by Lee Bacon
The creature’s eyes are closed. The sound of its snoring is thunderous. It lets out a particularly loud grunt and a burst of flames spurts from its jaws.
The dragon is deadly even in its sleep.
A thick iron shackle has been clasped around one of the dragon’s legs. Nearby is an enormous bowl for food and an equally large bowl for water. Both empty.
I can’t believe it. The dragon is being kept like the world’s biggest guard dog.
And that’s when I notice what it’s guarding. Behind the curled, sleeping form of the dragon is a broad silver box.
I gasp. It’s the walk-in refrigerator.
The portal to Heldstone.
The doorway to my world.
As I look upon it, an idea glimmers in my mind like a jewel. If we can get to the refrigerator, we’ll be able to return to Heldstone and warn my parents, tell them about the Sorceress’s scheme. They can then muster their army and seize the castle from the inside. We can stop the Sorceress before she gains any more power on Urth.
I whisper my plan to Kara. The more I dwell on it, the more excited I become. “If we succeed, the bards will sing my praises! The tales of my bravery will last for thousands of years! I bet there’ll even be a parade, with carnival performers and a band and—”
Kara jabs me in the side. “Don’t you think you’re getting just a little bit ahead of yourself?”
“Sorry.” I tilt a glance in Kara’s direction. “Would you like a parade as well?”
“I don’t want a parade! Right now, all I care about is getting past that dragon.”
From a distance, I examine the broad, silver door of the walk-in refrigerator. A chain is looped through the handle. And at the other end of the chain is the dragon.
My legs tremble. The terrible logic of our situation dawns on me. There is only one way to unlock the door.
We’ll have to release the dragon.
It’s our only choice. The dragon’s not merely guarding the door. It’s attached to the door. In the center of the beast’s shackle is a huge golden keyhole. Which looks exactly the right size for the huge golden key in Kara’s hand.
Now we just need to get close enough to unlock the dragon. Preferably without being burned to a crisp or eaten alive.
“Let’s go,” I whisper. “While it’s still sleeping.”
I push open the iron gate at the bottom of the steps. The hinges release a loud SQUEEEEK!
The dragon’s eyes lazily open. It yawns, showing off a horrifying row of sharp teeth. From its mouth comes a puff of fire. As the beast’s glance darts around the room, Kara and I hide behind a stone pillar.
Kara groans. “I liked the dragon a whole lot more when it was a puppet.”
I peek around the edge of the pillar. The iron shackle around the dragon’s leg is covered in deep grooves and scratches. The dragon’s leg is equally damaged. Dark blood seeps from a wound.
“The dragon wants out of here,” I say.
“That makes two of us,” Kara mutters.
“It’s been gnawing at its restraints. And even its own leg. It doesn’t care about guarding the refrigerator. All it wants is—”
“Escape,” Kara says. “The thing spends all its time locked in this windowless room. Chained to the floor.”
“No telling how long since it’s been fed. The poor creature is probably starving.”
“Which means the poor creature will eat us the first chance it gets,” Kara points out.
“Unless we offer it other food.”
Kara knits her brow. “What do you mean?”
I point across the vast room. Another walk-in refrigerator. It looks similar to the one we entered Urth through—only newer. Probably a remnant of what this room once was. A kitchen.
“Walk-in refrigerators are ordinarily used to keep food cold, right?” I say.
Kara nods. “At least when they don’t function as magical portals to other worlds.”
“Then perhaps that’s where they keep the dragon’s food.”
“Okay? And?”
“Maybe we can distract it. By giving it food.”
“And what happens if the dragon comes after us?” she asks. “Once it isn’t chained to the door, there’s nothing to stop it.”
“You said yourself. All it wants is escape. We’re giving it that. Plus a great quantity of food. It may even be grateful toward us.”
“Oh, sure.” Kara rolls her eyes. “I bet it’ll write us a thank-you letter—right before it barbecues us.”
“What does barbecue mean?”
“Doesn’t matter. The point is, your plan’s completely bonkers!”
I don’t know what the word “bonkers” means, either, but I can guess its definition from the look on Kara’s face. Foolish. Unwise. Utterly crazy. And worst of all—I know she’s correct.
But what other options do we have?
In the end, a bonkers plan is better than no plan at all.
When the dragon’s looking the other way, Fred and I sneak to the next pillar. We reach it just as the creature’s head swivels back in our direction. Then we wait.
Glancing to one side, I notice the boxes in the corner. There must be at least fifty, stacked in orderly rows far beyond the dragon’s fiery breath. And each includes stenciled words that read:
More of the Sorceress’s stockpiled weapons. My spine tingles with horror. No telling what kind of destruction she could cause with that many explosives. Probably enough to wipe Shady Pines off the map.
My dark thoughts are interrupted by a sound. Clanging footsteps. An instant later, two mutant minions clank into the room. One has a mini-fridge torso, with a computer monitor for a head and copper tubes for arms and legs. The other’s body is made up of a filing cabinet, chain saws, and an old copy machine.
The Sorceress sure has a strange idea of recycling.
The mutant minions probably saw us enter this room earlier. And now they’re searching for us. I press my back against the pillar, my heartbeat loud in my ears. The dragon is scary enough. The last thing we need is more enemies.
The clatter of footsteps echoes through the room. It sounds like the minions are getting closer. Peeking around the pillar, I catch sight of them. And they’re looking right at me. The minions set out at a run, their junkyard legs banging the tile. But before they reach us, the dragon lashes forward as far as its chain allows. Its mouth opens wide and a wave of flames bursts out. Within seconds, the minions are reduced to a pile of melted plastic and charred metal.
As I watch the scene, all I can think is We could be next.
Prince Fred tugs at my elbow. “Come on! While it’s still distracted!”
We race the rest of the way to the walk-in fridge. Fred opens the door and I bolt inside. He joins me an instant later.
“I see what you mean about refrigerators being cold.” He shivers, hugging his arms in front of his chest. “It’s chillier in here than a Northlands blizzard. But where’s the ice?”
“There is no ice,” I say.
“But how do they keep it so cold? Wait—don’t tell me!” Fred looks like he’s trying to remember a vocab word that he studied last night. Then his eyes light up. “I remember! Eplextribily!”
“You mean electricity. And yes—that’s why it’s so cold. Now let’s get the meat.”
In the center of the walk-in refrigerator is a cart, stacked high with huge hunks of raw meat. The heap must weigh a couple hundred pounds. It takes both of us to push the cart through the door and back into the chamber.
Every step brings us closer to the dragon. I know I ought to be terrified. The thing’s as big as a two-story house. Its golden eyes gleam with hunger. But as we approach, all I feel is sympathy. The dragon’s a prisoner in the castle. Locked away all by itself. Ignored, neglected, starving. Desperately biting at the shackle. Blood trickling down its leg and pooling around its claws.
The dragon has just as much reason to hate the Sorceress as we do.
The cart squeaks.
We’re close enough now for the dragon to reach us with its fiery breath. My memory keeps flashing with the horrifying image of what happened the last time anyone was this close to the dragon. Bursting flames, melting minions.
I really don’t want to end up like that.
But even though the enormous creature could totally incinerate us right now, it doesn’t. Somewhere in its dragon brain, it must know that killing us would be a stupid idea. Roast the humans = no food. The thing nudges its giant bowl with its snout and paws eagerly at the ground, like a dog on a leash, waiting to be fed.
I grip the handle tighter. Sweat drips down my forehead.
When we’re close enough, Fred and I exchange a look.
“You ready?” I ask.
He nods. “We’ll need to move quickly. Do you have the key?”
I raise the key ring, the huge golden key gripped in my palm. “On the count of three, we push.”
Fred takes a deep breath. “One.”
My voice trembles as I speak. “Two.”
And together we say, “Three.”
Push.
The cart rolls across the floor. The dragon surges forward. With a single flap of its wings, the creature lifts off the ground. For a moment, I get a glimpse of its full size and fury. Glistening teeth, lashing tail, wings spread wide, claws extended. The monster is even bigger than I’d realized. And scarier.
The dragon pounces on the meat. There’s no telling how long it’ll take to devour the entire cart. But one thing’s for sure. Fred and I don’t want to stick around long enough to become the second course.
We race toward the dragon, careful to approach from behind. It takes all my nerve to keep moving. Past the thing’s long, flicking tail. Listening to the sickening crunch and smack of its eating.
Nearer, and nearer, and…
Then I reach the dragon’s back leg. Underneath the shackle, blood glimmers darkly against its scales. Enormous claws rap against the tiles as it gobbles down its meal. CLACK! CLACK! CLACK! The sound causes every muscle in my body to shake. But somehow, I raise the key ring, careful to keep it from jingling. Torchlight flickers across the edges of the golden key. I bring it closer.
Slowly, cautiously.
The key is an inch from the hole when a shadow ripples across my feet. At the edge of my vision, I catch a glimpse of Prince Fred beside me. He’s gone completely white. And that’s when I notice. The dragon has stopped eating.
I turn my head a fraction to the left. Enough to see the creature’s towering form, twisted back on itself. Long, scale-covered neck curved downward.
The dragon’s looking right at me.
The unblinking golden eyes stare at Kara for a thousand years. At least, that’s how long it feels to me. Every second is an eternity. I hold my breath, afraid that the slightest disturbance might release the dragon’s murderous wrath.
Kara is holding the golden key just beyond the rim of the keyhole. Her hand trembles.
A noise issues from deep within the dragon’s throat. A low, steady growl. The dragon’s dark lip curls back to reveal its huge, deadly teeth.
Then the creature’s gaze shifts to the key in Kara’s hand. A moment later, its eyes flick to the shackle around its leg. And then back to Kara.
The key.
The shackle.
Kara.
The dragon’s golden gaze flicks back and forth. Until a look of understanding comes over its huge, scaly face.
Kara holds the key to its freedom.
The creature ceases growling. It stops baring its terrible teeth.
Kara’s grip on the key tightens. And then she nudges it forward. Delicately sliding the key into the hole.
The dragon waits like an extremely large house pet. It’s even wagging its tail.
With both hands, Kara turns the key.
CLICK!
My heart leaps. The shackle opens. The dragon lifts its leg and the massive steel restraint falls to the floor with an echoing clatter.
But the sense of relief lasts for only a moment. Because the dragon reacts to its newfound freedom by surging forward and chomping off Kara’s head.
Lucky for me, Prince Fred’s wrong. The dragon doesn’t bite me. It licks me.
Just imagine a golden retriever licking your face. Now instead of a golden retriever, think of something a hundred times bigger—and covered in scales—with massive leathery wings flapping excitedly. And instead of just licking your face, imagine it licking your entire body—
Actually…don’t. Because I can tell you from personal experience, it’s the nastiest thing that’s ever happened to me. One second, I’m terrified. The next, I’m covered in slobber.
Wet, sticky dragon slobber.
I guess that’s a dragon’s way of saying Thanks for unchaining me.
But on the bright side, at least I still have my head. After licking me, the dragon hops high above us. Its wings pound the air. It soars happily around the vast chamber, doing figure eights around the pillars and performing somersaults.
The dragon circles around, casting one last grateful glance in our direction. And then it flaps away. Across the chamber and down a broad corridor, vanishing into the shadows.
When I turn back to Prince Fred, he’s staring at me. Right then, it’s tough to avoid feeling self-conscious. Gooey dragon saliva drips down my face and soaks into my clothes. My hair feels like it’s been dipped in warm tapioca pudding.
I’m sure the prince will be disgusted. But instead, he steps forward and gives me a giant hug.
“I thought…” His voice quavers. “I thought you were dead.”
“Nope,” I say. “Just covered in dragon drool.”
And now, so is he. Not that Prince Fred seems to mind. When he steps away, his clothes are all slick and globby. And he has a relieved smile on his face.
“Shall we open the door?” he asks.
“Let’s.”
Now that the chain is no longer attached to a dragon, it’s easy enough to slide through the heavy supports. We circle the chain around—once, twice—until it’s no longer sealing the door of the walk-in refrigerator closed.
I carefully set the chain on the floor and then stand up. I’m reaching for the handle when I feel sharp steel against my neck. A familiar voice speaks into my ear.
“Hello, little girl.”
My breath catches. The Sorceress is standing beside me.
I don’t know where she came from. Whether she snuck up on us or simply appeared out of nowhere. But there she is. Tall and dark, an eerie smile on her face. In her hand is a long silver knife. Its blade presses against my skin.
From the corner of my vision, I can see Prince Fred. He’s directly behind the Sorceress, gripping the sword in both hands, moving silently forward.
He raises the sword.
Prepares to strike.
And then…
Nothing happens. He remains frozen with the sword above his head. As if someone put the prince on pause.
Fred’s eyes flick from side to side. I can see him straining to move. The muscles in his arms flex. A vein bulges on his forehead. His jaw tightens. But none of it does any good.
He’s stuck. Sword clutched above his head. Like a statue.
And I don’t need to guess who’s to blame. Without taking her eyes off me, the Sorceress speaks.
“Did you really think you could sneak up on me, Prince?” Cruelty and amusement swim in the dark currents of her voice. “I would recognize your footfalls anywhere.”
The Sorceress chuckles darkly.
“It’s rather humorous, don’t you think? For three years, I cast every spell imaginable upon the miniature doorway. And none of it worked. In the end, it wasn’t wizardry that opened the door for me. It was you. You and your little friend.”
The knife’s blade presses harder against my neck.
“I suppose I owe you children a debt of gratitude,” she says. “If it weren’t for you, I would never have made it here. But how can I possibl
y thank you when you keep meddling in my plans?”
The Sorceress turns her dark gaze on me. A wave of goose bumps rises along my skin.
“I never thought one little girl could cause so many headaches. Escaping from my soldiers. Breaking into my castle. Freeing my hostage—and my dragon.”
Her attention shifts back to the prince.
“And you.” The Sorceress’s tone curdles with disgust as she stares at Prince Fred. “The spoiled little worm who is destined to be king. Pampered, coddled, granted every luxury in the Royal Palace. Vain, selfish, arrogant. With a throne as your birthright. And why? Because the king and queen just happen to be your parents?”
Rage simmers in Prince Fred’s eyes, but he’s unable to attack, unable to reply, unable to do anything except stand there, frozen, and listen.
In a bitter tone, the Sorceress continues: “The truth—Prince Frederick the Fourteenth—is that you never had what it takes to be a king. True rulers do not inherit power. They take it!”
Torchlight flickers in her dark eyes. I’m more afraid than I’ve ever been.
“Soon I shall have dominion over both worlds. Not that either of you will live to see it. Pity I cannot kill you just yet, Prince. I suppose the little girl will have to do.”
I struggle against the Sorceress’s spell. Grit my teeth. Strain every muscle in my body. But none of it works. I remained as I was before. Unmoving as a block of stone. With no choice but to stand, perfectly still, and watch Kara die.
At first, I don’t notice the sounds. The flapping of giant wings. The echoing growl.
But it’s impossible to miss the thunderous roar.
The noise ricochets across the vast chamber. Pillars shiver. The floor trembles.
And from the shadows of the broad corridor, the dragon reappears.
My body may have been frozen, but my brain is churning. What’s the dragon doing here? Why return to the place of its captivity? Then I recall how we discovered the dragon. Locked away. Isolated. Ignored. Bleeding. Starved. Gnawing at its restraints.