by Clayton Wood
“He’s the White Dragon,” Gideon answered. “I don’t believe Thaddeus ever gave him an actual name.”
They rode ever forward and rightward, the tapering tail only a hundred feet away now. Bella spotted a much larger structure beyond it…one hundreds of feet tall and wider than any structure she’d ever seen.
The head of the White Dragon.
A chill ran down her spine, goosebumps rising on her arms. Its eyes were closed, two long, golden horns curving backward from its head. A few curved, sharp white teeth protruded from its closed maw, each many times taller than a man. Its huge nostrils were like endless pits, and as she watched, they flared outward slowly. Moments later, she felt a strong, warm breeze flow around her.
“Is it…awake?” she asked.
“Who knows?” Gideon replied. “I’ve only seen it rise once.” He chuckled. “That was the first – and last – time that anyone tried to attack Havenwood.”
“It defended Havenwood?” Bella asked.
“The White Dragon is Havenwood’s guardian,” Gideon explained. “I daresay it’s an effective one. Not even the Collector would dare threaten the kingdom. Or the Pentad, for that matter.”
Bella nodded. It was hard to imagine anyone even thinking about taking on the White Dragon, much less being successful in the attempt.
“The dragon also ensures that only those that practice the magical arts can pass into the kingdom of Havenwood,” Gideon continued. Bella frowned.
“Regular people can’t get in?”
“That’s right,” Gideon confirmed. “If you can’t feel the Flow, you can’t get in.”
They were close to the end of the tail now, which overlapped a bit with the end of the dragon’s nose. There was a ten-foot-wide gap between them, with the tail on the left and the head on the right. It was the only path into the great dragon circle. Gideon led them toward it.
“There are people that can’t feel the Flow?” Bella inquired. She hadn’t even considered the possibility.
“The vast majority of people can’t,” Gideon explained. “It’s hereditary. If either of a person’s parents can feel the Flow, their children will be able to. Otherwise…no.”
“But our horses can’t feel the Flow,” Bella pointed out. “And Myko and Goo are in paintings, and…”
“It only applies to humans,” Gideon clarified.
They reached the path between the overlapping dragon’s tail and its head, and Gideon led them through it, Bella riding behind him. She felt the sudden blast of its the warm, moist breath as it breathed out of its massive nostrils. Her horse spooked a bit underneath her.
“Whoa,” Bella blurted out, patting her horse.
“It’s smelling us,” Gideon called out from ahead.
Bella glanced up at the dragon’s eyes as they rode, relieved that they were still closed. She must have passed whatever test it had given her, for she was allowed through without incident.
Then, having passed through the dragon circle, white and good, they arrived at last in Havenwood.
* * *
The first thing Bella noticed were the mushrooms.
They seemed to grow everywhere, little ones scattered around the wide cobblestone path Gideon and Bella rode on. These had short white stalks and cute little caps in an amazing variety of colors. Some had polka dots on them, others swirling designs. They were no taller than a few inches, and grew so densely she couldn’t see the soil below them.
Mushrooms further back from the winding path grew as tall as bushes, and even farther back, as tall as trees. These larger mushrooms had caps that hung over the path, providing shade from the sun. There were other plants – some grass and flowers, and the occasional shrub – but for the most part, fungus dominated the landscape. The tree-like mushrooms grew so densely that Bella couldn’t see past them; as a result, the path was a rather intimate space, each winding turn creating a sense of mystery as to what lay ahead.
“Quite a lot of mushrooms,” Bella noted.
“Thaddeus was very fond of them.”
“Why?” she asked.
“I suppose because they’re a bit strange,” Gideon answered. Bella smiled ruefully at that.
“It runs in the family.”
“Hmm?”
“Being strange,” Bella clarified. “I never felt…normal.”
“Well then, you’ll fit right in here,” Gideon replied. “Havenwood is for people who can’t fit in…or won’t.”
Bella gave a weak smile, remembering the letter Mrs. Pittersworth had written, about how she couldn’t focus. About how something was wrong with her, and she needed to be on medication. She relayed the story to Gideon.
“Nonsense,” Gideon retorted. “You couldn’t concentrate because you didn’t care.”
“Well, not about algebra,” she admitted.
“I daresay if you took a hundred adults and put them in school for seven hours straight, lecturing about things they didn’t particularly care about, they’d all have trouble paying attention,” Gideon declared. “Children don’t learn by sitting and listening for hours, they learn by doing. By trying and failing and learning. You know what that’s called?”
“Um…”
“It’s called playing,” Gideon stated. “And it’s the most serious thing that children do.”
“Oh,” Bella murmured. “Guess I never thought of it that way.”
“Adults make the mistake of thinking that play is frivolous,” Gideon explained. “And that work must be arduous.” He arched an eyebrow. “Is painting work or play for you, Bella?”
“Both?”
He smirked.
“Granted. Yet you see the power of art,” Gideon declared, gesturing all around him.
“So you think Mrs. Pittersworth was wrong?” she asked hopefully. Gideon snorted.
“Only listen to what people who think think,” he declared.
“That’s what Grandpa said.”
“We learned from the very best,” Gideon replied with a wink.
The path wound to the left, then opened up abruptly ahead, reaching the end of the mushroom forest. Beyond, the path continued, curving to the right around a lake with crystal-clear water. A large waterfall fed this lake, cascading downward from a gushing stream near the top of the mountain upon which Havenwood had been built.
Or rather, written.
Bella pulled back on her horse’s reins, stopping on the path. She followed the path with her gaze as it wound up the mountain, corkscrewing up to the very top. Beautiful buildings of every imaginable style were clustered on the sides of the mountain, some made of wood, others stone, or brick, and even one made entirely of what appeared to be crystals. Heck, she even spotted one made out of scales, and one that had been built out of a large, hollowed-out mushroom.
And on the very top of the mountain, a stately white castle, with the waterfall starting from a stream just below it.
“Wow,” Bella breathed.
“Wow indeed,” Gideon agreed, having stopped beside her.
“Is it named Dragon’s Peak because of the White Dragon?” she inquired.
“You’ll see,” he replied. “Come on,” he prompted, riding forward along the path.
They continued onward, the lake to their left, the curving wall of the mushroom forest to their right. The path began to slope upward, spiraling gently up the mountain. A dense cluster of buildings was ahead, flanking the path…and there was a man sitting on the front porch of the nearest one. He was tall and slouched and dreadfully thin, with long, messy black hair. He couldn’t have been over twenty years old.
“Gideon?” the man exclaimed, standing bolt upright. “Is that you?”
“Hello Connor,” Gideon greeted, waving at the man. Connor stood up like there’d been a spring under him, hopping down the porch stairs and rushing up to Gideon.
“Gideon!” he cried. “I thought you were…you know.”
“Dead?” Gideon inquired.
“Well, I mean,” Connor
stammered.
“It took longer than I expected,” Gideon replied, “…but I found what I was looking for.” He gestured at Bella. “I believe she was a little shorter when you saw her last.”
Connor turned to stare at Bella, looking suddenly bashful.
“Is that…?”
“Bella Birch,” Gideon declared. Connor’s eyes went wide.
“Bella Birch!” he exclaimed. “I can’t believe it!”
“She was lost in a book all these years,” Gideon told him. “She doesn’t remember anything,” he added. Connor frowned.
“Anything?”
“Not her mother or her father,” Gideon confirmed. “Or any of this,” he added, gesturing at their surroundings. “I’ll fill her in on the details in due time.”
“Got it,” Connor replied. He broke out into a smile at Bella. “Sure is nice to see you,” he added. “I’m Connor, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you Connor,” Bella stated, smiling at the man. “How do you two know each other?”
“Oh, everyone knows everyone in Havenwood,” Gideon answered. “We’re all one big happy family.”
“Sure are,” Connor agreed.
“Yes, well, it’s good to see you Connor. We’ll catch up later.”
“Oh, right, of course,” Connor replied. “See you!”
And with that, the man hopped back up the porch stairs, sitting back down. Gideon led Bella further up the path, feeling Connor’s eyes on them as they walked.
“That was…”
“Awkward?” Gideon inquired. Bella broke out into a guilty smile.
“Little bit.”
“Get used to it,” Gideon warned. “There’s a lot of awkward here. Havenwood is a haven for artists, and creative types tend to have…creative personalities.”
“You don’t,” Bella pointed out.
“I’m from a different time,” Gideon explained. “Most of these kids are just that…kids. Connor’s in his twenties. We’ll see how he is in a few hundred years.”
“Wait, what?” Bella blurted out, pulling on her horse’s reins and stopping in her tracks. Gideon stopped beside her. “A few hundred years?”
“Well yes,” Gideon replied. “I for example am four hundred and sixty-two years old.”
Bella stared at him blankly, and Gideon smirked, arching an eyebrow at her.
“Tell me…what do you suppose might happen if I were to step into a painting – like I did when you healed me – but instead of covering a wound, you were to smooth my wrinkles and return the color to my hair?”
Bella’s mouth dropped open.
“That’s right,” he replied, answering his own question. “Writers can create worlds, Actors can become someone else. But Painters…they can make you immortal.”
Gideon started up the path again, leaving Bella to sit there in her saddle and gawk at him. She snapped out of it, prompting her steed to hurry to his side, then matching pace with him. She stared at him incredulously.
“You’re four hundred years old?” she pressed.
“Four hundred and sixty-two,” he corrected.
“But…” she began. “You said Grandpa was your teacher!”
“That he was.”
“But…”
“Nine-hundred and twenty-three,” Gideon interrupted. “If you must know.”
Bella swallowed with some difficulty.
“I don’t believe it.”
Gideon shrugged.
“Fine,” he replied. “Come on,” he added as they passed more houses. Doors opened as they did so, people rubbernecking from their porches. There were more than a few gasps, and many cried Gideon’s name. Gideon waved politely to them all, telling them he was terribly busy but would chat later, and that he was quite fine, thank you very much. He didn’t bother to introduce Bella, for which she was grateful. In fact, he hurried them right along. Eventually they passed the cluster of houses, and they continued up the mountain, dozens of eyeballs glued to their backs.
“All right then,” Gideon declared, clearly relieved. “Only a few more neighborhoods to go.”
“Until what?” Bella inquired.
“Until we get to your mother’s house,” he replied. He paused then, his expression turning grave. “I…haven’t been entirely honest with you Bella. When we get to your mother’s house, there’s something I need to tell you…and to show you.”
Chapter 23
Gideon withdrew into himself as he and Bella rode up the great mountain of Havenwood, not saying much of anything as they passed neighborhood after neighborhood. He waved at people as rode by, receiving a robust – and welcoming – reception each time. It was almost as if Gideon was a celebrity of sorts. She noted that he didn’t really introduce her anymore, however. In fact, he insisted she hide her face in her hooded cloak to speed things along, telling people she was his newest apprentice. Which was true enough, Bella supposed.
In this way, they made it nearly to the top of the mountain, the cobblestone path leading up to the castle ahead. Gideon took a fork in the path, one that led leftward, straight across the side of the mountain…and toward the source of the waterfall feeding the lake far below. This, Bella saw, was a wide stream flowing from the mouth of a cave. The stream crossed a long, flat ledge of stone, then fell off the edge of this abruptly, forming the waterfall. A wide stone bridge crossed the stream. Upstream was a sheer rock wall some fifty feet high, and the mouth of the cave was quite literally that; a mouth of a dragon carved into the rock wall. It all looked terribly familiar, but Bella couldn’t have said why.
“That is the Everstream,” Gideon declared. “A continuous flow of fresh water created by the fossilized remains of a water dragon that died centuries ago. In Thaddeus’s book, anyway,” he added.
“Like the chalice in the Misty Marsh?” Bella inquired.
“That’s undoubtedly what inspired Thaddeus,” Gideon replied. “But he learned from their mistake. He made the water dragon have two heads…one that drank excess water from Lake Fenestra – that’s its name – and another that spewed new, fresh water. The total volume of water in the lake never changes…and as you can see, there’s no flooding or mist.”
“Clever.”
“Indeed,” Gideon agreed. “The more creative you are…”
“The stronger your magic,” Bella recalled. “Right.”
Gideon gestured upstream at the mouth of the cave.
“Follow me,” he prompted, and promptly turned off the path, following the rightmost edge of the stream toward the mouth of the cave. Bella nudged her horse to follow, and they soon reached it. The carved stone dragon mouth was easily twenty feet wide and half as tall, with sharp stone teeth protruding from its ceiling. There was a narrow stone walkway beside the stream that continued into the cave. Gideon dismounted, gesturing for Bella to follow his lead.
“Come on,” he prompted. “We’re getting close.”
“Mom’s studio is in a cave?” Bella inquired, dismounting as well. She glanced about dubiously. It was dark and dank, sunlight not daring to venture too far inside the cave.
Gideon pulled his lantern from his chest-painting.
“Luminos,” he murmured.
The lantern did its thing, sending a warm, comfortable light throughout the entrance of the cave. It was a long, wide tunnel, one with fossilized vertebrae at the top of the ceiling. It looked for all the world that it was the inside of the long-dead water dragon’s body.
“Wow,” she breathed, taking it all in.
The stone walkway continued along the right side of the cave, the stream flowing to their left. Gideon strode forward, leading her deeper into the dragon-cave. Bella hesitated.
“What about the horses?” she asked.
“Leave them,” he counseled. “They’ll be fine.”
“What if we need them later?”
“Put them in a painting then,” he answered.
Bella retrieved the biggest rolled-up painting from her thigh-holster that she cou
ld find, and did just that, opening it and ushering each horse through. It must not have been the first time they’d been stored thus, as they walked right into the painting without a fuss. That done, Bella rolled the painting back up, following Gideon further into the cave.
They soon left daylight behind, the cave swallowing them whole. It began to slope downward, curving to the right. Strangely, water flowed up the stream, in the opposite direction they were walking…and against gravity. The sound of rushing water reverberated through the cave, growing louder the deeper they went. The air turned damp and cool, but not at all musty.
The cave spiraled into the earth for quite some distance, then suddenly opened up, the ceiling now so high up that it was barely visible. The vertebrae were larger here, and now there were long, thick ribs arching downward to form walls on either side. Looking back, Bella saw that they’d come to a convergence; a second tunnel – complete with vertebrae on the ceiling – plunged downward to the left of the one they’d come through.
“We’re in the body now,” Gideon stated. He gestured at the second tunnel. “That leads to the other head of the water dragon,” he explained. “It goes all the way to the bottom of Lake Fenestra.”
A second stream of water flowed up this tunnel, joining the first in a turbulent, foaming collision in the center of the cavern…or rather, the dragon’s body.
“Come,” Gideon prompted, continuing down the sloping cavern of the dragon’s body. There was no stream ahead, only a huge breastbone on the floor of the cavern, with massive ribs converging on it. Bella followed quietly, taking it all in.
Minutes passed, and the cave gradually became smaller, the ceiling now only a few feet above their heads. It sloped more severely here, curving sharply to the right in what Bella strongly suspected were spirals deep into the mountain.
“We’re near at end of the tail,” Gideon noted. And indeed they were; the vertebrae at the ceiling stopped ahead. But the cave continued past this, forming a long, narrow tunnel. Gideon led her through this; at the end of the tunnel, some fifty feet ahead, was a pale white light. Gideon shut off his lantern, handing it to Bella. “Put this in your chest-painting,” he requested. She gave him a questioning look, but did as he asked. Now the light at the end of the tunnel was the only thing guiding them.