Dragon's Flight

by S. R. Langley

  The last straw for Mr. Briggs came the very next day, when the Cook, Mrs. Belcher, a roly-poly sort of a woman, who Roger quite liked, had an almighty shock when she came into her kitchen to find that all the eggs, milk, cream, butter and flour were whirling around in the air in a huge wheel of sloppy, doughy mixture; spinning just like a miniature model of the Milky Way Galaxy.

  Regor wanted to see if he could bake a cake at a distance by use of his Remote-Controlled-Flame technique. Unfortunately, he’d found this well beyond his current scope, being unable to get the right ingredients in the right pots and pans; and so the whole mess, bubbling and fizzing with red flames and blue sparks, came crashing down onto the floor, just as the Cook entered the room.

  It took all Mr. Briggs persuasive powers to convince her not to just up and leave there and then. He had somehow convinced her that it was wild animals that had been to blame. But in the end, after a few sweet sherries, she had calmed down and Mr. Brigg’s very generous increasing of her salary, along with the sherry, was what most likely had done the trick.

  Roger’s Father was now becoming increasingly annoyed and it was costing him a fair bit in the wallet too and he wasn’t known for his generosity! It also meant that Roger’s confinement to the Manor House wasn’t likely to come to an end very soon either.

  Every day that Regor had misbehaved, Roger had had to have his own ‘serious talk’ with him, and each time Roger had believed it had done the trick. But it seemed that no matter what, baby Regor just couldn’t stop himself from getting into trouble.

  Roger was realizing that hiding an unborn baby Dragon in a Human household was really not a sensible proposition at all. Something would have to be done – and soon. That ‘soon’ though was a lot closer than Roger could have possibly realized.

  Regor was actually a very intelligent creature, and he was growing up a lot faster than a Human would at his unborn age! He just liked exploring and finding out about the things around him and he was understandably restless at still being trapped in his Egg shell. Until he was actually hatched, it meant he could only have fun and adventures mentally, and none physically at all.

  This time though, Roger had a brainwave. This time he explained the situation to him in a way that Regor could really understand, because this time instead of just telling him off for being naughty, he asked for Regor’s help, and put it in a way that was very important to them both. “Listen here, Regor, I know you don’t mean to be naughty and I know being cooped up in your shell and in the Manor grounds as well, is driving you potty! But listen, I’ve got to tell you something really, really important, OK?”

  “All wight, Wodger, I’m lishenings. You sounds sheewious, what ish it?”

  “We’re both trapped here, Regor, and Mary will be worried sick about us. We need to work together to get out so we can see her. You understand? You’ll be much safer at the caravan near the Good Wood, with Mary and her Gran than you are here. But if there’s any more upset then my Father will never let me out!”

  There was a moment’s silence. It was sinking in. Regor was at last understanding their situation. “Oh that’sh tewwible, Wodger. We can’t shtay heres. I’ze got to be hatched vewwy soon!”

  “That’s why I need your help, Regor, you see? We’ve got to keep our heads down and our noses clean. Or we’ll never get a real chance to see Mary and get you out of here to be born!”

  “OK, Wodjer, I’ll keeps my noshe clean. I pwomises. It’sh hidded aways wiv my headsh in my shell allweddy though, so no wunsh gonna sees it anywaysh!”

  “Oh, that just means being well behaved and not causing any upsets!” Roger explained.

  Roger had just about managed to stop himself from bursting out laughing. He hadn’t wanted to hurt Regor’s feelings. But this time his ‘talk’ had done the trick. Regor had now got it and things looked like being a lot calmer from now on. But it didn’t change the fact that what Regor really needed, more than anything else, was to just simply, be born.

  In fact, unknown to Roger, Regor was actually beginning to realize just exactly where and when his own hatching was to take place; and it was now only a matter of a few weeks away.

  What was really worrying Roger though, right down to his very core, was that he was right. He was unable to get out and visit Mary, and that was something that he and Regor had in common.

  He knew that as the days passed, she would be getting increasingly concerned about not hearing from him, as well as being worried about how Regor, her baby Dragon, was getting on. He had to get out or get a message to her somehow – but how?

  Regor had tried to telepath to her but the distance was just too great. Roger had practiced with him on increasing his telepathic distances and he had been improving daily, but it was still not anywhere near enough yet. Regor could telepath the full length and breadth of the Manor House and the Gardens, but no further. As yet he still could not telepath over long distances at all.

  The only possible way to get to Mary was to behave themselves and be allowed out of the house.

  But there seemed to be no way that Mr. Briggs would allow Roger out of the house to visit Mary. The School summer holidays had now started and there was no one that he could turn to for help. Roger had no school friends who would call on him and even if he had and they did visit, they probably wouldn’t be allowed in. Roger was well and truly stumped!

  It had been nearly two weeks now since Roger’s return to the ‘loving arms’ of his family and he was becoming more miserable by the day. It was mid-afternoon and right now he was alone in his room. Regor was taking his usual nap in his pond and Roger was catching up with some play-time with his pet hairy-spider, Hercules. Roger had had a big soft spot for his trained fleas, but it was ‘Hairy Hercules’ who had been his oldest and dearest friend, until he’d met Mary that was.

  He was suddenly startled from his thoughts by his Father loudly knocking on his door, calling him to come and see him in his study, right away. Roger gulped and called out, “yes sir,” and put Hercules back in his glass case and trotted down the stairs with heart thumping. Being called to his Father’s study always meant being told off, or at best, being told something unpleasant.

  “Come in, come in, Roger my boy, take a seat,” Mr. Briggs said, his face half smiling and half frowning. Mr. Briggs had one of those fluid, fleshy faces that seemed to flow easily from one expression to the other. For this visit though, he finally settled for the fatherly frown.

  “Now listen up, my boy. I want you to know that I have several very special and very important guests attending here at the Manor this evening. Very important, you understand?”

  Mr. Briggs fell silent, awaiting Roger’s answer. Roger just stood looking dumbly down at his shoes, keeping his true feelings under control. Mr. Briggs gave a loud harrumph and continued, “Now I can’t have any shenanigans from you, putting this house and my name in a bad light. You understand? My selection for the Candidacy of Under Lundun Prime Councilor must not be jeopardized in any way, and especially not by my own son! Is that understood, Roger?”

  Roger remained silent, with his hands behind his back, and then at last, he looked up and nodded his assent. Mr. Briggs glared at him awhile, but then stood up and leaned towards him, his face breaking into what he hoped was a fond and fatherly grin.

  “There, there, Roger. I know I’ve been hard on you this last week or so, but, well, ahem… some serious steps had to be taken you know. You’ll appreciate that one day, I’m sure, my boy.”

  Roger didn’t have a clue as to what he was talking about. “What serious steps?” he thought.

  Mr. Briggs was putting his well-honed skills to use, his Politician’s smarm, on his very own son!

  “It’s good that we’ve had this chat, Roger, man to man as it were, and if you do behave yourself tonight, well, we’ll see about giving you some of your house privileges back, OK? Fair enough? Good. Now return to your room, my boy, and show yourself to be a true Briggs!”

  Roger felt r
elieved to be dismissed, and returned to his room and immediately attempted to mind link with Regor. He was in luck, Regor was awake. He told him what had been said and asked him to be extra well behaved for the sake of seeing Mary again. Regor promised he would be.

  Early that evening, the important guests started to arrive at the Manor House. Several swanky cars, old Bentley’s and Rolls Royces, came gliding up the gravel drive and depositing their posh passengers at the front door. Jenkins the Butler was showing them into the hall and taking their hats and coats. Roger could see all this unfolding below him from his bedroom window.

  “I wonder who they are and what on Erf they’re up to?” he mused, half to himself and half to Regor, as one by one, the distinguished guests stepped into the Manor hall and were there received by Mr. Brian Briggs and his beaming, bejeweled wife, Mrs. Gladys Briggs.

  Then suddenly the baby Dragon’s voice cut in and interrupted his concentration. “Hey, Wodger, if you wantsh us to knows, then why don’ts wees lishens in to themsh then? I pwomised I’d be good and I willsh, I pwomises, but wees can still lishens ins, carn’t wees, Woj, an’ no one will knowsh a thing!”

  Normally, Roger would be a lot more morally sensitive about the idea of eavesdropping, and he nearly sent that exact thought back to Regor, but then Regor quickly telepathed to him again, “We won’t dwops any eaves, Woj, I pwomises, OK?”

  And so that’s exactly what they did, Roger lying in his bed and Regor lying in his pond. They spent the rest of that evening and late into the night, listening in, telepathically, of course.

  A couple of hours later, Roger was completely and utterly flummoxed and flabbergasted!

  What they had heard was unbelievable! And his father was up to his eyes in it. At first a lot of the dinner conversation had been of adult type chit-chat and of no real importance, but then the talk had turned to the actual reason for the gathering of these V.I.P.’s.

  Roger had overheard his father and his guests discussing the most diabolical plans imaginable. Plots and plans that would alter the course of life on Erf forever!

  CHAPTER 3:

  THE GYPSY PEDDLER

  After a while Mary had calmed down some and instead of struggling with the mixed emotions of grief, fear and rage, she now felt a stone-cold determination to not allow her and her Gran to be parted and be put away just to moulder in some god-awful government institutions.

  “We’ve got to do something!” Mary said determinedly, untangling herself from Grannie Madden’s soothing embrace.

  “Agreed, my girl, agreed indeed!” Gran replied. Then looking around briefly to ensure that no one was listening or coming their way, she whispered, conspiratorially, “I thinks that the time has come that we gets out of Dodge and skedaddles, me dear!”

  “You mean, just up and go?” Mary exclaimed.

  “I mean exactly that, dearie, I mean move out, move on, vamoose and vacate!”

  “But where to Gran and what about Roger and the Egg, Regor? I mean, we just can’t abandon them? Roger and I have made an oath, you know, we have to see Regor safely hatched.”

  “Of course we won’t abandon them, dearest, don’t be daft. We all have to escape together; and we have to get that Egg ‒ Regor I mean, safely away from the Humdrums and I think I knows juss where we needs to go to too. It’ll be a dangerous trip but we’ll all be safe there I’m sure.”

  “Where’s that, Gran?”

  “I’ll tell you more on that score tomorrow, but right now we needs ter get our plans all worked out. So listens up. Tomorrow I’ll go an’ see Roger an’ tell ‘im what’s ‘appening, right?”

  But just then, before Mary had a chance to answer, Gran grasped her arm tight and quietly hissed, “Hush child, it’s that Matron McCracken woman. Juss act as normal as yer can.”

  Matron MCracken approached Mary’s bed with a haughty scowl on her face. The Ward Sister was with her, looking somewhat subdued and nervous. The Matron spoke, but directly to Mary, obviously ignoring Grannie Maddam completely.

  “Well, young Miss, I do hope that we are feeling better now. Seems important people are looking out for you and we must ensure you are as well as can be by this Monday. It seems you will soon be leaving our house of tender care to pastures new. What do you say to that then, eh?”

  Mary decided to feign ignorance as to what had been planned for her that coming Monday. She looked innocently up at the Matron and smiled sweetly and then replied very politely, “Oh yes, Matron, thank you very much, I’m feeling ever so much better now and I’m really looking forward to going home Monday, but you’ve all been so kind to me here I’ll be so sad and so very sorry to say goodbye to you all.”

  “Oh, are you now!” Matron McCracken hissed, looking very displeased. “Well don’t look forward to it too much, my dear, will you, we don’t want you getting over excited, now do we?”

  Grannie Maddam had remained silent but now looked up at the Matron, gazing at her steadily as she spoke to her in a quiet but very compelling manner. “I think you are finished here now, aren’t you, Matron? You have done all you intended to, haven’t you? Your special skills are urgently needed elsewhere, aren’t they? You must leave us now and you must go elsewhere. Goodbye!”

  Matron McCracken looked at Grannie blankly and tried to speak but found that she just couldn’t think what to say. She felt sure that she should be somewhere else now. Her mouth flapped open and shut and then she finally managed a croak and then said in a very monotone manner. “Yes, you’re right, I am needed elsewhere. I must go now. Goodbye.”

  She then turned on her heavy, black, square-toed shoes and marched away and out of the Ward just like some wound up clockwork toy, leaving the Ward Sister flabbergasted and running after her.

  “Nasty bit of baggage that Matron is fer sure,” Gran murmured as the Matron left them. “I really should try an’ control meself from putting the ‘fluence on her but I juss can’t abide the ol’ cockatrice. She’ll come around soon though an’ will juss hate us all the more. Oh well.”

  “We’d better make our plans then,” Mary said. “I think Matron McCracken hates us enough already an’ the quicker I’m out of this hospital the better.”

  “Yes, dearie, we definitely needs to get away by Sunday coz come Monday morning, per that letter, there’ll be comin’ fer us both fer sure.”

  Mary nodded in agreement, now sitting up and intently listening to Gran’s plan.

  “So as I was sayin’, dear, I’ll go to Roger’s place tomorrow morning an’ I’ll fills him in on what’s happening. Don’t worry, I’ll goes in disguise, an’ If he’s willing and able, then he’ll come with us on Sunday to get you out of here. But the least he’ll do is give us the Dragon’s Egg fer us to get away an’ keep safe an’ sound. Then I’ll come an’ visit you here afterwards, after yer Saterday Lunch, just as normal. And we’ll finalize our plans together then, alright?”

  “Oh, I think he’ll come with us,” Mary piped up. “Roger’s got hidden depths you know!”

  * * *

  That Friday evening Roger had discovered just how deeply his Father was involved in a vicious and very secret plot. A dastardly plot that would also include him eventually becoming the newly elected Prime Councilor for the entire Country of Inglande.

  There was more and even worse, but Roger couldn’t even bear to think about it. The only hidden depths that Roger was now experiencing were those of horror and despair. He telepathically discussed with Regor what they should do about it. After a very restless night Roger had finally come to the conclusion that there was only one thing he could do. He had to escape and take Regor with him. They had to get back to the Bad Wood and somehow find at least one of the Tree King’s Noble Courtiers and warn them.

  The question now though wasn’t what to do, it was how to do it?

  Little did he know, that question would be answered that very morning.

  The first inkling he had of this was just after Saturday morning breakfast. He’d just finished his la
st slice of toast and marmalade, a favorite of his, and had excused himself from the table when suddenly, from the garden pond, Regor brightly piped into his mind:

  “Good morning, Wodjer. I hopesh you’re not too shad fwom lasht night? We’ll finksh of sumfin’ but I sees a strange lady coming to sees us an’ she’s coming up the fwunt path wight now!”

  Roger immediately went out to the front hall to get to whoever it was first. He didn’t want his mother or father to interfere. Maybe it was someone with news of Mary. But he was too late. His Father just happened to be at the front door with Jenkins the Butler and they had already seen the strange and colorfully-dressed woman coming up the gravel drive. They stood stern and stiff together at the front door, waiting for her. Roger could just about see that it looked like some old wizened Gypsy woman carrying a large tray on straps around her neck, full of what looked like ribbons, bows and assorted trinkets.

  It was of course Grannie Maddam, in clever disguise as a Gypsy Peddler, so Roger as yet didn’t recognize her. She was as brown as an old walnut with bright, sparkling, blue eyes hidden under her massive, bushy eyebrows. Not to mention the wire spectacles perched on her great horn-like nose. She had great masses of curly chestnut hair, streaked with silver and two great silver hoops dangling from her ears. Her face was kindly but wreathed in wrinkles and dimples.

  “What can I do for you, Madam?” Jenkins enquired in his most haughty voice.

  “I’ve some lovely ribbons and bows an’ some beautiful gifts for the Lady of the house,” replied the old Gypsy woman sweetly.

  “Well, we won’t be needing any of that sort of thing, I can assure you, Madam. The Lady Briggs only shops from the very finest establishments of Mottington and Eltingham. So be off with you, my good woman.”

  Mr. Briggs harrumphed in agreement. Jenkins was handling this splendidly.

  If this was someone that had come to see him Roger knew he had to act fast. He dashed up to his father and with a gulp to swallow his usual stammer, emphatically told him: “Oh Sir, please. I forgot all about it but maybe this Gypsy can help me!”