Chapters:

Transported

Mattie is being transported via a dragon sculpture at the Chinese Theatre in Hollywood . . . Toutles is her childhood friend . .

Mattie yelled. If this went on much longer, she felt her lungs would explode. “Make it stop,” she gasped.

Seemingly compliant, the cube halted its spin, ejecting her through one side.

She landed on all fours. Where had the cube taken her? This was not L.A.—of that she was certain. The dirt was soft and moist, as if it sometimes rained. And there wasn’t a sprinkler in sight!

Bruised but basically fine, Mattie stood, brushing dirt from her jeans and palms. The cube had popped out of view, but she was in a pretty countryside, lush with leafy trees. In the near- distance, she saw a wooden fence, sheltering some sheep; and a herd of grazing cows, lowing softly and tinkling their bells.

This is nice, she thought. I could live with this. It sure beats hell out of Hollywood . . .

Her dreams of rural bliss ended with a whoosh of air. It took her almost a minute to process what was in front of her.

“Toutles!” she yelled, as her old friend folded his wings after making a seamless landing.

He looked so . . . grown up. His color was now cerulean, like the sea in Malibu; his scales tightly packed. His front claws were five times the size of her hands, and he was over nine feet tall! Floppy blue spikes now covered his spine and tail. He grinned, revealing teeth as big as her thumb!

Without fear, Mattie ran forward and embraced his blue belly. It was just as she remembered: cool to the touch.

“Where are we, Toutles?” she asked, half expecting an answer. He lifted his eyelids, revealing those round yellow pupils, then did something strange: with one black nail, he drew blood from his opposite palm. He offered her this liquid treat, bending low so it approached her lips.

“Ech! Toutles, wha—?”

He thrust the nail gently over her tongue while she was in mid-speech. Then he gulped dramatically, indicating she was to do the same.

Mattie spit out blue blood, but she must have ingested a little. She knew because Toutles cleared his throat and said, “By the way, my name isn’t Toutles. It’s Artorius. Artorius Wyvernis.” He bowed with courtly grace: or as much as a dragon could muster.

Mattie was so amazed that she actually hit the ground. “I . . . I can understand you!”

“Yes. A dragon’s blood is magic: it allows you to understand the language of higher beasts.”

Mattie was about to protest, until she heard a Collie say to his mate: “Lovely day.”

She drew a hand over her forehead. “And . . . could you always understand me?”

“Of course. Unfortunately, a dragon’s voice doesn’t mature for years. By the by, I really enjoyed our reading of The Dragon and the George. Dragonslayer, not so much.”

Mattie lay full-length on the ground. “This is really too much. One minute I’m hit on by Spiderman, and the next, I’m talking to a dragon. You have to admit this is weird—even by Hollywood standards.”

“I know it must seem odd, but Praeses will explain. In the meantime, we should go. We are far too close to Georgia.”

Artorius stuck out a claw, helping Mattie to her feet. She was so glad to see him again! Still . . .

“Is this Georgia? Are we anywhere near Atlanta?”

Artorius laughed, puffs of smoke coming from his nostrils. He even belched a small flame.

“OK, so is this like the Georgia in Russia? Are we going to be taken prisoner?” She glanced around for fur-hatted Cossacks.

Artorius patted her on the back (gently) and gestured with a talon that she was to follow. As they treaded a soft dirt trail, a horse looked up and said, “Good morning.”

“Um . . . hi.”

The horse nodded pleasantly.

Mattie decided to try this for herself. She saw a calico cat atop a pasture fence. “Hello there,” she greeted it.

The cat tilted its head, giving her a look of utter contempt.

“So . . . cats aren’t considered ‘higher beasts’?”

“In their opinion, they’re the highest. They can talk, but they’re snooty.”

“I see.” She turned back to the calico. “Same to you then!” The cat stuck out its tongue.

Artorius smiled, then started to reminisce. “Remember when we read The Wizard of Oz together? And then we saw the movie? Boy, that Judy was something!”

“Yeah.” Mattie wondered where this was leading.

“Well, I can tell you you’re not in Kansas anymore. In fact, you’re not on Mundanis.”

“Huh?”

“Uh . . . what you humans call ‘Earth.’”

“Come on, Tout—I mean, Artorius.”

“This is not Mundanis. It’s Mundus Multi Cavernis, ‘The Land of Many Caves.’ But we dragons just say Cavernis.”

Mattie started. “There’s more of you?!”

Artorius grinned, showing off his gleaming teeth. “Many more. You’ll see.”

Mattie was getting tired as they kept trekking west. She wasn’t that used to walking: hello, she was from L.A.!

“Artorius—” the new name dropped off her tongue with difficulty, “—can’t we just fly to wherever we’re going?”

The dragon snorted. “I can, but what about you? I don’t see any wings.”

“But can’t I ride on your back, like they do in all those movies?”

Artorius let out a gasp. He couldn’t speak for a full minute. “How utterly . . . barbaric,” he finally breathed.

“Sorry.” Mattie shrugged. More than anything, she wanted to catch up with him. “Artorius—” (there, that was easier) “—what have you been doing these past seven years?”

“Actually, twenty-one.”

“No! It’s been seven.”

“Not for me. One human year equals three for a dragon.”

Mattie tried to assimilate this. OK, so it was like dogs?

“Well, I’ve been growing up, flying, breathing fire. Now I can finally go to school.”

“You mean you haven’t been? Not even to kindergarten?”

“Nope. We dragons wait till we’re mature.”

“Oh.”

“No worries—we have plenty of time. Most of us live till at least three-hundred.”

“Wow!”

“Except for the Elders.”

Mattie’s head started to spin: she almost wished she were taking notes. There was so much to learn!

They kept trudging along the path in a withering heat. Artorius was slow, considering he had to both crawl and slither. This brought something to Mattie’s mind.

“Artorius?”

“Yes?”

“Will you ever grow back legs? Does it . . . take like twenty more years?” Still smarting from her riding faux pas, she tried to be tactful.

Artorius laughed in a series of bellows.

“Oh no! You see, I’m a wyvern.”

Mattie looked blank.

“We are a kind of dragon with only two front feet. We simply don’t have back legs.”

“Oh.”

“Unless . . . ”

“Yes?”

“We earn them in battle. With a knight. If we slay one—instant legs!”

Mattie shuddered. “What a horrible way to get them.”

He shrugged. “It’s been like that for ages. Don’t worry—we’re leaving the knights behind.”

They kept walking—and walking—and Mattie’s legs kept aching. They passed a fenced pasture confining a small herd of horses.

“How do?”

“Top o’ the mornin’.”

“That’s no Georgian, I hope.”

The dragon calmed the herd.

“No, she’s not a Georgian. This is the human who raised me. From Mundanis.”

The horses all widened their eyes, but trotted off regardless.

“I take it my species isn’t too popular?”

“Well . . . ” Artorius scratched his chin. “We’ll get to that in a bit.”

Finally, as the sun set (Did they call it the sun? Mattie wondered. And was there only one?) they stopped before an arched entrance.

“Home,” Artorius said, leading her through what seemed a cave’s stone corridor. They went deeper; deeper still; and Mattie was glad that the cave wasn’t freezing, like that Crystal one she’d been to. Artorius’ was warm and comfy, with not a stalactite in sight.

After entering a copious hall, Artorius quickly halted, causing Mattie to hit his tail. It was just as scaly as she remembered—only a lot bigger.

He dropped contentedly onto a large moss bed, beckoning Mattie to join him.

“Hob, oh Hob!” he yelled.

An odd creature appeared, as small as the dragon was huge, for he barely came to a foot: he had leathery brown skin; shoes made of dragon scales; ill-fitting trousers which came to the knee; and stringy, long brown hair. A vest made out of fur and a Robin Hood cap completed this curious outfit.

“Mattie, this is Hob, my head house Brownie. Hob, this is my old friend from Mundanis!”

“Hi.” Mattie stuck out her hand, but Hob only stared at it in disgust.

“What’s for dinner?” Artorius roared.

This seemed to cheer Hob up. “Ah, we’ve prepared a braw leg ay lamb, followed by Coq au vin, followed by pork loin. ‘En a braw niçoise salad an’ a side ay braised fingerlin’ tattie coins.”

“Gelato for dessert?” Artorius asked.

“What else?” Hob clapped his hands like a fancy maître d’. An army of Brownies marched out, bearing food on shining gold trays.

“Eat up, Mattie,” Artorius told her. “At least I won’t be serving you dog food.”

Mattie blushed. Since the portions were dragon-sized, Artorius cut her tiny pieces, placing them on a plate so big that she actually had to stand on it. This was all getting too Alice for her, especially the lack of silverware.

“Sorry, Mattie, I’ll have the troops dig up a knife and fork. I literally have thousands. And a spoon for gelato, of course.”

“Thanks.”

After their long (to her) trek, Mattie was nearly famished, and devoured the meal with gusto. She thought the pork loin especially good, though she secretly longed for an In-N-Out burger.

Artorius seemed to know this. “Still eating that crappy junk food?”

“Well, I wouldn’t call it—yes.” Why bother to lie to the one who knew you best?

“None of that stuff here! Only fine fare supplied by Latro.”

Mattie was too tired to ask who Latro was. But after dinner was over, she had an urgent request.

Artorius led her along the cave’s periphery to its farthest recess. When they arrived at a vast pit, he immediately got the hint.

“Right. We don’t want you to fall in.”

Using his spade tail, he quickly dug a hole more suited to human proportions.

“So uh . . . no indoor plumbing?”

“Nope. We’re not that fancy.”

She nodded.

“Well, guess we’re even.”

She stared uncomprehendingly.

“In waste disposal, I mean.”

Artorius left her in privacy. After she washed her hands (in a gorgeous marble bowl), she used a torch as a landmark to guide her back to him. Taking the central path, she realized as she walked that the cave floor was crunchy. And wildly uneven, since she kept tripping on odd-shaped objects, some of which emitted a glow.

“Oh!”

She looked down. She was walking on mounds of riches: there were heaps of golden coins; silver goblets and kingly crowns; diamonds and rubies and sapphires which gleamed in the uneven light. Mattie felt almost giddy as she bent to touch a tiara.

“Artorius!” she yelled, once she reached him on his bed. “You’re rich. You’re like—richer than a rock star!”

“That’s nothing. You should see the treasure at ASH. Speaking of which, we have a meeting first thing tomorrow. Time to get some rest.”

He beckoned her to come close, stretching a webbed wing around her. For the first time in seven years, she actually felt happy. It reminded her of the days when she would cradle him. Snuggling under a sea of blue, Mattie dreamed of vast oceans blanketed with gold.

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