by Laura Lane
The following day, Knight Morgan climbed the cliff and sat down in the entrance of the lair and was greeted with a fanged growl and a puff of smoke. The knight spoke quietly and soothingly as if nothing had happened and nothing had changed. The dragon watched the intruder with half closed baleful eyes, but by the end of the day the dragon was accepting the food offerings from the knight’s hand. When the dragon stretched its neck, the knight noticed that an old broken arrow remained implanted in the shoulder beneath the wing.
Knight Morgan did not leave the cave that night, but stayed and lit a small torch to illuminate the dark surroundings. When the dragon spread its wings for its night flight, the Knight grabbed the broken arrowhead and planting both feet against the beast’s chest, pulling with all his might. The beast roared in pain as the arrow pulled out of bone and the knight fell backwards onto the ledge. The dragon brought its angry head down to grasp the knight in its jaws, and the knight raised both arms for protection. Both stopped as they passed into each other. The dragon was ethereal and fading quickly to leave behind the collapsed form of the missing wizard. Knight Morgan crawled over and shook the wizard by the good shoulder.
“Whitmoor, it is you! I was right. You became your spell when you fell into the cauldron, and you were bound to that form by the arrow imbedded in your shoulder.”
“Aye, I did.” The old wizard sat up with Knight Morgan’s assistance. “But how did you know to pull out the arrow to break the spell?”
“I didn’t. I thought that it must hurt, so I took a chance.”
“Thank you for that,” the wizard grabbed Morgan’s arm, “thank you for giving those knights a proper burial. I did not mean to kill them, but I had to defend myself and I had no control over what I did.”
“You are welcome. We’ll stay here tonight and head back to the castle at daybreak. I’ll build us a fire and cook a meal.” The knight patted the grey matted head.
“Nothing for me please. I’ve had more than enough salted beef for one day, thank you.”
** *
The trumpeters announced their arrival from the distance. And true to his word, Fitzhuillum escorted Knight Morgan and the wizard Whitmoor to the King’s drawing room. The King sat on his throne with the Princess to his right, and his personal advisor on his left. Seated on both sides along the wall were other royal officers of the court.
“Your Majesty,” beamed Fitzhuillum making wide gestures and bows, unable to conceal his excitement, “may I present Sir Morgan of Fairwinds, son of the late hero Sir Champion of Fairwinds, the only knight who was able to single handed destroy the Dragon that has terrorized this Shire for too long and rescue your personal wizard Whitmoor.”
“We won’t mention that I was the dragon,” Whitmoor whispered. The knight gave his companion a curt nod as they approached the King, then knelt before him and the princess. Fitzhuillum bowed once more and took his place against the wall.
“Rise, I am honored by your fearlessness and kindness.” The King rose from his chair, and opened the chest before him “ I would be most honored if you would accept this chest of gold and the hand of my daughter, the Princess Avrilea.” The princess also rose and curtsied, before sitting back down.
“Thank you for your graciousness, but I can only accept the chest of gold which I intend to distribute among the poor of my shire. However I cannot marry the fair Princess Avrilea.”
The princess gasped and then there was a thick silence in the room. The wizard elbowed the knight and faked a turn to look behind himself, while whispering desperately, “Take it back! I can fix whatever male problem ails you,” then he coughed discreetly.
“May I ask,” growled the King, “why you would reject the Princess? Are you wed?”
“No I am not, your Majesty. But I am unable to marry the Princess, and I beg your forgiveness, but my reasons I would prefer to keep secret.”
The King grasped the arms of his chair, and spoke quietly through clenched teeth, “Remove your helmet, Sir. I want to see the face that has insulted me and mine.”
The knight hesitated, and then obligingly removed the helmet to shocked gasps all over the room. The room was silent, and then the jester snickered.
Then the King roared, pounding on his armchair, followed by the laughter of the crowd of officials. The Knight Morgan, only daughter and child of Sir Champion of Fairwinds, with her long blond hair cascading in front of her face, knelt humbly before the King.
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Expect another adventure, a Young Adult Mystery entitled : Herakleion Treasures from Laura Lane in the near future!