“I suppose,” said Millie. “Or it could be something really nasty. Being dragons helped us last time, but that doesn’t mean it always will. One of these days I’m going to run into a problem that fire and strength can’t solve.”
Audun shaded his eyes as they stepped outside into the bright sunlight. “Maybe, although it’s hard to imagine what that might be. We should probably take your magic carpet again.”
Millie nodded. “Especially since we’ll have to talk to people this time.”
Dewly Glen was on the far side of the enchanted forest, nearly two hours by magic carpet from the castle. Millie and Audun spent the time holding hands and talking as the carpet skimmed just above the tops of the tallest trees.
“Do dragons have family names?” Millie asked.
“No, we don’t. Our mothers give us our first names, then we choose our own adult names when we’re old enough.”
“How old is that?” asked Millie.
“That depends on the dragon,” he replied. “It could be anywhere from twenty years to two hundred. My father didn’t choose his until he was sixty-three. What’s your family name?”
“Verderia. It’s from my mother’s side. In Greater Greensward, the crown goes to the eldest daughter, unless her parents declare her unfit or she marries and moves far away. That’s happened only once, and they say that princess had never wanted the crown. Her younger sister became queen and was said to be a good one. All the women of Greater Greensward had only daughters for as long as anyone could remember, until Great-Aunt Grassina had Francis and Mother had Felix.”
“Why would a girl be declared unfit for the crown?” Audun asked.
“Lots of reasons, but usually because she’d fallen victim to the curse that said that girls in our family would become nasty hags if they touched a flower after turning sixteen. Our family history would have been a lot different if that curse had never been cast. I’m so glad my mother was able to end it. If she hadn’t, my parents would never have gotten married and I wouldn’t exist.”
“Then I’m glad she got rid of the curse, too. My life would be nothing without you in it.” Audun leaned closer to kiss her and Millie turned halfway around to face him. When they looked up again, they were both smiling. “Go on,” he said. “I think your family history is interesting.”
Millie cleared her throat and said, “There isn’t much else to tell. The daughters who inherit the crown take the name Verderia to show that the line is unbroken, unless they move to their husband’s kingdom and take his name.”
“What about your father’s side?”
“The crown is always passed down through the sons in Upper Montevista. The old ruling line died out almost three hundred years ago, and my father’s ancestor won the crown through combat. His family name is Highwall.”
“Since I don’t have a family name, I guess you would keep the name Verderia, or would you choose Highwall?” asked Audun.
“It would have to stay Verderia. I don’t have the magic to be the Green Witch, but I’m still the oldest daughter so I’ll probably be queen someday. Felix will be the next heir to the throne of Upper Montevista after Father.”
“Verderia. I like the sound of that,” Audun said, kissing her on the tip of her nose. “Now tell me, where exactly is Dewly Glen? We haven’t passed it, have we?”
“Not yet,” said Millie. “But we should be close.”
Although Millie had flown over Greater Greensward as a dragon countless times and knew where every village was located, she had never actually visited Dewly Glen. She preferred seeing villages for the first time with her mother, who, as the Green Witch, had made a point of visiting them all long before Millie was born. People knew her mother and were comfortable talking to her; no one in Dewly Glen knew Millie.
It was a small village on the edge of the forest only a few miles from Greater Greensward’s eastern border and the kingdom of Soggy Molvinia. Tiny cottages with thatched roofs and walls of sticks and dried mud lined a narrow dirt road running through the center of the village and south past the ancient trees of the enchanted forest. Beyond the last of the cottages lay a scattering of small, cultivated fields where men and women tended the crops.
Millie landed her carpet in the middle of the main road amid a cloud of swirling dust. She and Audun stood up, coughing, and, when the dust cleared, were surprised to see an elderly couple watching them from under the eaves of a nearby cottage.
“Hello!” Millie wheezed as she tried to catch her breath.
“Huh,” grunted the old man.
The old woman continued to bounce the infant she held in her arms without saying a word. A small child peeked through the doorway but didn’t come out. Another young child began to wail inside the cottage. The old woman turned and went in. A moment later the wailing stopped, leaving only the strident chirring of insects.
“Where is everyone?” asked Audun.
The old man spat into the dust, then jerked his chin toward the small patches of farmland that lay beyond the village. “In the fields,” he said.
Millie peered into the shadow under the eaves. The man’s face was scratched, as were his neck and wrists. He had purple smudges under his eyes as if he hadn’t gotten much sleep. “I’m Princess Millie and this is my betrothed, Audun,” she said. “We’re here on behalf of my mother, the Green Witch. I understand you’ve been plagued by some kind of beast. We’ve come to help you.”
“We don’t need your help,” he said, wiping his chin and lower lip with the back of his hand.
Millie sighed. “Even so, I need to see what—”
A loud blast of discordant notes drowned out the sound of the insects. Both Millie and Audun looked around, startled, but the old man didn’t seem surprised. Before they could ask him what had made the sound, the man hustled back into his cottage and closed the door.
“Now I’m really curious,” said Millie. “Let’s go find someone who’s willing to talk to us.”
They had taken only a few steps in the direction of the fields when a creature the size of a six-month-old kitten launched itself at Millie, digging its claws into her leg and trying to climb her like a tree. She thought it was a kitten until she saw its face. Although the creature was covered with a thin layer of gray fur, the face was shaped like a man’s and had a man’s nose, mouth, and eyes. Millie reached down, trying to grab the little creature by the scruff of its neck, and it opened its mouth to bite her. She jerked her hand back when she saw that it had three rows of very sharp teeth.
“Get off me!” said Audun.
Millie looked up to see Audun shaking his leg, too, trying to dislodge a small, orange-striped beast. When the creature climbing her leg dug its claws in to go higher, she yelped, grabbed it, and pulled it away from her body. She examined the spitting, snarling creature and was surprised when it spoke to her in a man’s voice. “Let me go, or I’ll tear out your gizzard and eat it for my midday munchies!”
“You’ll do no such thing,” said Millie. “If I put you down, I expect you to behave yourself. And tell your friend to behave himself, too.”
“What is this thing?” Audun asked. He raised his arm and held the orange creature upside down by the ball attached to the end of its tail, making the little creature yowl and thrash.
“Put me down!” it screamed, swiping at Audun with its claws extended. “How dare you treat me like this! Don’t you know who I am?”
“You’re a baby—”
“I’m no baby! My babies’ babies are having babies! Put me down before I—”
“I think they might be manticores,” said Millie. “Or at least they’re descended from a manticore. Grassina told me that when she was young, she conjured up a manticore from a tooth my great-grandmother had given her. When the beast wouldn’t go away, Grassina cast a spell and made it kitten-sized. It must have mated with a cat and these are its progeny. Do you suppose that someone in the field could tell us … Oh, they’ve all run off!”
The peopl
e who had been working in the field just minutes before had disappeared while Millie and Audun were occupied with the odd creatures. They had been in such a hurry that they left their tools on the ground behind them.
“Then we’ll go talk to the old man,” Audun said, his face looking grim. “I don’t care if he wants to talk to us or not.”
Still carrying the little creatures at arm’s length, Millie and Audun returned to the cottage and knocked on the door. They could hear muted voices inside, but no one answered.
“If no one comes to talk to us, I think we should open the door and toss these little monsters in,” Audun said in a loud voice. “One … two …”
The old man opened the door muttering to himself. A little boy about eight years old pushed past him to stare wide-eyed at Millie and Audun. He looked much like the old man must have when he was a boy.
“Is this what you didn’t want to talk about?” asked Audun, holding up the wriggling ball of teeth and fur.
The old man flinched and placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder, pulling him back a step.
Millie gave the man her sternest look. “Why didn’t you send word to the castle that these creatures were harassing you? Don’t deny they are, because I can see the scratches.”
The old man coughed into his hand and seemed unable to meet their eyes. “It’s kind of embarrassing-like. What were we supposed to say—we’ve got a plague of kittens drivin’ us crazy? Every time we come outside, they pound on us with those balls on the end of their tails, an’ rip into us with their claws. You can’t walk under a tree without the little monsters landing on your head and bitin’ at your ears. No one can get a wink of sleep, either, what with the racket they make soon as the sun goes down.”
“What racket?” asked the creature dangling from Audun’s hand.
The one that Millie still held twisted around in her grasp to face the old man. “Those are love songs!” it said, sounding indignant.
The old man eyed the little beasts warily. “They don’t sound like love songs to me. They sound like a whole bunch of people blastin’ away on broken trumpets.”
“Tell ’em about the dogs, Grandpa,” said the little boy.
The old man nodded. “We tried handlin’ it ourselves—borrowed some top-notch huntin’ dogs—but the darn cats drove ’em off and now we have to pay the hounds’ owner. Good hounds don’t come cheap, let me tell you! Those blasted kittens—”
“They’re manticores, not kittens!” said Millie.
“Whatever you want to call ’em, the hounds ran off with their tails between their legs the first time the little monsters yowled. Then we tried trapping the … manticores … , but they were too smart for us. They sprang the traps, stole the bait, and left the traps in the road. We heard ’em laughin’ at us when we came out in the morning.”
“It was funny!” said the orange-striped manticore.
“How many are there?” asked Audun.
“I don’t rightly know,” the man replied. He rubbed his chin and added after a moment, “Couple dozen, I expect. They come out a few at a time during the day, but they all come out at night, leastwise it sounds that way.”
“Then that’s when we’ll come back,” said Millie. “One more question before we go. What do they eat?”
“Just about anything, I think. They ate all our chickens, and we haven’t seen nary a mouse nor a rat since they got here.”
“They ate all the frogs in the pond, too, Grandpa,” said the little boy. “And I saw one eat a snake yesterday.”
“They may be small, but they’ve got powerful appetites.”
“It sounds like it,” said Audun. “Do you have somewhere we can keep these two for now where they can’t get away?”
“I have an empty barrel you can use if you’ll put ’em in and take ’em out. But if you come back tonight, watch your step. Those little monsters like to trip you in the dark.”
They were seated on the magic carpet flying over the enchanted forest once again when Millie asked, “You have a plan, don’t you?”
Audun nodded. “We’ll trap them, but our trap won’t look like one. I caught a desicca bird by hiding in the sand once. With the right kind of bait, I should be able to catch some miniature manticores the same way. We just need to get a few things at that fishing village I saw on the river last week and we’ll be all set.”
It was dusk when they returned to the village of Dewly Glen. This time they arrived as dragons, flying so high over the forest that anyone looking up would see little dots and think they were birds. Even from high up, their dragon vision could make out the tiny figures in the village going about their business. Millie and Audun waited, gliding on updrafts until the last door was closed and the last window shuttered. Moving as silently as wind and wing allowed, they spiraled down, landing in a grove of trees.
They waited until they heard the voices of manticores coming from the village before creeping to a mound of dirt just beyond the last cottage. Keeping an eye out for the little beasts, Audun curled up in a circle and lay still while Millie covered his body with dirt. When only his face was exposed, Millie stepped to the center of the circle and set down a large wooden box made to trap fish. She opened the lid and a torrent of mice poured from the box. Before they could scurry off, Millie untied a cloth bag and took out a wheel of cheese, which she dropped on the ground beside the box. Their noses quivering, the mice turned to the wheel of cheese. With a beat of her wings, Millie rose into the air and returned to the trees, where she hunched down, waiting for Audun’s signal.
Both dragons lay still, their ears pricked as they listened to the cacophony of the manticores’ voices. Nearly half an hour passed before a manticore came close enough to smell the scent of the mice. Blaring the news of his discovery, the beast summoned his friends to the feast. Millie’s limbs twitched as she readied herself to fly to Audun, but she didn’t open her wings until he raised his head and coughed, a loud sharp sound that made mice and manticores freeze where they stood. Only a few heartbeats later she was landing beside Audun, who had shaken himself free of the dirt and was catching manticores and stuffing them into the wooden box through a small door on the side. The beasts became frantic when they discovered that the door didn’t open outward and that they were trapped. The little creatures in the box filled the air with the ear-shattering din of their distress, while the ones outside fought with tooth and claw, neither of which could penetrate the dragons’ hide. It took both dragons’ efforts to collect the beasts and shove them into the box as they tried to escape.
When the last one was in the box and the door was securely fastened, Millie sat back with a sigh. “Remind me never to do that again. My great-grandmother shut wasps and bees in a crate once. I think this might have been worse.”
“Wait, here’s another one,” Audun said, dragging a particularly stubborn manticore away from his tail, where it had been gnawing with much effort and no effect.
Millie opened the door so he could shove the little beast inside. The noise in the box was so loud it made even the dragons wince. “Do you think that was all of them?” she said, looking around.
Audun refastened the latch on the box. “I hope so, but there’s no way of telling, at least not tonight.”
“We’ll have to come back in a few days and ask the villagers,” said Millie.
“Let us outta here!” shouted a voice from inside the box.
“We will!” Millie shouted back. “As soon as we get where we’re going.”
“And that can’t be any too soon,” said Audun. He sniffed the air, his nostrils flaring. “We need to finish this and get back to the castle before dawn. I think a nasty storm is headed this way, and I don’t want to get caught in it if we can help it.”
When they took off, Millie carried her magic carpet in her claws while Audun lugged the box. The flight north was a familiar one, although neither of them had passed that way in more than a year. The two dragons flew side by side, soaring over grasslands, fo
rests, and a few scattered villages where only the sleepless would have seen the dragon silhouettes against the bright disk of the moon. They reached the mountains in the early hours of the morning, when the air was still and every sound seemed loud. Tall mountain peaks surrounded the valley where they landed and set down the crate. Although it was midsummer and there was grass under their feet, the air was chilly enough to turn to fog with each puff of Millie’s breath. A stream ran through the center of the valley, its water nearly as cold as the ice from which it came, but the dragons bent down to taste it and found it pure and sweet.
Audun opened the crate, releasing the kitten-sized beasts. Once out of the crate, the manticores made such a clamor that the echo seemed to shake the mountains themselves, yet the beasts had no interest in either attacking or fleeing from the dragons. Instead they stood in a group, peering into the dark while the balls on the tips of their tails twitched in agitation.
“What is this place?” asked one as Millie and Audun prepared to leave.
“Somewhere that you can do anything you want without hurting anyone,” said Millie.
“You should be fine here,” Audun added. “There are caves where you can live when the snows get deep, and you’ll find plenty of fish in the stream.”
“And mice!” said a manticore just before it pounced on something small and furry rustling the grass.
“Good luck!” said Millie as she and Audun took to the air.
“They’re going to need it if they try crossing those mountains,” Audun told her. “Those peaks are higher than they look.”
They were on their way back to Greater Greensward when Millie said, “I’ve been thinking. Why do you suppose no one saw the manticores until now? I mean, if they were descended from that one Grassina changed, why didn’t they make their presence known before this? It’s been years since Grassina was a girl and used her magic on that manticore.”
“That’s a good question,” said Audun. “It does seem odd that they’d appear so suddenly.”