Black wizards - Douglas Niles [42]
His path took him back to the grove, but he was in no particular hurry. Without an urgent reason, the faerie dragon could not possibly travel in a straight line, and so his arrival could be anywhere from hours to days away.
He reached the shore of a broad pond, hovering silently with a steady fluttering of his gossamer wings. Slowly he settled onto a wide pine bough, looking around the shore. Such watering places, the dragon had discovered, were likely to yield his quarry.
Indeed, he soon saw a tiny fawn, staring into the clear water on the other side of the pond. Instantly, Newt crouched, his tail arrowing straight behind him. When he was quite certain of achieving surprise, he acted.
He cast a simple illusion spell upon the reflection of the young deer. The unfortunate creature found itself looking at a purple-furred, fang-toothed horror that appeared to lunge out of the water, gaping maw extended. With a sharp squeal of terror, the fawn tumbled backward in a rolling bundle of gangly legs.
"Hee hee nee!" Newt squealed as the little creature finally stumbled to its feet and sprinted awkwardly into the woods. "I can't stand it!" he shrieked. He nearly lost his grip as he slipped to hang below the branch, supporting himself with his two left legs. Tears clouded his vision as he scrambled back atop the bough.
"Oh, but that was marvelous!" he boasted to the forest at large. "Nothing like a good joke to move a day along!"
He decided that he must share this wonderful story with Robyn. She would cluck disapprovingly at his prank – she always did when a cute and helpless animal was involved – but Newt suspected that, deep down, she would be amused. And he simply had to tell somebody!
Springing into the air, the faerie dragon beat his wings so hard that they hummed. He zipped like an arrow across the pond and darted into the forest on the far side. Weaving among the tree tops, he raced toward Genna's grove.
But when he reached the stream at the southern edge of the grove, he slowed. Something did not look right.
Newt gasped when he saw the bodies on the ground and quickly buzzed down to light upon Robyn's back. With relief, he felt her breathing beneath him, albeit slowly. The man, he saw with little surprise and no regret, was dead.
"Oh, Robyn, wake up!" he pleaded, leaping to the ground and gently nudging her shoulder. "Please! It's me. Newt! What should I do?"
He shook his tiny head frantically, looking around for some answer to his question, when he spied the black rock at Robyn's side. Something about the stone seemed unnatural, repulsive. His nimble brain quickly connected the rock to his friend's unconsciousness.
Grasping the offending stone in both his forepaws, he leaped into the air. With the most strenuous thrumming of his wings, he climbed, feeling like a lumbering condor. Slowly he flew across the stream, away from the grove of the Great Druid. After he had gone a mile or so, he dropped the stone in the woods and raced back to Robyn's side.
With relief, he saw that she had already begun to stir.
* * * * *
"A sail! Tristan, a sail!"
The prince jerked from his slumber. He raised his head from the air bladder and shook it to clear the cobwebs. Blinking the saltwater from his eyes, he followed Daryth's pointing finger.
"I see it! It's coming right toward us!"
"Things are starting to look up," grinned the Calishite.
"Call them," croaked Pontswain, hope lighting his eyes.
"Too far," said Daryth. "But they're coming right at us."
The little vessel indeed skipped closer. It had a single mast with a sail colored in a broad rainbow pattern. The prow was high, so they could not see the interior of the craft. As it neared them, however, they heard strains of a song sung in a clear, female voice.
"I knew a merry widow, to her neighbors quite demure,
But all the lads that saw her said,
The lady's far from pure.
Now I can't say the lads are right
(but I can't say they're wrong)
And I know that merry widow