“And I am in love with Michelo!” Marina vowed, looking with love into his eyes, that he should declare his devotion there, in the square, before his father, his mother, and everyone.
“And I’m in love with Armand!” Daphne cried, bravely stepping forward with her conviction.
Pietro d’Artois gasped, turned red, and looked as if he would have apoplexy.
“I love Daphne!” Armand shouted, pushing his way through the crowd.
But before he could do more than come near, there was the sudden sound of a horrible explosion in the air.
It was like thunder, and it was as if lightning lit up the sky.
And there, above them all, was the dragon again.
Now there was time to really see the being, to study it.
Huge, beautiful in its ferocity, multicolored, with evil-glowing yellow and gold eyes, it soared above them, and the lightning was the fire of its breath, and the thunder the flap of its wings.
The people began to scream. After all, the dragon had been after the falcon. Now it was after them, invoking pure terror! The people ran in confusion, desperate for cover.
Jagged streaks of fire fell upon the square. Thatch-roofed shops went up in explosions of flame.
Michelo cast himself upon Marina, and they fell to the ground together. All around them, people screamed and ran.
Then, after raining down fire bolts and creating absolute mayhem, the dragon was gone.
Slowly … slowly, the people began to reappear in the square, murmuring about omens, and saying with fear that if there was good magic, such as the gorgeous falcon, it was natural that there should be bad magic.
Like the dragon.
The dragon—gone again. It was as if it had come, and then completely disappeared.
Michelo cried out, “We must be calm. Evil has been fought before; evil can be fought again!”
“Fought! What, shall we bring about the deaths of every man, woman, and child in all the land?” It was Geovana, naturally.
She walked to the center of the square and cast out her arms. She looked more disheveled even than she had before. In fact, quite frankly, she was something of a mess.
And yet she appeared …
Powerful. Her eyes were as gold as the dragon’s, and her voice carried the thunder of the flapping of its wings.
“We have awakened the great Dragon in the Den! He is filled with rage. The old ways, the omens, have been invoked. Now, if any are to live, we must give him his due, his sacrifice!”
She whirled then, turning to the place where all four lovers had gathered together.
“The old ways have indeed been resurrected, and the result—that terrible dragon! As in the days of old, we must do our part. He must have a sacrifice, if anyone is to live, to survive! And his sacrifice must be the fairest damsel in the land. The woman who would be wife to the greatest leader, the greatest warrior. The woman who would wed Michelo, heir to the great Duke Fiorelli!”
There was a shuffling sound. It was Pietro d’Artois. He stepped forward, anxiously pushing the olive branch with his toe until it lay directly before Marina.
He wasn’t a bad man, not really. But then, he’d been given a chance to give either his stepdaughter or his precious Daphne up to a dragon that meant to have her for dinner … literally!
“Marina!” he cried. “Alas!” And he either wept, or pretended to do so. “It must be Marina, child of Nico d’Or, who stole away the Princess Elisia when she was in the dragon’s keeping. It must be Marina!”
“Aye, Marina!” cried someone in the crowd.
“No!” someone else protested.
“She must be given to the dragon—or else it will eat us all!” another voice roared.
“Wait a minute!” Michelo insisted. “What are you? Men—or mice? We will put together a hunting party. We will fight the dragon!”
“It should have been me!” Daphne said. “I am the upstart here, really!”
“Shut up, girl!” Pietro chastised her firmly.
Marina stepped forward. “Seriously! What are we? Cowards? Michelo is right. Appease the dragon once, and he will take everything from you. I will fight! We must all fight!”
“Men—or mice?” Michelo shouted again.
And a fellow, his cap in his hands, stepped forward. “To the dragon, great Michelo, I’m afraid that we are nothing but mice!”
“Duke Fiorelli! The dragon must be given his due!” another cried from the back of the crowd. Michelo thought that the voice sounded suspiciously like that of the Countess Geovana.
His father sighed deeply.
“We’ll all die!” the miller’s wife cried out.
“Duke, you must save us!” the baker himself pleaded.
Orisini Fiorelli looked at his son. He was obviously in great torment. “Michelo, I am sorry. The people come first,” he said softly.
“No!” Michelo said.
But his father raised his voice. “Place my son under arrest. And God forgive us all, but … take the Lady Marina, and see that she is kept under lock and key and guard …”
“Father, no, no!” Michelo protested.
But the guards were racing around him, doing his father’s bidding. He struggled, but there were too many, and in minutes, despite the black eyes and swollen jaws he doled out, he was in chains.
And when he looked across the square, Marina, calm, dignified, tall, and beautiful, was in chains, as well. Eyes meeting his.
She spoke to him, and the crowd, as a wistful smile touched her face. “I will not go easily!” she cried. “I will fight the dragon, when the time comes. I will fight it for myself—and for your daughters, because if you give in now, the dragon will demand more and more.”
There was silence.
“This is foolish! You would think that we were living in the Dark Ages!” Marina cried.
Daphne cleared her throat and said softly, “We are living in the Dark Ages.”
Marina shot her a quick glance, and nodded. “We must no longer live in the Dark Ages! We must find enlightenment in strength, in unity!”
“We will fight!” Michelo raged, straining against his shackles.
“They’re right!” came another cry, and this time, it was the beautiful dance tutor, Serafina, who stepped forward. “We mustn’t ever give into tyranny of any kind!” she cried. “Marina has spoken with such truth. If we give in now, the dragon will have us at its mercy. It will demand that we give in time and time again, and that we give in a little more each time. We must fight!”
But Geovana stepped forward. “Fight the dragon, and everyone will perish!” she proclaimed. “Take them away! Now!” she told the guards.
“Geovana, you must listen!” Serafina begged. Geovana offered a grim smile, and raised a hand, and guards rushed forward to seize Serafina. “See that she is banished,” Geovana said sweetly, and lowered her head to offer a soft whisper to Serafina. “Return, and you will be the next sacrifice we offer to the dragon.”
“Wait!” Michelo shouted, and began to fight again. But someone smote him on the head, and he discovered he was living in a personal dark age himself, for the light faded before his eyes, and he fell.
The following morning arrived with a brilliant sunrise.
“I’m quite confused,” Radifini said, pacing the small confines of the deep, dark dungeon cell where Marina had been taken.
“You’re confused?” Marina said. “I am about to become dragon chow, Radifini, and you are confused?”
He shook his head, stroking his beard as he walked. “There was a curse, you know. I thought perhaps it had been averted …”
“A curse? Dear Radifini, it seems that my life has been a curse!” she told him.
“Yes, yes … I’m quite sure that she put many curses on the house of d’Or.”
“She?”
“Geovana, naturally. She was insanely jealous from the moment she heard about your mother, Marina, and she is quite powerful. But … rumor had it that the c
hild of Nico and Elisia was to fall from a horse, crack her head on a rock, and fall into a deep and endless sleep. Naturally, when I heard this, I did my best to create counter-magic. I couldn’t stop such a spell, but through my magic, I had it that after the crack on the head, the child should awaken at the slightest brush of love’s true kiss!”
Marina sighed. “Radifini, I have never fallen from a horse. I haven’t cracked my head, and I’m not asleep. I’m in a dungeon, about to be dragged up a cliff, tied to a stake—and left to be charbroiled by a dragon’s fiery breath, and savored as supper.”
“Yes, yes, that’s how it appears,” Radifini murmured.
He smiled at her. “Maybe! Just maybe, you’ll fall off the horse while you’re being taken up the cliff!”
Marina stared at him. “Radifini, I do love you, but … I think I need to think much more deeply to get out of this situation.”
“Well, if you are to be charbroiled and consumed, it would be best if you were in a deep and endless sleep when it occurred, don’t you think?”
“Radifini!” Marina protested. She began to pace the cell herself. “Armand is in chains, Michelo is in chains … and I am here.” She paused. “There is my third wish. I can just wish—!”
“No, no!” Radifini protested, putting up a hand to prevent her from speaking any more words. “You must save the wish for a very last resort.”
“I may be on my last resort right now,” she reminded him.
He shook his head. “Wishes can come true, but the way they come true might not be to the very best good.”
“Wishing myself not to be eaten by a dragon seems rather good to me,” Marina commented.
Radifini shook his head. “Such a wish could put Daphne in your place. Or mean that all of Calasia is swept by a firestorm. Or that some other terrible event occurrs. Yes, you have your third wish. But you must keep and guard that wish until there is no other choice.”
They heard the sound of heavy footsteps, coming along the dungeon path.
The guards of Pietro d’Artois came into the barred cell, pushing Radifini firmly aside, but with no malice.
The man in charge had tears in his eyes as he told Marina it was time. They were to climb the hills, and in front of the caves where the dragon had been reputed to sleep for all the years prior to yesterday’s appearance, she was to be shackled to a post to await the dragon’s whim—or appetite.
Marina listened to the decree.
One of the other guards fell to his knees. “Bless you, dear Lady Marina, that you make this sacrifice for us.”
“Sir, get up!” she scolded him. “I intend to fight the dragon!”
They all looked at her sadly. Rather hard to fight a dragon, shackled to a post.
They led her from her cell, out from the bowels of the castle, and to the square, where Pietro read another decree, and even he had tears in his eyes. Real tears, she thought. He wasn’t such a bad man. He was simply under Geovana’s power.
Marina could only shake her head with impatience—growing desperation—and another passionate plea that they fight.
“Stepfather! People of Lendo, and all of Calasia! There is no appeasing a monster, don’t any of you see this? The dragon will taste blood, and want more!”
This didn’t seem to assure or inspire any of them, and though the good people around her continued to weep and sob, they saw to it that she was mounted upon Arabella, and the solemn ride up the cliff began.
She was alone, she thought. Radifini had been shoved back and left behind when the guards had come. Armand and Michelo remained imprisoned. Even Daphne had been locked away somewhere, to prevent her from rousing the people.
And yet, as they neared the cliffs, Marina heard the thunder of hooves.
And the falcon, Thomasina, came to fly alongside Arabella as they rode.
“You have your third wish!” the falcon reminded her.
“Radifini warned me that I must use it as a last resort, lest I take the chance of bringing harm to others,” Marina said softly. The guards stared at her. They were aware, of course, that the magical falcon had come to ride with them, but they could not hear her speak, and so they thought that Marina was losing her mind.
But since she was about to be fed to a dragon, that didn’t seem like such a bad thing.
“Radifini is wise,” Thomasina concurred. “Remember, wishes are what we dream in our hearts, and of course, we must always help ourselves!” If a bird could offer a dry smile, it seemed that Thomasina did then. “Remember. It’s nearly Christmas. It’s a time of belief, and belief is in the heart.”
“I believe the dragon is about to help itself,” Marina murmured.
Thomasina suddenly flew from her, heading to a distant plateau. As she rode, Marina began to mull the question of how best to use her last wish, taking care that her freedom from the jaws of the dragon didn’t imperil the life of someone else. She smiled, remembering what both Thomasina and Radifini had told her. Christmas. A time of real magic in the heart and soul. A time of true gifts to all men—and women—of good faith.
She must be strong, and remember.
Suddenly, as they rounded a bend, a creature darted from the brush.
It was a skunk! A shimmering, almost silver, albino skunk!
Arabella reared up high, spooked.
Marina, with her hands tied behind her back, could not keep her seat in the saddle.
She was thrown from the horse’s back.
She landed hard upon the ground, hit her head on a rock, and was out cold.
The guards, who had all heard rumors about such a curse, gathered round her.
“This is it!” one cried. “The deep and endless sleep!”
And another worried, “What shall we do?”
“Bring her before the cave, and leave her as we were commanded,” the first guard decided.
“But … is a dragon like a reptile?” one asked. “With certain reptiles … well, they like their meals alive and warm and moving about. Snakes … certain snakes will only go for wiggling, moving prey!”
So they all argued among themselves, wondering if their great sacrifice to the dragon was still worthy.
But then the head man of the guard gave a great sigh. “Our poor, valiant, Lady Marina! Let’s be grateful she is in a deep and endless sleep. Then she will not know …”
He didn’t finish his sentence. They’d all seen the dragon. And they wept again as they picked up Marina, thinking that the curse was actually a blessing.
Their precious lady would not see when she became their ultimate sacrifice.
In time, she was taken before the cave of the Dragon in the Den, and before it, as decreed, she was bound to a stake.
The guards, certain they heard heavy breathing, and the rasp and cackle of fire from within, hurried with their task.
And then, they hurried with even greater energy to depart from the dragon’s arena.
Chapter 6
All this time, Marina’s friends and her beloved, Michelo, had not been sitting idle. Yes, in chains, but not idle.
Michelo, being a warrior, and a hero, was being kept under guard.
But thinking that Armand was just the falcon master, a man who tilted with scarecrows and lost, Pietro had only ordered him kept in the dungeon, and even his chains had been loosely secured.
And so, through the night, he had slowly, persistently, worked at the chains, and by midmorning, he had caused them to slip from his wrists. As he reflected upon how best then to escape the bars of his dungeon cell, old Radifini came down the dank winding stairs, and hailed his guard, telling him that he had come to spend this time of the dragon with Armand, their dear lady’s cousin. As Radifini spoke, Armand rose, seized the unwary guard’s sword, and placed the point threateningly against the man’s back. Though he protested, warning Radifini and Armand that they would bring about the demise of all if they were to interfere, the guard saw the immediacy of saving his own life as more important. He opened the barre
d door, entered the cell himself when his captors insisted, and was then locked away with a bump on the head so that he could not sound an alarm.
“And now … ?” Armand reflected.
“We must go for Michelo,” Radifini said.
“There will be dozens of guards around him,” Armand pointed out.
“Yes, that will be a problem,” Radifini mused. And so, he paced again as he thought. But as he did so, there was a rustle in the corridor of the dungeons, and they looked up to see that Daphne was hurrying toward them.
“Daphne!” Armand cried, and flew happily to her side, taking her into his arms with amazement. “How … ?”
“I learned a trick or two from my stepsister,” she told him, and grinned. “I exited my chamber using my bedsheets and lowering myself into the garden.”
For a moment, they marveled at her ingenuity. But then Radifini stopped them. “We must free Michelo.”
And Daphne told them, “He is not heavily guarded. He is merely held back by chains of magic. I heard Geovana assuring my father that it would be so.”
“Magic!” Radifini said with pleasure. And so, with Daphne in the lead, they hurried to the place where Michelo was kept.
He was rather sorry looking at that moment, hair disheveled, clothing torn, for he had tried again and again to break through the invisible bars holding him to the farthest, darkest, dankest wall in the deepest pit of the dungeons.
“Thank God!” he breathed when he saw them. “We must hurry!”
Radifini raised his hands, and began to thunder out words of magic. He nodded, pleased, to Michelo, who once again tried to step free.
But Michelo bounced back against the wall as he tried to move, as if struck by a giant hand.
“Radifini!” he cried.
“All right, all right, I’m rusty! It’s been a long time since anyone has believed in magic here!” he told them.
He began another incantation.
And then another.
And finally—after both Armand and Daphne had been forced to sit, the wait growing very tiring, he said some words in an ancient tongue. “It’s up to you now!” he implored Michelo.
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