“I quit. Nobody told me about the witchicide going on back at that old stack of stone. Bonus, indeed! How many poor saps have you people conned with that line?” Viragh’s chuckle grated on her frayed temper. She ground her teeth and bunched her fists.
“I assure you, that sorceress was her own undoing. Nosey creatures, witches. Couldn’t help herself when she had the opportunity to make off with the Cauley’s supplies.”
Indignant, Gretchen opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind.
Before she could speak, Viragh said, “I can see you are quite clever for your sort. Most witches wouldn’t be able to traverse these woods on their own.”
Her glare turned to a frown, and she looked toward the forest.
“This has been my lair for nearly a millennium. The mountain is steeped in dragon magic, those who find their way here do so only with my blessing.”
“Then would you mind explaining, oh mighty, fire-breathing lizard, why you need to do all this?” Gretchen waved her arms to capture this and rolled her eyes.
Viragh’s rattling sigh surprised her, and he settled by his fire which was by then blazing. “I’m no spring chicken, as they say. As centuries go by, villages and farms creep ever closer. Some would think it easy pickings, but too many cattle going missing brings spears and hot-headed warriors to my mountain.” His head drooped to rest on the floor. “I am old and weary. I have neither the strength to withstand them nor the will to hold them at bay if they come in numbers. My only desire is to see out my days in peace and quiet, and mock battles leave fewer scars than real ones.”
Gretchen pursed her lips in thought. “So, you conscript Mandell and come up with the idea of a damsel gauntlet?”
“Not exactly original. These kinds of kidnappings are older than even I. But a third party making a tidy profit on the scheme has made for a good enterprise.”
“And in between, I guess it’s all the goats you can eat, and sleeping past noon?”
“Precisely.” The rumble sounded almost like a purr. “If you play your part well, you should leave with everything intact and enough coin to do the same for the next few months.”
Gretchen sank to an accommodating rock and propped her head in her hands.
“I can't imagine your line of work is… lucrative? he asked.
“Barely enough to scrape by.” She sighed. “Bunch of ingrates who come see me when they need a cure for jock itch or a love potion to snare some unsuspecting victim.”
“Regular folk will never appreciate magical beings, witchling. To get ahead, we must capitalize on our talents.”
Gretchen looked into Viragh’s glittering eyes. “Fish guts and goat’s blood?”
Viragh winked. “They’ll never know the difference.”
Gretchen gazed into the fire to ponder her dilemma cursing herself for leaving her mushrooms secreted back at the fort. The circus could be her ticket out of begging the sheriff for an extension on her tax dues. The mushrooms, well that would be gravy. A full pantry and a cellar filled with witches' brew.
She blinked as the glare of the fire seemed dulled somehow and turned to see the first rays of light reaching into the cave. Viragh’s eyes flickered open, and he stood arching his back with feline grace.
“It’s showtime, witchling. One should always stretch before this kind of thing. Care for a ride back to the fort?”
Gretchen’s eyes boggled. She was no stranger to flying, but with her broom she was in control. For the most part.
Viragh chuckled. “Come, now. We can give the Prince's party a spectacle worth remembering.”
Gretchen fought a smirk and stood with a stretch. “As long as I don’t end up under your keister again. I think the Prince might just turn and run as soon as he gets a whiff of me.”
The dragon chortled and lowered a wing as Gretchen stepped tentatively toward him. She found purchase as she climbed on the overlapping scales. When she swung her leg over his neck, she found a crevice reminiscent of a saddle. With a grin, Gretchen grasped a spike jutting from his spine and braced herself.
“Ready?” Viragh turned his head to look eye to eye at her.
“Let’s do this, flyboy.”
Viragh backed up a few steps and crouched. With a growl that threatened to upset Gretchen from her perch, he launched forward, feet thundering across the floor toward the dimly lit opening. With three steps across the threshold he sprang into the air and beat his wings up and over the treetops. Gretchen clicked her teeth together and squeezed her eyes shut against the wind. When their ascension plateaued, she risked a peek as Viragh turned a circle around the cave mouth toward the tower, becoming visible in the morning light.
“Hot dang!” Gretchen could barely hear herself, but Viragh’s rumble told her he’d heard the exclamation.
Below, a plank bridge stretched over a cliff to a rocky outcrop. An ancient stone tower stood against the mountain's summit, vines creeping up its rounded walls. As they drew near, Gretchen fancied she heard a shriek, but saw no sign of the fair lady locked inside. After passing by, Viragh pivoted toward the thick forest downhill and Gretchen made out the trail and small clearing where the fort stood guarding the lower reaches.
Rather than steering toward it, the dragon beat his wings steadily to where the trees tapered to open grasslands. There was no sign of the goblins in the dense canopy, but when they descended, she saw ant-like forms close to the forest's edge. As velocity took them closer, the figures sharpened into riders on horseback thundering along for the cover of the trees. The dragon blew a stream of fire which torched the treetops and circled round the Prince's party.
The only face upturned was that of the sour-faced scribe, and Gretchen cackled at his open-mouthed stare. A standard bearer dropped his lord’s flag as the horses plowed on in a frenzy, and soon they disappeared into the lower woods. Viragh roared a laugh and slowed as they soared past them toward the keep.
“That was un-freakin’-believable!” Gretchen screeched, fist pumping the air.
Adrenaline pounded through her veins, and she was still psyched when the dragon swooped lazily toward the keep. Although the landing was smooth, Gretchen lurched over his neck and slid off as Viragh came to a halt. Lying on her back, she giggled maniacally at the sky and scraped dirt angels on their landing strip with her limbs.
When footsteps drew near, Viragh gave a shake and arched his back with a groan.
“Their progress?”
Gretchen rolled to her side to see Mandell wringing his hands with a look of entreaty at the dragon.
“They have reached the forest. Right on schedule.” Viragh gave Gretchen a nudge with his talon. “One witch delivered back to her station.”
Mandell turned a baleful glare at her. “I should fire you. Running off in the night without even a word?”
“She found Lizbeth’s remains. Whoever was supposed to scrub that wall should earn your ire.” Fire flickered from Viragh’s snout and Mandell swallowed.
“I shall find the laggard and have him scrub the entire ruin. Now, come along, we’ve preparations to make.”
Gretchen pushed to her feet and clamped her hat on her head as Viragh took to the air. Scuttling along behind Mandell on wobbly legs, she noticed Sir Courtenay missing from his icy enclosure. She whipped her head around waiting for a clandestine attack from the deranged wraith.