The City lay sleeping in the moonlight . . .

No, literally, the city was asleep. But, you’ll say, a city should be asleep in the moonlight. It’s nighttime — the only ones who should be awake are the palace guards and a mother awake with a fussy child.

But you don’t understand. The city was asleep in the moonlight, and in the daylight, and on a dark and stormy night. Everyone lay sleeping - the king with his crown over one ear, and the queen gently snoring, all the guards slumped over where they had been standing. And in the city every mother and father and child and butcher and baker and candlestick maker was fast asleep and had been for years.

How many years? No one knew for sure; and as I’m sure you’ve already figured out, the city of Fountainplay was under a spell. But it had been so long that no one outside the city could quite remember who cast the spell or why.

Had it been a spiteful troll angry from not being invited to the castle? Or a wicked witch envious of the beauty of the princess? Perhaps it had been the King of the Elves seeking to stop the growth of the city into the spaces of his kingdom. No, it may have been a devious Wizard who did it just because he could.

Be that as it may, the city of Fountainplay slept through the heat of summer and the cold of winter; through the leaves of autumn and the flowers of spring. And to make matters worse (if, come to think of it, matters could be worse) you couldn’t even get into the city anymore to try and wake them up. In addition to the spell of sleep, a covey of dragons had moved into the area surrounding the city.

Question - do dragons come in a covey? Or is it a pod? I know it isn’t a litter - that’s puppies and kittens and these were no one’s idea of pets. Oh, well, we’ll leave it at a covey for now.

The dragons numbered in the dozens and dozens. They took to the sky at first light of day, flying and soaring and swooping and breathing fire the whole time. It was a dreadful sight and one which sensible folks used to scare the dickens out of their children when they were bad. (Now, children, they would say, remember young master Hobbins. He was a bad child and now he is nowhere to be seen - the dragons seen to that! But, Pa, Yon Hobbins went to live with his aunt, didn’t he? Now never you mind - the point is that dragons may come for bad children so mind yer manners and eat yer supper!)

Dragons, it seemed, had little practical use beyond this. Their swooping and their fire caused people to stay many leagues from their range; it was the sensible thing to do. But that left the people of Fountainplay to sleep on and on and on. But strangely, it was the dragons doing that finally started the process that lifted the spell. After all, nothing lasts forever . . .

On an especially hot August day, the dragons were wheeling through the sky, fighting and snapping and breathing fire. Two ill-tempered old males were fighting with tooth and claw and fang and flame when one snapped off part of the scaly wing of the other. This thick piece of wing fell into the city and crashed through the dome of the palace striking just in front of the king’s throne! And even with this racket all in the throne room slept on unmindful of the noise.

But what did happen was this - a large ornate desk covered with gold and silver crashed over on it’s side and slid along the marble floor. This desk had been used by the King’s Scribe who wrote down the words and decrees of the king. The top of the desk flew open and out poured a number of paper tubes which were coated inside and out with beeswax. These tubes had been used by the scribe to safely store the King’s decrees.

With a clatter the tubes flew out of the fallen desk and rolled down the marble steps of the throne room. Striking the bottom of the stairs a number of the tubes continued rolling across the courtyard. Some of the tubes flipped sideways and caught fast. Others popped open, spreading the king’s wit and wisdom across parts of the city. Picking up speed, the few remaining tubes began bouncing down the main street of the city. Past sleeping people and animals, more of the tubes burst open draping paper over bushes and barbers, hedges and hogs.

Finally, one last tube escaped out the gate of the city and rolled down the hill on which the city was built. Rolling and bouncing, the tube finally took a great leap, flying end over end to land with a splash in the river at the bottom of the hill.

Bobbing in the current, the tube rushed along through the lands occupied by the dragons. On and on the river ran carrying the waxy tube with it. Finally the river widened and slowed in its wanderings. The last tube holding the scribe’s work came to rest on a muddy bank far from the city and the dragons.

Sometime later (did it matter if it was hours or days or months or years?) the riverbank where the brightly colored tube stuck out of the mud received visitors. The first indication was the sound of voices arguing loudly. Striding along the riverbank came a tall young man and struggling to keep up was a girl of nine or ten.

“Bozrell Stonewill, you slow down and wait for me!”, the young girl commanded. “Stop right now or I’ll . . . .”

“Or you’ll what?”, sneered back her brother, for Boz Stonewill was purposefully trying to irritate his sister - successfully it seems. “I’ll kick you in the shins! Again!”, replied Ovia Stonewill, “and this time you’ll be lame!”

Stopping so suddenly that Ovia walked into her brother from behind, Boz looked down at his little sister with exasperation. Though they were ten years apart in age, you could see their family ties - each was dark of hair and complexion, with strong handsome features; now colored with irritation.

“All right,” said Bozrell sarcastically, “I’ve slowed down. Now what?”

“You are always trying to leave me behind - and I think you enjoy it! I as little like traveling with you as you do me. But we are family and since mother and father died . . . .” Her voice trailed off and tears ran down her smudged cheeks.
Boz sighed. It had been a year since their parents had perished. They were all each other had and they had been traveling now for over six months seeking a new place to live. Their travels had taken them through mountains and across plains as they sought a home and a means of making a living. Boz had worked anywhere and everywhere he could to keep them in food, clothes and shelter. Ovia had learned to care for children younger than her while parents worked and, by doing so, contributed almost an equal share to their livelihood.

Kneeling and putting his arms around his sister, Boz sighed (he has sighed more in the last six months than in all the rest of his life) and hugged Ovia. “I’m sorry, little sister, I am hungry and tired and irritable. I’ll try to be better. Now wipe your eyes and we’ll stop here for a while and rest. I think yonder stream would feel good on bare feet.”

Ovia sniffed loudly and ran her rough sleeve over her face. “I’m sorry too, Boz, but I’ll try to be more agreeable.” Sitting down, she removed her battered boots and rolled up the legs of her pants. Boz settled down against a tree trunk and closed his eyes.

Parting the rushes at the edge of the steam bank, Ovia put one foot into the water. It was cold but it felt wonderful to tired feet. As she put the other foot in the water and turned to call out to her brother, an object in the mud caught her attention. Was it a tree branch? No, it was too smooth. Leaning down she grasped and pulled with all her strength. It moved but would not come out of the mud.

She called to Boz, “Help me - I need your help.” Boz stirred and swatted a fly off his nose, “Not now, dirty face, I’m still resting.”

Summoning her mother’s stubbornness, Ovia yelled, “Help me NOW - I’ve found something!” That got Bozrells’ attention.

Joining his sister on the mud bank, Boz grasped the tube and pulled - hard. With a sticky sound the tube came free. He climbed back on the bank looking at the smooth cylinder with puzzlement. Ovia was soon looking over his shoulder as he examined the tube.

And, as often happens when faced with a puzzle, he began guessing what it might be. “Is it a spy glass? Or maybe someone’s’ travel pack? It isn’t very heavy.” he said giving it a shake. He might have continued this if Ovia hadn’t grabbed it from him.

Pulling on one end, she said, “The best way to find out it to open it”, and she continued to pull at one end and then the other. With a soft pop, the lid flew off and sheets of fine parchment paper slipped out.

“Now you’ve done it,” yelled Boz, reaching for the tube. Paper continued to roll out onto the grass and the breeze began to spread them in all directions. For a few moments, Boz and Ovia danced around each other, first grabbing at paper, then bumping into each other, then shouting directions to each other, finally ending up in an exhausted heap on the grass with all the sheets of paper in hand.

Boz finally looked up and said, “You couldn’t wait a moment, could you? I would have gotten it open sooner or later.”

“At the rate you were going it would have been much later, brother.” Ovia began looking at the papers in her hands. The parchment was the color of fine linen and soft to the touch. It was covered in script done in a fine hand; smooth and flowing.

“The King of Fountainplay decrees that all ducks, no, duchesses must wear less jewelry than the queen,” read Ovia. “Fountainplay? I wonder where that is? And whose papers are these?”

Boz was reading a page of his own, “‘The King of Fountainplay sets forth this day a decree that the all the people must bring a day’s produce of their farms and shops and mills as tribute to the King’s birthday.’ Ovia, these are the papers of a king written down by someone in his service. But how did they get here?”

Puzzling over their find, the brother and sister continued to read; even after they continued on their way Ovia continued to read which caused her to stumble several times.

As evening approached Boz and Ovia approached a small town gleaming in the late afternoon sun. As they had so many times before, the brother and sister began looking for a place to stay and perhaps someone who would share a meal with them. During their travels they had slept in barns and in the open under the stars and in a cave and, a few times, in the homes of friendly folk who took them in.

The town was called Nypara according to the sign at the outskirts of the city. Boz kept his eyes open for someplace he might work and earn some badly needed coins. As they approached the town square, Ovia began to look for mothers with small children who looked like they could use help.

Seated at the well in the center of the square was an old blind man. He worked with nimble hands at a small loom before him. In some amazing way he wove a cloak of many different colors even though he could not see his work.

Boz and Ovia sat a small distance from the man who looked in their direction with uncanny accuracy. Ovia felt uncomfortable under this blind gaze. “Good evening to you, children,” said the old man in a low rumbly voice. Though surprised, Boz answered with respect, “and good evening to you, sir, but . . .”.

Semml laughed (for this was his name) and said, “How did I know you? At the very edges of things there are no boundaries. As you walked by I sensed you, as you sat down, I heard you, as you looked at me, I saw you.”

This seemed to offer no opportunity for reply so they remained silent. Semml continued, “You have traveled far and are weary. Is there something an old man can do to help you?”

Boz spoke again, “Kind sir, we look for a place to sleep and the opportunity to work to earn our living. I have experience in many occupations and my sister is skilled at taking care of children.”

The old man turned his attention to Ovia, “So, young one, you are grown beyond your years and all this travel and travail because of the loss of your parents. Yet your future seems bright; it glows around you in the evening light.”

“Sir, you are blind; how do you know these things?”, asked Ovia. “My eyes no longer receive light but eyes that do not see do not make one blind. It is the attitude of the heart that says whether one sees or not. I see beyond what eyes can see - and I perceive that you are tired and hungry (That, thought Ovia, was an easy guess). Come with me to my home and I will share what I have with you.”

Packing his loom in an old sack, Semml rose to his feet and, with the aid of a long stick, began walking. With a bit of apprehension, the brother and sister followed a distance behind the old man.

Semml quickly got ahead of them and turned a corner. As they hurried to catch up they turned the same corner only to find that they had lost the blind man. How could that be? They had only been a few steps behind. Walking slowly now, Boz and Ovia looked here and there, through open doors and windows. And just when they wondered if he had been a figment, the old man’s voice came from behind them. Boz fought to seem calm but Ovia jumped straight up.
The old man stood in an open door beckoning to them, “This way children, remember one doesn’t see with eyes alone.” Entering the low door, the children came into a small neat room. Everything had a place and the room was full of color; bright shards of glass suspended by strings made a colorful pattern in the setting sunlight. Rocks and crystals filled odd spaces in the walls and glowed in purples and reds.

At a small table at the back of the room, Semml had placed loaves of hard bread and cheese, a pitcher of goat’s milk, and a basket of fruit. “Come children, eat and rest yourselves and tell me of your journey.”

Hunger overcame their lingering caution and soon the three were eating and talking. Semml looked from one to the other of the children as they spoke, still seemingly able to see them in some strange way. When their story approached the events of earlier in the day, Semml for the first time seemed surprised. “Papers in a tube? A colored tube full of papers with writing? How did you come upon this, children?”

His voice had risen in excitement and Ovia saw color come into his cheek. “I found the tube sticking out of the mud of a stream bank. Boz wouldn’t help me at first but then he finally came and helped me pull it out of the mud. Then we both pulled at it until the end of the tube burst open and all these papers fell out and then we read them and they are from a city called Fountainplay . . . ”

Semml sat up with a start, which frightened Ovia and stopped her torrent of words. “Fountainplay,” said Semml in an odd voice; so odd that Ovia pushed her chair back from the table and even Boz shifted nervously in his chair.

“Fountainplay was my home as a child; Fountainplay is from where I fled when I was very small; and Fountainplay is where I am exiled from today. Fountainplay is the city ever sleeping with none to wake them and Fountainplay is home to dragons.”

The old man fell silent then and an air of sadness filled the room. For several long moments no one spoke until Ovia reached out a hand to touch the old man’s arm, “Please, sir, don’t be sad. I don’t understand what you mean about a sleeping city. Please, sir, tell us what you mean.”

But Semml shook his head. Straightening he looked at his young guests, “Not tonight, child, not tonight. For the hour is late and you need rest.” Startled, Bozrell realized that later afternoon had turned into night as they had eaten and talked.

“Behind that door is a room where I store my weaving materials. You will find cloth and yarn that will make a comfortable bed. Rest now and let sleep knit the ‘raveled sleeve of care.” With that the old man retreated to another small room to sleep.

“Well that was more than odd,” thought Boz as he prepared to sleep. Ovia had fallen asleep as quickly as her head had hit her makeshift pillow of yarn and cloth. Laying down with his head on his pack, Boz wondered what the old man meant when he called Fountainplay a city asleep and as he fell asleep a soft glow seemed to emanate from the paper tube.

The bright light of morning found it’s way through a crack in the wall and onto Ovia’s closed eyes. Dancing dust motes made colorful speckles as she slowly opened her eyes and, as she had done so many times before, wondered where she was.

Familiar snoring told her that her brother was still asleep and bright yarn on the floor in front of her reminded her of their strange host. Sleeping city . . . dragons . . . exile . . . Standing quietly she entered the main room of the house and quickly realized that no one else was there. On the table where they had supped were pears and bread and the juice of grapes. But Semml and his loom were gone.

Stopping only to eat a bite, Ovia entered the now busy street. Merchants and maids, goats and goatherds - the city bustled with sight and sound. Retracing her steps from the night before, Ovia soon heard the splashing of the fountain where women came to draw water. She was looking for children to care for but she was also looking for the old blind man.

As she drew near the fountain, she spied Semml in his place weaving his colorful trade. She came near him to offer him good morning when he looked up and said, “Well, little one, you are here early. Have you had your breakfast and where is your brother?”

Astounded, Ovia stopped with her mouth open. “How, where, who”, she sputtered. For the market was noisy and she had said nothing. With a smile the old man beckoned her to sit with him. She sat and watched as lambs and small children took their place for water.

Semml continued his story from the previous night as if he had just paused to take a breath. “Fountainplay lies many leagues to the north from here. My mother and my father lived on a small farm on the lands just outside the city wall. My father raised sheep and my mother used the wool to make soft yarn. We also raised grapes and berries and with these my mother colored the yarn. The city rose above us on the hill and I loved to see the bright banners on the city walls waving in the wind.

On feast days we would sometimes travel into the city to see the king and queen as they rode by in a carriage pulled by proud black stallions. The King and Queen would ride to the gates of the city as all the people cheered and then they would ride back to the steps of the palace where the King would speak stirring words to the crowd.

I was too young to know exactly what he was saying but my mother would say that the King was a proud man and my father would hush her. I was also too young to understand the talk later that day as we stopped to visit with my mother’s sister. My uncle spoke of dragons that had been seen in the distance by travelers. My father said that there had always been dragons somewhere or other but my uncle interrupted him, ‘these dragons are much closer to Fountainplay than ever before - and no one seems to know why they approach. What if they come even closer?’

A shadow passed over our celebration and no one spoke of it any more but I knew my mother was worried. We returned home and went about our days as we always had - Father tending the vines and the sheep. Mother tending house and creating beautiful woven cloth for sale.

But one morning I heard shouting along the road before our house. A group of people was hurrying along down the long hill from the city. They made me afraid because they were afraid. Children cried and fathers yelled and mothers and grandmothers pleaded for them to go faster.

My father tried to speak to those hurrying by but was ignored. Suddenly my aunt and uncle appeared out of the crowd and almost fell into our house. “We must flee, we must hurry,’ said my uncle, ‘The dragons are almost upon the city - something happened in Fountainplay and now we must flee!’”

Ovia realized she had hardly been breathing and stopped to shake her head - Semml had stopped speaking; gazing into an unseen distance. “What . . what happened then?” she asked; almost afraid to hear the answer.

Looking at her with unseeing eyes, Semml continued, “My father and mother rushed to gather a few belongings so we could flee. As we started down the road towards the others a shadow came over the sun growing larger and larger. My mother screamed and my father urged us to hurry; he turned to face the dragon whose shadow covered us. I cried out and tried to run but my mother held me tightly. The flame that stole my father from me also stole my sight. When the heat and stench finally passed my father and my sight were both gone.”

“My mother and I wept as we fled; we must find a hiding place. We crept into a small wet hole in the hillside where we waited, miserable and sad, for night to fall. For dragons do not fly at night but sleep where they land.”

“So by day we hid as the dragons wheeled and fought overhead and by night we fled further and further from Fountainplay. At last we arrived here where my mother raised me and took care of me until she passed away many years ago. As I grew I began to perceive many things around me. I could see the brightness of people though I could not see them directly. I could hear the undercurrent of their thoughts. And that is why, small one, I said that your brightness glows.”

He paused in thought, “The dragon’s breath stole my eyesight but gave me an inner sight that now serves me. But in Fountainplay no one sees - all dream in endless sleep.”

Ovia started as from a dream, “But what caused the sleep? Why do the dragons rule over the city? What is to be done? They must be saved, yes?”

“If they are to be wakened we must first discover why they sleep. This evening we will read the words of the king in the papers you found and perhaps there we will find the answer.”

The day waxed and waned and before long it was evening. Boz had worked with a craftsman that day and had earned wages. He had bought bread and cheese for supper. After they had eaten the old man stirred the fire to brightness. “Now, children, let us hear the king’s papers read.”

Ovia opened the tube and pulled out all the papers. Much of what was there was everyday business concerning roads and buildings and crimes and punishments. But the final pages held more interest: “The King has decreed that the Dragonsbane flowers are reserved for the enjoyment of the royal family. The possession of these flowers by any but the royals will result in imprisonment.”

Semml stirred, “The dragonsbane are bright, fragrant flowers - they grew wild all over the city. They king must have grown jealous of their beauty - read on.”
Ovia looked at the next page, “The shortage of Dragonsbane makes this necessary . . . very few flowers remain and are therefore reserved for the king and his family.”

The next page was written in a more hurried and less neat hand: “All citizens of Fountainplay must flee for the last Dragonsbane has died and dragons are seen throughout the kingdom. I, Contil, scribe to the King write these last words. Dragons wheel through the sky overhead; their foul breath is affecting everyone. The king and queen are unconscious and others are falling where they stand. Have mercy on Fountainplay - the pride of our king and the loss of our Dragonsbane have doomed us all. We will sleep forever. Now I must end this record though no one will ever see it.” And just below these words were scrawled,

<i>”The seeds of day from dragons drop, at night must be stolen - a promise to keep.
The teeth of the dragon are seeds that are granted, for flowers to bloom and rid us of sleep.”</i>

And there the writing ended. Unseen, Bozrell had joined them as the last words were read. “What is this Dragonsbane that is spoken of?” Ovia jumped at his voice; she had been lost in a vision of dragons wheeling through a dark sky.
Semml spoke, “Dragonsbane is a bright flower that grew wild throughout the kingdom. Its’ bright hues and sweet scent were part of our daily lives. I was only a child then; I did not know that the flowers were dying.”

His unseeing eyes sought those of the children, “Will you help me? Will you help me find the way to waken the sleeping people of my land?

Bozrell’s eyes widened in alarm, “no, I will not take my sister in the way of harm. You ask too much, old man. I . . . I am sorry that your people are sleeping but my sister is my only family now and I must protect her.”

Ovia whirled on her brother, “how can we not help, Boz? All we have done for these many months is walk from place to place and I am tired of it. Why should we wander with no purpose through life?”

“But, Ovia, we do not know what we will encounter on the way and then we must pass through the land of dragons. It is simply too dangerous. And without the flowers how will anyone awaken? I do not even know the way.”
The old man’s voice interrupted them, “but I do know the way and will lead you safely.”

“Lead us! Safely! You are blind, old man, how can you think you can lead us. How can the blind lead the seeing?”

Semml paused and then replied, “Am I blind? Thanks to the dragons, I see more than most and often more than I care to see. I will travel with you and show you the way. I will not slow you down nor be a burden in any way.”

Boz looked at the old man and then at his sister and then at the sky, “Fine, we have little future as it is - we may as well face dragons. Lead us, old man.”

The next morning the three left Nypara on the highland road leading north into the hills. Semml walked with a stick but had no problems on the rough path.

After they had traveled in silence for several hours, Ovia finally spoke, “Semml, how will we wake Fountainplay? Where do we find dragonbane? He didn’t speak for several moments and Ovia thought he hadn’t heard. Then, suddenly, he repeated the verse

<i>”The seeds of day from dragons drop, at night must be stolen - a promise to keep.
The teeth of the dragon are seeds that are granted, for flowers to bloom and rid us of sleep.”</i>

“The answer lies herein - the legends my mother told me as a child say that Fountainplay is build on the old breeding grounds of the dragons. Dragons live for hundreds of years but throughout their lives they continually lose their teeth. According to the verse, these teeth are the seeds that blossom into dragonsbane. As the town grew the flowers began to die off and when the last faded so did the city.”

Boz, who had been scanning the way before them, now turned, “Dragons’ teeth? Dragon’s TEETH? Are we on a fool’s mission then? Why did you not tell us this before?”

Semml looked at him with uncanny, unseeing eyes. “I did not say it would be an easy task but one that would require courage. I have a way and a plan that I will tell you of when the dragons appear.”

Dubious and furious, Bozrell was tempted to leave the old man and return the way they had came with only his sister. At that moment, that option disappeared.

A shadow covered the sun followed in rapid succession by two more. Wheeling above them were three scaly, smoke-belching dragons sizing them up from on high.

“Run,” cried Semml as he turned toward a rock outcrop at the top of the next hill. As they ran, the dragons retracted their wings and stooped like a hawk or an eagle. The three ran for their lives though Boz and Ovia saw no hope for them. As they reached the rocks, Boz thought that their lives were forfeit but looking up in amazement he saw first Semml then Ovia vanish before his eyes.

The first dragon hurled a stream of fire from open jaws and Bozrell felt the tremendous heat on his backside. Just as the flame reached out for him, Boz fell headfirst into an opening in the rocks. Rolling forward his nose caught the awful stench and his eyes produced a torrent of tears from the deadly fumes. But the worst of the heat passed over them and the other dragons wheeled back into the sky with cries of confusion and rage.

Boz lay completely still for several minutes - he was afraid that the dragons would land and come for him. Finally he looked up and around and then ahead into the shallow cave; for that was what he had fallen into. Wiping burning eyes, he strained until he made out two shapes before; the larger one must be Semml and the smaller one was Ovia. His sister ran to hug him tight crying to herself with fear and relief.

Rolling to sit up, Bozrell simply sat for more long moments, holding his sister tightly. “Oh, Bozrell,” his sister sobbed, “I thought you were dead.”

Finally beginning to recover, Boz shook his head, “I cannot leave you, dirty face, I promised to take care of you.” Looking at Semml, Boz asked, “How did you know this was here?”

“I was not sure but I remembered how rocks such as these often hid small caves where I played as a child. Now children we are committed. We must wait here till night falls before we move forward. Dragons sleep soundly at night and we may pass among them.

As the shadows lengthened and evening approached, the three stayed still in the shallow opening. Overhead they heard the shrieking cries of dragons as they came to roost on the burned fields ahead. Semml faced the brother and sister. “Now listen carefully and I will tell you what we must do . . .”

Now darkness was complete and only a few stars glimmered in the night sky. Creeping out from their hiding place they looked towards the north. In the distance they could make out the beginnings of the mountains wherein lie the sleeping city.

“We will be as quiet as mice now,” said Semml. “The dragons will sleep from dusk till dawn and we will find our way among them. My sight is gone yet still I will perceive the dragons and lead us around them. As we travel through the sleeping ones, we must feel the ground as we go. The teeth of dragons are curved and rough like stones. As you feel them with your fingers, pick them up and place them in your travel bags. Long before dawn we will have found our way through them and our way to Fountainplay will be clear.”

Boz and Ovia strained to see. As their eyes adjusted to the dark they could see only enough to keep from falling headlong. As they moved forward across the blasted field it seemed that large rocks covered the plain. But suddenly one of these rocks snorted and shot a small jet of flame from its nostrils. The dreaming dragon illuminated the fact that each rock was a sleeping dragon!

It was at this moment that Ovia’s courage failed. Hearing tales of dragons and seeing tails of dragons were two completely different things! The momentary burst of flame had ruined their night vision. Ovia stood in fear, trembling and thinking her heart would give them away by its pounding.

She knew that in a moment panic would cause her to run and in running she would expose them but she could not help herself. It was at that moment that strong arms enfolded her and held her in a safe firm grasp. Her brother had dropped to one knee; sensing her terror. He could not even whisper to her but his strength flowed to her and stopped her panic.

As the moment passed she realized that she could again see; if only faintly. Her eyes had readjusted to the faint starlight. Calmer now, she and Boz followed the old man as he led them on a circuitous path through the sleeping monsters.

Silently now they moved and with each step they let their fingers brush the ground. At times they felt rough rocks and the thorns of briars. But every few moments their fingers made out the rough shape of a dragon’s tooth. Picking these up, over and over, they made their way forward. But Ovia had discovered something else about dragons - they smelled BAD. The odor that hung in the air was foul; like old burning garbage that had sat in the sun too long.

Her eyes watered and stung and she stifled several sneezes that threatened to expose them again. She slowed a bit to rub her eyes and nose. Ahead of her she could just make out the shapes of her brother and Semml as they moved left around a large sleeping shape. As she moved to catch up she missed a small shape ahead of her; missed seeing it, but did not miss stepping on something. Something that was at the same time hard and pliable.

A soft cry arose from the shape - she had just stepped on the tail of a baby dragon! This baby was the size of a horse cart and its skin had not yet produced hard, leathery scales. The baby was more startled than angry as it whirled around to face Ovia. Stepping around the baby dragon, Ovia tried to move toward her brother. But now the baby was more curious and followed her. “Wheep?”, it said, “wheeple?”

“No, baby,” Ovia said, “no, go back, don’t follow me.” She continued backing away from the baby dragon that now followed her as she went. Now the baby dragon raised it’s head and cried out in frustration and with that cry everything changed. With a snort one of the large sleeping rocks came suddenly awake as it looked about for her baby. The mother dragon could not see well in the darkness but heard the plaintive cries from her baby.

Lighting off a burst of flame, the dragon whirled to see Ovia standing frozen in the fading flame light. Then a voice rose in loud command - “RUN!”

Semml no more than uttered the word then he turned to the north and began running. Even as he ran he continued to reach down and grab fallen teeth.

Now other dragons were coming awake from the commotion. Spouts of flame and angry growls arose as the confused dragons tried to see what was happening. The night erupted in fire.

Ovia and Boz followed the old man as he ran. Boz followed the old man’s example and continued to gather teeth as he ran but Ovia could do no more than run. They wove among the now agitated dragons that still were uncertain what was happening. Flame lit the night sky often enough now that it was like running through a lightning storm. Running, dodging, falling - they ran for what seemed an eternity.

Now the dragons seemed to sense their direction and the flames came closer. But dragons cannot fly at night so their flames mostly struck the burnt field or other dragons that screamed in anger and pain. Each moment it seemed would be their last and when it seemed that they could run no more the first light of dawn appeared to their right lightening the sky.

With the dawn’s early light the dragons began to stretch their wings and prepare to take to the sky. The three reached the beginnings of an old upward path that headed up the mountain.

“We are within a few miles now,” the old man wheezed, “when we cross the first pass we can begin to plant the seeds we have gathered. Keep running.”

As the dawn grew in strength the dragons wheeled into the sky. They pursued the three with gouts of flame and heat, which drove them into each small hiding place they could discover.

Ahead Ovia saw the ruined gate opening in a ruined wall. The outer limit of the city was upon them. Looking up and straining to see as the sun washed the sides of the mountain, Ovia could see the shape of the sleeping city in the distance.

The three stopped for a moment under an overhanging rock. Exhaustion was written on each face but the old blind man encouraged them, “We may now begin planting the seeds of dragons’ bane. Each tooth must be completely covered with soil; the darkness and cool moist dirt will cause them to bloom quickly.”

Gathering themselves they began the race up the hill. Every few moments, Ovia felt in her bag, grabbed a seed and thrust it into the soil beneath her feet. Dragons swooped and screamed in anger shooting rivers of flame and heat down on them. Each moment she feared she would fall and be consumed in a blast of heat. But each moment she zigged when the dragons zagged and so made her way up the hillside.

Bozrell reached the inner wall of the city and was amazed when he fell over a sleeping guardsman who had dropped where he stood. The falling probably saved his life as a dragon shot flame where he had just been standing.
Shaken he crawled forward planting dragon’s teeth as he went. He had long since stopped wondering if there were any hope; it seemed that this would be his last effort.

Rising to his feet, Boz looked ahead to see Semml and Ovia several hundred feet ahead among the houses and buildings of the city. He staggered forward in a poor attempt at a run. Overhead a large old male dragon took sight at Ovia moving more slowly now through weariness. Folding his wings, the dragon stooped much as a hawk or a kite does at their prey. As he approached faster now, Ovia became aware of the rapidly expanding shadow. She turned and faced the dragon unable to run any more.

With a scream of triumph, the dragon spewed a river of flame toward the child. At the moment of her oblivion, Ovia was struck by a hurtling shape, which shielded her from the heat and blast.

Bozrell had gathered all his remaining strength and had run up the hill toward his sister. As the flame raced towards her, Bozrell leaped knocking her sister aside and at the same time feeling a searing pain across his neck and shoulder as the flame struck him.

Now Ovia dragged her injured brother moving him against the wall of a building. A few feet away, the old blind man continued putting dragon’s teeth beneath the soil. Overhead the old dragon saw the three sitting unmoving.

Settling to the earth the dragon moved ominously toward the exhausted trio.
Semml looked at the brother and sister, “Thank you, children, for your effort. I am sorry that we failed. But I believe the city will rise again.” The old dragon approached closer and eyed them with malice. Raising his head, the old male roared at the sky in preparation of covering them with flame.

But at the moment of their doom a small movement at her feet caught Ovia’s final attention. Out of the ground burst a shoot of green and a flaming flower of red. The sweet odor burst from first this flower than another and another and other. Rearing back the old dragon screamed in frustration now.

The odor of dragonsbane began to fill the air now as first dozens, then hundreds, and then thousands of bright flowers blossomed. With cries of rage and pain, the dragons wheeled into the skies, rising on powerful wings seeking to avoid the pungent flowers.

And now, around the three, the flowers aroma spreads like a soothing blanket. Though exhausted, Semml, Ovia and Bozrell mounted the steep street toward the palace. As they walked they heard the murmuring of many voices now wakened for the first time in - well, does it matter how long?

Finally they mount the steps of the castle itself. Entering the royal chamber the three stand before the king and queen as the light of morning greets their opening eyes.

It is now many years later. It is a great feast day in Fountainplay; dragonsbane abounds in bright violet and orange and blue and red. Banners wave from every high tower. The people throng the streets dressed in bright new finery; making their way up the steep streets to the castle courtyard. There is singing and the playing of instruments and jugglers and magicians and street players and all manner of excitement.

Just then the sound of trumpets fills the air with clear, bright notes that seem to rise up into the air. The voluntary rings out bringing cheers from the throats of all the people. Up the main street comes a parade of soldiers dressed in gleaming armor and carrying spears with tips that catch the sun like points of fire. Behind them come mounted horsemen; their steeds dressed in the finest of colors as they carry helmeted soldiers.

All the people strain to see what is next - then they pick up cheering again. Riding on white stallions come Prince Bozrell and Princess Alcina. The bridles of their horses were festooned with dragonsbane with the bright flowers flowing down like water. It is the marriage day for the prince and princess - they mount the hill and enter into the courtyard of the palace. Coming behind them on a stallion black as midnight rides Countessa Ovia Dragonbane; one of the saviors of the city. As she enters the courtyard she looks upward to the entrance to the great hall.

Her eyes seek a special place, a place of honor at the right hand of the king’s throne. Seated on a seat that could almost be called a throne in itself sits an old man. He is a man with blind eyes who sits seeing all this is unseen.

And the happiness in Fountainplay is that of those who wake from sleep to the light of a bright new day - may we all aspire to live in the brightness of day.