Gwendolyn and the Green Dragon

By T.S. Adams

Gwendolyn's adventure continues. With hopes of returning to Moortop and finding her friends, Gwendolyn and the Brother's Three find themselves off on another adventure given them by a dying wizard to save a dragon before being attacked and Gwendolyn taken. In the tower held by the hag, Gwendolyn finds a secret no one was ever meant to remember. The journey takes Gwendolyn across the land as she finds new friends along the way and pits her wits against dragons-one she must save, and the other she must survive. The witch's army gathers in strength as invaders find their way to the shores of New Davenport. King John takes his army to fight as another secretly descends on his kingdom. Moortop fights for the very survival of its people. With treachery around every turn, can Gwendolyn find a way to help save her friends, or will she be too late to stop the dragon king? As her journey deepens and her past is uncovered, Gwendolyn finds herself in a twist of events that seem to make her journey home again seem impossible.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Nov 18, 2020
• ISBN: 9781098047887

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Gwendolyn and the Green Dragon

T.S. Adams

Copyright © 2020 by T. S. Adams

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

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

Gwendolyn

and the

Green Dragon

T. S. Adams

Gwendolyn and the Last Goblin

Gwendolyn and the Green Dragon

Chapter 1

Halona paused for a moment when she reached the fabled walls of Lashay. She wore a loose black shirt and a thick pair of black pants. Her black boots had red clay stuck to the sides of them. She wiped the sweat and rainwater from her face as she looked at the stone walls of the city, known for withstanding countless invading armies. The walls crumbled and looked as if they might fall. The forest helped hold several sections of the walls in place. The towers on either side of the massive gateway had fallen in on themselves, blocking much of the way into the city. She thought back to her childhood for a moment and the stories she’d heard about the might of the city. She smiled when she thought how easily the city fell to the armies of the last elder. She slipped through a narrow opening in the piles of stone from the fallen towers and entered the city.

On the inside of the walls, Halona stepped into the darkness of the city and out of the rain. Like the sunlight, the thick enwoven branches kept out the rain as well. She wrung the water out of her hair before she tied it up behind her head in a long ponytail. When she pulled her hair back, she reviled the scare Gwendolyn had given her with the wooden box. She formed a ball of light and cast it into the air to light her way. He clothes clung to her body. She moved her hands over herself. The water in her soaked clothes ran out at her feet. She stretched her arms out and tried to work the stiffness out of her joints before she continued.

Now dried, she readied herself for the last part of her journey. She found the forest thicker inside the city than it was outside the walls. The smooth stone road she stood on had thick tree roots breaking it up. Moss and blue night grass, glowing a soft blue, grew thick in the darkness. It covered most of the road. She followed the remnants of the broken road deeper into the city. Massive trees pushed through the wooden roofs of wealthy stone shops and homes she walked past. She stopped for a moment to pick the purple flowers from a patch of nightshade plants growing outside one of the horse stables. She tucked them away in a small bag she wore on her belt.

Halona kicked a rusted helmet out of her way. She barely noticed the moss-covered bones and armor of the soldier to whom the helmet belonged, lying on the ground. She whispered to herself, and the light from the orb grew brighter. She looked around as she walked. Armor-clothed skeletons littered the ground. Some looked fresh and wore ragged clothing of adventures who foolishly found themselves in the city looking for lost treasure. Wild animals had chewed on the bones of the ones the earth had not yet retaken. Thick patches of red ivy covered most of the walls of the homes still standing. She could hear the night birds in the trees screeching in complaint of the light she created. Some of the small birds took flight to get away from the light.

The road turned uphill. Halona could feel eyes watching her from the darkness of the forest. Nothing but the birds and the thunderstorm made a sound. She imaged that for over two hundred years, the city lay quiet. The light from her orb dimmed the deeper she walked into the city. She stopped when she stepped into ankle-deep, murky water. She formed three more orbs of light and cased them around her. The signs of the battle that destroyed the city could barely be seen because of the damage caused by the forest and time.

A large swamp lay between her and the large iron gates leading to the next level of the city. She could see water flowing down the road and into the swamp. The water flowed right under the twisted and rusted gates. The gates looked as if something had grabbed them at the bottom and bent them open. She took a step out further into the water. The cool water soaked into the bottom of her pants. Each step she took, the water got deeper, until it was almost up to her chest. A long, dark-green snake slithered across the water a few feet in front of her. She waited for the snake to move away from her before she continued.

She took a step forward when something grabbed her ankle and she vanished beneath the water. A long, green tail thrashed about the murky water as it fought with the witch. Birds in the treetops took flight as the orb went out and darkness retook everything. The ripples in the water calmed, and the birds went quiet. The creatures of the forest waited to see if there would be anything left for them to scavenge.

Halona burst through the surface of the water as she took in a deep breath of air. She held a scaly, green head in her hand. The rest of the creature floated to the surface of the water behind her.

Stupid retile, Halona complained as she waded through the water toward the bank still several yards in front of her. She tossed the head out into the swamp with one hand and cast another orb of light with the other. As soon as the head hit the water, several other creatures thrashed about as they pulled it under. Several more did the same with the creature’s body.

Halona followed the winding road through the thick forest until she reached another gateway. The stonewall circled Austin’s School of Magic. She could see the dark storm clouds on the other side of the gate. The heavy rain cut a ditch through the ground as it headed toward the swamps she just came from. The school lay in the heart of the city. A bolt of lightning struck the top of one of the ramparts of the school. It sent stones flying out into the forest. The wooden dorms where the students lived lined either side of the school. The school itself, built from a might castle, towered in front of her. A place of power in its day. The rain beat against Halona as she headed for the main doors of the school. She held her hands up to protect her face as she hurried. Her boots splashed through the mud.

*****

In the depths of the forgotten school, an old wizard crushed different dried plants into fine powders. He could hear the storm raging outside, but it did little to slow his work. The dampness in the large stone room left a thin layer of moister over the thick layers of dust. The old wizard had several muddy streaks across his green robes from where he placed his hand down in the dust, and it instantly turned to mud. He ran his dirty hands through his white beard as he thought of what he needed to do next, leaving the white hair of his beard stuck together. He poured a handful of white powder into the wooden bowl and grabbed another plant from the far end of the table. He dropped it into the bowl and started crushing it with his pestle, combining it with a white stone powder already in the bowl.

Along the front of the long wooden table he had wiped clean, the wizard had several plants already crushed and poured into perfect little piles on either side of him with a space in the middle to work. An iron pot hung over a small burning fire behind him in the center of the room. The green liquid inside the iron pot hissed and popped as it boiled. The old wizard stopped for a moment and listened before feverishly continuing his work.

White vapors from the boiling pot mixed with the white smoke of the fire and drifted high into the arched ceiling of the room. Water dripped from loose stones in the ceiling, creating small pools on the floor in some places. The wizard barely heard the waterdrops falling or the crackling fire because of the storm. Candles burned all over the room, casting shadows that moved with the flicker of the flames. Dust- and cobweb-covered shelves full of old, rotten leather-bound books lined the walls. Mushrooms grew out of the cover of some of the books while moss grew alone the damp stone walls. The wizard had plucked a few of the mushrooms and ground them up as well.

The old wizard worked as fast as he could get his hands to move. Despite the chill in the air, the wizard wiped sweat from his face and continued working. He finished grounding the plant and powder into a deep green mix in his mortar. He poured the powder out on the table, watching as the grains piled on top of themselves, creating a small green pile. He stepped over to another table with several large books lying open on top of it. His fingers quickly ran across the elvish words in the books until he found what he looked for. Going back to his powders, he took pinches from each of the twelve piles and sprinkled them back into the bowl. Some of the piles he added more than the others as he went back and forth between the two tables. He carefully read each amount before he added it to the mix. The pages of the book had faded handwritten notes in between the lines. Some of the notes adjusted the ingredients for the position he worked on. A faded image of a dragon covered the center of the page.

Once he had the combination of ingredients he wanted, he took his pestle and stirred the powders together, crushing them some more until they turned into a fine reddish brown color. He took the powder over to the iron pot and poured it in. At first the powder just sat on top of the boiling liquid. He used the long wooden spoon sticking out the side of the pot to stir the liquid until the clumps of powder could no longer be seen. The liquid changed from green to black to red.

When it changed to a light blue color, he mumbled a spell to himself. The white vapor turned blue as he spoke. The wizard waved his open hand over the pot. He snatched the blue vapor coming off it. The rest of the blue vapor followed as he pulled his hand away, sliding between his clinched fingers and into the palm of his hand. He held his hand out in front of him as he quickly headed back over to the table where he worked. He took a small vial from the shelf above the table and held it over the top of his closed hand. Finger by finger he opened his hand and let the blue vapor pour into the vial. Once he held his hand completely open, he placed a cork in the vial and turned it back up right. He looked at the light blue vapor spin around inside the glass vial like water. He shook it a few times, and the color changed to purple for a moment before it returned to a soft blue color. He took a deep breath and wiped the sweat from his face with the sleeve of his green robe. He plopped down in a wooden chair now that his work was finished.

He held the vial up to the candle on the small table next to his chair to get a better look at it. He closed his hand around the vial and held it close to his chest as he laid his head back and closed his eyes. The blue liquid in the pot changed back to a greenish color. The fire hissed as a green foam boiled over the sides of the pot. The flames of the fire changed to a green color with every drip that fell from the pot. The old wizard opened his eyes and watched the fire pop and hiss. He let his mind drift. He tried not to let his eyes close again as the fatigue he felt overtook him.

His eyes snapped open, and he quickly placed the vial in a hidden pocket in his robe as he stood up. He shook the sleep from his face. He swept his left hand across the table, and the open books flew to the floor. Each one burst into dust when they hit the stone floor. He snatched his staff from where it leaned against the table with his other hand. Once he finished with the books, he ran his left hand through the piles of ingredients on the table, making a cloud of dust rise around him. He pointed his hand toward the door of the room, and the dust cloud shot out away from him. A figure formed as the dust swirled around.

I knew you’d come sooner or later, the wizard said. He watched the figure wave their hand in front of them and the dust fell to the floor.

So this is where the last wizard of the Nible Order hides away from the rest of the world, a woman said. She stepped into the light so the wizard could see her. The witch smiled when she saw the wizard. Her hair hung back over the side of her face again.

How’d you get in here, witch? This place may be in ruin, but it’s still guarded by the keeper, the wizard asked her.

I have the ring of Master Dathan, Halona told him. She held her hand up for him to see the green emerald ring.

What is it you seek here, witch? There’re are no more secrets to be had in this school, the old wizard asked her. He held his staff in both hands.

You know what I’m here for, wizard. I want you to tell me the story about the cursed young man from Whitshire, she told him. Her black clothes mixed with the shadows along the floor. The wizard moved his staff to one side, and the witch’s hair moved back from her face. He could see the burn on the left side of her pale white face. She quickly moved her hair back into place with her hands.

I see the child really did burn you. How does a great witch such as yourself let a little girl burn her face? the wizard laughed.

The witch’s eyes narrowed. She waved her hand at the wizard, and he fell back into his chair. She held her hand out, and his staff came to her. She caught it and tossed it aside. It flew around the table and landed back in its spot, leaning against the table where the wizard had picked it up from.

That girl will get what she has coming to her, the witch hissed. She only thinks she’s safe locked away in a tower.

Locked away…, the wizard started and then stopped speaking.

How’d you know about her? the witch asked him.

You’d be surprised at what someone like me comes to know, he told her.

She walked over to the table where the wizard had been working. He tried not to look interested or worried about what the witch was doing.

That’s funny, coming from someone who’s hidden himself away for so long. I did hear about what you can do, wizard, the witch told him.

And what might that be? he asked her.

You can see things before they happen, she told him.

Only if they affect me, he told her.

Then you already knew I was coming, which means you already know how this plays out? the witch asked. She waved her hand in front of his face.

I have, and you don’t always have to be able to see to know what’s right in front of you, he told her when he grabbed hold of her wrist.

She quickly pulled away. So I see, she said annoyed.

Halona, isn’t it? Or are you going by another name now? I mean, after all it has been a long time since last we saw one another.

Does my name really matter to you, wizard? the witch asked him. You were the one that vanished without a trace, not me.

Even before I lost my sight, I knew what lay in your heart, Halona, the old wizard said.

You were the one that backed out of the deal. You’re the one that betrayed me, she told him. She glared at him. All you had to do was kill her, and everything would’ve played out like it should’ve.

I never agreed to what you wanted. I never agreed to kill a child, he told her.

No, you just placed her in a mirror, the witch said.

The wizard took a red vial out of his pocket and pulled the cork out of it. He raised it to his lips and took a small sip. He held it out to the witch.

I don’t need your pathetic potions, she told him.

He shrugged his shoulders and put the cork back in the vial before putting it back in his pocket.

I should’ve stopped you when I had the strength to, the wizard said. I should’ve never blessed your marriage.

A lot of good your blessing did. My husband and child are dead, the witch told him. Twelve years I’ve searched for a way to bring about my vengeance.

You still don’t know, he said. For a moment he felt pity for her.

All I want to know from you is the story, wizard, Halona demanded.

Such a shame, the wizard said. He shook his head at her.

The story, wizard, the witch snapped. She slammed her fist down on the table. You draw my patience to an end.

That’s a story I don’t feel like retelling to anyone, the wizard said. Especially you.

The Nible Order was once one of the greatest orders of wizards and witches, she told him, her voice calm again. She walked about the room, looking at all the dust-covered books slowly rotting away with time. It would be a shame should it be forgotten forever.

It has all but been forgotten. I am the last of the Order. It’s like anything else. It comes for a while, then it goes, he told her.

Tell me the story, the witch shouted. She held her open hand out toward the wizard, and with a swing of her arm, he flew across the room, crashing into a tall set of shelves. The whole thing came crashing down to the floor with him. He slowly sat up, pushing the wide flat boards off himself. He moved his right shoulder and felt the pain in it from where he hit the wooden shelves.

I don’t have time for this, witch, he complained as he got to his feet. He tried to knock the dust off his robe.

You’re over three hundred years old. I wouldn’t think you’d have much time for anything but a story, she whispered in his ear. What an interesting vial.

The old wizard turned around, but the witch was already gone. He patted his robes and found his vial of blue vapor gone. He looked around the room for the witch. She reappeared by the boiling pot. She held the vial up to the firelight to get a better look at it.

Potions to slow time are so hard to create, she said. You have to put so much into it.

Give that back, the wizard demanded. The vial shot out of her hand and back to the wizard’s. The witch couldn’t have cared less. She didn’t try to stop him from retaking the vial. She looked in the pot and sniffed it. She quickly turned her head away from the rancid smell.

Why do such wonderfully colored things always smell so horribly rotten? she asked more to herself than the wizard.

There’s nothing for you to learn from the story. It will not give you what you want, the wizard told her.

You know, burning a fire like this inside a crumbling school is bad for your health, the witch said. She looked down at her hand as she slowly closed it. The wizard felt a pain in his chest. He dropped to one knee, holding his chest with both hands.

Painful to be as sick as you are, she sneered.

All right. I’ll tell you the story. I’ll tell you everything you want to know, he told her between gasps of air. He felt his strength leaving him.

I’m glad you’ve come around to doing what I want you to, she told him.

He slowly got up and limped back over to his chair trying not to fall. His body trembled from the pain he felt. He plopped down. He held his hand over his mouth as he had a coughing fit. He drew in a hard, deep breath and coughed one more time. When he looked at his hand, he found a small pool of blood in the palm of it.

That can’t be good, the witch said with a smile.

The wizard took out his small red vial and took another sip before putting it away.

Don’t you worry about it, he told her, his voice sounding raspier than before.

How does it feel to have all that power and know there’s nothing you can do to save yourself? the witch asked him.

You’ll know soon enough, the wizard told her. He wiped his hand on his robe.

You can see only the things that affect you. What do you see when you look at tomorrow? she asked him. She looked into his gloss-covered white eyes.

I see dinner, he told her.

Dinner? the witch asked surprised.

Yes, the wizard told her.

I doubt that, the witch said.

You might be right, witch. I’ve not seen anything past tomorrow, he told her.

What else do you see? she asked.

I see a dragon filled with rage. It’s destroying everything, the wizard cried.

Interesting that you should bring up the dragon. That just so happens to be the other story I want to hear, if you please, she said. She erected another wooden chair and sat down after she dusted it off.

I know for whom you seek it, he told her. You think you can use the power of the dragon to help the elder calm the stones.

She looked surprised at him for a moment, and then she smiled.

You’re a silly, wizard. There’s more to this than the elder and what he wants. I brought him back for my own gain, not his. I will serve him for the time being, but he’s just a means to an end, she told him.

I know. I also know what you’ve done. The ravens have told me how you betrayed your coven, murdered your sisters, and put an end to your lover’s life. But you forget. He doesn’t share power, nor will he part with what you seek, he told her.

I can see things too, wizard, she shouted. What I see right now is almost certainly going to be the end of you.

I’m already dying, the wizard laughed.

You don’t have to, she told him.

I don’t have to what? he asked her.

Die. You know you can have it all back, she told him.

And you can give it to me? he asked her.

Yes, tell me what I want to know. I can give it all back to you, your health, the Order…everything you’ve lost, she told him.

If you believe I’d betray my Order, then you know nothing about me at all, the wizard told her.

I don’t really care anything about you or your Order. All I care about are the stories I want to hear and the pain I’m going to cause you if you don’t start telling them to me, she threatened him.

She’ll find a way to stop you and the elder both. Neither of you will survive this. Even after she finds out about her, the wizard warned.

She’ll never find out about her, the witch shouted. She jumped to her feet and flung her chair against the wall shattering it. Now tell me the stories, wizard.

That was the last chair in this room, the wizard told her with a smile on his lips. She looked around the room and then leaned on the edge of the table with her arms folded across her chest. The wizard smiled until another coughing fit hit him.

Get on with it, the witch told him.

If you want the whole truth, then you’ll need to hear the whole story, the wizard told her.

I want to hear both stories, wizard, she said.

Both of the stories you want to hear are one in the same, the wizard told her.

How? the witch asked.

Before the Great Divide and the war, it led to, when the world was one and whole, great and wise dragons ruled our skies, the wizard told the witch.

She listened to every word the wizard said. The wizard shifted his weight, trying to get comfortable in his chair.

Some two hundred years ago, during the time of the Molting, the number of dragons began to dwindle, and with that a shift in the flow of magic throughout the world. Both good and evil dragons found themselves being hunted for their scales, bones, blood, and anything else that held magical properties. All the way back to their Scorched Island, they were pursued. The dragon hunters hunted them to almost complete extinction. Some believed most of the dragons found safety in a place no man could reach. Some dragons stayed, believing they could bring an end to the dragon hunters, while others just wanted to rule over what was left. A blue dragon named Saria could not make the journey with the others. Her left wing had been broken in a brief battle with a band of dragon hunters, the wizard explained.

Richard, the young king of Leonard, found her in the forest dying from her wounds. He brought her back to his castle and nursed her back to health. His fascination with her grew every day because of her wisdom and strength. He promised her safety within his castle walls. Saria taught Richard how to be a great king. Years passed, and when Richard was well into his golden years, Saria laid a single egg. Richard called for the Order, and Tickorn answered the call. Saria agreed with Tickorn and Richard. The egg would be given to Tickorn to be kept safe, for she already knew what would happen if anyone found the egg hidden away in the castle of Leonard. Tickorn, deacon of the Order, sought the three most trustworthy battlemages within the order, and the four of them formed the Inner Circle. He entrusted the battlemages with the secret of the egg. Tickorn even told them of a place where the egg would be safe from people like you, witch, the wizard told her.

How is it that you ever come to learn all this, wizard? All the books about dragons have been destroyed, Halona asked.

I was one of the three battlemages, the wizard told her. His shoulders sank a little as he thought back. Tickorn was my father. He lived well past his years, but before he died, he passed on his secrets of time to me. Saria taught me a great deal more.

Go on, the witch said after the wizard paused for a long moment.

We carried the egg away to the Siniora Mountains, where the liquid rock inside would keep the egg warm and safe.

You kept the egg that close to my castle? the witch asked.

Yes, the last place you would look and others would fear to go, the wizard told her.

What happened to the egg? the witch asked. She leaned back against the table.

The Nible Order had secrets even from itself. Only the Inner Circle knew about Saria’s egg and where they’d hidden it away. The three battlemages of Nible watched over the egg, waiting for it to hatch. We believed the dragon from that egg would restore the balance of magic. Years passed, and the egg never hatched. The bowels of the mountains burned with molten rock, but they slowly began to cool. So slow that at first no one noticed the changes at all, the wizard explained.

As the years passed, I found other battlemages who have proven themselves worthy to keep the secrets of the Inner Circle. A few of them came from the Order itself. I took them before Saria for her approval. The ones she accepted, I trained and taught the ways of the Inner Circle, the ones she didn’t she ate. Saria made a home in the dungeons of the Castle Leonard while she waited for her egg to hatch. She grew weaker with each passing year. Her wing never healed to where she could fly again, no matter what Richard’s healers tried. She died before she could see her egg hatch. Her body vanished into a golden mist that drifted to the heavens. When Saria died, Richard’s great-grandson, Richard the Third, was king, the wizard said.

What makes this egg so special? the witch asked.

It’s the only one of its kind. Its mother was a dragon of serenity, purity, and innocence, and it had a crimson dragon for a father, full of rage and fire, the wizard told the witch. Never before had the likes come together to produce an egg.

And what happened to the crimson dragon? the witch asked.

He fell to a young dragon hunter that used the dragon to make himself king. The dragon’s bones still rest in the dragon king’s castle, unable to return to the earth from which they came, the wizard explained.

How does the cursed man play into all this? the witch asked anxiously.

If you interrupt me again, you might as well go on and kill me because I won’t be telling any more of the story, the wizard told her.

The witch’s eyes narrowed at him. She put her hands on the table to help support herself as she leaned against it.

Even in the last years of the Order as it crumbled and tore itself apart during the Great War, the battlemages and I kept the egg from harm. By then I had trained twelve battlemages. They never lost faith that the egg would hatch. One by one the battlemages died away, never seeing the egg do anything more than sit there on the rock above the molten pit, the wizard told her.

One day it came down to the last four of us to keep the charge and watch over the egg, the wizard said. He paused for a moment, thinking back.

The sound of the witch clearing her throat brought the wizard back from his thoughts.

One fall day, during the harvest, the little kingdom of Leonard came under attack. Dragon hunters had discovered King Richard the Third’s great-grandfather had hidden a dragon from the world. The other three battlemages went to the aid of the king, leaving me alone to guard the egg. The battle raged for months, but the dragon hunters could not find a way into the castle. The king’s son, Edward, married a woman from Inuvik. It was a small village south of Leonard. Edward went there before the siege to hunt and drink, the wizard explained.

I know where Inuvik is, the witch snapped.

The old wizard got up and stretched his legs for a moment before he reached past the witch for a wooden mug on the table. He took the mug over to a barrel with a tap sticking out of it. He held the mug under the tap and filled it with a honey mead he had made.

When Richard the Third died during the fighting with the dragon hunters, Edward became king, the wizard said after taking a long drink and walking back over to his chair. Edward’s wife convinced him the only way to end the siege was to open the gates and let the dragon hunters in. She convinced him that once they saw the dragon was no longer there, they would just leave. They never left. They burned the castle and enslaved the people. The king was hung in a crow’s cage along with the three battlemages and left there dangling from the eastern wall. Edward’s wife turned out to be the daughter of Mario, great-grandson of King Trapous. Trapous united all the dragon hunter tribes. With their help, he killed the crimson dragon and became the first king of the dragon hunters. At the time, no one knew what happened to Robin, Edward’s sister. The queen, however, had promised her to the son of the king of Whitshire. It is believed the queen smuggled Robin out of the castle and into the forest around Leonard before the fighting begun. It is speculation from there, because neither the queen nor Robin ever made it to Whitshire, or so that part of the story goes.

The wizard finished his mug of mead and placed the mug on the stone floor next to him.

One day, while I was out in the valley, I came across a young man wondering lost and hurt. He said he had escaped an attack. The blow to his head took most of his memories. He had no idea who he was and could remember nothing of where he came from. I gave him the name Logan and took him in. I learned later about Whitshire being sieged and destroyed by the dragon hunters. I never thought the boy to be a prince. No one ever came looking for him, and it was said the prince was killed during the fighting. After a few years, I began teaching him the ways of the Order and the code of the Knights of Nible. I hoped one day he would take my place and watch over the egg or it would hatch before then, the wizard said.

Who was the boy really? the witch asked. She shifted her weight, trying to get comfortable while leaning on the table.

I never tried to find out until the day I found him in the valley with a young woman, the wizard said. "Her caravan had been attacked by would-be marauders. Everyone else had been killed. Logan had saved her from her attackers, but not before she was injured. An arrow pierced her chest. He carried her to our home in the mountains and tended to her every day until her wounds healed and her fever broke. The first time I