DragonSpell - Chapter One

David Finds a Solution

The day started off calmly enough. David and Marlini spent the morning bent over the crystal ball upstairs in the laboratory. Marlini was wont to tipple a little more than was wise for a wizard ever since David’s mother died. David could smell the sweet aroma of tobacco and brandy. He bore watching, but this seemed a harmless pursuit.

Marlini paused to drink from his chalice, and looked at it disgusted. “Empty,” he said.

David said “I’ll get some more,” and left the room.

He was only gone a few minutes, but when he returned Poof, the dragon of the moat, had stuck his head in the window, and Marlini was doing an incantation. He was at the part about

“. . . marshalling all the ethers of the willow” but he said with a slight slur to his voice “. . . marshmallow all the withers . . .”

David yelled “No!” but it was too late. Marlini struck Poof on the nose.

David took Marlini by the arm and locked him in his chamber. Poof now spewed Marshmallow crème instead of fire every time someone approached the castle.

“Oh, dis is just wunnerful. Cad I hab by code back?” said Poof through the marshmallow crème clinging to his snout.

Preparations for a victory dinner brought many wagons laden with beer, food, wine, musicians, and other sundries. Every time one approached, the dragon couldn’t help himself. He breathed out marshmallow crème. By afternoon, the moat was covered with a sticky white substance.

“Oh, boy, just wait until Princess Penelope gets home” thought David.

He dreaded what she might do. He scooped up a beaker of the stuff and took it up to his turret and put it on the table. He would think of something. He had to. He was Princess Penelope’s Prime Minister. It was his job to see that things ran smoothly. He paced the floor far into the night, but could not think of a solution. David heard the call of the stallion, Solarius, ring out across the meadow. The drawbridge was down, and the torches were lit. He heard the horse’s hooves thunder across the bridge and he ran to the courtyard. Princess Penelope in her armor, her helmet topped with a white plume sat there astride the golden stallion. David reached out to help her dismount. His hands trembled as they encircled her waist.

James, the groom, appeared. “Princess, it’s good to see you home. David was worried.”

He led the stallion away. Penelope removed her helmet and shook out her long, dark hair. Then she headed for the main hall. David stood still for a second, and then he followed matching strides with her. He put his arm across her shoulders.

“Penny, “He whispered into her ear. ‘I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you, too, David. I can’t wait to get out of these smelly clothes. All I want to do is take a nice hot bath. I'm starved. Do you suppose the cook has anything left in the kitchen? Those legionnaires will be home tomorrow. You had better tell Chef Murphy to roast a few beasts."

“It’s all under control” he said, feeling anything but under control.

He did not want to tell her about Marlini, but he knew if she found out on her own, it would be very bad, very bad, indeed.

“Penelope. . .”

She looked at him. “Yes?”

“Well . . .” He paused to take a breath. “Well, as you know, Poof has had a cold. He was having some difficulty getting his fire started, and was breathing out some very sulphurous smoke, stunk up the place pretty bad. So, Marlini. . . “

“He didn’t!” The Princess moaned.

“Yes, well I was out of the room and Poof stuck his head in Marlini’s window, and Marlini tried to do one of his spells, but he substituted marshmallow for marshal, and it seems Poof is now breathing great gobs of marshmallow crème every time anyone approaches the castle. The moat is - well, pretty sticky right now. I thought I would tell you before . . .”

The Princess pulled her sword from its scabbard and stomped towards the stairs to Marlini’s turret. David grasped her arm. “Really, Penelope, you’re tired. Maybe you should rest before you tackle Marlini.”

Princess Penelope shook off his arm, and continued up the staircase towards the turret, her sword in one hand, her steel helmet in the crook of the other. The white plume flounced behind her with every step. He couldn’t help but look at her rear end thus framed. David hurried after her.

"I've about had enough of this mindless wizard. I think I'll lop off his head." She swung her sword as she spoke. David ducked to avoid being smote.

"For heavens sake, Penelope, he can't help it. He's an old man."

"Well, that old man has caused enough havoc in Sunshine Castle."

"But, but . . ."

Penelope paused on the staircase, and turned towards David. "Look.” She pointed the sword at his chest. He backed down the steps to avoid being impaled. Penelope advanced jabbing at his chest which was fortunately clad in a thick leather vest, punctuating each sentence with its tip.

"I just rode a hundred miles to get home from a war. I spent the last month with one hundred and fifty legionnaires and General Bluenose. You’re right. I’m too tired for this”

She put her sword in its scabbard, pushed David aside, and marched past him down the stairs.

"Tell Hildy I want a bath." She said over her shoulder.

David followed. He knocked on the door next to Penelope’s room.

“Hildy, wake up. The Princess is home.”

Hildy opened the door. Her blonde hair flew in all directions. Through her nightgown her bosom, and more were plain to see but she seemed oblivious to David’s look.

“No need to wake the entire castle. I heard the horses screaming in the meadow. I figured it was her. I’ll be right there.”

She slammed the door in his face. She re-emerged a moment later wrapped in a robe. He helped her carry water to fill Penelope’s tub. He left when the two women began to talk. He hummed to himself as he walked down the hall to the kitchen. He returned carrying a tray with cold chicken and fruit, a mug of warm grog, and a bottle of wine, and Hildy left. Penelope was wrapped in a blue silk robe, her dark hair cascading down her back. He set the tray on the white bear rug in front of the fire and they sat there together their heads inches apart. Penelope told him of her travels.

“. . . and so the war went well. I and the legionnaires drove the Earl of Hermitville and all his troops out of the Land of Sunshine.” After a pause she said “what will we do about Marlini?”

David held her to his chest and stroked her hair. “I don’t know” he said.

After he tucked her into bed and kissed her forehead, he headed straight for his private turret. Immediately he checked the beaker. The marshmallow crème had dried and formed a crust. Underneath was a golden liquid. Also, the marshmallow was reduced to half its former volume. He removed the skin and was greeted with an alcohol aroma. He took a small sip of the brew. He raised his eyebrows. Potent, he realized. Of course, this must be full of sugars. That would make for some very strong drink, he thought. He took a larger drink and smacked his lips.
He grabbed a bucket, and went down to the draw bridge. By now, the morning sun gleamed off the sticky white foam on the moat. As he lowered the bucket into it, he heard the dragon groan.

“Poof. How are you, my friend?”

“Ohhhhh, my head hurts.” Poof was covered in marshmallow crème. His pink scales were plastered against his sides. His long slender neck sagged in the middle, and he carried his head very low. “How will I ever get this stuff off if the moat is polluted? The fishes and crabs and crocodiles are suffering. They have all gathered on the other side near the dam. I fear it will not be long until the marshmallow suffocates them all. The ducks have flown to the lake.”

David said “I’ve got an idea. We’ll open the dam so they can escape into the lake, and then close it fast. If I do it right, it should work. Poof, can you tell them? I’ll be there in 15 minutes.”

He put one finger on his chin. “Let’s see, one hundred fifty legionnaires . . . they will be thirsty. How long would it take them to drink all the marshmallow liquor in the moat?”
Poof shook his head and oozed off to the other side of the moat.

Going Out

Last night for the first time in weeks, I went out. I’ve been laid low by a nasty virus. I have been dragging myself each day to work, and home back to bed. (It’s not contagious.) I was tired of staying home and in need of some laughter. I decided to check out the new kitchen at the local watering hole which was closed for a very long time in bankruptcy due to incompetent management. The kitchen was opened last Thursday for the first time, and I wanted to sample the eats. Recently, some people from the neighborhood formed a consortium, bought the place, renovated it, rebuilt the defunct kitchen and hired many of the old staff members. It’s a bluesy sort of neighborhood bistro (The Northfield Roadhouse) with overtones of Cajun influences compliments of Chef Chris and the Nairobi Trio as well as the Witch Doctors, Mango pie, and several other local bands who play muted blues. The volume is deliberately turned down on their amplifiers so we can do what we came there for - to talk. The manager was wearing a black fedora, as were several other staff members. They looked so cool in their black shirts – like gangsters from the twenties with a modern flair. The main host, St. Pauli Tom (named after his favorite beer) is a 60’s kind of guy who has a perpetual grin on his face as if he has just played the most hilarious joke on life (which he has). Tom is famous for his parties, and the goal was to re-create the old place with new flavors. I think they have accomplished their goal. It is starting to be a “happening” place.


Murphy drove, and I was sitting next to him at the bar, sipping some gumbo when Murphy’s friend came in. I moved out of the way, and let him sit next to Murphy. I heard him say he was waiting for a long-haired blonde. Funny, I figured him for that kind of guy from the stories Murphy tells me of their drinking and womanizing together. He’s a confirmed bachelor, a gambler, a womanizer, and definitely not my sort of guy. The friend mumbled something about hating it when they’re late, and then grinned because, he obviously was going to wait. The games people play, I muttered back. The blond finally showed up. She’s a former friend of one of my good buddies, so I know about her a little. My good buddy is a very strong, funny, beautiful, smart woman married to a guy that I adore, and would immediately go for if he wasn’t already committed. The friend’s choice of women confirmed my impression of him. Murphy says the blond isn’t too bright, which suits his friend just fine. I already knew that about her, and the friend fell a few more notches on my respect-o-meter. Murphy wandered off.

Musicians from all over the area drop in to play. One came to sit next to me. He played some blues on his harmonica for a while. An interesting man, he’s about my age, but he’s pretty down at the heels. He’s a database designer who programs the old mainframes, and the work is drying up. He has to drive all the way to Cleveland to work, and comes home on week-ends. Perhaps I’ll see him again, perhaps not. I think you have to keep current, keep learning or else, you will get obsolete. Other friends came to fill Murphy’s empty stool one–by-one until I was surrounded. Rumors about a favorite bartender’s return next week were flying.

One of my favorite men came to sit with me and we talked about my writing. He’s one of my fans, and we think a lot alike. I’m plotting a book that has been lurking for a while that is based on the concept of time as spirals, not a flat line, and it plays with reality big-time. My character exists in the present and the past simultaneously since she is evolving into a shaman who exists in all times and places at once. In the transition, there is, of course, a love interest in his own spiral, and he is having trouble connecting with her. In their past spirals they are intertwined, but in the present one, their spirals only intersect tangentially. It’s complicated, and has a lot of imagery in it. I know where I want to go, but the danger is to fly too far too fast, and leave my readers behind. So, I welcomed a chance to talk about it with a mind that is as sharp as or sharper than mine, who could follow where I wanted to go without getting freaked out.

My lady friend, his wife, as always, wonders why a woman like me is alone, and I tell her, all the good men are taken after all, she has him. I tell her to take good care of him. I have eaten some Cajun gumbo, and some crab stuffed mushrooms, drank my two drinks – one before dinner, and one after. I am getting tired, and I want to go home. I go to look for Murphy who is being treated to a free beer by two cops who are winding down from their day, and who love Murphy because he has fixed them so many breakfasts, and told them so many bad jokes. It takes me a while to work my way across the room, because people along the way are friends, and each one has to hug me and ask me where have I been, and how I am and tell me their story. Murphy introduces me to the cops, one of whom was there the day Eddie died. Murphy goes out to warm up his car, comes back in, finishes his beer, and then we leave. It was a pleasant evening.

The only thing that nags a little at me is that the dumb blonde didn’t go home alone, and I did. I would not have chosen Murphy’s friend to go home with. I would have chosen a man like my friend’s husband, a man like my Eddie was who has loyalty, commitment, caring, tenderness, a smart man who would choose a strong, smart woman for his mate. I don’t know where to meet such men who aren’t already committed to someone. They are a prize, and their wives tend to hang on to them.