"Cassima?"
"Yes, it's me," Cassima replied, trying to focus on the image of Edgar's face and the dull, barren landscape behind it. "I'm traveling across the Llewdorian desert."
Edgar squinted at the image of Cassima. It was bouncing and rocking wildly, and Edgar couldn't see anything but sky behind her. No, wait – there was something else…
"What's that you're riding?"
"Oh, just a griffin," Cassima replied simply.
The Edgar of yesterday might have reeled with surprise and immediately start asking questions, but the Edgar of now had encountered so many bizarre creatures, people, and happenings over the previous twenty-four hours that all he did in response to the queen's reply was nod in acknowledgement.
"Hmm," he murmured as he did so. "Listen, Cassima, I'm in a region of my homeland that I've never heard of before. I've been moving through it, and it's been getting more and more morbid the farther I go. I heard that the land I'm in now is called Dark Etheria, and I met this strange man who stole my magic for a short time, but now I think I've got it back, and this little dragon wants me to…"
"For heaven's sake, slow down, Edgar!"
Edgar did so immediately, realizing that he had been babbling again.
"Anyway, I really think you should come to this part of Etheria."
"Why?"
Edgar paused and then spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully:
"This place looks a bit rough. We could stand a much better chance together."
After her recent escape from Bluebeard, Cassima felt prepared for just about any sort of roughness.
"As you wish, but…"
A sudden nausea made her feel disoriented, and it was fortunate that she had been gripping the griffin's neck, otherwise she would have fallen.
"Cassima?" Edgar asked, growing mildly alarmed as he saw her head slumping forward. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," she said weakly. "I just felt a bit off again."
"You mean like you were the first time we talked through these things?" Edgar asked. "You're not getting sick, are you, Cassima?"
"I told you, I'm fine," Cassima said shortly. "As I was saying, how can I be sure we'll wind up in the same time?"
Edgar hadn't thought of this. He shrugged and muttered:
"We'll just have to take that chance."
"If you say so. Start describing the land you're in, then."
"All right…It's a chain of islands floating in the sky, there's a lavender mist over everything, the islands are purplish and jagged, and there are a few scrubby trees, and…"
Cassima shut her eyes as Edgar spoke, making sure not to lose her grip on the griffin as she did so. The picture of Dark Etheria grew stronger within her mind, and she felt herself fading away.
"So long, friend," she whispered to her faithful steed, "I've got to leave you."
With that, she vanished. The griffin became somewhat alarmed at the sudden absence of the person on its back, but when a glance at the sky below confirmed that its rider hadn't fallen off, it continued soaring proudly forward, higher and higher into the clear desert sky, and presently, it vanished as well.
"Okay," Edgar muttered, tucking his pendant away. "Might as well get this over with."
He gingerly stepped into the catapult's basket and assumed the most relaxed position he was capable of, which was about as relaxed as a taut bowstring.
"Yes, might as," said the dragon, flapping towards the basket. A surprised look suddenly broke out on his face.
"Oh darn," he snarled angrily.
"What?"
"I forgot to sharpen my axe this morning. It's the only sharp thing I have, and hence, the only thing suitable for cutting that release rope."
"Can't you use your teeth?" Edgar inquired.
"What!?" the dragon squeaked. "My teeth? What do you think I am, some sort of cold-blooded beast?? Sorry, but I am not using my teeth to cut that rope. Do you have anything sharp that I could cut it with?"
Although Edgar secretly wished that he didn't have any such thing, he slowly nodded in response and handed Gabbro's knife to the dragon. As he did, he turned and tried to coax Scrimshaw into joining, but the tiny griffin refused to budge. His first experience with the dragon had not been a pleasant one, and now he refused to go anywhere near the ornery reptile. Edgar hoped that Scrimshaw would realize what was going on and hop into the basket with him before it was too late.
"Ah, perfect," the dragon purred as he took the knife from Edgar's hand. "If you don't mind, I think I'll keep this as payment for my services. Is that all right with you?"
"It's all right," Edgar shrugged.
"Excellent. Now just relax and try to think 'light.'"
"Okay…" Edgar said, breathing deeply and trying desperately not to panic as the dragon began sawing through the release rope. After a few agonizingly long seconds, Edgar felt the basket lurch violently forward, and in the next instant, he was flying through the air, heading towards one of the biggest islands of Dark Etheria.
"Oh no," the dragon muttered as Scrimshaw squawked plaintively, when he realized what had happened and took off, flapping awkwardly through the air, faithfully following his master. "Wait! Stranger! You left your pet behind!"
Nothing but the brooding silence of Dark Etheria answered him. Edgar had vanished into the mist by now, and Scrimshaw was rapidly becoming less visible as well.
"Well, I hope he waits for you to catch up, little guy," the dragon said in a quieter voice. "Good luck…and I mean to both of you."
Of course, none of the these words were audible to Edgar, as he careened through the air as gracefully as a lump of knotted rags, screaming at the top of his lungs and thinking there was probably a very sound reason why some fairies couldn't fly.
Continue...
