The Dragon Princess

by E. D. Baker

  “For an entire day,” said Simon. “The only part of him that wouldn’t fit was his toe.”

  “Trolls turn into stone if sunlight touches their skin,” Millie explained to Francis.

  “I know,” he said.

  “It was his own fault,” said Leo. “He should have dug a bigger hole.”

  “Wasn’t your mother mad when she heard what you did?” asked Millie.

  “She’s off looking for Father again,” said Simon. “She told old Gnarlybones-Hothead-Rumpkin to watch us. Gnarlybones told her he would; he likes it when she goes away. It gives him time to plan his revolution. He’s been trying to overthrow her for years.”

  “Simon-Leo’s mother is the troll queen,” Millie explained to Zoë.

  “I know,” said the bat.

  “Shouldn’t you tell your mother what he’s planning?” asked Millie.

  “She knows all about it. Tizzy says that it’s nice he has a hobby to keep him busy.”

  “Tizzy is one of his mother’s heads,” Millie explained to Francis.

  “I know!” he snapped.

  “So, why are you here?” said Simon. “Isn’t this a little far north for you?”

  “We’re on a quest,” said Francis. “Millie wants to learn how to control her temper.”

  “Why don’t you just announce it to the world?” said Millie.

  “Can I come, too?” asked Leo. “I can’t go home now until Mother comes back and that could be weeks.”

  “Or months,” Simon said, sounding sad. “I don’t know why Father keeps running away. We miss him so much when he’s gone. He has to know that Mother will always go after him. Last year she took us with her. She called it our family vacation.”

  “Simon-Leo’s father is Prince Jorge,” said Millie. “That’s why his speech is so much better than most trolls’.”

  Simon nodded. “Our father used to lock us in an old chest and sit on it if we messed up our words.”

  “Give me a minute,” Millie told him. “I have to talk to my friends.” Zoë landed on Francis’s shoulder and he and Millie walked to the other side of a nearly dead shrub. “I don’t think we should let him go with us,” whispered Millie. “You know he’ll do something to get us in trouble. He always does.”

  “We can’t trust him,” said Francis. “Leo thinks it’s funny to play nasty tricks on people, and Simon is just nasty.”

  “I’ve never met him before,” said Zoë, “but he makes me uncomfortable.”

  Millie nodded. “Then it’s settled. He can’t go with us. Just don’t be mean when you tell him,” she said to Francis.

  “Why do I have to tell him?”

  “Because I’ll probably feel bad if I do it, and then he’ll talk me into letting him go,” said Millie.

  “That’s true,” said Zoë. “You’d better do it, Francis.”

  “This isn’t fair,” he grumbled as they headed back to where Simon-Leo waited.

  “Why can’t I go?” asked Simon when Francis told him of their decision.

  “Because we don’t have time to waste and you can’t travel in the daylight,” said Francis.

  “But you’re traveling now and it’s night,” said Simon-Leo. “Are you sure it isn’t because you don’t like me? Most people don’t. That’s why no one ever invites me to go anywhere.”

  Francis looked embarrassed. “Well, that’s not … I mean, we didn’t …”

  “Never mind,” said Simon. “You can go without me. I’ll find somewhere to hide. Gnarlybones-Hothead-Rumpkin will come back once he thinks the dragon has gone. He’ll want to see if it really ate me or something.”

  “Are you sure you’re going to be all right?” said Millie. “I mean, I don’t want to leave you in danger.”

  “Oh, no, I’ll be fine,” moaned Simon. “You continue on your quest, leaving me here, alone, to face the commander’s wrath.”

  “Maybe we should—,” Millie began.

  Francis took hold of Millie’s arm. “See you later,” he told the troll, and began to hustle his cousin toward the distant river. “Good luck with what’s-his-name,” he called over his shoulder.

  “I feel awful,” Millie said, glancing back at the forlorn figure watching them go. “We should have let him come with us. I’m going to go back and tell him—”

  “That’s exactly what he wants you to do,” said Francis. “Just keep walking. Simon-Leo will be fine. He always is. That troll gets into more scrapes than a tumbler’s knee and he always comes out laughing.”

  “I suppose,” said Millie.

  Eight

  Millie and Francis were closer to the river than they’d expected. After climbing one more hill, they spotted the water gleaming in the moonlight only a half mile away. Dawn was hours off as they approached the Bullrush River and began to discuss how they would get across.

  “If only we had a boat,” said Millie.

  Francis looked thoughtful. “I don’t know about a boat, but I think I can manage a raft.”

  With Zoë’s help, Millie and Francis searched the riverbank until they found a suitable log, which had probably washed ashore during a recent storm. Francis was holding his hands over the log, preparing to use his magic, when something crashed through the underbrush and Simon-Leo appeared.

  “What are you doing here?” asked Francis, sounding annoyed.

  “The same thing you are,” said Leo. “I’m going to cross the river. What are you doing with that log?”

  “We told you that you couldn’t come with us.”

  “Is that supposed to make a difference?” Simon said. “My father always says that, too, but it hasn’t stopped me yet. Don’t tell me you’re not strong enough to lift that puny log! A baby troll could toss that from one side of a cave to the other.”

  Leo grunted. “Step aside, weakling, and let a real troll carry that for you.”

  He was bending down to pick it up when Simon said, “You can count me out if you’re going to lug that thing around. I don’t do manual labor.” The head closed its eyes and pretended to go to sleep.

  “I could lift it if I really wanted to,” Francis muttered, as Leo hefted the log into his arms.

  “Where do you want this thing?” Leo asked Francis, turning to face him. Millie had to duck as the log swung around, and when Francis pointed out where he wanted the log to go, she scrambled to get out of the troll’s way. With Francis in the lead, Leo carried the log three hundred yards to a small protected beach. The log landed with a crash when he dropped it, scaring a flock of sparrows out of the shrubs nearby. While Francis bent over the log once again, Leo went off to rummage in the underbrush for something to eat and Zoë went in the opposite direction in search of tasty bugs.

  Millie was sitting on a large rock well out of Francis’s way when he glanced at her and said, “Have you ever tried to make a raft?”

  “My magic isn’t strong enough for that,” she replied.

  “Your magic would get better if you’d practice,” said Francis.

  “I do practice,” said Millie. “It doesn’t make any difference. My mother says it’s because so much of my magic is tied up in my dragon side.”

  “Maybe when you’re able to control when you can change, all your magic will get stronger.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that,” said Millie. “I hope it’s true. So, what are you going to do with that log?”

  “Watch,” Francis said. Muttering under his breath, he pointed at the log and twiddled his fingers. A moment later, the log shuddered and split in two, lengthwise. Each half then split into thirds. Before the last pieces touched the ground, Francis had made a vine inch across the dirt and wrap itself around the lengths of wood, tying them together into a raft.

  “Very nice,” said Millie. “You’re good, you know, maybe even better than your father.”

  “My father is great at what he does. He can’t help it if his magic isn’t as showy as my mother’s.”

  “What’s going on?” asked Leo, stomping alo
ng the shoreline with a dripping honeycomb in his hand. When he bit into his treat, he didn’t seem to notice the swarm of bees crawling on his head as they tried to stab their stingers through his tough skin. Simon was awake again and was eyeing the other head’s trophy. Although the food ended up in the same stomach, the head that ate it was the only one that got to taste it.

  “Oh, aren’t you clever,” Simon said in a sarcastic voice as he studied Francis’s handiwork. “You made yourself a little raft.”

  “It’s not so little,” said Francis. “It will carry Millie and me just fine.”

  “Here, you want a taste?” Leo said, offering his sticky fingers to his other head.

  “From that filthy hand?” said Simon. “It would be like licking dirt.”

  “Your loss,” said Leo, sticking all of his fingers into his mouth at once.

  Simons shuddered and looked away. “The things I have to put up with.”

  “Say,” said Francis, “I’ve been wondering, why do you have normal names like Simon-Leo when most trolls have names like Stinkybreath?”

  “You know our cousin?” asked Leo.

  “We were named after our mother’s great-grandmother,” Simon said. “She had two heads, like us. Our real names are Salmonella and Leotuckus. We prefer the shorter versions.”

  Francis grinned. “I would, too, if I were you.”

  “What are you doing now?” Zoë asked, landing on Millie’s shoulder.

  “We’re about to launch the raft,” said Francis.

  “Say,” said Leo, studying the raft as he licked the last of the honey from his fingers, “shouldn’t that be in the water?”

  “That is where it belongs,” said Francis.

  “I thought so,” said Leo. Simon ducked out of the way as Leo bent down and hoisted the raft over his head. “Last one in the water’s a bucket of slime!” Leo shouted as he started to run.

  Millie and Francis glanced at each other and smiled. A moment later they were racing down to the shoreline. This time they let Leo win.

  “Here!” he said, tossing the raft onto the water. It bobbed on the surface, threatening to drift away, until Francis waded in and grabbed it.

  “Climb on,” he told Millie.

  “This looks like fun,” said Zoë, and she flew down to perch on the raft.

  Millie had one foot on the planks when Leo ran past her and lunged for the raft, landing on the edge.

  The raft upended and sank with Simon-Leo facedown in the water. The backwash hit Millie, knocking her onto the shore and leaving her drenched and shivering. Zoë fell into the water and was floundering until Francis fished her out. “Are you all right?” he asked as the little bat gasped and choked.

  “I think so, no thanks to him,” she said, glaring at Simon-Leo. Francis turned his head away while the little bat shook her wings, sending droplets flying. “Why don’t I meet you on the other side?” she said, and took off into the night sky.

  “Thanks for asking about me,” said Millie as she wrung out the hem of her tunic.

  “I knew you were fine,” Francis replied. “It wasn’t like you were drowning.”

  “Mumph!” said Simon, as the troll stood up, spluttering.

  Relieved of its burden, the raft shot to the surface. Once again, Francis had to wade into the water to get it.

  “You are such a nincompoop!” Simon shouted at Leo as he ran his fingers through his hair. “Why do you have to ruin everything? I hate the days when it’s your turn to control our legs!”

  “Sorry,” mumbled Leo.

  “You take turns?” asked Francis.

  “Yes, we do, as if it’s any of your business!” snapped Simon. “We each have a hand to use, but have you ever tried to walk when you control one leg and someone else controls the other? It does not work, believe me! We decided when we were young that we would take turns. Today was his turn. Tomorrow will be mine and believe me, things will be very different!”

  “I said I was sorry,” said Leo.

  The shoulder next to Simon shrugged. “Whatever. I suppose we have to walk,” he said, and sighed.

  “I didn’t know there was a bridge from Upper Monte-vista to the kingdom of Bullrush,” said Francis.

  “There isn’t one. We’re going to walk along the riverbed. I don’t like doing it because it ruins my clothes, but since brainless boy has already taken care of that, we might as well go in.”

  “I like walking under the water,” said Leo. “The fish are so pretty and so easy to catch!”

  Millie looked puzzled. “I thought trolls were afraid of water.”

  Simon looked scornful. “Most trolls are, but when we were little our father used to throw us in the river and hold us under with a stick. After the sixth or seventh time we stopped being afraid of the water. We learned how to hold our breath for a really long time, too. So,” he said, turning to his other head, “do you think you can stay out of trouble this time?”

  “I don’t know why you’re always mad at me,” Leo said as the troll waded deeper into the river. “I don’t get mad when you do dumb things.”

  “I never do dumb things,” Simon began just before both heads slipped under the surface.

  Millie stepped onto the raft, but this time she was able to get to the middle and sit down. “Hold on!” Francis said as he hopped on behind her. It didn’t take a lot of magic to steer the raft, so they were both able to look around as they sped across the water.

  Millie leaned over the edge and tried to peer into the depths but she couldn’t see much. “This water is too brown to see through. Where do you suppose Simon-Leo is?”

  “Does it matter?” Francis said, sounding glum. “We’re never going to be able to get rid of him.”

  The raft stopped with a sudden jerk so that they both had to clutch at the sides to keep from falling in. “I have a bad feeling about this,” said Millie.

  Francis looked worried. “We must have hit a rock or something, but whatever it is, it must be awfully big. This is the deepest part of the river.”

  Suddenly, two hands reached out of the water and slapped the edge of the raft beside Millie. A moment later, a head appeared as well. The river nymph glared at them with her algae-green eyes while her long green hair floated around her. “You can’t possibly think you’re going to get away with that!” she said.

  “With what?” asked Francis. “We haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “You dumped your smelly garbage in my water, that’s what!”

  “We did not!” said Millie. “The only thing we put in the water was this raft, and it was made from a log that we took out of this very same river.”

  “I beg your pardon, but I have it on good authority from three trout and a whole school of minnows that you threw a foul, stinky piece of trash in this river and then started across on your spindly little raft.”

  “We didn’t throw any … Oh, wait a minute,” said Francis, beginning to smile. “Maybe we did, although we don’t usually call him trash. His name is Simon-Leo and he’s a troll.”

  “Francis!” said Millie.

  “You put a troll in my river?” cried the nymph.

  Millie shook her head. “Actually, he put himself in your river. We were as surprised as you are that he wanted to walk across.”

  “On the bottom,” Francis added.

  “No!” wailed the nymph even as she dove back into the river, sending a wave of cold water over Millie.

  The raft started to move again, drifting downriver until Francis’s magic steered it back the way they wanted to go. “That was fun!” he said as they neared the riverbank.

  “Maybe for you,” said Millie.

  Zoë was waiting for them when they finally stepped ashore. She had turned back into her human form and looked like a pretty, pale, young woman. “You’re all wet,” she told Millie, whose hair was hanging down around her face in a dripping tangle.

  “I noticed,” Millie said. She sat down under the branches of a tree and arranged her sk
irts around her. “Just give me a minute to dry off.” Leaning back against the tree trunk, she closed her eyes and thought warm thoughts. Her magic flowed through her, warming her from the inside out. When she opened her eyes again, her clothes were dry and her hair was soft and fluffy. She yawned and glanced up at her friends. “I have to take a nap before I can go any farther.”

  Francis echoed her yawn with one of his own. “We should all get some rest,” he said, sitting down beside Zoë.

  The sound of splashing water drew their eyes to the river, where Simon-Leo was emerging from the water with an eel wrapped around Simon’s neck and a gnawed fish in Leo’s hand. “Ugh!” said Simon as he pulled the eel free and tossed it back into the water. Leo grinned and stuffed the last of the fish into his mouth.

  The water seemed to boil and the enraged nymph burst out of the river behind Simon-Leo, shouting, “That was the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen. Don’t you dare come back! That goes for all of you! What that monster did to my poor fish! I don’t know if they’ll ever be the same again. I’m coming, babies,” she cried, and she sank back under the water’s surface.

  “Who’s that?” Simon asked, staring at Zoë as if he’d never seen her before.

  It occurred to Millie that he hadn’t, at least not the way she was now. “This is Zoë,” she said.

  Simon scowled at her. “What are you talking about? Zoë is a bat.”

  “Sometimes,” said Zoë. “Sometimes I’m a vampire. You have two heads. Why can’t I have two shapes?” Turning back to Millie and Francis, she said, “I’m going to take a nap, too. You took so long that I did some exploring. I found a cave off that way.” Zoë pointed toward the east where the first hint of daylight was graying the sky. “I don’t like sleeping out in the open if I can help it.”

  Both Simon and Leo looked interested. “Good!” said Simon. “I was wondering if I’d have to cover myself with leaves or dig a pit before the sun came up. How far away is this cave?”

  “Not very,” said Zoë. “But it’s kind of small.”

  “I’ll make it work,” said Simon.

  “See you tonight!” Zoë told her friends.

  “Tonight,” murmured Millie, and then she was asleep.