by Hal Malchow
“When he had his armor back on, he walked into the cave and cut off the dragon’s head. Then he climbed on his horse and went back to town, dragging the dead dragon’s head on a rope behind him.
“Inside the town, Welbourne had been long ago given up for dead. As he entered its streets, the townspeople came out of their houses, cheering his name. Welbourne lifted his bloody sword high and the sun sparkled on his armor.”
“Did he marry the princess?”
“You bet he did,” said Thor as Babette frowned.
“And after many nights of celebrating, he left with his bride and lavish treasure, never to be seen again.”
“But what does this have to do with Moakie?” Babette asked, remembering her question.
“Days later, I was searching the mountain for ore. A blacksmith always needs ore. And as I was passing that same cave, I heard crying.
“It seems that the dragon had two young ones, and Moakie was the runt. When the smoke entered the cave, the bigger of the young dragons could not lie close enough to the ground to avoid the smoke. But little Moakie curled up in a hole and survived.
“So I cleaned Moakie off and took her home. I cared for her and raised her. She is my partner, my companion, and . . .” Thor paused to smile . . . “the reason I make the best pots in Sonnencrest.”
“But why do you take Moakie to town, hidden in the wagon?” asked Babette.
“It’s her teeth,” Thor responded. “Breathin’ fire is tough on the teeth. After a while, they start to turn black, and if I don’t scrub them clean, they’d soon be full of holes. I cleaned them best I could in years past, but these old hands just can’t do the job anymore. A friend in town does it, and I was headin’ to see him when I heard that the goblins took the palace.”
With her head full of knights and dragons, Babette wished Thor a good night, and made her way carefully back to her bed. She snuggled close to Moakie and fell right to sleep.
The next day, Babette helped Thor and Moakie by carrying wood to the workshop. When evening came, she returned to the woodshed to sleep next to Moakie. As was his custom, Thor rose with the sun and was surprised to see that Babette was not up. He went to the woodshed and found that Babette was still fast asleep. Beside her lay a brush with blackened bristles.
Moakie lifted her head and smiled. Every tooth in her mouth was a gleaming white.
• 9 •
Babette’s Trip to the Forest
Thor’s hammer struck hard and orange sparks exploded into the air. Across the mountainside, a dull clang echoed with a slow, steady beat. The old blacksmith paused, looking down at the iron handle taking shape, and wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt.
Then he heard what he had been dreading for days.
Hoofbeats.
He wiped his hands on his apron and glanced quickly around the yard. Babette had gone. She and Moakie had left to explore one of the mountain trails.
Thor had warned against these trips. Babette would hop on Moakie’s back and off they would go. There was no telling when or where the goblins might appear. Staying close to the cabin was safer. At least that is what he had thought.
The old blacksmith stood quietly running his hand over the stubble that topped his head. The sound grew closer. Atop an old horse sat a youthful goblin. He dismounted, barely nodded at Thor, and walked straight into the cabin.
Thor heard his table crash against the floor as the goblin overturned it and a metal plate rolled out the door. The goblin was back in the yard in seconds. He walked to the workshop and, after a quick inspection, he turned to the blacksmith.
“Have you seen a girl? A small girl with red hair about seven years old.”
“Wha-wha-what girl?” Thor sputtered. He paused, looking for words, and muttered nervously. “There’s nobody but me up here.”
The goblin eyed Thor sternly but did not answer. He turned, mounted his horse, and rode away.
For ten long minutes, Thor watched the trail. Then he hurried down the mountainside to deliver a message in the village below.
A few days later, Babette was carrying wood to the shed when she heard a horseman approach. As Thor had instructed, she dropped her load and ran to the forest, burying herself in a thicket of bushes. From her hiding place, she could see the cabin and the trail.
Into the clearing came a single horse. The rider was a young man, a boy really. He wore no shoes and rode bareback. Thor hobbled from the workshop to greet the rider. The rider nodded and smiled, but Thor was speaking quickly, his hands moving as he spoke. The boy’s eyes grew large. He shook his head firmly, refusing whatever request Thor had made. But Thor reached into his pocket, pulled out coins, and placed them in the boy’s hand. Still, the boy shook his head and tried to pull his hand away. But with the boy still on the horse, Thor grasped his wrists and shook him.
As Thor spoke words that Babette could not hear, the boy froze. He looked down at the coins, as if they were a terrible curse. Then, with a grim expression, he stuffed them into his pocket and galloped back down the path.
Thor could not bear to tell Babette that she would have to leave. And he could not bring himself to stop her trips with Moakie. Every afternoon, after work, Babette would climb on Moakie’s back for a ride across the mountain trails.
One afternoon, on one such ride, Babette and Moakie arrived at an open meadow. There, Babette and Moakie launched into a game of hide-and-seek.
Moakie, of course, had no talent for hiding. There was simply too much dragon to conceal. To help Moakie, Babette always counted slowly, loudly, and to at least twenty-five. But this time, when she reached the final number and opened her eyes, instead of Moakie’s bulk, she saw something much, much more terrifying.
There, before her, stood two goblin soldiers on horseback.
“What do you think?” asked the younger goblin with a smile.
“Probably not,” answered the other. “But you never know.”
Babette, eyes wide, began slowly stepping backwards toward the trees at the edge of the meadow. As she did, the two riders dismounted and moved carefully toward her.
“Don’t be afraid, little girl. Just a quick trip to town and you’ll be back in no time,” said the older goblin, reaching out his hand to Babette. Babette kept moving, closer and closer to the trees.
“Easy, girl. No one wants to hurt you.” The goblins stepped faster. Babette kept pace, peering over her shoulder, eyeing her escape.
Babette was at the edge of the meadow, ready to run, but as she turned, her foot caught a root. She fell backwards into the brush.
The goblins leaped forward. But before they reached the princess, they met a surprise. Moakie’s large green head appeared from behind the bushes. A great ball of fire exploded from her mouth. Seconds later, all that remained of the goblins were two piles of ashes on the burning grass.
Babette staggered to her feet and for a few seconds only blinked at the spot where the goblins had stood. Then she turned and gave Moakie a great hug around the neck. “Moakie, you are my true savior! I was dead for sure,” cried Babette. Then she quickly mounted the dragon, and Moakie galloped down the trail to the blacksmith’s cabin.
In the cabin, Babette explained what had happened and Thor shook his head in dismay.
“We’ll need to find you a new home,” he told her in a low voice.
Babette wanted none of this news. She loved her life in the mountains far from the cold palace walls. She pleaded with Thor to let her stay.
“I will never leave the cabin,” she promised.
“I will wear disguises.”
“I will clean Moakie’s teeth every day!”
Thor just shook his head sadly and continued with his work.
A week later, Babette sat with Thor, sharing breakfast in his cabin. No more goblins had appeared. Thor’s words about leaving were almost forgotten.
She looked up at the old dwarf.
“Were you ever married?” Babette asked.
Thor
looked away and did not answer.
“What happened to her?” she asked.
“That’s a long story, child. Now, off to work for both of us.”
“Please tell me.”
Again, Thor was silent, but he could not refuse the little girl. He started slowly.
“We lived in a village down the mountain, and in those days, I made swords. One day, I returned from the market with a lot of money. A robber followed me home. When I left to get firewood, he entered the house.”
“And what happened?”
“He robbed me. When my wife tried to resist him, he killed her with a sword made by my very own hands.
“That’s when I moved here to the mountains. I swore that I would never make a weapon again.”
Babette gave Thor a long hug.
“You are right,” she said. “There is nothing good that can come from a sword.”
That afternoon, Babette returned to the cabin. Thor was polishing a new pot. Babette hopped up on a box and looked at the old dwarf.
Thor thought Babette might be sad from the story about his wife, so he offered her a story that he was sure would make her laugh.
“Did I ever tell you how Moakie set fire to my peacock?”
Babette did not hear. Her eyes were glazed over and she was staring through the window.
Thor rose and scanned the clearing. There was no sign of goblins. But his old ears heard music. It was a delicate, beautiful song.
A tiny yellow bird fluttered in the doorway.
Though the bird was small in size, her singing was loud and joyous. Now Babette trembled, her face without expression as if lost in a dream. She lifted her hand and held out one finger.
Principeelia eased herself on to her perch.
As the little bird sang, Babette began to sob in happiness at seeing her beloved bird. Thor’s eyes moved from Babette to the bird and back again, unable to find meaning in these events. Then he noticed something strange.
“Babette, the paper on her leg. What does it say?”
Quietly, Babette placed Principeelia on the table and unwrapped the wire. A small piece of paper fell.
Thor took the paper, unfolded it, and tried to read the tiny handwriting. Making a face, he pushed the note back to Babette.
“I can’t read,” Babette said, her voice quiet and flat.
So Thor rummaged through a box until he found glasses, smudged and with one broken lens. He held the note high to catch the light of the cabin window and read aloud:
“The journey is dark. The journey is long.
But there is magic in the yellow bird’s song.
Principeelia will be your guide,
Follow now, remain at her side.
Long live the kingdom of Sonnencrest.”
“What does this mean?” asked Babette, suddenly thinking of her family.
Thor knew the meaning of the note. Struggling, he spoke, almost gruffly, to the princess.
“It means that you are not safe here. It means you are to follow this bird into the forest on a long journey to meet a wizard. The wizard has magic that will protect you.”
Babette looked back, eyes wide.
“Who is this wizard? What will he do to me?”
“I have never met this wizard, but he is known throughout Sonnencrest. His name is Asterux. His magic is as beautiful as it is strong. He is the one person who can make you safe.”
“You will go with me?”
“I cannot. This is a journey that you must make on your own.”
“I won’t go!”
It was more than the danger that Babette feared. She didn’t want to be a princess. All she wanted was to be Thor’s daughter, to help him make pots and play on this magical mountain with her beloved Moakie. But Thor spoke sternly and with an authority that Babette had never heard.
“Sometimes our lives are guided by a larger hand. Sometimes the paths we travel are not ours to choose. Hear me, child. Go!”
“I won’t,” Babette whispered, stunned by Thor’s strange words. But Thor did not hear her reply, for as she spoke, Principeelia began to sing.
This time, the tiny bird changed her song. Her low whistle took on a slow rhythm, haunting and strange.
Suddenly, Babette was silent. Without the slightest expression, she rose to her feet.
All questions, all fears, and all concerns disappeared from Babette’s mind. All that remained was the song, a song that called her forward. Principeelia was outside the doorway, inviting Babette outside.
Babette turned without speaking. She gathered some bread and an apple and folded them into a blanket. Thor took his old coat and wrapped it over her shoulders.
For a moment she paused. She leaned down and, almost mechanically, gave Thor a short hug. She stepped outside and did the same to Moakie, who could sense that she was leaving and tried to follow. But Babette turned her head and did not look back. Confused, Moakie remained still.
The bird, still singing, fluttered slowly down the trail, pulling Babette in her wake.
For two days and two nights, Babette walked across the mountain trails, unaware of the world around her. No danger of any kind crossed her mind. She felt no hunger or weariness. On the third day, Babette entered the treeless plain, still guided by Principeelia’s song. She didn’t speak a word and slept very little, only a few hours before each sunrise. Along the way, she found fruit and nibbled at the bread she carried in her blanket. All thoughts of family and Thor and Moakie and her new life had fled from her mind.
On the fifth day, she walked into the dreaded Hexenwald Forest. With calm and steady steps, she continued, her mind lost in the little bird’s song and the magic of a wizard who waited at her journey’s end.
Not far into the forest, she found a basket with bread and cheese, and she finally stopped to eat and rest. When Babette rose to her feet, Principeelia led her through a forest so dense that the sun was blocked by the trees. One day into the forest, she came to a stream, where she stopped and drank deeply. She followed the stream until she came to a huge tree, a bififilous tree that towered above the rest of the forest. From there, she left the stream and veered from the trail onto a smaller path that climbed high into the hills. Thorns tore at Babette’s clothes. Her feet were bruised and covered in cuts and scratches, but she felt no pain. She did not tire. She uttered not a sound.
At the end of the sixth day, she suddenly felt cold. She looked down and saw she was standing in a stream. She collapsed into the shallow current and drank deeply for a long time. When she lifted her head, she saw a cabin. In front of the cabin stood a small round man with a bald head and bushy eyebrows. Something about this man told Babette that she was safe, for glowing in his face there appeared to be the hope and peace of the entire world.
“My princess,” he said softly. “You are a brave little girl who is surely tired from this journey. Come inside and rest.”
All at once, Babette was overcome with fatique and her body crumbled toward the ground. But the wizard reached out his hand and when she touched it, Babette felt love and kindness that gave her strength. She pulled herself to her feet and stumbled into the cabin.
Inside, Babette fell into a chair. Principeelia landed on the table and collapsed on her side, no longer able to stand. The wizard looked at Principeelia and spoke.
“You are a gallant heroine, my little bird, but do not sleep so soon.”
At that moment, the sound of another Annisan serenader filled the cabin as a handsome male bird lit on the windowsill and launched into song. Principeelia looked upward, unable to find her feet. But her prince was a patient suitor. He dropped to the table and stepped sprightly in circles around Principeelia, repeating his song.
For a long time, Principeelia could only look. But her prince did not waver. She found her feet, clumsily at first, but with growing strength. Struggling, her wings fluttered and she entered the air as her suitor circled with dips and spins that Principeelia could not return. Then she found her voice. As she
fluttered clumsily, she returned his song and the two joined together in a stirring chorus of joy. The male bird flew through the window. Principeelia hesitated, looking back at Babette and then at Asterux.
Babette blinked and her bird was gone.
• 10 •
A Room Full of Light
When Babette awoke, she found herself on a bed in a room filled with strange and magical objects, each more wondrous than the next.
From the ceiling hung models of stars, planets, clouds, birds, butterflies, and creatures that Babette had never imagined, much less seen. One of these was a round creature, covered with spiny hair, with circular wings and eight short legs that swayed in the breeze. Unfortunately, it hung directly above Babette’s bed. When Babette awoke, the bright red eyes of this creature were the first things she saw. She screamed and pulled the blanket above her head.
Asterux was there in an instant with reassuring words. “Don’t be fearful. It’s only a stuffed koowik! She can’t hurt a thing.”
Babette pulled down the blanket only slightly, inspecting the kindly wizard. His eyes, tiny and almost lost in his large face, twinkled brightly. What made him smile so, Babette could not possibly imagine. She lowered the covers and pulled herself up.
“Where am I? And who are you?” she asked, now glancing back at the koowik with a sly smile.
“I am Asterux, Your Highness. I stand here in your service and that of your kingdom.” Asterux gave a great bow. “You are at my cabin, deep in the Hexenwald Forest. I am a wizard and you have been sent here for protection.”
Babette looked concerned. “Are the goblins still after me? Can they find me here?”
“The goblins will never find you, my princess,” he replied, his eyes sparkling again.