The Dragon's Song

by Claire Fogel

  Copyright 2016 by Claire C. Fogel

  All rights reserved except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a data base or retrieval system without prior written permission of the owner of this book.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  August 2016 First Edition

  Printed in the United States of America

  Print ISBN: 978-0-9908923-5-9

  Digital ISBN: 978-0-9908923-4-2

  Editor: Laurie A. Will

  Cover Design: Alexandre Jose Cardoso Rito

  Formatting by Elaine York, Allusion Graphics, LLC

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  There were three possible explanations for the anxiety I’d felt for weeks. One, I might be psychic; two, I might be paranoid; or three, I’d finally cracked. Probably because people kept trying to kidnap or kill me.

  And then there was that strange, haunting little tune that seemed to be embedded in my brain. Number three was beginning to seem the most likely explanation.

  It would be extremely inconvenient if I were really cracking up. I was starting my senior year at Thornewood High next week. Right. No pressure.

  Nevertheless, I was packed and ready to leave for the beautiful Elven village where my father and his community of Elves lived, completely hidden from the human world.

  I was sitting on the back porch enjoying my view of the deep green forest when, just before noon, my father rode Smoke out of the woods with the smaller Pigeon tied to his saddle. The sight of the beautiful grey Elven horses usually raised my spirits, but not today. The familiar feeling of dread hovered over me.

  There were goose bumps up and down both arms. I had that feeling of being watched, even though I saw no one around in any direction. I shuddered slightly.

  My father fastened my bags to Smoke’s saddle, gave me a quick hug, and we left for Elvenwood. When he gave me an encouraging smile, I knew he was fully aware of my mental state. Having a telepathic father made certain explanations unnecessary.

  When we rode through my father’s camp, Kelly O’Rourke, my best friend Kevin’s dad, walked out of one of the tents and waved at me. I waved back.

  The camp varied in size, depending on the current threat. Today there were about a dozen tents situated in a semi-circle around a large fire pit used for cooking. A wooden lean-to had been built behind the tents for the greys stabled there.

  My father chuckled. “Cara, Kelly was hoping that you and Kevin were future mates. I explained that you two are more like brother and sister. I think he was disappointed.”

  I couldn’t help snorting when I thought of what Kevin would have to say about his father’s hopes for us. Romance was simply not a possibility.

  We were riding side by side at a leisurely pace, so we were able to talk.

  “How was your night out with Sean?” he asked.

  “It was fine, Dad. Since we were by ourselves, with no bodyguard listening in, we had the chance to talk about a lot of things. Sean was always great to talk with, and I’ve missed that.”

  Smirking, I added, “He wanted to know when I got so stubborn.”

  My father chuckled. “Cara, you’re becoming more like your mother all the time.”

  “Really?”

  “Sweetheart, I’ve never met a woman as stubborn as your mother.” He shook his head, looking resigned about the many things that were beyond his control, which included my mother.

  Fifteen minutes later, when we approached the gateway to Elvenwood, that solid looking illusion of boulders and pine trees, he said, “Are you ready to learn a little Gaelic? Now that you can ride, you may want to ride to Elvenwood by yourself occasionally.”

  I agreed and he said, “Repeat after me.” He spoke three strange-sounding words, and I repeated them several times.

  “In English it means green home,” he said. I wouldn’t mention it to my father, but it sounded a lot better in English.

  When we got close to the impenetrable barrier, I said the Gaelic words out loud and the boulders and trees turned to mist and disappeared. Immediately I felt magic in the air. Sweet, welcoming magic.

  My father beamed at me. “Very good. Don’t ever write the words down; you must commit them to memory.”

  As we rode into Elvenwood, we passed picturesque thatch-roofed cottages, all with colorful gardens, and the flower-scented air mixed with the familiar feeling of Elven magic welcomed me to my second home.

  When we reached my father’s cottage, we dismounted and untied my bags from Smoke’s saddle. After we thanked the greys for a good ride, they nodded to us and trotted off to the stable. As I approached the front door, a brown streak flew around the corner of the cottage, leaped in the air and licked my face. Laughing, my father bent down to scratch Roscoe’s ears. “He’s tried to jump up and lick my face many times, but he’s always about a foot short.” Roscoe was my dad’s beautiful fawn and white Boxer, the father of my dog Ralph at home.

  My father took my bags into my bedroom and returned to the sitting room where I sat on the floor with Roscoe, rubbing his belly. He was overjoyed to see us, judging by the madly wagging tail.

  I loved the warmth of my father’s cottage. The sitting room, equivalent to a living room in the modern world, held a large couch and several deep, cushioned chairs facing the stone fireplace. The largest chair faced a drawing of mine that my father had framed and hung over the fireplace. It showed my mother trimming her roses in our flower garden a year ago. The rest of the walls were covered with a large number of landscape paintings, which my father loved and had collected for years.

  There was a large wooden table along with eight chairs placed at the rear of the large room. That table was where business was conducted and meals served when my father was home and invited friends in for a meal. I especially enjoyed the private meals we shared occasionally. My father was always more relaxed when it was just the two o
f us.

  I was glad to see that a doggy door had been installed at the cottage’s back door. My father saw me checking it out. “Adam said you suggested it, so he designed one and installed it. He thought it would make you happy.”

  I snorted. “I think it makes Roscoe even happier. How did Adam find time to build a doggy door with all the furniture building he’s been doing?”

  “You can ask Adam that yourself, Cara. As soon as he knows you’re here, I’m sure he’ll be over to see you.” There was a knowing smile on his face as he winked at me. Ten years older than me, Adam had been my full-time bodyguard until his carpentry skills were needed in the village’s wood shop. Admittedly, I was fond of Adam, and my father was aware of it.

  “Cara, you haven’t had lunch yet, have you?”

  “Nope. Where will we be eating today?”

  “I heard a rumor there would be baked ham and roasted potatoes in the dining hall today. And apple pie, if you’re interested.”

  That put a smile on my face.

  While my father looked at some papers that had been left on his table, I unpacked my clothes and washed up. When I got back to the sitting room, he looked up with a smile.

  “Ready for lunch?”

  My growling stomach let me know I was more than ready.

  As we walked to the dining hall, I was again humming that persistent melody that had taken root in my head.

  “Where did you hear that melody?”

  I shrugged. “No idea, Dad. It’s been stuck in my head for days.”

  He shook his head, frowning slightly. “I know I’ve heard it before, probably a long time ago. Keep humming it. Maybe it’ll come to me.”

  The large, stone dining hall consisted of two huge rooms, one for cooking and one for dining. The dining room was furnished with a dozen long wooden tables and benches, where meals were served family-style. The other side of the stone building held the cooking area where one wall was lined with fireplaces so big, a person could walk into them and stand up. At mealtimes, more than a dozen Elves were in the kitchen area preparing food.

  When we walked into the dining area, at least fifty people were already seated and all heads turned to smile at us. My father was the popular leader of Elvenwood. His family had owned Blackthorne Forest for more than two hundred years.

  I spotted Conor waving at us so we headed in his direction. I hadn’t seen him since my last visit to Elvenwood, when I was agonizing over the fact I now had defensive skills that could kill. Conor had given me good advice, as he always did.

  He stood and gave me a warm hug. “I don’t get to see you enough these days.” He was right. I was rarely in the woods now looking for scenic spots to draw, as I’d done for years. There were too many other things going on.

  Within minutes, platters of ham, bowls of roasted potatoes, and several salads were placed on the tables by boys from the kitchen.

  My father handed me a plate and I filled it with a little of everything. He looked at my plate, frowning. “Is that all you’re eating?”

  “Dad, I gained enough weight the last time I was here. I don’t want to get any fatter.”

  Conor chuckled. “No need to worry. You look wonderful. In fact, there are at least a dozen young men who would line up at your door if your father would allow it.”

  Surprised, I looked at my father. He was shaking his head. “Not for at least a couple of years. She’s only sixteen, and she’s already growing up too fast.”

  When I thought of growing up too fast, my thoughts immediately went to Adam who had just walked in, heading for our table with a smile on his handsome face. In my opinion, I wasn’t growing up fast enough.

  My father looked up when he saw me begin to smile. “Have a seat, Adam. Join us for lunch.” He sat down next to me, greeting my father and Conor and winking at me.

  “Couldn’t stay away, could you, Cara? I know someone who will be very happy to see you. Ian asks every day when you’re coming back. Have you seen him yet?”

  “No, not yet. I’ll stop over there later.”

  More softly, Adam asked, “Are you feeling any better since we last spoke?”

  “Uh, not really. I hope I can relax while I’m here so I can start school next week without feeling like the sky is about to fall on my head.” We were speaking in low tones, but Conor overheard us and asked, “What’s wrong, Cara?”

  My father answered. “She’s been having frequent anxiety attacks. She’s convinced something big is about to happen.”

  Conor’s silvery eyes showed concern. “Nothing bad will happen to you here. Do you have any idea where this anxiety is coming from?” I shook my head, and he turned to my father. “Brian, has there been any news from the Thornewood police?”

  “No, nothing new there. Gaynes hasn’t been seen anywhere in the past month. Police throughout the northeast are looking for him.” Gaynes was my father’s enemy and I seemed to be his favorite target.

  Just the mention of Donald Gaynes made me shiver. My throat got so dry, I couldn’t swallow. I closed my eyes for a few seconds and took a couple of deep breaths. This was Elvenwood. I was supposed to be safe here, although I was beginning to doubt I’d be safe anywhere.

  Conor and my father didn’t seem to understand what I was feeling, so I tried again to explain.

  “I have this feeling that something really big is going to happen, something unavoidable.” I was having nightmares again, waking up covered in sweat and terrified, but I didn’t want to talk about that.

  Conor asked, “You mean like a premonition?” I nodded and he looked at my father.

  “Didn’t you tell me once that your mother would have premonitions occasionally?”

  My father looked undecided. “Yes, but her premonitions weren’t always accurate. Sometimes nothing came of them.”

  “But sometimes her premonitions did come true, didn’t they?”

  My father looked away, frowning. It didn’t seem like something he wanted to talk about.

  When we’d finished eating, Adam stood up. “There are half a dozen chairs waiting for me at Garrett’s wood shop. Cara, if you’ll walk over there with me, I can show you what I’ve been working on.”

  “Would that be okay, Dad?”

  “Of course, dear. I have a few meetings scheduled this afternoon. Go ahead and I’ll see you both later this afternoon for tea.”

  I said goodbye to Conor, who leaned down to hug me. “Don’t be such a stranger, Cara. I’ve missed you,” he said with a smile. I’d missed him too. Conor was the first Elf I’d met, although he’d been “glamoured” and I hadn’t known he was an Elf at the time. He had appointed himself my “big brother” and quickly became a close friend.

  As we walked out of the dining hall, Adam said, “Your father mentioned to me that you were going out with Sean the other night. How did that go?”

  I snorted. “You men gossip as much as girls do. My father asked me the same question this morning.” I shook my head as I saw that familiar amused look on Adam’s face.

  “Well, it went fine. We’re friends again.”

  “Do you really think Sean will be satisfied just being your friend?”

  “Maybe not. But he knows that’s all I’m willing to offer. He seemed to be happy that we’re speaking to each other again. I think we both missed that part of our relationship.”

  “And the way you behaved at that party, Cara?” He arched one eyebrow as he glanced at me.

  “How was I to know the fruit punch was spiked with vodka?”

  I sighed. “I called Sean the next day and apologized for the way I’d acted. Thankfully, he understood and wasn’t mad.” Adam shook his head, looking amused as usual.

  When we arrived at Garrett’s workshop, Adam led me inside. Garrett was almost finished sanding a large table.

  He looked up and put his tools down with a warm smile for me. “Welcome, Cara. It’s good to see you.” He took my hand between his rough, calloused ones. “I guess I should apologize for ste
aling your bodyguard. Adam’s the best wood worker I’ve found in many years. I was so swamped with furniture orders I didn’t think I’d ever catch up. Adam, show Cara those chairs you’re working on. I think she’ll be impressed.”

  Elvenwood’s hand-made furniture, as well as other crafts, were sold in the human world, providing most of the village’s income.

  Adam led me to the rear of the workshop where there were six chairs in various stages of construction. One was almost finished and it was a thing of beauty. It appeared to be a period piece with gracefully curved legs and a high back, slightly rounded at the top. The wood looked like maple. I had no idea what period it represented, but it had a graceful look.

  “This is beautiful.”

  “Thank you. I’m glad you like it, but I’m afraid I have to get back to work now. Can I join you and your father for tea later?”

  “Absolutely. See you later.”

  As I was on my way out, Garrett stopped me. “I think Arlynn would like to see you while you’re here. She’ll be stopping by your father’s cottage.” I tried not to grimace. He smiled and winked at me. “I think you’ll notice a definite change in her attitude.”

  Arlynn and I had been friends until she let me know she didn’t trust Adam and thought I might get hurt because he was so much older. We’d never resolved that issue.

  I left the shop and walked to Kathleen’s to say hello. When I got there, I was surprised to find Gabriel there, again with a dressing on his injured leg.

  He looked a lot happier than the last time I’d seen him, when we feared he might lose that leg.

  “Hey, Cara. Couldn’t stay away, could you?”

  Kathleen smiled at me. “Welcome back, dear. I’ll be through with Gabriel in a few minutes. His leg is coming along so much better now. I don’t hold with most modern medicine, but that antibiotic Dr. Costello gave him has cleared up the infection beautifully. It’s just a matter of allowing the leg to finish the healing on its own. My herbs can help.”

  I sat down to wait, happy to see Gabe looking like himself again.

  “How’s your archery coming along?” he asked. “I heard from Ryan that you’ve been concentrating on what you’re calling non-lethal training. I’d like to see a demonstration while you’re here.”