“Very well,” Blackencrill said. “Hurry.”
Darkfest settled Channa Leigh on the dragon’s back. “Wait,” he said, and lifting his hands, he summoned his power once more. “I am Darkfest, master of fire and ice. Horses and mule, now become mice.”
A rush of power flowed from his hands and a trio of mice stood where his and Channa Leigh’s mounts and the mule had been. Gathering the creatures up, he dropped them into hispocket. Climbing onto the dragon’s back, he put his arms around Channa Leigh and held her close. “Away, dragon!”
With a powerful thrumming of his wings, the dragon soared above the valley. Looking down, Darkfest saw that the valley was now surrounded by a tall hedge of briars and thorns. He could only wonder what might have awaited them if they had remained.
“Thy blood, dragon, why did it not work?”
Blackencrill shook his head. “Ye are the wizard, not I.” And so saying, he landed in a broad meadow. “Perhaps ye sought the wrong dragon. Be off now and be gone. I want no more of yer magic.
Chapter Thirteen
The trip home was uneventful. Channa Leigh hid her disappointment well, but Darkfest could not shake off his sense of failure. It weighed like a millstone around his neck. Why had his magic failed?
The question plagued him long after they returned home. Even Channa Leigh’s sweet voice could not ease his troubled mind.
Late one night as he wandered through the castle, he found himself standing in front of the painting of his parents. His gaze settled on his father’s face. The Dragon Lord of Darkfest Castle.
Darkfest swore a short, pithy oath, then turned and went to his chamber. He worked all through the night and as dawn rose in the sky, he held up a small vial of ruby colored liquid. It held three drops of his own blood and the ashes of four of the wolf’s hairs mixed with the juice of wild berries to make it palatable. He stared at the vial a long moment, wondering if he had at last discovered the secret to restore Channa Leigh’s sight.
Unable to wait a moment longer, he ran up the stairs to her bed chamber and rushed inside.
Kneeling beside her bed, he shook her shoulder lightly. “Channa Leigh! Wake up, lass.”
She woke with a start. “Is something wrong, my lord?”
“Drink this.” He thrust the vial into her hand. “Quickly now.”
“What is it?”
“Drink!”
Compelled by the urgency in his voice, she downed the contents in a single swallow, gasped as the fiery liquid burned its way down her throat.
He watched her carefully, his heart pounding with excitement and trepidation.
And then, slowly, she turned to face him. “My lord,” she breathed, and there was a wealth of wonder in her voice. “Truly thou art the most handsome of men.”
“Channa Leigh!”
“I can see ye.” A smile as bright as summer sun curved her lips and lit her eyes. “I can see!”
With a glad cry, he drew her into his arms, their tears mingling as he held her close.
“But how?” she asked, “how did ye do it?”
“The dragon’s blood,” he replied with a rueful grin.
“What dragon? Not Blackencrill?”
“No. This dragon,” he said, thumping himself on the chest.
“Ye, my lord?”
“Aye. My father was known as the Dragon Lord of Darkfest Castle. I dinna know why I did not recall that sooner. For some reason I canna understand, there is magic in the wolf’s hair, so I combined that with my blood. The dragon’s blood.” He frowned, wondering if his human hair would have worked as well.
“And will it last?” she asked.
