merlin that the watchers gasped for fear of
“And gave birth to,” Margaret added.
“Well,
aided
in the birth, you might say.”
By this time, they were quite near the little hill. “If you look at it right,” Welly observed, “it does kind of look like a sleeping dragon, head stretched out one way, tail the other.”
Troll, who was peering from behind him, said, “Trolls not like dragons. Dragons big and cranky and eat small folk.”
“Small folk like trolls?” Welly asked.
“Trolls, people, cattle. Everything smaller than dragons.”
Merlin had already dismounted. Waving back the others, he strode to one end of the hill. Rus stalked beside him until Merlin called to Welly to grab the dog and keep him away.
Unsheathing his Eldritch sword, the wizard held it high and jabbed it into the ground. Then, raising his staff, he began chanting in a language none of them knew. The horses fidgeted nervously, Rus howled from both throats, and the watchers moved back a greater distance to calm their mounts.
From there, it was harder to see what was happening by the little hill. The mists that often cloaked the Yorkshire Moors had risen suddenly and were clouding their vision. But mist could not disguise the vibrations they felt under their feet or the faint rumbling reaching their ears. The horses’ nervousness was turning to panic, and everyone dismounted and held their bridles, trying to murmur soothing words. The rumbling only grew louder and drowned them out.
The vibrations in the ground grew to violent shaking. As everyone strained to see through the mist, it suddenly swirled away. The hill shook as if in the throes of a massive earthquake. The rumbling ended in a thunderous crack, the hill shuddered, and its turf covering broke open and flew apart. Flaming pieces of grass and soil showered down on the watchers, sending the horses into screaming terror.
“If only Heather were here,” Welly cried as he clung to his rearing horse’s bridle. “She can always calm animals.”
Beside him, the Queen, struggling with her own stallion, called, “What about your troll friend? I’ve seen him talk with animals.”
Looking around, they saw Troll cowering flat on the ground, hands splayed over both large ears.
Handing her reins to Welly, Margaret walked to the quaking figure and crouched beside him. “Troll,” she said firmly, resting a hand on his shoulder, “you have an important Royal Duty here. You must talk to the horses so they don’t bolt and leave the King and the rest of us stranded.”
Troll looked up with fear-widened eyes. Then, fingering the plastic beads around his neck, he squeaked, “Right. Troll brave, do duty. Horses big hairy cowards.” Scuttling to the first horse, he scrambled up its neck and began talking in its ear. He repeated this until all the horses had been reduced to quiet shivering.
The people in the King’s party now weren’t paying as much attention to the horses as to what was happening on the moor in front of them. The exploding dirt and grass had settled to the ground. The air smelled of hot dirt and singed grass. A cloud of dust still hung over the hill. Slowly it began to drift away, exposing raw white earth. No, the watchers realized. That was not earth. It was moving.
The white shape, nearly thirty feet long, twitched, then rippled with motion, as if muscles were flexing along its whole length. A long snaky neck rose up, a triangular horned head at its end. The mouth opened and out poured a bone-sawing screech and a sulfurous stench. The creature’s sides shivered and, and in a renewed cloud of dust, great wings unfurled.
Standing below the rearing head, Merlin raised his staff and shouted, “Hold, Worm! Twice now I have freed you. This time, I claim my lawful debt of service.”
The dragon curled its neck down, bringing its head so close to Merlin that the watchers gasped for fear of
Similar Books
