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    The Dragons of Morad: Fairendale, #4
    The Dragons of Morad: Fairendale, #4
    The Dragons of Morad: Fairendale, #4
    Ebook132 pages1 hour

    The Dragons of Morad: Fairendale, #4

    By L.R. Patton

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    About this ebook

    A dangerous crossing. An arid wasteland. A smattering of footprints.

    The children of Fairendale, still fleeing for their lives, cross the border between the Weeping Woods and the dragon lands of Morad—a boundary line that has not been crossed since the people of Fairendale and the dragons of Morad agreed to keep to their own lands or suffer the consequences of death. And now the people, in the form of Arthur, Maude and the children, have violated the agreement.

     

    When the king's men discover footprints that can only be seen by the light of the moon—which means they have remained inside the Weeping Woods for far too long—and that lead directly to the lands of Morad, the soldiers are faced with a decision: continue pursuit at the risk of angering an army of dragons, thereby risking the lives of every person in the realm, or give up the pursuit and face the ire of their king? Which would you do, reader?

     

    The Dragons of Morad is the fourth book in Fairendale, a magical middle grade series that explores the world of fairy tales, dragons, wizards, and other magical creatures. The world of Fairendale revolves around villains and heroes—all on a quest for what they believe is right. But one cannot always know, at first glance, who is the villain and who is the hero. Throughout the series, the story of King Willis and his determination to keep the throne is woven into the story of his son, Prince Virgil, heir to the throne and friend to the village children, and the story of fairy tale children fleeing for their lives—children who become what we know as fairy tale villains, for one good reason or another.

     

    But, remember, one cannot always know, at first glance, who is the villain and who is the hero.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBatlee Press
    Release dateJun 1, 2016
    ISBN9781533722249
    The Dragons of Morad: Fairendale, #4

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      Book preview

      The Dragons of Morad - L.R. Patton

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      MAUDE and Arthur tried to save the children, and now they have failed. They have failed in all the ways that matter, in all the ways that end in children staying alive. They do not know where their son is. Their daughter is, daily, losing the strength of her gift, for every day she spends without the brother born mere minutes after she was is another day her magic weakens, at the risk of vanishing. The other children are hungry, thirsty, weak, unable to summon magic as well, for when children hunger, magic does not obey.

      Magic has its rules, after all.

      And now they are trapped beneath the earth, while the world moves on and they ration what food they have and watch it, still, diminish. They are no closer to finding a solution than they were before, though it has, in truth, been only a day since they discovered themselves trapped beneath the ground in a secret hiding place that no one, now, will ever be able to find, for there is no longer a portal leading back to the land above. It feels, to the children, that they have been trapped beneath the earth for weeks.

      Whatever will they do?

      Arthur knows they will not exist long without food and, especially, without Mercy’s ability to draw water from the ground, for she has grown far too weak. They have done what they can, kept the food portions small, turned everything they have into more food, but it is the water that confounds him. Mercy, you see, is the most powerful among his students, particularly since his daughter’s magic has, in effect, dried up outside the presence of her twin brother Theo, who disappeared in the king’s roundup, but even Mercy struggles to bring drops into the cup a girl named Ursula holds against the dirt.

      Come, Ursula says. You must try again.

      Arthur watches Mercy lower her staff to the place where the cup meets dirt, watches her eyes glaze, looks at the way her flaming red hair has grown dull in her hiding. He takes a deep breath. He looks at his wife. Enough, he says.

      Mercy drops to the ground. Maude, Arthur’s pale wife, moves to lift the girl onto a chair. Mercy does not sit, though, so much as she slumps.

      But what shall we do, Father? Hazel says. Her eyes, once the color of a spring morning sky, are now the color of fog. She is graying. They are all graying. Arthur cannot bear it. They will die, trapped beneath the very land they love.

      Hush, child, Maude says. It is unclear whether she is speaking to her daughter or the girl who sobs in her arms.

      We shall rest, Arthur says. We shall rest for a time. Then we shall try again.

      But we need water, says one of the boys, Chester, a trickster among the group who plays tricks no longer. One can understand, perhaps, that the reality of finding oneself trapped beneath the earth with no way out leaves no room for trickery and games. His twin brother, Charles, who has always been a quiet sort where his brother was loud, puts a hand on his brother’s arm, as if to stop the words after they have already met the ears of all those gathered in the room.

      There are twenty-four children squeezed in this underground home, along with Maude and Arthur. They hide for their lives. They hide, they believe, right alongside Death, though we, dear reader, can see that he is not here at all.

      You see, a tiny shoe was found on the outside. A shoe that held a very large portal that has, now, been broken. Their way out no longer exists.

      We shall find water, Arthur says. He puts on a brave face for the children, for Arthur has always been the hopeful sort. His wife, however, knows him better. She sees the uncertainty that hides in the wrinkle between his eyebrows. She knows what certainty they face.

      Rest, Mercy, Maude says to the girl still shaking in her arms. It is the best thing you can do for now.

      The children grow silent. The candlelight wavers around them all, huddled in a tiny kitchen carved from the earth. Maude has put a pot on the fire with the last of the water. She will fill it with the last of the vegetables so they can have something to eat, though it will not be much.

      Maude looks around. So many children. So many faces. So many eyes looking desperately for a way out. Maude shivers, though it is anything but cold in this room beneath the ground. Arthur crosses the room to her side.

      We have some food stored away, he says. She looks at this man who is her husband, this man who has seen her through every other danger in their lives. Surely he will be able to get them out of this one. Arthur looks at her and knows what she is thinking. It is not an easy knowing, this one, that someone depends on you to pull a miracle from wherever it is miracles come.

      Their eyes hold for a moment, and then Maude says, Not nearly enough. Not nearly enough to live for long. We must find a way out.

      Yes, Arthur says, gazing back toward the children. We must. He clears his throat. In the meantime, we shall live as long as we can. Let the children eat first. They need their strength.

      No, Hazel says, for she has been listening to her parents, along with the others, for children know how to listen without seeming to. We all eat, or none of us eat.

      Was there ever a braver child who lived than this Hazel? She cannot imagine a life without Maude and Arthur, the mother and father she has always admired and trusted and, most of all, loved. She knows that if they do not eat, they die, and if they die, the children shall die. All of them, for no one knows as much about magic as Arthur and Maude, though they cannot themselves practice it.

      Hazel thinks of her brother, Theo. She knows he is not dead. She can feel it. He is out there somewhere. Perhaps he will find them. She knows, dear reader, that this is quite a fantastical hope, but hope does not always listen to reason.

      Yes, we all eat, the children say, murmuring their agreement, for they know what little chance they have without Arthur and Maude.

      Perhaps I could crawl out? says a tiny boy named Tom, whose shoe was used to create the portal that has been broken. He is the size of a thumb, so small the children must watch their steps always. Perhaps I could crawl through the cracks in the earth.

      And I, says a tiny girl named Thumbelina, whom the children call Lina. She steps forward. Her blue dress is so small it looks as if it is a scrap of fabric, which it likely is, for her mother and father were very poor, and stitches this small are very hard to make, though one might argue it would take only a few stitches to make a dress to fit a girl so tiny.

      And what would you do when you escape? Chester says. Dig us all out?

      They grow quiet once again, though it was Chester’s attempt to make light of the situation in which they find themselves. The children though, including Chester, feel that the situation is anything but light. Laughter does not exist in this hole beneath the ground. Perhaps it once did, before a soldier of the king stumbled, with quite extraordinary luck, we might all agree, upon the tiny shoe and carried away to King Willis what link Arthur, Maude, and the children had to the outside world. But now, well. It is a somber mood that settles upon the place.

      It is too deep, Arthur says. We are down farther than one might imagine. His eyes darken. And much too dangerous. There are far more dangerous things than the king’s men in these woods. You could not travel alone.

      The children shiver, as if the same breath of ice has crossed their chests. They know the stories of these woods. They know of the boy the fairies stole once upon a time, who never returned, and the girl and her father, who disappeared in their time. They know of the goblins that turn a child into a slave. They know of the animal creatures that walk on two legs and speak with human voices.

      And perhaps it is the great tension in this tomb that cracks Maude, for she buries her face in her hands and cries out, What will we do?

      They have, perhaps, lived here too long, without venturing into the light of day, but for a simple gathering of vegetables Arthur did every eve. They are, perhaps, too trapped, too exhausted, too hollow of hope.

      No one has magic strong enough to get them out of this, is what they are all thinking. No one can save them. No way out.

      But there is a girl, slumped in a chair, no longer wrapped in Maude’s arms, thinking. Solving. Planning.

      Might she be the very one to save them?

      Yes. Perhaps she will. But first, let us turn our attention to the castle, where there is some long-awaited news.

      WERE we to follow the very man who lucked upon a tiny shoe, we might see

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