Christopher Stasheff - The Warlock is Missing

"Thou art not a dragon."

Cordelia started to say something, but she saw Puck glare at her, and closed her mouth.

"Mayhap a dragon cannot breathe outward without breathing flame," Gregory guessed.

"And mayhap he doth it for joy." Cordelia's broomstick seemed to dance in an upward current of air.

"For myself," Puck called up from ground level, "I wonder less wherefore this dragon doth breathe fire, than why thou four must needs hunt it. Dost thou feel not the slightest fear?"

"None," Geoffrey said, a little too quickly.

"Only enough to lend excitement," Cordelia called.

Magnus shook his head. "'Tis folly. Be mindful, this beast could roast us in an instant."

Gregory nodded. "I fear. Yet not greatly, Puck—for an the beast doth threaten, I can soar upwards. Or even disappear, back to the village."

"There's some truth in that," the elf admitted. "Yet mind thee not to come too close, or he will fry thee ere thou canst flit."

Scales rattled against rock.

" 'Ware!" Puck cried. "The beast doth come!"

The children shot upward as though they'd been thrown from a catapult

Around a wall of rock it came, its body as big as a cottage, its neck long and tapering, its head as high as a rooftop. A row of pointed plates came down the top of its neck and along its backbone to the tip of its tail, where it ended in a huge arrowhead. It was green with yellow streaks here and there, and had eyes the size of dinner plates. Its muzzle was long and wide, with flaring nostrils. A forked tongue flicked out of its mouth, tasting the air.

Fess began to tremble.

"Nay!" Geoffrey shouted. "Thou hast known of this, Fess!"

"You have told me," the robot agreed, "yet encountering the reality strains my conceptual framework…"

"It may have been made by magic like unto Father's," Gregory called.

Fess calmed. "It could be a robot, as I myself am. True."

A streak of silver flashed past Fess. The unicorn reared in front of him, dancing off toward the side of the path, drawing the dragon's attention away from the horse. She pawed the air, aiming her horn toward the monster.

The dragon roared. A tongue of flame blasted out ten feet in front of it. It waddled toward the unicorn with astonishing

"Nay!" Cordelia shrieked, and her broomstick shot downward in a power dive. "Get thee away from my darling, thou monster!"

"Cordelia, up!" Puck shouted in panic. "He will sear thee!" The dragon looked up, took a deep breath, and roared. Flame lashed out fifteen feet; but Cordelia pulled out of her dive and swooped upward, with a good twenty feet to spare. "Cordelia!" Gregory cried. "Thy broomstick!" Cordelia turned, startled. The straws behind her had burst

into flame. But even as she stared, a ball of water materialized around the fire with a whip-crack sound. It rained downward, leaving smoking straw.

It also splashed on the dragon's muzzle, hissing up into steam. The beast roared with pain and blasted flame at Corde-lia again.

"Why, thou horrid beast!" she cried in indignation, and a boulder shot up from the ground to crash into the dragon's jaw. It bellowed in anger, then suddenly clamped its jaws shut as its whole body rocked, as though from the blow of an invisible fist. The strangest look of puzzlement came over its face, just before its body rocked again. Then its cheeks swelled, its chin tucked in, and it let loose a huge belch of hissing steam. It swallowed, then tried a tentative roar. The sound came, but no flame. It frowned, and roared again—and again, and again. A little steam came out, but not so much as a spark.

Magnus scowled at it, thinking toward it as hard as he could. Sleep . His brothers and sister joined their thoughts to his. So sleepy… Need shelter… Cave… Go back …

The dragon blinked, staring about, stupefied. Slowly, it turned around and began to climb the hillside again. It disap-peared around the cliff-face.

The children drifted upward, following. Fess and the uni-corn climbed, too, but a bit more cautiously.

They found it again just as it dragged itself into a gaping hole near the top of the hill. They came lower warily to peer into the darkness, and could just barely make out the huge scaly form as it curved back on itself, coiling up to rest its chin on its tail. The huge eyelids blinked, then closed. It gave a sigh of contentment. The children watched, waiting, as its breathing deepened and steadied. Finally, it snored.

" 'Tis even as thou didst say," Geoffrey said to Gregory.

"Certes," Gregory said indignantly. "Vidor would not fib to us."

"Some unwary soul might wander in there," Magnus said thoughtfully.

"Indeed," Puck said, from among the rocks. "And evil souls might seek it out, to light its fire once again."

"Not truly!" Cordelia cried in dismay. "Surely people are not so horrid!"

"I doubt me not an Puck doth know whereof he doth speak," Magnus said grimly.

Geoffrey grinned. "We would not wish our poor, weary dragon to be rudely wakened, would we?"

"Indeed we would not," Magnus said, with decision. "Up, my hearties! Get thee clear!"

Geoffrey scowled, but he bobbed upward, rising as fast as a March kite, and Gregory followed.

Magnus and Cordelia drifted upward, too, and away from the cliff. Together, they concentrated on a huge boulder high above the cave. It stirred, then moved a little bit forward, then a little bit backward, then a little bit forward again, then backward, beginning to rock like a cradle. It rocked harder, and harder and harder—until, all at once, it rocked just a little too far, seeming to balance on the edge of the cliff for a moment, then slowly, majestically, bowed forward and fell, crashing and booming down the hillside, knocking loose a horde of smaller boulders behind it. Down and down they stormed, more and more, until a full avalanche crashed into the ledge, to bury the entrance to the dragon's cave under a fifty-foot pile of rock.

"He will sleep now," Gregory said softly, "forever, I think."

"Or unless someone is foolish enough to seek to wake him," Puck said, frowning. "For mind you, news of this will pass from village to village right quickly, and the tale will grow greater with each telling. Within a fortnight, I doubt not, folk will speak of a tall and noble knight who did this deed, not four children; and by year's end, 'twill be a legend full-blown. Mothers will tell it to their babes at nightfall to lull them to sleep—and when those babes grow up, like as not one of them will find a way to burrow into this cave, to discover whether or not there's truth to the tale."

The children stared, eyes huge. "Such an one would not be so foolish as to seek to light the dragon's fire again, would he?" Magnus asked.

But Geoffrey nodded with certainty. "Oh, aye. For naught but to be able to say he had done it—aye. I can credit it."

"That thou canst, I am sure," Cordelia snorted. "Yet could any but Geoffrey be so foolish, Puck?"

The elf only shook his head and sighed, "Lord, what fools these mortals be," and led the children away.

Cordelia was riding the unicorn again as they came down to the burned-out village. Puck stopped and called out in a cur-

ious, warbling tone. The hillside lay quiet a moment; then a little man dressed all in brown, with a face tanned dark by sun and wind, popped up from between two small boulders. "What dost thou wish, Merry Wanderer?"

"Bear the word," Puck commanded. "The dragon sleeps behind a wall of stone."

"We have seen," the brownie chortled. "We rejoice. A thousand thanks rain down on thee, Robin Goodfellow! And these children, whom thou hast brought to our aid!"

Cordelia blushed, and bowed her head graciously. Magnus and Geoffrey bowed; but Gregory only stared.