Macster - The Last Dragon

From atop his back he heard other shrieks, a mixture of terror and exhilaration, and then the Lady Virginia screamed out to him over the wind. "Daviander! Don't you...think...this is...high enough?" Her voice sounded strained, as if she were trying to keep it steady, but he could still hear it trembling.

He laughed uproariously and changed direction, angling back and forth across the sky as he flitted from one gust to another. "Thou thinkest this high, milady? Thou hast not seen e'en the barest reaches of the heavens!" Grinning evilly, he tensed his powerful shoulders, flapped his wings, and put on a burst of speed, shooting through the air at breakneck speed. He could hear Virginia and her mate, Wolf, screaming and flailing in panic, but he knew they had nothing to fear. His inherent magic kept them affixed to his back as if they had been bonded to his armor by the heat of a forge. There was no way they could tumble free.

Daviander smirked. Of course, they did not know this.

Extending his talons before him, he let out another colossal roar and streaked even faster through the clouds, deciding impulsively to show the humans what a dragon was truly capable of. The wind buffeted past them at near-gale force as he whipped from side to side, rising and falling, climbing and diving--at times in smooth motions, at others in heart-stopping lurches that made the screams of his passengers even more desperate and frantic. Laughing almost maniacally, Daviander upped the ante, plunging into the thickest and heaviest cloud formations, whirling and rotating with the winds, and then he turned completely upside-down.

"DAVIANDER!!!!" Virginia screamed even more piercingly, her voice nearly lost to the wind and the straining of her vocal cords. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!?" She began to swear profusely, but her words soon faded when she realized she was still anchored firmly to his back.

Not even bothering to answer her, the dragon did not slow or alter his flight pattern, in fact he sped all the faster and continued to spiral, twisting around and around in a convoluted corkscrew that constantly traded directions until it was impossible to tell which way was up and which was down--impossible for anyone but a dragon, that is. Still wriggling and undulating his supple spine, Daviander arched his back and hurled himself back in a grand, stunning loop-the-loop, maintaining his corkscrew at the same time. His wings beat constantly, guiding and controlling his movements, and the burning of exertion in the muscles of his chest, shoulders, and back was at once welcome and long overdue.

Cloud and mist and fog whipped past them as he flew, at times as thin as a veil, at others as thick and impenetrable as a wall of ice. It rotated endlessly around them, churning and building and roiling as if a storm were developing, but it remained as pristine white as unmarred ivory, as if they were enfolded in the largest and softest blanket ever woven. It was both beautiful and incomprehensible, layer after layer of vapor and condensation that seemed to have no end. It threw off scintillating rays of light refracted by countless droplets of water until the entire sky around them blazed with an incandescence that, despite Daviander's jaded existence, took his breath away.

Finally, after half an hour of reckless flight and aerial feats that were astonishing for their perfection, their grace, and their total lack of hesitation or fear, the dragon ended his performance, twisting back to an upright position and aligning himself with the proper attitude. He straightened out, leveled his course, and slowed to a more gentle and reasonable speed, emerging from the cloud cover into a vast landscape of billowing white masses, sculpted and shaped by the wind into intricate designs and formations. Below, through a wide gap in the clouds, Daviander's sharp eyes noted a darting winged silhouette, one most landwalkers were never privileged to see--a lone hawk, hovering effortlessly on the warm updrafts, its pinions frozen as it drifted lazily eastward. It let out its bold, challenging cry, but he knew it to be false, a challenge met and surpassed. He was above the hawk, literally. He had more strength, power, and cunning, he was not only the lord of the land, but the lord of the air. He had remained cowardly hidden within his den for far too long, and now he had emerged to reclaim his throne, to reestablish his reign of invincible might. He had forgotten for a time, he had persuaded himself that nothing mattered, but now that he was free, now that he could experience again the wonder and glory, the status and truth, he realized what he had been missing, and what was required of him by all who had gone before. He was the Last Dragon, and he had a duty to perform.

And it was all thanks to the Lady Virginia, a human like none he had ever met before, or would meet again, he wagered. Glancing back at her to assess her condition, he had to stifle a laugh at her windblown hair, wild and restless eyes, and haggard appearance. When she saw him looking, she snarled, very unlady-like, and balled her fists, pounding them down on his shoulders. "Don't you ever do that again!" she hissed furiously.

At this Daviander did lapse into laughter. "Oh come now, milady, where is thy sense of whimsy? Thou shouldst learn to relax, to enjoy thyself, to experience excitement." Humans were so stuffy and pretentious, they had no sense of entertainment.

"I think I've had enough excitement to last me a long time, Daviander," she growled. "We're supposed to be heading for Castle White, so we can stop the Ice Queen, not indulge your urge to joyride. I happen to hate roller coasters, I don't need a fantasy version of one!"

The dragon had no idea what a roller coaster was, but he could tell she was indeed a trifle green, and she held her stomach protectively. Reminded of her being with cub, a fact he had conveniently forgotten, he felt intense shame and contrition. He had been completely irresponsible, and the fact that he had high spirits over being free and given hope for the future was no excuse. But possessing such towering pride and ego, he could not bring himself to ask forgiveness, so instead he approached the matter obliquely. "Thou wert in no real danger, milady," he assured her, mollified. "My magic kept thee secure at all times, there wast no possibility of an unplanned descent. But I shall refrain from such activity in future, by thy leave."

"Thank you, Daviander," Virginia said, in relief and gratitude. Then a quirky smile formed on her lips as she ran a hand over her thigh. "Well, at least we can be glad of one thing, I wasn't wearing a skirt or a dress to flash people down below!" She tittered in embarrassment.

"Indeed." The dragon ran his eyes disapprovingly over her clothing, however. He had never seen its like before, and it had shocked him when first he saw it as she climbed aboard his back. It might well be decorous in the sense she described, but it did not befit a lady of her station. "Still, I might prefer thou wert still suitably attired. Thy raiment dost not accrue thee favor or respect, milady. A princess must ne'er be caught in peasants' garb."

"Well excuse me!" Virginia snapped. She sounded quite offended. "I never knew dragons were the fashion police! Next time I'll consult with you, I'm sure. I--" She abruptly cut off and stared ahead, a shocked and amazed expression on her face. "What's that?"

Daviander followed her pointing finger. A veritable cliff of cloud rose before them on the far side of the hollow in the sky, shimmering and glowing in the lambent light. One particular portion of it shone brighter than the rest, a pillar of mist that had been twisted and tattered into a shape reminiscent of a mountain peak. Within its heart a blazing argent light speared outward. Before he could answer Virginia, Wolf did. "Why that, my creamy darling, is a silver lining."

"What?!?" The skepticism and disbelief in her voice somehow bothered the dragon deeply. "But that's just an old wives' tale..." She trailed off, paused, and then laughed ruefully. "What am I saying? I'm riding a dragon, with a half-wolf, on my way to face an Ice Queen, and I'm objecting over this?" She paused again, and then a thoughtful and longing look crossed her face. "Is it real silver?"

"It is, milady." Gauging her mood, Daviander smiled craftily and began a slow circuit of the cloud-valley as he gazed back at her. "Wouldst thou care to examine it in fine detail from closer quarters?" This would be an interesting test...was she truly as selfless as she seemed? She was, after all, human. Besides, there was another layer to the challenge, one on which their quest might well hinge...one that required a certain finesse on his part in eliciting the proper reaction.

"Please..." Virginia could not seem to take her eyes off the lining, its glorious light bathing her face even at this distance in ripples of luminescence.

Complying wordlessly, the dragon circled silently through the clouds, unerringly and inexorably approaching the pillar and its valuable cargo. The closer they drew, the brighter the light became, until it was so blindingly white that Virginia and Wolf had to cover their eyes. Even Daviander, with his magically enhanced sight, had to squint against the glare. Then, abruptly, it faded out as they passed some invisible demarcation, and the pillar loomed above them like a thunderhead's anvil. Extending from the haze above into the murk below, the silver lining cascaded down like a vast waterfall, shining in a heart-stopping vision of loveliness, rippling and flowing in the breeze. It seemed to burn with an inner fire, drifting on the wind, ethereal and fragile yet paradoxically stronger and more resilient than any substance known to man.

As they hovered before it, lazily gliding in concentric paths about the pillar, Virginia extended one hand in awe. "I've never seen anything so beautiful before..." She seemed drawn to it as lightning to the earth, mesmerized as they continually circled it. "Can I touch it?" she ventured softly.

"Of course." Daviander glanced askance at her, gauging and judging, considering and contemplating. "Thou mayest even gather some for thine own, to keep and to cherish."

Virginia seemed startled and enthralled by this possibility, but Wolf placed a cautionary hand on her arm, gripping tighter than might otherwise seem necessary. "Sweetheart, we are in a hurry...and we don't really need any silver. It can't help us in our mission." The dragon could see in his fearful eyes, hear in the unique emphasis of his words, that he knew the inherent danger of the lining, but he said not a word regarding it, for just as he opened his mouth again to do so, Daviander narrowed his eyes to slits and glared at him in warning, growling softly. Wolf's eyes turned golden in response, and as his fangs were exposed, for a moment the dragon tensed for the incipient mid-air attack. Wolves were so impulsive! He did not wish to buck Virginia's mate from his back, yet if it came to violence...

But gradually, sullenly, Wolf backed down, his eyes returning to their normal green. Daviander kept a close eye on him regardless. Wolf must surely know that there could be no contamination of the test, that Virginia had to decide on her own, without influence of the true nature of the silver lining's magic. It was a terrible risk, but the future of the Kingdoms were at stake, and the dragon had just stressed in no uncertain terms that he would not tolerate interference. They could lose all if Wolf did not stay quiet! And he knew it. Even so, this did not stop Wolf's hands from clenching and unclenching, on the verge of reaching out to rescue his mate, displaying poignantly his longing to protect his beloved from all that threatened her. In spite of what hung in the balance, Daviander felt a keen sense of pity. How this must be torturing Wolf...

"I know," Virginia answered Wolf absently, as if she knew no such thing, oblivious to the exchange that had just taken place. "But it's still so beautiful..." Slowly she reached out, her fingertips brushing the silvery surface, making it shimmer and quiver in metallic ecstasy. Again Daviander watched her. Would she succumb to the temptation, and take a portion of what did not rightfully belong to her, as so many other humans had in life, and be cursed by it? Could he have been wrong about her, and she was in fact no different from any other vain woman? He did not think so...but then he did not truly know her...

For a moment it seemed she would disappoint him, would be conquered by her greed and grasp a hank of silver to tear free. But then at the last second she seemed to start, shaking her head violently as if breaking free of a trance, and her hand jerked back at once. Amazement still registered in her blue eyes, but there was also a certain fear there, even a repugnance. "No...no, I can't take any. It would be wrong. It belongs here, with nature, where it was created."

The silver lining seemed to sigh in relief, retreating from her hand, and Daviander too relaxed, closing his eyes and smiling a tiny smile of vindication as he felt Wolf also go limp between his shoulders. He hadn't been wrong. Virginia had a noble soul. "Thou hast made the correct choice, milady. And because thou hast, because thou passedst the test and chosest to leave the lining pristine and untouched, its curse hath been voided, transformed to a blessing. Simply touch it, milady, and make a wish, and it shall come true."

Virginia stared at him in distress and horror as he so blithely revealed what would have happened had she chosen wrongly, but then her expression smoothed out to awe and a certain naive delight at the prospect of a wish guaranteed to come true. "Well, I know what to wish for..." Reaching out again, she laid her hand against the lining, gasping as she felt the tingle of its magic, and then she squeezed her eyes shut and concentrated, not speaking her wish aloud as was the rule if one wished it to be granted. The lining flashed brilliantly, and then its cloud began to drift away on the prevailing wind, which carried it away on a perpendicular course from theirs. The silver winked once, sparkling in the sunlight, as if secretly pleased with the outcome, and then it was gone, hidden by another cloudbank.

"Good-bye..." she whispered wistfully after it. After a long moment she shook herself, then looked candidly at him. "You knew what would happen?" Then she stared at Wolf angrily. "You both did?"

"I did." He nodded in acknowledgement, without apology, even as he observed Wolf's agonized expression at withholding the peril from her. "But it wast for thine own good. Thou hadst to choose on thine own, neither Wolf nor I could help thee, the test wast far too crucial to be abrogated. An either of us had told thee of the curse, the blessing would have dissolveth as well and been denied us. But now, now that thou hast wished, our mission shall be a success." That was a half-truth, for just as the ominous enchantment of the silver lining was a double-edged sword, slicing two ways as blessing or curse, even the blessing itself had its darker elements. For while the wishes of a silver lining always came true, no one could predict the manner of their manifestation, or what their terrible cost might be, what sacrifices they might require. Sometimes a silver lining brought Happy Ever After...and sometimes not. But none of this was anything Virginia needed to know, it would only frighten her.

Wolf, meanwhile, had taken her hands and was squeezing them gently, stroking them over and over again as if by this soothing gesture he could make up for not protecting her. "What Daviander says is true, my love. I wanted to tell you so very very badly, and I wanted to keep you safe. But we had to chance it...we need all the help we can get in gaining an edge against the Ice Queen." His eyes were hopeful and pleading for her to understand. Then he turned to Daviander. "Sorry for growling at you back there...I was just trying to protect her...and I didn't like the way you were taking over like that." The admission was reluctant, a relinquishing of some dominance in favor of harmony within the company.

"No offense taken," the dragon replied urbanely. He understood better than Wolf thought he did, and appreciated the sentiment and support.

For a while it looked as if Virginia were about to give her mate a shrewish tongue-lashing. But finally, disgruntled, she sighed and gazed down at her hands for a long moment. Then she leaned back into Wolf's chest and smiled at him. "Well...all right, if you say so. But, now that that's settled, can we go back down closer to the ground?"

"With pleasure, milady." Daviander winked at her and flapped his wings, banking through the clouds in a gentle, gradual descent. Several crises had been averted there...but what still lay ahead, only the Guardians of Destiny knew.

When they emerged from the clouds to fly once more within sight of the Sixth Kingdom, the dragon was amazed anew. The curse of brambles and thorns had covered the land for so very long that even he, with his phenomenal memory, had trouble recalling what it looked like when it was alive and green. To see it restored was something of a shock. He had never cared anything for the Nine Kingdoms, not since he had gone into his self-imposed exile, and so the slumbering spell that had enchanted this land had meant little to him. At times he had idly speculated on whether it would ever be broken, and if so when it would happen and who the prince would be. But he had never believed it would happen, and in truth he had not cared. But now, beholding the wondrous expanse of forests and fields, farms and plains, villages and rivers, Daviander could not help but feel a sense of pleasure and inner warmth. Many thought dragons incapable of appreciating anything of aesthetic value, but that was a grave misunderstanding. A dragon's den was chosen for its defensibility and access, not its beauty, but dragons admired and respected the land around them. In truth he had never enjoyed seeing the Sixth Kingdom so lifeless and barren, and it pleased him now to see it restored.

In only two hours they had crossed the entire kingdom and returned to the border of the Second Kingdom. Beyond the watchposts and gatehouses it was clear that the magical restoration had spread far into the land, enlivening the soil and causing countless crops to spring to life. The peasants who lived there were now in the fields, still dazed at the change in their fortunes as they eagerly tilled the ground and tended the plants that would bring them their livelihoods and end their starvation. As she gazed down, Virginia's jaw dropped. "It...it's like the curse was never cast!" She sounded like a child seeing the world for the first time. "When we came through here before, everything was dead, the people were hopeless and despairing...and now...now..." Tears came to her eyes. "We've freed them too...they may never know us or thank us, but we've still freed them."

On that uplifting and heart-warming note, they proceeded on eastward across the Second Kingdom. Daviander did not even attempt to conceal their presence, flying out in the open, in plain sight of the ground. Virginia noticed this after a moment, and he saw her peering down out of the corners of his eyes, frowning at the diligently working peasants who never once glanced up, screamed, or fled. Finally her curiosity seemed to get the better of her, and she asked, "Um...Daviander? Why aren't they running away? I mean, you are a dragon, won't they think you're going to...um, strafe the fields?" Her words came relucantly, worriedly; clearly she was afraid he would be offended at the suggestion.

But the dragon only laughed softly. "They cannot see us, milady. My magic conceals us from their eyes, we are camouflaged. Thou needst not fear for our safety, or that of the peasants. As time passeth, thou shalt learn how truly the powers of dragons extend far beyond thine imaginings. One of the many reasons, I submit, that a magic mirror didst inform thee I was the key to defeating the Ice Queen."

Virginia remained silent, stunned and wondering.

For the rest of that day they traveled on with little conversation, and after a while the flight became routine, then dull and monotonous. Daviander caught himself yawning several times, but luckily even if he had succumbed to sleep, his wings would have continued bearing them onward, acting on instinct and magic. The landscape of the Second Kingdom did not seem as miraculous as that of the Sixth, so that nothing there held his attention for very long, and his companions seemed content to ride without speaking, most likely worn out from all of their travels. At times he glanced back at them. Sometimes Virginia would be gazing down at the distant ground, bemused and attracted by what she saw below, the peaceful countryside with its grazing cows and softly rustling trees. Now and then a flock of sheep would appear and Wolf would start drooling and whimpering in longing, and Virginia would have to divert his attention until they were past. It was actually rather amusing. Sometimes Virginia only leaned back against Wolf, a troubled and frightened expression on her face, and Daviander guessed she was pondering what lay ahead and the intense danger they would all combat. At least she was being realistic.

By sunset they had reached the edge of what Virginia called the forest of Benjamin Tell, and Daviander declared they would set down for the night. Beneath the sheltering boughs of the trees, the human and the half-wolf erected a campsite, building a fire and unpacking the provisions they had been given back at the castle. The dragon departed quietly, on ghostlike wings, to hunt for his own dinner. By the time he had caught and devoured a mammoth grizzly bear and returned, Wolf and Virginia too had finished and were sitting around the fire, conversing animatedly. Not wishing to intrude, Daviander settled down at the edge of the clearing, his wings folded neatly and his forelegs tucked beneath his massive chest, claws splayed.

He listened without comment as the two heroes spoke of many inconsequential things--food, snuggling, their last visit within these woods, the Pied Piper and their mixed feelings regarding him. Daviander perked up slightly at this, wondering what could be amiss, as far as he could tell the young prince had been an upstanding man and good-hearted, if a tad arrogant. What could he have done to warrant such uncertain feelings? But then Virginia and Wolf moved on to a long and, as far as the dragon was concerned, completely ludicrous discussion of where they would live after they were married and whose right it was to choose their home. Humans were so frivolous and improper. He knew without a doubt that it was Wolf's place as the male to choose and build the home that would protect and shelter him and his mate for the rest of their lives, and the sooner Virginia realized that, the better. Like wolves, dragons were extremely protective of their mates, so Daviander could sympathize with Wolf and understand his frustration as he tried to explain his rationale. After the silver lining incident, he deserved this chance to redefine his dominant role as custom and instinct demanded.

But that sympathy did not extend to entering the conversation. Although both Wolf and Virginia included him now and then in their comments, Daviander did not feel at all a part of the proceedings. He did not belong, he was not accepted, or so he felt. Despite his tail which circled the clearing and kept them enclosed in safety, the dragon knew he had no place in the discussion. He might as well not even be in this forest, he had been pushed so far away. This realization grew on him the longer he listened, until by the time Virginia finally agreed to think it over and broach the matter to Wendell after he was rescued, Daviander was in a distinctly dour and bitter mood. Even after the others finally lay down and slept, he remained with his head resting upon his forefeet, resentment churning and boiling inside of him. It took him a long time to fall asleep, and when he did he dreamt of impossible things--humans accepting and trusting of dragons, others of his kind alive and well and ready to embrace him into their clans should the humans reject him.

The second day passed much as the first had, except that once they were on their way aloft once more, Daviander's mood became even more sour and dark, until he had lost much of his good humor and returned almost to the state in which Virginia had found him. At first he thought it was because of being excluded at the campfire the previous evening, but after silently pondering the matter, he knew that was only peripheral, that he had been used to rejection all his life. While it was true Virginia was like no other human in his experience, he had secretly expected her to revert to form at some point, and so its coming, albeit inadvertantly, did not truly sear his heart.

His next conclusion, then, was that he was affected by a bit of alarming and disturbing news he learned over the course of the flight. Around noon they passed over the red-brick walls of Incarnadine, the Second Kingdom's capital, and Wolf remarked that he wondered what Carmine was up to. At that point Virginia and he began a frank and unabashed conversation about Red Riding Hood III, about their taking her hostage and making her their prisoner until, after finally breaking through the walls of her heart, she had escaped. Daviander was appalled and horrified. Even as his passengers spoke without rancor or fury toward the queen, as they noted all the atrocities she had committed, and as they hoped aloud that she had seen the light and changed her ways, the dragon was only half-listening, shocked to the core.

It was not that he felt Red Riding Hood did not deserve her treatment. He knew all the tales and legends of the depravity and injustice committed by the House of Red in the name of prejudice. He even felt a kindred spirit with wolves. Nor did he have any particular yearning to be loyal to or admiring of royalty, considering what the House of White had done to his kind, which was most likely the reason Wolf and Virginia were so open in front of him. And the things they spoke of only cemented his belief that Carmine must be a truly cruel, vicious woman, on the order of those who had hunted his people to extinction.

No, what upset and discommoded him was the fact that Virginia could commit such acts of terrorism at all. However justified they might have been, he could not view them in anything but a negative light. He knew her stubbornness, her tenacity, her temper. Still, it shook him that a heroine, a princess, a savior of the lands who had appealed to him to end the division, to heal all wounds and defeat the forces of wickedness, had indulged in such violent acts. It did not make him lose respect for Virginia, no. But it did remind him vividly that she was only human. Since the bonding of soul and heart they had experienced in his cave, he had felt her to be somehow above that, that through her pain and suffering she had been crystallized into a figure of destiny and truth, one with no flaws. He was not usually so naive, but the power, the surge of magic and memory, had overwhelmed him as nothing in his life had for decades. In the face of such an encounter it had been easy to dismiss Virginia's imperfections. But now he knew better. Now he knew her to be fallible, even more so than when she had been tempted by the silver lining, and so he began to doubt, doubt their chances of success--and he had not been that optimistic to begin with.

Yet even this was not all the reason for his change in temperament, he knew. Something deeper ran in cold sullen streams beneath Daviander's hide, and he could not identify what it was. It ate at him, nagged and annoyed and pestered him all the long hours of the hot summer day until he could not ignore it, until he was even more foul-tempered and impatient. He grew short with his companions, answering them only in curt responses of few words, until at last they became wary, learned to keep their distance. Which only exacerbated his loneliness and despair.

At the edge of Red Riding Hood Forest they put down again for the night, and once more the same preparations and activities occurred, although when he went hunting Daviander was so half-hearted and apathetic that all he caught was a lone cow, hardly worth the effort. Upon returning to the campfire, he paused in the shadows to listen, catching faint voices lowered in anguish and intense emotion. He knew that Virginia and Wolf were having another conversation, this one completely private, and so out of respect--and pain--he remained concealed by the cloaking foliage, his ebony scales, and his magic.

Most of the words were Wolf's, and they puzzled Daviander. He was constantly apologizing, saying he was wrong to say she didn't know what she was doing or how to take care of herself in the Kingdoms, that he was wrong to question her fidelity and honesty or to make an issue of her knowing men before him. He insisted fervently that she was his soulmate, not his possession, that he believed she always told the truth, and that he would always strive to give her everything she needed, everything she wanted. Virginia in return pledged never to make him doubt her, swore that although she was independent, she would always need him and never leave him. She understood his need to protect and would respect it, if he would forgive her for her moment of weakness. He would always be enough for her, she whispered with tears in her eyes.

It rather sounded as if they were performing impromptu, informal wedding vows.

Slowly Daviander retreated into the forest, treading heavily and despondently back to the edge of the rolling plains. Then he flapped his wings, gathered his haunches, and leapt into the sky, which had just lost the last traces of crimson and orange, fading to violet and the deep blue of night.

This, he understood, was the final piece of the puzzle. Seeing Wolf and Virginia together, hearing them each take the blame for some intense and unknown conflict between them, hearing them promise to love and honor each other, that made Daviander aware of the true source of his change in mood. It was reality. Ever since the powerful and stirring speeches Virginia had made to him, ever since their communion together, he had been floating on air, so to speak. She had given him back a purpose for his life, she had instilled in him a sense of commitment and pride and loyalty he had thought forever lost. As such, he had been ecstatic, elated, overflowing with hope and good spirits.

But the passage of time had changed that. He had literally brought his head down out of the clouds; the initial rush of happiness, of expectancy for a grand future, of understanding his place in the world, had fled, and reality had returned with crashing force. The reality was so many things. It was that Virginia, for all her talk of loyalty, had in some way betrayed Wolf. It was that she had kidnapped a queen and held her hostage when she spoke of trust and an end to prejudice and hatred. It was that all of them were hurtling on toward their destinies without the slightest inkling of what they were doing, how they would go about it, whether they could even win the day. But most of all, it was that no amount of heroism and grandiloquent gestures could ever make him anything other than what he was.

And what he was was a dragon. A lone dragon. A mateless dragon. A cubless dragon. A worthless dragon.

Finding a solitary hill on which to settle and take stock, to meditate and withdraw from the world, Daviander flapped his wings once, then stretched them out as he plummeted to catch himself, letting him land delicately and soundlessly on the grassy soil. There he folded his wings and sighed, an exhalation that seemed to release so many emotions.

He still believed in Virginia. He did. She had done terrible things, to Wolf and to Red Riding Hood, yet she had also done wonderful, beautiful things, such as restoring the Sixth Kingdom and enabling a dragon with a heart of stone to care again. And he still wanted to trust her, to believe that all she said was true, that if ever there was one thing that could lend his life meaning again, it was this quest, this mission, this great deed. But at the same time, he was no longer certain Virginia deserved trust. She was undeniably brave, the bravest woman he had ever met, and worthy...but she had betrayed Wolf, somehow, when all he wished was to worship the ground she walked on. How could anything she offered be trusted? In any case, her promises could never give him what he truly craved. And what was that? There were so many things, after all...

Gazing slowly up at the darkening sky, he watched like a monolithic gargoyle as one by one the jewel-like stars appeared, twinkling and shimmering at a distance so incalculable that even a dragon could never fly there in his lifetime. It was said in the dragon legends, which his parents had taught him as a hatchling, that each of the stars was the spirit of a departed dragon, that their incendiary breath fueled the hearts of those balls of stellar majesty. That shining realm above was where all dragons went when they died, assuming they had lived rightly and justly, that they had displayed the dignity, honor, and valor to earn their place beside their ancient brothers of the sky.

He knew not whether any of this was true. But it felt true in his heart. And what also felt true was that he would never earn this right. He did not belong in the stars, anymore than he did among the humans or around the campfire with Virginia and Wolf or anywhere at all in the Kingdoms. Virginia had promised him a reward for his services, if that was to be believed; after all, who knew what promises she had given the queen before kidnapping her, promises she never intended to keep. But even if he could trust her promises, she could not grant him celestial forgiveness. For indeed he had sinned, in so many ways...he had refused to work for peace, he had slain and murdered--first in revenge and retaliation, then because it felt good inside, then because it became a habit and he knew nothing else to do, and then finally because he had nothing else to cling to. He had long ago given up on life, and only the same cowardice that had kept him hiding in the Sixth Kingdom had kept him from taking his own life. He had never once chosen to act in a manner befitting his race, never displayed the wisdom and courage to end the violence, to approach the humans and demonstrate that the dragons' ancestral home should be restored to them. Lord of the Sky? he thought derisively. I am Lord of Nothing.

This was why Virginia's accusations in his cave had so infuriated Daviander, because they were the truth. When she had asked rhetorically if the dragons long dead and departed would be proud that he was their sole representative in the Nine Kingdoms, if his mate and cubs would be proud of him, he had known in the depths of his soul that the answer was no. Wolf had somehow forgiven Virginia for whatever it was she had done--had it involved the Pied Piper, perhaps, and that accounted for their ambivalent emotions?--but his mate would never forgive him. He had failed them all. He had failed dismally, and only this one slender chance, this one desperate hope, remained to him before he gave up entirely. But even if he somehow succeeded, he could not earn a reward--not in Heaven, and not on Earth.

Oh, the part of him that still trusted Virginia knew she intended to keep her promise, and he was certain from her fortitude and determination that she would prevail in whatever she set her mind to. Yet he could not help but doubt. He knew from their melding of hearts and sharing of memories that King Wendell had pardoned all wolves in his kingdom thanks to the efforts of Wolf on his behalf. And that had given him hope, had compelled him to agree to wield his magic fire against the Ice Queen. But now, with the rationality of distance over time, he could see his hope as a deluded dream. True, wolves had been hated and feared for centuries in the Kingdoms, and to learn they had been pardoned, proclaimed as heroes, was a positive and gigantic stride toward acceptance and tolerance. If wolves could be lauded, why not dragons? But on the other paw, for all of the prejudice and murderous fanaticism against wolves and half-wolves, they had one thing in their favor. Half-wolves always appeared human except for during the full moon, and while full wolves most often were found in their lupine forms, they too could transform into men and women. As such it would be easier in the long run for them to be accepted, when they resembled, at least superficially, the humans who hated them. It would be common ground, a starting point for understanding.

But dragons...dragons would always appear as beasts, firebreathing monsters, demonic spawn of Hell. Some could alter their shape by magic, but in the end they would always be dragons, and there could be no compromise, no middle ground. Dragons were what they were, and with no basis for comparison or empathy, humans would continue to foster hate and fear in their hearts. He knew it. The only thing that might make a difference was the silver lining...and that, he knew, was a monkey's paw if ever there was one. No hopes resided there.

Daviander sighed anew, his heart breaking. No astral glory; no pardon from the Kingdoms. And no fulfillment of love and happiness. Dragons did not mate for life, although most often did; if he could find another female, he could move on, he could love her and make her his new mate. But he would not do such a thing. It would be a betrayal of himself, of his emotions, of his beloved Liraliss. But it also meant he would be forever alone...and seeing Virginia and Wolf together, in love, declaring their irrevocable bond, only made him pine for companionship all the more.

"O my Brethren..." His voice rumbled immensely from his cavernous chest as he lifted his head higher and arched his neck to turn his entire view into nothing but the panorama of the stars overhead. "Hear my plea, answer me, mine Ancestors. Have I chosen arightly? Be this my destiny? Have ye deigned, in your ultimate goodness, to forgive my sins and offer me a chance for redemption? Dost a reward still await me? What will be my fate?"

There was no reply, of course, although one star did twinkle brightly, and the streak of a shooting star crossed his vision. Could that be a sign of hope?

On into the night he sat...waiting...watching...wondering. He thought, and he fretted, and he berated himself, and he even shed tears for all he had lost. For what he hoped he might gain.

Had he chosen rightly? Had he?

Daviander did not sleep that night.

The next morning when he returned to the campsite, Virginia was concerned, asking where he had been all night and if something was troubling him. But Daviander shrugged her tender compassion aside, grunting only that he had needed to be alone for a while and she should not inquire further. She had sighed and turned away, looking as if a friend had deserted her, and in a flash of intuition he knew that was how it appeared to her. He felt distanced from her, but he was the one keeping the distance maintained now...for many reasons. But although it pained his heart, the dragon could not admit to her his true feelings. If they were wrong, he would be humiliated and embarrassed, and if they were right, he would no longer be present to confront his fears, either due to death or banishment. In either case, there was nothing she could do, and with his current wariness toward her, he was not even certain he would wish her to act if she could.

Again the day passed uneventfully, a flight of boredom and emptiness across the treetops of the Red Riding Hood Forest. Apparently bothered by his reticence, Virginia began a game of riddles with Wolf, and in spite of himself Daviander listened in, amused and baffled in turn by the answers she gave and the questions she asked. This Tenth Kingdom of hers must be a very strange place. He should like to visit it some day, assuming he survived this quest. Assuming her world did not suffer from the same intolerance and fear as this one, which he rather doubted.

Wolf for his part was as inquisitive and curious as a child, perplexed and intrigued and amazed by Virginia's riddles. His own were fairly standard for the Kingdoms, although most revolved around shepherdesses, sheep, and the wildlife of the forests. Some were humorous, like the one about the porcupine, while others were incredibly intricate, like the one about the spiderweb. Finally, around mid-afternoon, Daviander was compelled to join in, and if Virginia had been stumped by some of the ancient riddles of the Kingdoms, she would be mystified by the riddles a dragon knew.

Pursing his lips thoughtfully, he decided to make his fourth riddle one he had learned from a knight just before devouring him. "Answer me this riddle, milady:

Emotion-filled, emotion-scarred,
By weapons wounded--yet words do wound it as well.
A castle it is--to some it standeth open;
To others, its keep-gate is barred.
To some 'tis hoar-covered, sun-lit to others,
Known for bursting and beating, swelling and sinking;
A thinker, a sage, a wooer, a fetter,
A vessel of life-essence from which thanes and churls eagerly sup.
In one's life-house it hideth,
Yet 'tis easily found
By the unerring warrior
And his battle-seeking blade.
By what name be it yclept?"

Virginia scrunched up her forehead in concentration. "A castle...open and closed, icy and warm, a vessel to drink from, hidden in a...life-house?" Her voice rose in incredulity. "Too many contradictions...I know I should recognize it, Daviander, but I don't. What is it?"

"Why, 'tis the heart, milady." He smirked knowingly as she groaned at her obtuseness.

Several riddles later she gave up in defeat, but Daviander only smiled, his heart considerably lightened by the pleasant pastime. With a trifle more hope and belief in his chest, he bore them onwards, over the high mountain range that separated the Second Kingdom from the Fourth, descending into the bowl of the valley where the Disenchanted Forest spread for a thousand miles to north and south. As they skimmed over the treetops, the setting sun to the west speared its bloody rays between the peaks of a mountain pass, igniting the leaves and sending flames rippling along every branch and limb. The light began to fade as they dropped lower still, and he cleared his throat diffidently. "Milady, we should consider descending for the night once more."

"Again?" Virginia moaned. "But we're so close!"

"Indeed...but we should ne'er approach Castle White by cover of darkness, despite the concealment it offereth. The Ice Queen's power is the cold, which canst not stand the light of day. 'Twould be meet to begin our assault on the morrow, an we wish to face the Witch of Winter when she remaineth at her weakest."

"Oh, all right," Virginia grumbled. "But where can we stay in the Disenchanted Forest that's safe..." She trailed off, scanning the canopy below them. Then she sat up straight and pointed. "There! The perfect place, Daviander!"

He turned to look. Rising from the treetops in the center of the forest, just barely visible between the intertwined branches, were the weathered stone battlements of a solitary tower, adorned with vines and creepers, its windows dark and empty as they gazed like sightless eyes toward the foaming banks of the Golden River. It was the Royal Hunting Lodge of the House of White.

Daviander growled softly under his breath. He had tacitly agreed when he joined Virginia's company that by working together to undo the Ice Queen's wicked enchantments they would be uniting dragons and Charmings, that the Fourth Kingdom and his people would no longer be enemies. But old habits died hard, and he had said nothing about frequenting the homes and private sanctuaries of the Whites. Many a dragon-hunt that had ended in the slaying of his brethren had originated at this very lodge.

But there was unlikely to be any other safe place within the dangerous forest, certainly not for a creature of his size. And it would only be for one night.

Nodding in acquiescence, not trusting himself to speak, the dragon swept down in a wide spiralling circle, passing around the clearing where the lodge lay several times until he achieved the angle of descent he wanted. As he passed through the canopy, he heard Wolf say behind him, "Are you sure this is all right, my gorgeous creampuff? I mean, I know we can't exactly ask Wendell's permission, but..."

"It's all right, Wolf," Virginia assured him. "Before we went back to New York the last time, Wendell told me I had the full run of all the royal estates and holdings. Remember, he even wanted us to honeymoon here when he was trying to coerce me into marrying you?" She giggled and tweaked his nose. "I even know where he keeps the spare key. And anyway, this is kind of an emergency."

Before Wolf could object further, if he intended to, Daviander brought them down at the end of the broad trail that led to the hunting lodge. Countless trees, as tall and straight as sentinels at watch, lined the roadway on either side, their leafy limbs forming a sheltering bower over the forest loam and casting all within an eerie gloom. Ahead, the lodge itself rose dimly through the trunks and underbrush, a massive stone keep formed of blocks into a squarish profile, decorated with pillars and arches and festooned with centuries of intertwined ivy growth, but the details were lost in the obscuring shadows. A bare turret crowned its heights, and two wings extended off into the choking foliage and thickets. All in all it was very impressive and daunting, but here beneath the canopy, where the sun had essentially already set, it became only a looming silhouette that somehow unnerved the dragon.

"Well, there's definitely no way you'll fit inside," Virginia chuckled as she and Wolf dismounted, "so I think we'll go on in and have our dinner. Then we'll meet you on top of the roof so we can talk, all right?" She paused. "Because I don't ever want you to feel left out..."

For a moment the loneliness that had surged in his heart at her suggestion was driven back by her admission of guilt and offer of companionship. She was worried for him, she was trying to make amends for pushing him away! He smiled warmly. "That 'twould be...most welcome, milady. I await thine arrival." He undulated his neck down so he could bow his head before her in respect.

Satisfied, Virginia led Wolf past the hitching post and up the lodge steps to the pillared arch shading the porch. There she paused to search the ivy alongside the granite pilaster until she found some concealed niche and the key it held. Then she unlocked the red oak door and guided Wolf inside.

When the door had closed behind them, Daviander sighed and once more drifted into the trees to seek out a meal, knowing he was what he had always been, what he was destined to be. Alone.

By the time the sun had set completely, he had returned to the lodge to find fragrant cedar smoke billowing up from the silent structure's immense chimney. Approaching the lodge until he towered over it, Daviander discovered he had timed matters precisely, for at that moment the narrow door at the far corner of the roof creaked open, and Virginia and Wolf emerged. He was ravenously gnawing on a leg of mutton, while she was chewing more daintily on what smelled like a roast beef sandwich.

During his time in the forest, the dragon had been thinking constantly, turning over possibilities in his mind, and now he knew he must broach a subject Virginia had been avoiding for the last three days, a subject she had avoided, he was certain, out of fear of the unknown. Before she could begin talking about some useless inanity, he cleared his throat and rumbled, "I have been cogitating upon our quest, milady."

"Yes?" She paused with the sandwich halfway to her mouth, and even in the dark, at this distance, he could see the trepidation in her eyes.

Lowering his head until his chin almost rested upon the battlement, Daviander gazed at her knowingly. "Hast thou, or Wolf, e'en once considered what plan of attack ye shall utilize?"

"Of course we have!" Wolf burst out at once, defensively. But then he faltered and scratched nervously at his temple. "We haven't come up with anything good yet, but we sure were tryin'!" He said it as if it were something to be proud of.

Daviander frowned disapprovingly. "Come now, Lady Virginia. Surely thou canst not tell me that thou merely intendedst to march blithely into the throne room, confront the Ice Queen, and she wouldst willingly lay down her wand for thee?" He could not hide the scorn he felt, and had no desire to.

Stiffening in anger, Virginia snapped, "Of course not! Do you think I'm an idiot? That would never work...we just have to figure out what would." She shrugged helplessly and then looked away. "I hate to admit this, but I was kind of thinking we didn't need to plan much, that now that we had your magic, we could rely on you to do all the work."

The dragon growled audibly, allowing his fire to flicker and dance about his maw, filling the clearing with ruddy light and strange, ambiguous shadows that cavorted on the tree trunks. Humans! They never prepared or thought ahead! It was a wonder that they ever rose to prominence and power in the Nine Kingdoms. "I see...I am afraid I must be a bearer of ill tidings to thee, milady. My magic is powerful, no question of that. But I cannot fight a war for thee, nor can I win it alone. I am a match for the Ice Queen's sorcery, but I cannot o'ercome it unaided, only repel it and prevent its advance. Nor have I the magic to imprison or slay her. Whate'er her fate shalt be, it must needs be determined by thee, and by Wolf. Together are we all bound, and together must we cooperate."

Not missing the crestfallen and disappointed look on Virginia's face, Daviander modulated his voice to sound more forgiving and understanding, even though his fear and doubt had just heightened. The future of the Kingdoms, and of him and his race, all depended on this, and she had not the slightest idea how to marshal her forces for battle. But then how could she? She was no general, she did not have his knowledge of warfare.

"How didst thou intend to penetrate her defenses at Castle White?" he asked solicitously.

"Well, we'll use the Troll King's shoes, of course, to be invisible," she scoffed. "If she can't see us, she won't know we're there...I hope. Anyway," she rushed on, "once we're inside, the key is the wand. If we deprive her of her magic that lets her enchant people in ice, then she's helpless, isn't she? I mean, whatever other magic she has, it won't keep us from capturing or killing her...will it?" She sounded more as if she were trying to convince herself than him.

Slowly Daviander nodded. Her plan was rudimentary, and based on several huge assumptions that might not bear out in reality, but at least she was thinking now, or had been. "I cannot say, but thou art correct that her wand is the principle source of her power. Without it, thou mayest not defeat her, but thou shalt surely have an even chance of doing so, which far outweigheth the chance thou shalt possess an she retaineth it. But I must warn thee, do not depend on the magic shoes, for they shall surely fail thee at the most critical moment." He frowned thoughtfully, letting smoke curl up from his nostrils. "And how, prithee, didst thou hope to divest her of her wand?"

"That's where you come in," Wolf interjected. "We were kind of hoping that after we make a distraction of some sort, you could destroy her wand with your fire."

"Assuming it canst be destroyed in that fashion," he remarked darkly. "Crude, but an effective plan. Still, I have a suggestion to make to improve thy plan."

"And that would be...?" Virginia prompted.

"I shall provide the distraction, while thy mate and thee shall do the honor of confiscating the wand and eliminating the Ice Queen herself, in whatever manner presenteth itself."

Both of them blinked, and then Wolf bared his fangs and turned away, beginning to pace the rooftop. "And why would that be a good idea, exactly?"

Daviander exhaled slowly, controlling his temper. The half-wolf clearly did not know tactics either, being a pack animal he most likely was aware of only such scenarios as divide-and-conquer, surround-and-assault, drive-and-lure, and so forth. But dragons fought in battalions and legions as regimented and directed as any human army. He knew what he was proposing, both its liabilities and its advantages. "Because, my wolven friend, the Ice Queen shall be expecting the primary thrust to come from me. She shall consider me to be the greatest, nay, the only true threat. She shall ne'er suspect ye of doing the deed. Ye shall take her by surprise, and thus by the avenue of her hesitation and indecision strike the killing blow." He nodded emphatically.

Wolf had stopped pacing and was eyeing him with profound respect, but also uncertainty. "It could work. It could work at that. But, my fiery friend, you are forgetting one thing: how do we get you into the castle? It is far larger than Rapunzel's palace, but..." He growled in frustration.

The dragon paused. He had not thought of that. Setting his chin fully on the battlement and ignoring the ominous crack and loosening of stone that it began, he half-closed his eyes. "Tell me of the castle, my memory remaineth flawed. Describe it in every detail."

They did so, working together to dispense their knowledge. It wasn't much. Virginia had little notion of how castles operated, and had only been exposed to the palace's underbelly--its cellars, dungeon, armory, and wardrooms--as well as fleeting glimpses of the throne room and the banquet hall. She also knew many details of the ballroom...but none of this offered anything of use to a dragon. Wolf had never visited Castle White prior to coming there with Virginia and her father, due to his long years in the wilderness and in prison, and he too had not seen everything, but he had more in the way of useful information. Including one key piece that made the plan fall together in a perfect mosaic.

By the time they were finished, the midnight blue sky and its stars formed an infinite dome above them, and they were all in the deepest of shadows, for it was the time of the new moon, when the mistress of the tides and of the wolven Change absented herself from the Kingdoms. But Daviander's night vision was acute, and he could still see the faces of his companions gazing up in hope and desperation. And by the time they had finished, he also knew what they had to do.

"'Twill be difficult," he mused at last, "and the plan must needs be adaptable to e'erchanging circumstances. But I believe an thou, milady, art prepared to use thy magic, and an we follow the simple procedure I have just devised, we may reave away the Ice Queen's life most assuredly."

"Really?" Virginia eyed him dubiously, but he could tell she was pinning all her hopes on him. It made him feel at once worthwhile and insecure. This was his chance, would he fail once again? "So what is this master plan of yours?"

Daviander glanced from her to Wolf, breathing shallowly so that his fire rose only about his muzzle, once more casting light about the mysterious clearing and its only landmark, the crumbling hunting lodge. If he had any hope of redemption, any hope of receiving a reward of any kind on earth or in heaven, any hope of acceptance and love and friendship, any hope of escaping his past and building a bright future for his race and for the Kingdoms, then it all depended on this one plan.

He looked up once more to the stars of his ancestors for guidance, for assurance, for simple strength. Then he leaned down to Wolf and Virginia and told them what it was.