The Dragon's Song

by Claire Fogel

  He nodded. “I thought I saw something with wings. Clouds don’t have wings.”

  Surprised, I said, “You’re right. I wish I’d looked up sooner.”

  He shrugged. “I liked that song you were humming. What’s it called?”

  I put my pencil down, stretching my fingers and hand. “I don’t know. It’s just a tune that’s been stuck in my head for the past few weeks.” I smiled. “I can’t seem to make it stop.”

  “Well, it’s pretty. I like it. Do you know the words?”

  “I’m afraid not. My father told me he thinks his mother used to sing it, but he doesn’t know the words either.”

  Ian curled up next to me as I picked up my pencil again. He watched as I added more detail and all the colors to the drawing. With Ian safely on the ground, I took my time. This picture was quite different from the other Elf drawings I’d done. The setting had a wilder look, contrasting with Ian’s happy smile peeking through the upper branches of the old tree. When I was finally satisfied, I put the last pencil down and asked, “What do you think?”

  He was wide-eyed. “This is the best one yet.”

  “Thank you. I like it too.” I looked up at the sun, much lower in the sky than it had been. “We should probably go back now.” With a smile, I added, “It’s late and you missed your nap, didn’t you?”

  “I think I’m too big for a nap now. I’m almost seven, you know.”

  “Well, I hope your mother won’t mind. I don’t want her to be mad because I kept you out too long.”

  He grinned. “Mom would never get mad at you. When I’m out with you, she knows she doesn’t have to worry about me.” I tousled his hair and we got up to hike back through the apple orchard.

  I found myself humming that same tune again. Suddenly, inside my head, I heard, Sing. Please. I stopped short, looking around. I wondered if Rebecca Blackthorne’s friend was somewhere nearby, speaking to my mind the same way my father did. That thought gave me goose bumps up and down both arms.

  I was beginning to feel that familiar sense of urgency again.

  When we reached the cottage, I sent Ian home, after thanking him for his help this afternoon. My father was still out and it wouldn’t be dinnertime for at least another hour. I made myself a cup of tea and curled up on the couch again with my grandmother’s diary, hoping to learn more about her mysterious friend.

  I skimmed through more pages of family activities and comments about friends, but found nothing about anyone named Rowenna, and nothing at all about a song. Rebecca Blackthorne’s handwriting was so small, it took quite a bit of time to read each page.

  After reading for a while, my eyes grew tired. Reluctantly I put the diary down, leaned my head against the couch’s cushioned back and closed my eyes. I must have dozed off because I thought I was hearing that gravelly voice in my head saying, Sing. Please.

  I felt a warm hand on my arm and sat up suddenly, totally disoriented. Adam was bent over me, shaking me gently. “You must have been dreaming. I heard you mumbling something. Are you all right?”

  Shaking my head to clear my mind of that voice and what must have been a dream, I looked up into Adam’s worried, deep blue eyes and felt better immediately. “Have a seat. I’m glad you’re here. Something strange has been happening since I got here.”

  He sat next to me, wrapping one large, warm hand around one of my small, surprisingly cold hands. “What’s going on?”

  I explained about the song that had been stuck in my head, about my father’s memory of his mother singing it, about the dream of my grandmother, the “cloud” that apparently had wings, and the voice I was now hearing in my head. He frowned and shook his head slowly.

  He was silent for a few minutes. Finally, he squeezed my cold hand and gave me a wry smile. “Well, I think we now know a bit more about this premonition of yours. My guess is that one of the things you’ve been worried about is right here in Elvenwood, which should mean it’s not something that will hurt you.”

  “I think I’m beginning to understand. My grandmother’s old friend is somewhere nearby. Her name is Rowenna, and she wants to hear the dragon song that Rebecca Blackthorne used to sing to her. She hasn’t heard the song since my grandmother moved away, and that was before I was born.”

  I picked up the diary and showed it to Adam. “I’ve been reading Rebecca’s diary, trying to find out more about Rowenna and this dragon song. But so far, there’s been no mention of either. Her writing is so small, it’s slow reading, but I think Rowenna is depending on me somehow.” I hesitated. “And maybe my grandmother is too.”

  “Does anyone here know of Rowenna?”

  “I don’t think so. My father’s not familiar with the name, which is surprising since she was supposedly a good friend of his mother’s.” I shrugged. “I’ll just have to keep reading.” Adam continued to hold my hand until my father arrived with Jason.

  Adam let go of my hand as my father leaned down to kiss the top of my head. Jason again hugged me so hard, I gasped and almost came off the couch. My father leaned over us and said softly, “Your emotions have been all over the place for the past few hours. Are you all right?”

  “I’m okay, Dad. I’ll tell you more about it later.”

  He nodded. “I’m glad Adam was with you, dear.” He looked down at Adam, who was still sitting close to me. “If holding Cara’s hand comforts her, I have no objection.” My father spoke softly, but Jason heard every word and simply winked at me with his usual sweet smile.

  Thanks to the three of them, my stress level was now more bearable.

  I looked at my father, my cousin, and my favorite bodyguard and said, “Thanks for your support. I feel better than I’ve felt in weeks.”

  There was a tapping at the front door and my father opened it to let in two ladies carrying the familiar, heavily loaded trays. I’d lost track of time, as usual. It was dinnertime. Jason and I went into the kitchen to gather up everything that would be needed for the table, and my father got a large jug of water from the cold cellar.

  My improved mood seemed to be contagious. There was a lot of good-natured teasing and joking over dinner, which was, as always, delicious. I managed to save enough for the next day’s breakfast and maybe even lunch. I planned to do a lot more reading the next day, comfortably curled up on the couch as I searched for answers.

  After everyone left, I told my father what I’d experienced during the afternoon. He looked as surprised as Adam had.

  “I don’t remember ever hearing the name Rowenna. It’s a shame my mother is too far away to explain these things to you. But I do remember her speaking to me in my dreams now and then, mostly when she had advice she wanted to give me privately.” He gave me an apologetic smile. “It’s a family talent, I’m afraid. And now she’s speaking to you. I’d advise you to pay careful attention to whatever she said.”

  He spent time telling me more about his parents until it was time for bed. “Are you going to stay up reading tonight, dear?”

  “I think so. I keep hoping I’ll find something about Rowenna or the song.”

  “Well, feel free to sleep in again tomorrow if you’re up late. I’ll be in and out all day, but if you need me just send me a message and I’ll come home.”

  We said good night and he left me with a hug. “I’m relieved you’re feeling calmer now, sweetheart. Sleep well.”

  I stayed up reading my grandmother’s diary until my eyes started to close. I’d managed to read quite a bit further into her diary but still hadn’t found what I was looking for. This was a mystery I was determined to solve.

  Except for Roscoe, the cottage was empty when I woke in the morning. The sky was cloudy and dark, making me glad I’d planned to stay in and read. And thanks to all the leftovers from last night’s dinner, I wouldn’t go hungry. I took a shower in cold water again, but with this morning’s humidity, it was actually refreshing.

  I lit several of the oil lamps, and their soft glow immediately transformed the cottage
into a warm inviting oasis despite the light rain hitting the windows softly. After enjoying a few of last night’s leftovers, along with a basket of fresh muffins some thoughtful person had left on our table this morning, I made a pot of Kathleen’s herbal tea and settled myself on the couch with my grandmother’s diary.

  More entries about village activities, a little gossip about the young, single Elves, a recipe for apple-cinnamon muffins, which sounded heavenly, but nothing I had hoped to find. I poured myself another cup of tea just as Jason rushed in, a big smile on his face. I poured him a cup of tea, and he planted himself next to me on the couch.

  “I have it on good authority that tomorrow will be a beautiful, sunny day, and I have the entire day to myself, so would you like to spend the day with me? We can picnic, you can draw, I can model if you like, and I’ll play my flute for you.” He smiled apologetically. “I hope tomorrow’s a good day for you, cousin. I guess I should have asked.”

  “Tomorrow’s a perfect day. It’ll be fun.”

  As he sat back to drink his tea, he saw the diary. “Is that our grandmother’s?”

  “Yes, my father gave it to me. He thought it was the last one she wrote in before she left for Scotland with our grandfather. I’m trying to find some answers to some strange things that have been happening to me lately.”

  He nodded. “Uncle Brian told me about this premonition you’ve had. You know, I was near the orchard yesterday afternoon, and I think I heard the same voice you were hearing. She wanted you to sing for her.”

  “Then I’m not losing my mind! You thought it was a woman’s voice? I wasn’t sure.”

  “Definitely. But I’m guessing she’s a very, very old woman who must have hidden herself away years ago. That’s probably why no one knows of her today.”

  I hadn’t realized that my cousin was telepathic too. That was a relief.

  “Jason, do you think we can find her?” The prospect was exciting, but it made me nervous too.

  He tilted his head to one side with a faint smile. “Perhaps, but only if she wants to be found.” At that moment, my cousin looked quite fey, even more than most Elves did.

  Finishing his tea, he took his cup into the kitchen and I could hear him rinsing it under the tap. When he came back into the room, he said, “If you ever need someone to talk to, about anything at all, I’ll always be here for you.” His cheeks colored. “I just wanted you to know that, cousin. Sometimes I can feel what you’re feeling. I’d like to help, if you’ll let me.”

  He dropped a kiss on my cheek and dashed out the door. I couldn’t help thinking that the difference between Jason and his twin brother Justin was one mystery that I would never be able to solve.

  I picked up the diary again and read until lunchtime. I made myself a sandwich and continued reading while I ate.

  My father came in while I was eating, helping himself to some of the leftovers, and asked if I’d found any answers yet.

  “Nope. Lots of gossip, but no Rowenna and no dragon song.” I sighed deeply, closing the diary. My eyes burned. I glanced out the window. It was still dreary, still raining. “I think I need a nap. My eyes are really tired.”

  “Did you see Jason this morning? He said he was coming by to see you.”

  “He was here before lunch. He said he has it on good authority that tomorrow will be a sunny day, so we’re going out to picnic, draw, and enjoy his flute. We were also talking about this mystery I’m hoping to solve. Jason was near the orchard yesterday and heard the same voice in his head that I heard. He thinks it was this Rowenna, and that she’s a very old woman who’s been in hiding for years. What do you think, Dad?”

  He shook his head. “I find it hard to believe that there could be anyone living in Blackthorne Forest who I’ve never seen. How would an old woman survive out there by herself? No, it really doesn’t make any sense.” He hesitated. “Unless . . . no, it’s just not possible.” He chuckled. “Pure fantasy.”

  “What were you thinking?”

  “It’s too crazy,” he scoffed. “Forget I said anything.” He stood up and took his dishes and mine into the kitchen. I heard the water running for a few minutes. My father was actually washing the dishes. I don’t know why that surprised me, but it did. I smiled. He was considered a Prince in the Elven world. A Prince who washed dishes. I couldn’t help smiling.

  He walked back into the sitting room. “I’ll be visiting Francis Sullivan this afternoon, as well as our weavers and our jewelry designer. I want to make sure they’ve stocked up with all the materials they’ll need to fill their holiday orders.” He raised one eyebrow. “Some creative people aren’t too well organized, you know.”

  I giggled. “Santa’s workshops, right?”

  He chuckled and headed for the door. “Right you are, sweetheart. Now go take your nap. I’ll be back in an hour or two.”

  I went into my bedroom with Roscoe at my heels. Apparently, it was time for his afternoon nap too. It was warm and humid indoors, so I lay down on top of the quilt and Roscoe curled up in his usual spot at the foot of the bed. My eyes closed.

  I knew I was dreaming again. I couldn’t see my grandmother, but I heard her voice. You must sing for Rowenna, dear. She needs you. She sounded sad. I hated to leave her. She will protect you as she always protected me.

  Abruptly, the fog lifted and I found myself near the ancient apple trees where I’d been the day before, staring toward the Western peaks where the tallest mountains were shaded with purple.

  I heard a soft voice close to my ear. “Wake up, Cara. You’re talking in your sleep.” Opening my eyes, I found my father kneeling next to my bed, looking worried.

  “Who were you talking to? You were having a conversation with someone.”

  I was finally awake enough to remember my dream. “What was I saying?”

  “Something about singing and being protected. I couldn’t make out everything. You were speaking too softly.”

  “Those were your mother’s words. She was talking about Rowenna again.”

  He looked at me, frustration clear in his face. “Sorry, sweetheart. I wish I could help.”

  “It’s okay, Dad. Something tells me I’m getting closer.”

  But closer to what, I had no idea.

  My father left for the sitting room, leaving me sitting up on my bed. I had goose bumps up both arms and I heard that now familiar rough voice in my head. Sing. Please. Then, more faintly, I thought I heard, Rebecca . . .

  That sense of urgency I’d been feeling for weeks was now telling me to hurry! I felt I was running out of time, or maybe it was Rowenna who was running out of time.

  I got up, splashed cold water on my face, and returned to the sitting room and my grandmother’s diary. My father looked up from his paperwork and smiled at me as I curled up again on the couch with the diary in my lap. I had to find more information if I wanted to help Rowenna.

  An hour later, my father asked me if I was hungry, but I felt I had to keep reading. There were still a few leftovers in the cold cellar if I got hungry. He left for the dining hall, promising to bring back a piece of apple pie.

  I kept reading, skimming sections occasionally when they didn’t appear to have what I was looking for. Finally, when I got close to the end of the diary, I found something. Rebecca Blackthorne had written down the lyrics to what she called, “The Dragon’s Song,” saying she wanted to be sure the song “wouldn’t be forgotten and lost to future generations.”

  I was beyond thrilled! Grabbing a piece of drawing paper, I printed out the words as she had written them.

  “Soaring above clouds,

  Across sky so wide,

  Almost touching the sun,

  Here no reason to hide.

  Air so clear, below so green,

  A perfect new world

  No others have seen.

  Sweet song from below,

  Drawing me down.

  Beautiful lady,

  Beautiful sound.

  Singing of love
,

  So sweet to hear,

  She smiles as she sings,

  Showing no fear.

  She beckons me closer,

  Welcomes me home.

  Peace so sweet,

  No longer alone.”

  I repeated the words, singing them along with the melody I’d been humming, and they fit. Perfectly. Curiously, Rebecca had called it, “The Dragon’s Song.” But my father had assured me dragons were extinct.

  I decided to spend the rest of the night finishing Rebecca Blackthorne’s diary. If I could just find any information about Rowenna, Jason and I might be able to find her tomorrow.

  It was definitely time to take a break. My eyes burned and my stomach growled just as my father walked in the door with Adam at his side.

  “Your timing is perfect, Dad. I found the words to your mother’s dragon song, and I’m starved. What did you bring me?”

  He grinned as he uncovered an entire apple pie and handed it to me.

  I laughed. “This isn’t all for me, is it? I have to share, right?”

  Adam smiled. “We’re doing you a favor. You did say you didn’t want to get any fatter, remember?”

  I muttered, “I knew that statement would come back to haunt me.”

  Grinning, Adam pulled another plate from behind his back. “Arlynn said this was one of your favorite salads. So, salad first, then we’ll help you eat your pie. But please don’t take too long.” My father tried to stifle a laugh.

  “So have you had any success with the diary this afternoon?” my father asked.

  “Yes! I found the words to that song I’ve been so fixated on. And they fit the melody perfectly.”

  My father smiled. “Excellent. You may solve this mystery after all. Right now, I think you should have something to eat. Put the diary down and come over to the table. I’ll make the tea.”

  While I ate, Dad and Adam sat with me and talked business over cups of tea. Garrett’s woodshop would have to be expanded to make room for his growing business, and they were looking for another carpenter trainee as well.