But there were desserts on the line. He couldn’t give up without letting Beth down. With a sigh of resignation, Conleth took up the rope.
And, at the count of three, was unceremoniously pitched into the mud. Again.
“I am the victor once more!” Ragvald crowed. “Come now, friend Conleth. Surely you can put up more of a fight than that?”
“I wouldn’t bet on it,” said Flora, smirking. “In fact, I haven’t.”
“It’s not over yet,” Beth said, in the face of all the evidence. “Ragvald may be strong, but Uncle Conleth is tough. He’ll wear him down eventually.”
Conleth was not so sure about that. Ragvald had the constitution of a granite cliff. If he could be worn down at all, itwas likely to be in a span of time measured in geological ages. This was not a battle he could win.
He picked up the rope anyway. “I’m still standing, Ragvald.”
The wyrm gave him a beaming smile, like a proud parent watching a toddler take their first teetering steps. “Indeed, friend Conleth! Such a show of valor demands an equal demonstration of respect. I shall make this even easier for you!”
“Please,” Conleth gritted out. “Don’t.”
“No, I insist.” Ragvald held the rope aloft. “Behold! I shall defeat you withnohands!”
With a broad grin, he stuffed the rope into his mouth.
Conleth had a very, very bad feeling about this.
The kids, unfortunately, seemed to take the wyrm at face value. A chorus of complaints and “Ragvald, noooooo” rose from the campers.
“Come on, Uncle Conleth!” Beth called out. “You must be able to beat him now!”
“Do it for our desserts!” Estelle added.
Ignatius stared at his packmates. “I am surrounded byidiots.”
Conleth had also worked out where this was likely to be going. Thus, when Moira counted to three, he wasn’t the least surprised to find himself facing not an enormous, smirking man, but an even more enormous, smirking wyrm.
Ragvald grinned at him, rope clamped between huge, fanged jaws. In this form, he most closely resembled a wingless dragon, with a sinuous, reptilian body set on four stocky, powerful legs.
He was also the approximate size and weight of the average whale. Conleth couldn’t have moved so much as a single clawed toe even if he’d had the assistance of an entire logging crew and a couple of backhoes.
The wyrm flicked its horned head, snapping the rope like a whip. Ready for this, Conleth let himself be catapulted into theair, shifting as soon as he was high enough. He spread his wings, catching himself, and managed an almost graceful landing.
“Ragvald!” Estelle stomped a foot. “That’s cheating!”
The wyrm shrugged, sending a ripple down its serpentine length. It shrank back into Ragvald’s customary shape.
“We did not agree that we must stay in the same form.” Ragvald cracked his neck. “All is fair in love and toga honk.”
Conleth shifted back to human form as well. He brushed a hand down his abs, reflexively attempting to straighten a shirt he wasn’t in fact wearing. “Do the rules permit a short recess, Ragvald?”
“Recess?” Ragvald looked at Moira, who murmured something in wyrmish. “Ah! But of course, friend Conleth. It is not unusual for a game of toga honk to last several days, with short breaks to attend to necessary needs. Do you require refreshment?”
“No, just a small clarification.” He drew the wyrm to one side, dropping his voice to a low hiss. “And how, precisely, is spending the next few hours mopping the field with my face supposed to impress Paige?”
Ragvald’s brow furrowed. “Is it not obvious?”
“Believe me, it is not.”
“You are demonstrating all the most important virtues a man can possess.” There was nothing but earnest sincerity in Ragvald’s tone. “Persistence, humility, and a good sense of humor. What more could any woman desire in a mate?”
Conleth stared at him.
