“Isn’t it obvious? What are Gnomes known for keeping? What is the reason you seek him?”
Ignatius nodded, understanding coming over him. “His secrets.”
“Precisely. Those who worship the Rogue Dragons know the only way to raise one is by dark magic; much like the only way into the world in between is the same. What dark spells? No one knows but the Gnomes and the dead.”
Her words sent a chill through him.
“Now I know Gnomes are normally stubborn, but Gelbus Cogspark has a loose enough tongue as it is. I fear it may already be too late.”
“You think they’ve killed him?”
Freida nodded. “It is possible, yes. I have heard nothing of Rogue Dragon sightings. Surely, news of an extinct evil would travel the land fast. We are not too far from Ashbourne, as it stands, but we are not close enough to see those hateful wings take flight. And there is always the chance that Gelbus spilled his information and the Dragon Tongue were unsuccessful.”
Legs weakening, Ignatius found a nearby rock to sit on. He put his hand to his chest, above his heart. The pain there was immense. It ached for Gelbus Cogspark and his friend Elargo, and all the rest of the fisherfolk of Ashbourne. If the Rogue Dragon had somehow risen from the grave, what was stopping it from wreaking havoc across all the land? What was stopping the Tongue from raising more? Nothing, and there wouldn’t be anything to stop it until it was too late.
“You care too much, Ignatius,” Frieda said, obviously noting the pained expression on his face. “It would do you better not to care.”
She may have been right. When you don’t care, there are no consequences, but Ignatius Mangood was not raised that way. He believed, like his father and his father’s father before him, that justice and protecting all those who were in need were a wizard’s sole purpose. If not, then what were they given powers for?
He thought of Maria then, how he had raised her the same way—to be honest, valiant, and honorable—and that only further complicated the situation. His plan had been to track down the Gnome by himself, to uncover the secrets and open the door to the world in between without the music box while Maria was nestled away safely on Earth. But a dragon? Ignatius knew he would not be able to slay a dragon on his own, and he did not trust Freida enough to enlist her help when Frieda was only interested in finding the Gnome. He had barely stood a chance against Malakai, who was already dead. He would need Maria. As much as he hated to put her in danger, he would have to.
“We must go,” Ignatius said.
“I know,” Frieda answered.
“I’ve never slain a dragon.”
“Neither have I.” Freida smiled. It was not the sly and mischievous one—it was genuine this time. “But it may not come to that. We may stop them before they can raise it from the ashes.”
“I hope so.”
Frieda sat next to him. A strong breeze rolled through the trees, rustling the leaves. It caught Freida’s scent and sent it to Ignatius’s nose. She smelled of wild roses. It was a nice smell.
Then, as if he were a young man realizing the existence of women for the first time, he stumbled over his words. “I-I, uh, I—” He shook his head.
Frieda chuckled. “All right, Ignatius?”
“I’m sorry,” he said, smiling back, finally getting control of his tongue. “I have to travel back to Earth. My granddaughter—”
“Yes, the new witch. I have seen her in my flames as well, Ignatius. She is powerful…more powerful than even you realize.” Woodland Witches didn’t see all in their flames, but Ignatius was beginning to learn that they saw a lot.
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“No, don’t be afraid.” She took his hand. His heart did a somersault in his chest. He had only been on a roller coaster once in all of his years on Earth. When Maria was younger, he had taken her and Claire to Cedar Point for her birthday. The nausea, lightheadedness, and nervousness he felt afterward were the reason he had sworn off rollercoasters for good. He never wanted to experience that feeling again, no matter how oddly pleasant the G-forces and weightlessness might have felt at times. But as Freida’s hand was in his own and her flesh warmed his, all those feelings came back and then some. “She is powerful, but she is also good because you, Ignatius Mangood, raised her. Take pride in that, and know she will always do the right thing, even in the face of temptation.”
Ignatius offered a weak smile. His eyes found hers. They were a deep blue, like that of the Caribbean Sea; not the way he had originally pictured a Woodland Witch’s eyes to look—black and red and beady. No, Frieda’s were beautiful. Sure, it could’ve been a spell doing that to her eyes, but Ignatius didn’t think so. There was truth in her gaze.
“Have you seen that in your flames, that she will always do good?” he asked.
Frieda shook her head. “I don’t need to.”
Ignatius looked out at the towering trees, gleaming in the sunlight, swaying in the wind. The two of them sat there, hand-in-hand, saying nothing.
It was nice. It was perfect.
After a moment, Ignatius stood up and said, “I have to go back and get her.”
Frieda rose, too. She nodded.
“Would you…maybe want to go with me?” Ignatius asked. “Since we’re partners now—not partners as in…you know.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”
It’s like you’ve never spoken to a woman before, Ignatius, he thought bitterly.
That sly smile was back on her face. “No, I understand.”
“Is that a yes?”
“I have never seen Earth.”
“It’s beautiful. We won’t be able to stay long, but it’s better than nothing.” Better, Ignatius, he thought. Now take her hand. He did. “I’d be honored if you came along with me,” he said.
She blushed and
