This book is a ROSEHAVEN adventure.

What exactly is Rosehaven?

Rosehaven is a multi-series Fantasy world, in which mythological creatures live in hiding on the outskirts of human exploration. It currently consists of three separate book series: Rosehaven, The Chronicles of Gnipper, and The Dudley Diaries. Each of these series contains overlapping setting and characters, but differ in tone and reading level. The goal of Rosehaven is to offer young children an enjoyable fantasy world that grows with them as they become stronger readers. Currently Rosehaven offers:

The Chronicles of Gnipper (For ages 7 and up, fully illustrated single sitting reads of about 50 pages. The order they are read does not matter.):

This series tells the story of Gnipper Tallhat, a twelve year old gnome desperately trying to earn respect in her community for her scientific inventions. Unfortunately, everything she does seems to backfire.

Gnit-Wit Gnipper and the Perilous Plague

Gnit-Wit Gnipper and the Ferocious Fire-Ants

Gnit-Wit Gnipper and the Devious Dragon

The Dudley Diaries (For ages 9 and up, fully illustrated single sitting reads of about 50 pages. The order they are read does not matter):

Follows the tales of Sir Dudley Tinklebutton, a knight of the Coalition of the Burning Heart. Sir Dudley isn’t your typical heroic knight: he’s scared of insects, he’s never slain anything, and he’s only chivalrous when he thinks he can get something out of it. Can Sir Dudley overcome his cowardly qualities to become the hero he needs to be?

Sir Dudley Tinklebutton and the Dragon’s Lair

Sir Dudley Tinklebutton and the Sword of Cowardice

Sir Dudley Tinklebutton and the Unholy Grail

Rosehaven (For ages 10 and up. Novels, 300+ pages, intended to be read in order):

This tells the main story of the retics, creatures forced into hiding by a group of humans tasked with hunting them down. It follows the lives of several key figures: Jaxon the loud-mouthed demon who can control the elements, Tyranna the shape-shifter, learning to come to grips with her new world, and Reginald, a thousand year old Tree-ent knight dedicated to saving as many lives as he can. Together they must navigate conflicts in the human world, and in their own community, before war wipes the retics out forever.

Rise of the Retics (Book 1)

Return of the Fae-blood (Book 2)

“I see the village over yonder, Sir Dudley.”

“Excellent, Murray,” replied the mounted knight as he flipped open the visor of his large, red-plumed helmet. “Perhaps they can provide us with a hearty meal and a comfortable bed. I know Svenson could sure use a break.”

The jet-black stallion roared a powerful neigh of agreement.

“I sure hope so, Sir,” replied the squire as he pushed his blond, greasy hair out of his eyes. “We’ve been walking all day and my legs are exhausted. Perhaps we could put some of this equipment into one of Svenson’s empty saddle bags?”

Dudley sighed as he watched Murray struggle to lift one of his many bags back up onto his shoulder.

“Poppycock, Murray! Svenson is a war horse, not some illegitimate pack mule with three legs and a flatulence problem. Besides, you really need to learn to stop your complaining. Why, when I was your age we carried three sets of armor everywhere we went, no matter what. And there were no horses then either; they simply didn’t exist! We had to walk everywhere. Not to mention every single path in all of Europe was uphill- both ways. You can thank the bloody Romans and their crazy architecture for that one!”

“Sir, not be rude, but you’re only three years older than me.”

“That’s my point exactly, Murray,” replied Sir Dudley confidently. “The world changes fast. You need to be able to keep up. That’s why the walking is good for you. Makes you a strong young man, better able to handle the difficulties life throws at you.”

“Aye, Sir...I suppose I understand.”

“Good, Murray. Now watch your step, there’s a huge pile of...”

Squish

“Never mind. You found it. Whew, that must have been a fresh one.”

“I reckon it was, Sir,” replied Murray as he tried to wipe his boot on the cleaner parts of the dusty road.

The travelers continued down the old worn path into the small village. A few rugged looking farmers off to the side, noticing the flying sigil of his order, bowed their heads in respect of the passing knight. Sir Dudley nodded to them, though with their heads bent they didn’t actually know that. Still, it was the right thing to do. He loved the respect and authority his position gave him, but he knew you had to give back to the little people as well. Getting a nod from a knight might be the best thing that happened to them all year, even if they didn’t know about it.

As he looked around the village, Sir Dudley noticed several buildings in various states of disrepair. Most consisted of rotted wood frames with tattered thatched-roofs, but a few of the nicer places had crumbling stone foundations. Two even had shutters, though Dudley couldn’t tell if they were covering windows or just particularly large holes in the wall. The village had no city walls, gates, or guards. It was clear that there was nothing important enough here to bother protecting. It was the perfect place to rest.

“Good man?” Sir Dudley bellowed to a drably dressed villager as he strode past the first building. “Can you tell me where I may find lodgings and a stable for my fine steed?”

“Aye, Sir,” replied the villager in a respectful tone, “but I’m not a man.”

“No?” Dudley’s left eyebrow arched in surprise.

“Aye, Sir.”

“Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure, Sir. I check each week at bath time, just to be certain.”

“Well, you sure fooled me,” Dudley replied with a hardy laugh. “It was the whiskers, to be honest with you. Most women don’t have such well-defined facial hair.”

“Runs in the family, Sir.”

“You should probably get that looked at. It might be a medical condition. Or a daemon- either way- very, very bad. Probably going to kill you. Now where did you say that inn was?”

“We don’t have a healer here, Sir, but I’ll keep that in mind in case one ever visits. The inn and stable are both on the south side of the village. Look for the sign for the ‘Unhappy Gelding’ and you are in the right place.”

“Thank you my good man...errr...woman,...ummm no, person. My good person. Yes that’s it.” Sir Dudley smiled at his thoughtfulness. A true knight must show respect to all walks of life. Even the ugliest, most hideous, and down trodden creatures they came across.

“You are welcome, good Sir,” replied the villager with a slight bow.

Taking his leave of the villager, Sir Dudley urged Svenson on, though he could have sworn he heard less than respectful language being muttered behind him. He ignored it. It must have just been his growling stomach playing tricks on him.

“Murray, take Svenson and set him up in the stables. I will procure us a room for the evening and order us some food.”

“Of course, Sir,” replied his dutiful squire.

Murray took the reins as Sir Dudley attempted to throw his leg over the side of the stallion. It caught in the stirrup, taking him slightly off balance for his dismount. Dudley tried to correct himself, but he had never had the best balance. Despite his best effort he crashed into the ground head first with a very loud crunch of metal armor on hard soil.

“Sir Dudley, are you alright?” Murray rushed to help him up.

“Of course, of course. I just wanted to show you, my young squire, why a knight should always be careful when dismounting his horse. It was little more than a demonstration, and not in any way an accident. Just to be sure no one gets the wrong idea we should never tell anyone about this, ever.”

“Of course, Sir,” Murray replied, “very effective teaching strategy.”

“What’s going on out here?” bellowed an extra-full-figured barmaid as she threw open the door of the Unhappy Gelding.

Several patrons lined up behind her, though Sir Dudley was unsure if they intended to see what the noise was or how the hefty woman handled the situation.

“My apologies, Ma’am. I was just showing my squire the proper technique for dismounting. He had some trouble, but we’re fine now. Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Sir Dudley Tinklebutton, knight of the Coalition of the Burning Heart.”

“Oh my apologies, good Sir,” she replied with a hasty curtsy. “I was unaware we had a knight visiting our little establishment. We’re just a bit on edge at the moment. It’s been a rough time here in Candon the past few weeks.”

“Yes, I saw the looks of some of your farmers on my way in. What is it- drought? Bandits? Plague? Why, they all looked terrible.”

“No Sir,” she answered with a confused tone. “That’s just how they normally look.”

“Oh...” replied Sir Dudley. “Murray- take a note! Never, ever, ever let me become a farmer.”

“Understood, Sir,” said Murray obediently, “but I don’t know how to write.”

“You should learn to do that Murray. It’s a very important skill. I can’t believe no one took the time to teach you.”

“Uh, Sir. That’s part of your job.”

“Ah,” replied Sir Dudley. “As I said, very overrated skill. Not necessary in today’s day and age. Now, Barmaid, what is it that troubles this village?”

“Melinda.”

“What’s a Melinda?” Dudley responded with confusion.

“I am. You called me barmaid. That’s not my name. My name is Melinda.”

“Fine...Melinda, what is it that troubles this village?”

“It’s worse than anything you could imagine, Sir Dudley. It’s a huge, fire-breathing Dragon with a thirst for Human blood. He’s been ravaging the countryside every night for the past two weeks.”

“DRAGON!? Did you say Dragon? Oh... that’s too bad. We would help you, but we were just on our way out of town. Big knight’s conference down south. Sir Lancelot is giving a speech on why dating in the workplace is never a good idea. We simply can’t be late.”

“But you just arrived,” Melinda said. “Surely, you require rest.”

“Ah yes, but we need to power through the exhaustion to make it on time. You understand, I’m sure. It’s the busy life of a knight- always damsels to be saving over there and chivalry to be providing over here. It’s a tough job, but someone has to do it. Murray, let’s get going before it gets dark.”

“But, Sir,” cried Melinda as Dudley began to move away, “it’s the South road that is the most unsafe. It’s where the Great Evil feeds at night, swooping in from the darkness to devour man and beast alike. Since you’re going that way anyway, surely you can take but a moment to slay the creature. If there is more to it than that... I mean...If you’re afraid, then you best hunker down here for the night and leave in the morn.”

“Afraid?” Dudley grabbed his chest as if he had been shot through the heart with an arrow forged from insults. “Me? Nonsense! I fear neither man nor beast, and the dark only a little bit.”

“That is wonderful news,” cried Melinda with joy. “So, you will be our champion!”

“Whoa, Melinda! Slow down. I never said that. I merely said I wasn’t afraid.”

“I’m confused, Sir. If you are a knight, as you appear and claim, and you have no fear, then surely your code of chivalry will lead you to slay the beast.”

“See, that’s the thing with my code of chivalry. It is very vague in some parts. It goes into extensive detail about holding doors open for young maidens, but is severely lacking in the slaying of Dragons department. I mean, perhaps this is a friendly Dragon and killing him would be a great injustice?”

“He ate my brother,” yelled a villager from the back row.

“Sooo...” replied Dudley, “not friendly then?”

“No, Sir,” answered Melinda, “definitely not friendly.”

“Perhaps a reward is what he seeks?” bellowed another villager.

“Of course,” said Melinda quickly. “I apologize for not offering sooner. We don’t have much here, but we could tithe ten percent of our harvest each year to your order.”

Sir Dudley’s eyes opened wide. A gift like that could smooth things over with the Coalition and get him reassigned back to one of the strongholds up north. That meant hot baths every day, great feasts for every reason one could imagine, and very thankful serving girls, or as the boys back home called them ‘sword-groupies’.

“Hmm, ten percent eh?” he asked, pondering the offer.

“I’m sorry, Sir Dudley,” interrupted Melinda with panic in her voice. “You’re right, of course...that is an insulting offer. I’m not sure how we’ll survive, but twenty percent is far more appropriate.”

“I accept!” answered the newly eager knight before anyone had a chance to rethink the offer.

The crowd cheered with joy before ambling their way back inside the inn to enjoy a toast to their champion. In a single moment, the air had cleared of despair, and now had the faint scent of hope. Well, hope and unbathed villagers, but that was this best that Dudley was going to get.

“Sir Dudley, I don’t mean to question your words, but that part about not fearing man nor beast?”

“Yes, Murray?”

“Well, just last week you ran away from that bee, screaming very loudly. Remember, I came running, thinking a young maiden was being attacked?”

“Murray,” Sir Dudley answered with a chuckle and a hand on the squire’s shoulder, “that’s quite different.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, Murray. You know I’m allergic to bees. The lightest sting could make me break out in a hideous and horribly itchy rash. On the other hand, I don’t believe I have any allergies to Dragons. Besides, think what a twenty percent tithe could do for the Coalition?”

“Make them even richer than they already are?”

“Exactly, Murray! Now you’re thinking like a knight! And if we make them richer, then they will have no choice but to reassign me. No more grueling traveling. No more sleeping on beds made for barn animals. No more meals made by lepers! Do you have any idea how much I’d like to have a stew that doesn’t have someone’s ear in it?”

“Very well, Sir. Not to be rude, but do we have a plan?”

“Murray, as a member of the Coalition, I’ve been trained for years to fight threats just like this. There is no better suited man within a hundred miles than I.”

“So no plan?”

“Nope, not a clue. I figured I’d make one up as we go along.”

“Good, Sir. I’ll go get Svenson ready.”

Sir Dudley nodded in agreement and entered the inn as Murray went to get Svenson fed and brushed. He sat at a table in the middle of the room where everyone had an equal chance to see him. It was only right; after all, he was their hero.

Two men, much larger and hairier than Sir Dudley, sat down across from him as Melinda brought a piping hot bowl of something thick and brown. It had a lump that appeared to be a potato, but he couldn’t be sure. Looking at his meal he knew he had made the right decision about killing the Dragon. A few weeks from now and he’d be eating food he could identify again. 

“Is it true that you are a knight?” asked the shorter of the two gentleman, his empty shirt sleeve pinned at the elbow and flapping randomly in the breeze.

“Aye, my one-armed friend. My name is Sir Dudley Tinklebutton, of the Esterly Tinklebuttons.”

“Then our prayers have truly been answered. I am Tark, this is my brother Zane. We are the only ones to have seen the wicked beast and lived to tell the tale.”

“How is it that you two have been so lucky?” asked Sir Dudley with interest. “Does he have a weakness? Blind in one eye, perhaps? Maybe a gimpy leg?”

“Oh no, Sir. He is a truly magnificent killer. He has no weaknesses, nor ever shows mercy. Each of his teeth are as long and sharp as your sword, and his scales provide armor stronger than any steel known to man.”

“Oh and the fire, Tark! Tell him about the fire!”

“I was just getting to that, Zane. Yes, the fire. It burns hotter than any hearth. It could sear the clothes off a woman faster than a young minstrel with a golden voice.”

“Oh,” replied Sir Dudley with a big swallow.

“We only got away because he was busy eating our other brother while we ran. Though, I did leave some o’ me behind.” Tark chuckled a bit as he flapped his sleeve for emphasis.

“You know,” said Sir Dudley as he looked at the young man’s missing appendage, “I’m not really hungry anymore. I think I’m going to go check on my horse before I head out to fight that Dragon. Make sure he’s strong and ready. Can’t be too prepared, that’s what I always say. Good day, Gentlemen.”

“Good luck, Sir Dudley!” Both men raised their mugs and drank a long gulp to his success.

The knight walked out of the Unhappy Gelding with his head held high as the patrons cheered him, chanted his name, and sung hastily created songs of his courage. As soon as he heard the inn door shut behind him he broke into a run toward the stables.

“Sir Dudley, are you ok?” asked Murray as he finished with Svenson’s grooming routine.

“Of course, Murray. Just having a quick change of mind. I am convinced that the Dragon is probably good for the people. Keeps the population low, and makes sure no one starves. We should leave it alone and put this town at our backs as soon as possible. It would be the only knightly thing to do.”

“But Sir Dudley? You made a promise...and if the Coalition were to find out you gave away the opportunity at such a lucrative offer the response would be unmerciful.”

“Yes, I’m aware Murray. But you know what I’m also aware of? Death. Twenty percent of a harvest might be valuable, but not if it means one hundred percent of my body being engulfed in fiery doom. It’s time for us to leave.”

“Yes, Sir,” replied Murray.

It only took a few minutes for the two of them to reach the main road out of town. Just over the horizon Sir Dudley gazed upon the blazing orange sun as it begun to sink for the night. They needed to be fast, or they would be in the Dragon’s hunting area when it woke. He looked down at Murray. The young squire struggled to keep up with all the equipment. Perhaps if he just went on alone to scout a bit...?

“Three cheers for Sir Dudley Tinklebutton, Hero of Candon!”

A riotous eruption of cheers went out as Sir Dudley looked back. To his surprise, a crowd had developed just a few feet behind them. It seemed that everyone from the village had followed him.

“Sir, I believe we may need a new plan.”

“Yes, Murray, I see that.”

As he trotted up to the crowd, Tark pointed with his remaining arm to an aperture in the side of a large hill. “That’s the entrance to the Dragon’s lair. It is best to strike now, while he still slumbers.”

“Of course it is, Tark. That’s why I was here. I wasn’t trying to leave the village undetected, that’s absurd.”

“Of course not, Sir Dudley. What low-down, craven, faux-knight would ever do such a thing? Not the Hero of Candon, that’s for sure!”

“No, not me.” Sir Dudley replied with a forced smile. “Come Murray, it’s time to slay a Dragon!”

Sir Dudley slowly urged Svenson towards the hill. The stallion, showing none of the apprehension about the situation that his master was, broke into a powerful trot. The crowd let out one last ear shattering cheer as Sir Dudley charged towards the Dragon’s lair. Behind him, Murray struggled to catch up.

“Slow down, Svenson,” whispered Dudley into the horse’s ear. “Are you trying to get us killed?”

Svenson neighed loudly, and took his trot to a gallop.

“I’ll take that as a yes, you crazy horse!”

As they reached the opening, Svenson stopped. He was clearly too large to get in.

“Hmmm,” Sir Dudley thought aloud. “There must be another opening near the top for the beast to get in and out of.”

Sir Dudley took one last look back. Though he could no longer hear them clearly, the crowd was still boisterous. Murray, struggling to run while carrying Dudley’s extra suits of armor, remained a few minutes away at best. As the crowd watched his every move, Dudley realized he would have to finish this task alone.

“Wait here, Svenson. If I’m not back in five minutes I expect you to find a way to come in and save me. Understood?”

The stallion neighed in agreement.

Sir Dudley drew his large diamond-shaped shield, painted with the symbol of the Coalition: a heart engulfed in flame and pierced through the top with double sword blades. He held the heavy metal object in front of him, trying to cover as much of his body as he could as he slowly entered the hill. In his right hand, his sword wavered slightly in anticipation. He readied to stab anything that moved, made a sound, or smelled funny- preferably before it knew he was there.

The Dragon’s home was unlike anything Sir Dudley had ever seen before. Spacious hallways, intricately carved from scorched earth, wound into the heart of the hill. It appeared that the Dragon used his own fiery breath as an architectural tool. Sir Dudley shivered at the thought of the rock melting beneath the intense heat of the Dragon’s fire.

Sir Dudley continued down the hall, the natural light dimming with each slow, meticulous step. He tried to take a deep breath to calm his nerves, but the faint smell of sulfur and charred flesh seeped into his nostrils. He clenched his mouth shut and swallowed quickly to avoid vomiting. He wanted to turn and run, but with the crowd waiting for him it simply wasn’t an option. He just had to make sure he was very, very quiet.

As he continued down the cavern, the walls began to widen, allowing him to stand up to his full height. His confidence began to return. He was a knight of the Coalition of the Burning Heart after all. He trained for years to find and slay enemies of humanity, especially Dragons. He could accomplish this. He would return a true hero.

“ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.”

The sound of the thunderous snoring shook both the cavern and Sir Dudley’s burgeoning confidence. He turned quickly to run, but stopped himself.

They are all waiting outside for me. If I run, I’ll be humiliated. No! I must go on. I must slay the slumbering Dragon with honor and bravery!

He turned and continued down the path, tiptoeing as much as his metal boots would allow, careful to stop as each slight jingle echoed off the ash-covered stone. Finally, he reached the end of the hallway, as the scorched walls began to radiate a more noticeable warmth, like the smoldering remains of a coal fire.

Sir Dudley blinked as sweat slowly dripped down his face. He wanted to wipe it away, but he was too nervous to lift his visor.

And then he saw it.

In front of him, lying across the dirt floor, was the largest, and only, Dragon he had ever seen. He had heard many stories about them, but he always figured the other knights were exaggerating size to make themselves look better. Knights tended to do that. This time, however, nothing was exaggerated.

Even lying down and curled up the beast was twice as tall as Sir Dudley and at least three times the length of Svenson from head to tail. Dudley struggled to see details in the dim light, but he appeared to have leathery green-colored skin, with sharp boney spikes protruding down his spine, separating his body into two equally well-armored halves.

Luckily, Sir Dudley remembered his training. A Dragon was most vulnerable at the joint where his neck met his torso. In order to allow for maximum range of motion for hunting, Dragons had no scales in that area, just a thick muscular hide to pierce through.

He could do it. He just needed one quick, powerful stroke. Tiptoeing up to the sleeping beast, he raised his sword high above his head, two hands gripping the hilt as tightly as he could. If he failed to kill in one stroke, he was a dead man. Hesitation was death.

He started down with all his might, ready to end the great beast and save the town.

Thoughts of glory flooded his mind- until his gaze wandered.

He stopped his sword mid-attack, careful not to let it touch and wake the Dragon. He peered down and saw curled up in between the Dragon’s tail and its body was a tiny version of itself. No more than a foot long, it looked more like a small, adorable lizard than the ferocious man eating beast in front of him.

You’re a mother, thought Dudley as he stared down at the baby Dragon. No wonder you’re so protective of this area. Those villagers are just baby food to you...like pureed peasant or fricasseed farmer.

No matter how long he stared with the sword ready to kill, he simply couldn’t figure out how something so small and innocent looking could grow up to be such a dangerous beast.

As it slowly opened its eyes, the small, scaly infant let out a yawn- a warm, smoky breath that singed the metal of Dudley’s left boot. It opened its eyes, looked straight at him, and smiled...just before playfully lunging at his mother’s tail and sinking his budding teeth into it.

Dudley tried to react and bring the sword down, but it was too late. The Dragon-mother was already awake and aware, her head raised and ready to strike.

For a long moment, she just stared at Dudley. He wanted to run, but his body decided that being frozen in terror was a better move at that moment. He could feel her hot breath, smell the charred meat still stuck between her teeth. He couldn’t help but wonder if the scent was Tark and Zane’s brother.

At that point Sir Dudley’s years of intensive training kicked in and took over his frozen body and wandering mind. He had been taught dozens of defensive moves to use in a fight with a Dragon to help even the odds, and he quickly decided against all of them. Instead, he went straight to the one move that he had perfected for years- he turned to run.

Behind him, the sound of the Dragon rousing from her slumber resonated throughout his helm. He picked up speed as he hit the entry corridor. The Dragon-mother let out a fierce, high pitched shriek that guaranteed if Sir Dudley survived, tonight would be laundry night for Murray.

Suddenly, the entire hill began to shake violently. Dudley stole a quick glance behind him. He saw that the Dragon-mother, as he had originally thought, was simply too big to follow down the hallway. He relaxed a little bit as she continued to try to force her oversized body after him.

“Ha, Stupid Beast,” he taunted. “You can’t get me here. You might be larger and stronger, but you simply can’t compare to a Human’s keen intellect.”

Sir Dudley’s words were interrupted by a loud whoosh coming from behind him. It was the kind of sound that could only be made by a very large creature taking a very deep breath.

“You win, Dragon! You’re smarter!” Dudley screamed as he began running in a zigzag pattern, trying to find a large enough rock to hide behind. Nothing he found was much larger than his foot.

WHOOOOOOOSSSHHHHHH

Sir Dudley could hear the intense fire combusting through the tunnel, racing after him like a wild animal after its prey. Whoever decided that slow and steady was to win a race, had never engaged in a sprint against fire. Here slow and steady not only lost, but resulted in roast knight for dinner.

Seeing the edge of the corridor, Sir Dudley dove with all his might, launching himself from the tunnel and rolling off to the side only fractions of a second before the flames erupted out of the opening like an annoyed volcano.

Whew, thought Dudley as he flipped open his visor to get some air. That was way too close. What was I thinking?  It’s time to get out of here. Where’s Svenson? Dudley looked around, but the horse was nowhere to be seen. For that matter, neither was Murray nor any of the citizens he had left behind.

ROOOOOOAAAAAARRRRRR

The throaty, piercing cry from above tore through his thought process and demanded his attention. He glanced up, knowing exactly what he would see, but forcing himself to look anyway just in case he was wrong.

He wasn’t.

The Dragon, wings spread across the sky so that her shadow hid the late afternoon sun, had left her lair early in search of the one who had threatened her child. Sir Dudley swallowed hard as he felt her sense him; her gaze piercing the oncoming darkness straight to his body. With a terrifying screech, she dove like a raptor.

Dudley froze again. This was his end.

The next moment went by too fast for Dudley to understand. He knew he heard another whoosh as the Dragon-mother released a second jet of flame, but somewhere mixed in was a loud neigh, the feeling of being run over by an elephant, and his body being flung across the field.

Landing hard on the ground, he struggled to turn himself over and look up. Standing just above him was the toothy smile of his favorite equine friend. It was a sight he would have loved to have taken a second to enjoy had he not been more focused on the larger flying predator above Svenson, circling around for another pass.

“Well, I guess I owe you one Svenson,” murmured Dudley as he picked himself off the ground.

“Neigh”, Svenson replied loudly, as he used his hoof to count to seven, less than politely correcting his master.

“Ok, I owe you seven! Can we get out of here now?”

Svenson lowered his body to the ground so that Dudley could get on quickly. Fear and adrenalin surging through him made forgetting the blistering and bruising his body had just taken quite a bit easier.

“Run Sven,” Sir Dudley commanded as he reached the top. “Any direction but up works for me.”

Svenson broke into a gallop back towards town. Dudley leaned in, grabbed the horse’s mane tightly and made sure he didn’t fall off.

After a few hundred paces, Dudley let go of the breath he didn’t know he was holding. Perhaps, they were going to get away after all.

That’s when the wind changed. Not a subtle change in the direction the breeze was blowing from, but the sudden inclusion of a powerful and dominant downdraft emanating from just above.

He looked up, and saw the Dragon-mother’s powerful wings flapping just a few yards above them. She was effortlessly keeping pace with Svenson, waiting for the right moment to attack again.

This time he would go down with a fight. He drew his sword and shield and readied himself for the next deadly onslaught.

The Dragon-mother did not make him wait long as she dove again at him. This time she chose not to use fire, but instead to point her sharp, massive talons right at Dudley’s body. Svenson tried to dodge as Dudley haphazardly swung at the incoming predator, but it was no use. She plowed right through them both, sending them into a violent end over end roll. Sir Dudley’s armor took much of the blow, but the jostle and impact of the ground left him groggy and confused. When he finally was able to focus his sight he saw two things that made him cringe. The first was Svenson not moving on the ground next to him, and the second was the very large snout of an angry, green-scaled murderer just above his face.

“You enter my home and try to kill my hatchling, Metal-man?” The words hissed past the Dragon’s teeth like venomous sound. “This I cannot allow. I, Abatyse, am a life-bringer. I will not allow your kind to harm my offspring.”

“I...I didn’t want to hurt your child,” Dudley stammered. “The villagers were just hoping you would stop attacking them.”

“Is that all they wish?” replied Abatyse with surprise. “Why did they not simply ask? Why send a murderer to slay me while I rest?”

“You would have agreed to stop?” asked Sir Dudley. A twinge of hope swelled in his heart.

“Of course not, you idiot,” she snapped. “I’m a Dragon, remember? We eat you. You are food. Tasty, delicious, nutritious food. Now stop squirming, it makes you less tender. Nothing worse than chewy human.”

With that request, Abatyse reached down with her open jaw and took Sir Dudley’s head in her mouth. She clenched down, deciding how she wanted to devour her kill today. Perhaps she would pop his head off, relax for a bit, and drink his blood until he was dry? She was a good mother, she worked hard- she deserved a nice cocktail in the evening. No, she thought after allowing herself a second to ponder. I should just do the responsible thing and break his neck and bring him back for the baby to enjoy. Ah, the responsibilities of parenthood.

Dudley didn’t know what to do. This particular situation was never covered in training. He tried to get up, but her talons had him pinned to the floor. He thrashed around, but his neck was the only muscle he could move at all. He tried to pull his head out of her mouth, but the grip of her jaw was too powerful to allow any more than a slight wiggle.

“AHHHH, AHHHHH!”

Was that noise what he thought it was? Was this huge, powerful creature allergic to him? How could that be? He was just meat, and metal...and a peacock feather plume! Suddenly, Sir Dudley had an idea. He began wiggling his neck as voraciously as he possibly could, rubbing the helmet plume all over the top of Abatyse’s throat. Her jaw, which he felt was just about to make him permanently shorter by about the size of his head, began to relax. He could feel her muscles convulse slightly as she just couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“AHHHHHH, AHHHH, CHOOOOOOOO!”

The powerful sneeze sent the Dragon’s mouth reeling backwards, along with Dudley’s helmet, as thick globs of sulfurous mucus engulfed his now bare head. All he could hear was a loud gurgling sound as he tried to rub the caustic goo from his eyes. After a few moments, Dudley gave up, accepting that he was now blind, wasn’t getting away, and that he was destined to be baby Dragon food. Giving into the exhaustion, pain, and stress of the afternoon Sir Dudley allowed himself to fall into a deep state of unconsciousness.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been out, but he knew he wasn’t dead or blind. Not with Murray standing over him looking down. No afterlife could be so cruel as to force him to have to spend more time with his squire.

“What happened?” Dudley asked with a cough. He could hear the villagers cheering in the distance.

“You killed the beast! Clearly, this is a miracle.”

“Nonsense, I had the situation under control the whole time. I was just waiting for the right moment before I plunged my sword into the foul beast.”

“Uh, Sir...You didn’t exactly kill her with your sword.”

“No?”

“She choked, Sir. On your helmet. It’s still stuck in there. And she died on your legs.”

Sir Dudley looked down and saw that his squire was telling the truth. The huge form of the dead Dragon was draped over his greaves. While his armor kept him from being crushed, there was no possible way he would be able to get out alone. He couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. She was only trying to protect her child, to feed him and make him strong. And now she was dead because of him. He supposed it was better than him being dead because of her, but it was still a terrible feeling.

“Well, Murray, get this thing off of me.”

“Tried, Sir. She’s far too heavy for Svenson and me.”

“Then get the villagers to help.”

“They won’t, Sir, even dead the Dragon still terrifies them.”

“Well, I can’t believe I’m saying this to you- go get the axe.”

It took Murray almost three hours to chop up enough Dragon that Svenson could pull the carcass off of Dudley. By the time the knight and his squire had returned to the Unhappy Gelding the celebration had ended. Sleeping bodies were strewn throughout the tables and chairs of the inn, and the stench of spilled ale almost made Dudley sick.

Melinda, still awake and waiting for Dudley’s return, had a large plate of roasted fowl ready within minutes. It was clear that the village had spared no expense for the impromptu party.

“Thank you so much, Sir Dudley. I don’t know how we can ever repay you.”

“Twenty percent, my lady,” answered Murray without hesitation. “Remember?”

“Oh, but of course.”

“No.” Dudley stated as he stared around the bar. He looked at the villagers: emaciated elderly, sickly children, one-armed Tark. Finally he settled on the roast fowl in front of him. It was a feast for anyone in the village. A feast they would never again enjoy because of him.

“Keep the tithe,” he stated as he stood. “And please bag up supper. We need to be leaving immediately.”

Melinda gave a confused look, but understood from the knight’s tone that this was not a time to argue.

“Sir?” asked Murray as the barmaid walked away. “Without the tithe, the Coalition will never allow you to return to the city post.”

“That’s alright Murray. We’re not going to be returning anyway. We have something more important to worry about now.”

“What’s that, Sir?” Murray asked with intrigue.

“Remember when I had you dig a grave for the Dragon and I left for a while? Check the bag on the floor.”

“Ugh, Sir. You said you were going to use the little knight’s room. If that’s what’s in it, I really don’t want to open it. I mean, you did that once already and it really wasn’t funny.”

“Just open it, Murray.”

Murray looked down nervously, seeing a large leather satchel sitting next to Dudley’s feet. He reached down slowly, and cautiously pulled it open. Directly in front of his eyes was a small, green-colored, infant Dragon sleeping soundly. Murray’s jaw dropped. He looked at his mentor and grasped for the right words, but none came to him. He just stared blankly at the smiling knight.

“Congratulations, Murray,” Dudley whispered. “You’re a mother!”

Want More from T.J Lantz? Check out these fine stories:

Rise of the Retics (Rosehaven Book 1)

Return of the Fae-blood (Rosehaven Book 2)

Gnit-Wit Gnipper and the Perilous Plague

Gnit-Wit Gnipper and the Ferocious Fire-Ants

Gnit-Wit Gnipper and the Devious Dragon

Sir Dudley Tinklebutton and the Dragon’s Lair

Sir Dudley Tinklebutton and the Sword of Cowardice

Sir Dudley Tinklebutton and the Unholy Grail

Reigning Cats and Dogs (Anthro-Adventures Book 1)