Simon Knox and the Prophecy of Asragur E-Book

Jens Hoffmann

• Herausgeber: neobooks Self-Publishing
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Deutsch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2014

Seitenzahl: 411

Beschreibung

Summer holidays have begun and Simon is looking forward to spending a few weeks of rest and relaxation at his Aunt Abygale's place near the sea. A magical shimmering platelet, blinking in the morning sun under Simon's window, catches his immediate attention. Had he only been dreaming, or had somebody really been at his window last night? Together with his best friend Richie, he tries to learn the secret behind his mysterious find. Little could either of them know that they were holding the key to an incredible adventure. Things come thick and fast when the inscrutable dragon Grewels arrives in Aunt Aby's garden by night. Incredulous, the two boys listen to the tale of Asragur's prophecy and the legacy of the old dragon king. Should Simon and Richie really believe the incredible story told to them by their scaly guest? Curiosity gets the better of them and the two friends follow the dragon, embarking on a perilous journey into a foreign world.

Leseprobe

Jens Hoffmann

Simon Knox and the Prophecy of Asragur

Dieses eBook wurde erstellt bei

Inhaltsverzeichnis

Titel

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Impressum

Chapter 1

"Simon, rise and shine you sleepyhead.We're running late.Breakfast is in fifteen minutes".Patricia Knox flung open the door to her son's room; in no time the curtains were pulled aside and the window opened.It was the start of a beautiful summer day and a mild breeze came in through the window from the harbour, which neither impressed nor encouraged Simon to stir, whose tuft of red hair peeked out from under the bed covers.

A bit unnerved, Patricia ran her fingers through her disheveled blond hair, straightened her robe and snatched her son's blanket off him and let it fall to the floor next to the bed."Don't forget to brush your teeth. Now shake a leg!You haven't even packed yet, you know", she commented through gritted teeth when she saw the t-shirts she had ironed the evening before still on the dresser where she had put them.

She rushed out of the room and Simon listened to the creaking of the stairs as she hurried down to the kitchen.

"Just five more minutes", he thought and turned over again to the other side.The banging of dishes, the smell of freshly-toasted bread, eggs and bacon finally woke him up.He sprawled and stretched before slowly opening his eyes.Sea air found its way to his nose through the open window.He listened to the goings-on of the harbour and the sporadic cries of the ever-hungry seagulls, who fought for the fish scraps thrown into the water by the fishermen each and every day.

"Summer holidays, at last", he rejoiced.

Simon had passed the fifth grade without any trouble.He was eleven years old with fiery red hair, freckles and perkybrown eyes.He was perhaps a bit small for his age and also a bit chubby which he was teased about at school sometimes.The fact that he liked to daydream, not always paying attention like he should have, didn't exactly make himpopular among the kids.Actually he only had one good friend:Richard Dawson, Richie for short, who was himself a bit different than others.Richard was also eleven years old, in the same grade as Simon and wore thick horn-rimmed glasses.What's more, Richie was just about the tallest in his class and had dark, neatly parted hair.He was lanky and sometimes a bit clumsy, well-nigh scatterbrained.But he was Simon's best friend.

While most of their classmates got together after school to play soccer, cricket or something like that, the two friends loved walking through the port.Both had a passion for the ships that docked at the Portsmouth harbour everyday.They took snapshots of every newcomer and pasted the pictures in an album while spinning their own stories about where the ships were from andthe exciting journeys of the yachts, cutters and container ships.

But now summer vacation had begun and Simon and Richie wouldn't be pasting any new pictures into their album, since Simon was to spend the summer with his great-aunt Abygale.She lived five hours away from Portsmouth in a small village at the seaside, in the county of Devon. Little did Simon know that he would be seeing his friend Richie again very soon and that the adventure of their lives was about to begin.

"Simon, these eggs are getting cold", sounded the slightly irritated voice of his mother from the kitchen.She must have burned her finger on the pan, for suddenly she cursed loudly.

"Are you awake?", she called up the stairs from the hall."How can it take so long to get out of bed", Patricia sighed, returning to the kitchen to pour herself another cup of coffee.

She really didn't feel so good about sending Simon to Aunt Abygale for the first weeks of school holidays.But ever since her separation from Eduard Knox, Simon's father, two years before, nothing was the same as it used to be.They had moved to Portsmouth and Patricia had gone back to work last year as an editor for a London publishing house.Basically she had plenty of time for herself and her son, since she was able to do a great deal of her work at home.However, there were important seminars and book reviews scheduled for this summer that she could not simply postpone.Aunt Abygale didn't hesitate to invite Simon to spend part of this school vacation at her place.She liked the boy very much, all the more because she’d never had children of her own.

Patricia looked out of the kitchen window at the front garden of her small cosy house.Simon would be spending a nice summer at the seaside.He loved the water, the beach and of course the harbor with its small, colorful houses and fishing boats.

She took a deep breath, got over her guilty conscience and went about making sandwiches for Simon's train ride.

Simon reached up and stretched, sat up, tousled his red hair and rubbed the sleepers out of his eyes.He yawned and looked around in his room.He had absolutely no desire to think about what to pack and what not.“Justa few t-shirts, shorts, his favorite jeans and a jacket”,that should be enough”, he thought.

"Should I tidy up", he wondered, as he crawled out of bed and looked around his room, which was a bit messy.Actually things were scattered all over the place:small parts to model ships not yet completed, comics under and next to the bed, numerous snapshots of ships that he and Richie hadn't yet put into the album, and so on.Even his desk under the roof window could have used some order.But he could also take care of it after his vacation, he decided, and climbed onto his desk to look out of the window in the direction of the harbour.

Something was different than usual on this Monday morning.Sure, it was the first day of the school holidays.But that wasn't it.Hadn't he seen a face at his window last night?Or had it only been a dream?He couldn't remember.He let his view of the harbour wander back over the roof.Something was glistening in the morning sun and drew Simon's attention - a small, round object stuck under his windowbetween the roof shingles.Maybe it’s a coin?No, it's probably not a coin.He liked letting marbles roll down the roof gutter, only to fish them out of the rain barrel down in the garden later on.But a coin?,no chance!He didn't have so much pocket money that he could simply throw it out the window.

He became curious, reached out dangerously far over the windowsill and tried to grab the glittering object.But in vain!He slid forward just a bit.He stretched his arm more and more and after some effort, he was holding a strange glittering platelet in his hands.It was elastic but solid, too.Similar to the nacre that forms inside a shell, it shimmered in his hand.Perhaps it could bethe scale of a big fish?But how did it end up on the roof?He couldn't make any sense of it and crawled back into his room, deep in thought.

"Simon, I hope you're finally up. Your hot chocolate was warm once upon a time", he heard his mother's voice say, no longer quite so full of understanding, breaking up his thoughts.

"Yes, Mum, I'll be down there in five minutes!", Simon hollered and trudged down the hall to the bathroom.

There hesplashed some water on this face, brushed his teeth and quickly ran the comb once through his hair."That'll have to do for now", thought Simon, quickly putting on his jeans and t-shirt, randomly stuffing the most necessary things in his travel bag and ran down the stairs into the kitchen, where his mother was sitting behind her newspaper and acting as cool as a cucumber.

She raised her eyebrows over a corner of the paper andlooked at Simon."Good morning, sweetheart.I hope you slept well?"Somehow she had managed to wrap her hair around those huge light-blue curlers.

"Hmm", mumbled Simon."Is there anymore orange juice?"

"Sit down and eat your eggs, dear,I'll bring you a glass", Patricia replied, laid the paper aside, went to the fridge and returned to the table with a glass of juice.Simon listlessly poked around at his omelette. She studied him.

"Tell me, young man, were you walking around on the roof again last night?Haven't Itold you, several times now, not to roll marbles down the gutter?One of these days you're going to tumble down yourself and then all I can do is call the fire brigade, an ambulance and who knows what else.That's not really necessary, is it?"She put the glass of orange juice on the table, all the time keeping a watchful eye on him. It seemed that she was really expecting an answer from him so early in the morning.

"No, that wasn't me", Simon murmured. "I've already rolled all of my marbles down into the rain barrel. I need to fish them out before we leave," he replied absently. Simon was still thinking about that strange platelet he had found between the roof shingles.

Did he really see a face in front of his window last night? And what about that weird scratching sound on the window pane? It seems his mother had also heard something.It was better to keep his thoughts to himself, before he made a fool of himself.Maybe he ought to tell Richie about his discovery after all they had agreed to write to each other.

Patricia hesitated and seemed to be waiting for a more detailed explanation from her son; but then gave up.

"Well then, it must have been a couple of cats", she sighed, sitting back down, making sure her curlers were in place and turning her attention back to the newspaper.

When breakfast was finished, the dishes done andSimon's lunch packed for the trip, he ambled to the rain barrel.He was now hanging upside-down with legs kicking in the air over the battered barrel, which was in the cover of a wild hedge behind the house.With an effort, he retrieved all of the colored marbles from the murky water and dropped them into a small brown leather bag.

Fortunately there was not much rainwater in the barrel so that he crawled back out fairly dry. He looked down: "Thank goodness nothing's dirty", he thought. His mother wouldn't hesitate for a moment to have him change his clothes. And that's the last thing he wanted to do.

"I have to call Richie!", the thought suddenly hit him. "I have to tell him about my discovery!" Simon ran up the stairs to the house two at a time. Standing in the hallway, he stopped and listened. It seemed like his mother was in the bathroom devoting herself to her curlers. He went over to the small, round wooden table next to the stairs, where the telephone was and dialed the Dawson's number. After the third ring, the phone was answered by the shrill but friendly voice of Emma Dawson, Richie's mother.

"Good morning, Mrs. Dawson. This is Simon. May I speak to Richie, please?"

"Simon, how good of you to call one more time", greeting him cheerfully. "I thought you would already be on the way to your aunt. Or will you be leaving tomorrow? Have you already packed, how is Patricia?" She was firing one question after the other at him. Taken aback Simon replied: "Um, yes, today. I'm leaving today. I just have to speak with Richie beforehand!"

"Richard, Richard", Emma Dawson called throughout the house. "Just a moment please, Simon. He'll be right here.Riiichaard!Simon's on the phone.Hurry up, he doesn't have much time!", she shouted loud enough that the neighbors surely knew that he was on the phone.Simon could hear Richie storming down the stairs and Emma Dawson whispering:"... now you can tell him the good news yourself."

"Sure, mum, thanks", Richie panted completely out of breath, snatching the receiver from his mother before she had the chance to pass along all her best regards to Simon's mother.

"Hi Simon", Richie wheezed into the receiver.

"I have something to tell you", both of them hastened to share the news they had.

"OK, you first", said Simon. What did your mother mean by good news?", he wanted to know.

"You won't believe it", Richie began. "My father is going on an expedition during school holidays and I get to go with him", Richie informed his friend excitedly. Simon gave a loud groan and wondered what was so good about this news.

Richie's father, Professor Gerald Dawson, was a biologist and head of the research department for a pharmaceutical company. It wasn't any surprise to Simon that Professor Dawson was once again going on a trip to the far reaches of the world to look for unknown plants. But it surprised Simon that Richie was allowed to accompany his father this time on an expedition that was not completely free of danger.

"We are going to Exmoor, where he wants to compare deposits of certain lichens and mosses with those of Dartmoor", Richie said, drawing Simon back from his thoughts. "In any case he will try to prove that the "Opegrapha fumosa", an exceedingly rare species of lichens, is not only endemically native to Exmoor", Richie proudly concluded his brief excursion into domestic flora.

"You're travelling to Exmoor?", asked Simon in disbelief as he began to get the point.

"Yes, isn't that great?", Richie rejoiced, jumping for joy and just missed falling on Daphne, the Dawson's chubby cat, who was purring around his legs.

"We'll be staying in a small guest house in Ilfracombe", he continued. "You get it? That means we can spend the school holidays together and have all kinds of fun, Simon. We are leaving bright and early on Wednesday", Richie said, beside himself with joy.

"Oh man, Richie, that's awesome!", Simon enthused.

"You also wanted to tell me something", Richie reminded him.

"Simon, are you ready? We are leaving in five minutes, otherwise you'll miss your train", warned his mother's voice from the bathroom.

"OK, Mum, I'll hurry!", Simon shouted up the stairs.

"Richie, I have to get a few things together here.I'll tell you everything on Wednesday.Let's meet at 3 in the afternoon, in front ofMr. Twiggle's Ice Cream Parlour in Ilfracombe."

"Okey-dokey, I can even take my bicycle along. Dad said, we will drive the delivery truck from his lab", Richie explained, happy that he wouldn't have to use some old rusty bike in Ilfracombe.

They ended the call and Simon raced up the stairs. It won't hurt to take along the album and pictures of ships, he decided and really looked forward to spending holidays with his best friend.

Pensively, his eyes roamed over the desk. That bright round thing was still where he had left it and gleamed in the morning sun. He took in its details again and ran his fingers over the smooth surface. Try as he might, he just couldn't figure out where the strange platelet came from and why it had suddenly appeared on the roof.

"What are you?", he asked thoughtfully. But the scale-shaped thing would not yet reveal its secret. Simon sighed. He would surely figure it out together with Richie.So he packed the shining platelet next to the photo album and photos in a side pocket of the travel bag, snapped it shut and slid down the banister to the hallway.

The summer break promised to become a great adventure and he looked forward more and more to the time he would be spending with Richie; apart from that, there were also Aunt Abygale's blueberry pie and gingerbread cookies that she always had freshly baked in supply.

He was now ready to leave and could hardly wait to board the train in Portsmouth Harbour.

Chapter 2

Patricia Knox watched the train leave the station long after Simon had climbed aboard. "What a morning", she thought and sighed deeply. Needless to say they had been running late again. However, they managed to beat the morning rush-hour traffic by cutting several red lights along the way.

They reached the train station of Portsmouth Harbour on time at 10:23. And just a few moments later, the train on platform one departed for Westbury.

Patricia's guilty conscience about letting Simon spend a great deal of his holidays with Aunt Abygale was soothed as soon as she had learned that Richard Dawson would also be spending the summer in Devon with his father.

***

Abygale Greenwood lived in a very old but beautiful house in the small fishing town of Fiddleton, nestled just a few miles east of Ilfracombe among high cliffs, near the beach and the offshoots of Exmoor in the countryside. Greenwood Castle, as she was used to calling her home, was built of natural stone walls, with small gables, a crooked turret on the east side and white glazed windows and doors. A massive waist-high wall overgrown with heather, made of rocks, encompassed a wild garden that could be accessed only through a small red door.

Aunt Abygale was an enthusiastic amateur gardener, although a closer look at the property revealed a passion mainly for her beloved rose and lavender beds that lined a big terrace on the southwest side of the house. In the middle of a garden filled with summer flowers and high grasses, there was an ancient oak tree that gave the place an enchanted and mystical atmosphere.

Nobody knew exactly how old Abygale Greenwood was, because the quirky but friendly and kind lady would always give the same answer to such an impolite question: "Alas, as if age really means anything. I am somewhere between one hundred and one hundred and twenty. But I feel considerably younger", she assures, usually with a mischievous wink.

Aunt Abygale was absolutely delighted when she received the call from her niece Patricia at around noon, telling her Simon's time of arrival.

"3:35 p.m. at the train station, oh I'm looking forward to it. I haven't seen the boy for ages now", she complained half-heartedly.

"Thanks a lot, Aunt Abygale. I really owe you one", Patricia said and once again her guilty conscience of the morning crept over her.

"Trish, my dear child, everything is just fine. I can't wait for the boy to get here", assured Abygale Greenwood, while putting her glasses on and writing her shopping list for the week.

"He will know what to do with himself here, believe me", she told her niece. "And when he brings along his friend Richard, all the better, it will liven things up again around here", she affirmed. "Spending half the summer with an old bag like me is really not much fun for a boy his age", she continued and smiled to herself.

After ending the call, she went about straightening up Simon's room and preparing dough for the blueberry muffins he loved so much.

While sitting in the train, daydreaming and looking out the window, Simon tried once again to solve the mystery of that strange thing that suddenly twinkled his way in the morning under his room window.

He had to change trains in Westbury and Exeter. For the last stretch of his journey he had a nice window seat with a table, where he had spread out a few comics and his photo album with pictures of ships. But he just couldn't concentrate. Across from him sat a fat man with a red face and moustache who was faintly snoring with his hands clasped on his round belly and his glasses slid down on this nose. Simon giggled quietly and fed the small, shaggy dog who sat to the right of its slumbering master. The dog took the rest of his ham sandwich carefully from his hand and proceeded to devour it with a smacking noise of pleasure.

Aunt Abygale got to the station in Barnstaple on time at 3:35 p.m., where Simon's train rolled in on platform two, on time.

Simon saw her standing at the end of the track waiting for him. He was overjoyed to see her again. As always she was neatly dressed; with a white blouse, the collar of which was held together with an ivory pin, a beige tweed skirt and footwear that was sturdy but not the least bit stumpy.

She seemed a bit rushed because her hair bun, always properly fixed on top of her head, was coming undone. She was wearing small glasses on the tip of her nose, as she often did, which were attached to a chain hanging around her neck so as not to lose them.

She came towards Simon with open arms.

"Lad, it's nice that you're finally here", she said and gave him a big hug. She had a fresh smell, like roses and lavender, just like her garden in the summer.

"Did you have a nice trip?", she wanted to know.

"Hello Aunt Abygale", Simon replied joyfully and let her tousle his disheveled red hair.

"Yes, everything went well.We were running late once again this morning, but Mum stepped on the gas to get us there on time", he smiled back to her.

"I already phoned with her and heard all about the mad rush to the train station", Aunt Abygale reported with a slight smile and shake of the head.

She drove a fairly old car herself. Not sleek and sporty like her niece's car but one almost as old as she was.At least that's what Simon was thinking when he saw the rusty-gray vehicle.But Abygale Greenwood would never dream of getting herself a new car at her age.So they drove, not quite as fast as the drive that morning had been, a few miles northeast from Barnstaple to Fiddleton, where Simon's summer holidays finally began in Greenwood Castle.

After arriving at Aunt Abygale's house, they had tea and Simon devoured half a dozen delicious blueberry muffins, the best he had ever tasted. He showed her his latest pictures of ships in his album and they played a few rounds of Scrabble until suppertime.

After Simon scoffed two large helpings of meatloaf, they sat on the terrace till nightfall and Abygale Greenwood shared one of her fantastic stories with her grandnephew.

As a well-read and educated woman she had traveled the world with Simon's great uncle, Harold Greenwood, and therefore always had a ready supply of new tales of adventure from nearly all parts of the Earth.

Simon was fascinated listening to her tell about a safari in South Africa, where she tracked down man-eating lions with her husband and a troop of big game hunters. Apparently one or more members of that expedition fell prey to the insatiable appetite of the lions, thus she ended the day's tale with gruesome undertones in her voice.

It really didn't matter to Simon how much his great aunt added to the adventures, as they were exciting enough in themselves. He had never before met anyone who could tell such beautiful, exciting and compelling stories as she did. Her tales of South Africa gave Abygale Greenwood a fantastic idea that Simon and Richie could camp out in the very same tent she had used weeks on end on the expedition in the African bush. Simon was excited.This vacation was going to be nothing but great.

The very next day the two of them started looking for the tent that was wrapped in canvas somewhere in the attic of Greenwood Castle, hidden among all of the memorabilia of long-past expeditions.Simon was amazed by the many things his great aunt had collected over the years.In one corner were imposing wooden figures and fearful masks from Africa, along with artfully carved ivory.

A handmade chess game of green and white jade that she had brought back from China was set up on a small table decorated with gold though quite dusty, among numerous Asian lanterns. There were also all kinds of swords, fancy daggers and antique pistols, as well as moth-eaten tiger skins that his great uncle had brought back from India and Pakistan.In a small chest with iron fittings, Simon found yellowed maps and sea charts as well as a small hinged compass made of tarnished brass, which he helped himself to along with some binoculars."You never know when you might need such things", he was thinking.

After they found the tent and put it in the garden to air out, Simon got to work on a rusty bicycle that was in the shed behind the house. Not much could be done to the old bicycle. He patched up the front tyre, pumped plenty of air into both wheels, freed the frame of dirt and dust and adjusted the seat. After all, he was planning to tour the Exmoor with Richie.

He spent part of the afternoon with Aunt Abygale in the rose beds and helped her pull weeds. While she prepared dinner, he used the time to walk along the beach and collect shells and stones, which he really loved doing. He ended up throwing most of the stones back into the water, and the shells he took back with him to the house were few.

***

"Wednesday is here at last", Simon said with joy the next day. Richie and his father were sure to be on their way to Ilfracombe, he thought excitedly. He could finally tell his friend all about his mysterious find of two days before. Maybe Richie would have an explanation for the scale-like thing that cast its spell on him the more he thought about it. It didn't seem as radiant though as it had two days ago. He had a feeling it was changing.

He quickly packed the compass, binoculars, some money and his mysterious finding into his backpack and raced down the stairs into the kitchen to Aunt Abygale. She was just making Simon a couple of sandwiches for his trip when he came storming in.

"Wouldn't it be better if I drove you there, lad?", she asked a bit worriedly. "I was already planning to drive to Ilfracombe later on and could drop you off at Mr. Twiggle's Ice Cream Parlour."

"No, no, Aunt Aby", Simon said and thanked her. "Richie will also have his bicycle with him. We might want to ride onto Exmoor", he added happily.

"OK, whatever you think", she sighed. "But whatever you do, be careful and don't ride near the cliffs. Terrible accidents happen every year because people here on holiday just don't pay attention", she cautioned him, wrapping the sandwiches and handing him an apple.

"There you go, take off now! And don't forget that we will be eating at seven o'clock. Oh, and you wanted to set up the tent with Richard, otherwise you won't be having a safari camp today. And if you should happen to see Professor Dawson, please give him my best regards. Richard is more than welcome. It's no trouble at all. I still don't understand, how a person thinks that a boy can have fun by crawling through the moor with his father looking for some kind of fungus", she mused.

"Lichen!", Simon corrected her.

"What?", inquired Aunt Aby blankly.

"He is looking for a certain type of lichen or moss, according to Richie."

"Whatever", Abygale gestured dismissively. "Whether fungus, or moss, or whatever. It's all nonsense! Children should be able to enjoy their summer holidays. Life gets serious early enough", ending her short lecture and sending Simon off, who in no time buckled his backpack on his back, hopped on his bicycle and left. She watched him leave with a smile on her face and decided to take a nap in the shade of the old oak tree before tea time.

Simon peddled just as fast as he could. No way could he be late and raced along the coastal road at breakneck speed. He passed Pier Hotel at the harbour and turned left onto Quayfield Road.He made a beeline to the next crossing, crossed over Victoria Street and then made a sharp turn to the right into Highfield Road.A bit out of breath, he made to Mr. Twiggle'sIce Cream Parlour on time, which was located in Highfield Road at the corner of Castle Hill.

Richie was already there, sitting on the steps in front ofMr. Twiggle's Ice Cream and Sweet Shop.He had leaned his bicycle against the wall of the small redbrick house with the large shop window.With his backpack on his knees, he saw Simon coming from far off around the corner, while his nose was taking in the smell of freshly-baked chocolate cookies, various flavors of ice cream and a variety of other treats.

Simon braked hard and came to a stop right at Richie's feet.He was panting.

"Hey Richie!Whew, what a ride!Where are your things, or is a backpack all you've got?", he asked out of breath.

"Nah", replied Richie and stood up from the steps to put Simon's bicycle next to his."They are probably already on the way to your aunt's", Richie said happily."She invited my father for tea and asked him to bring along my things.After all, children should enjoy their holidays and not have to crawl around in the moor.That's just not right for a boy in my age...", Richie grinned.

"Ha, ha, your poor father", Simon chuckled. "I can just imagine what her lecture sounded like. She told me the same thing today. And believe me. Abygale Greenwood can be quite persuasive. Even a Professor Dawson doesn't stand a chance to contradict", Simon laughed and could picture the poor professor putting up with a lecture about how to raise children.

"I knew that Aunt Aby was up to something", Simon said and looked forward to a few carefree days with his buddy.

"Yes, thank goodness! I was already seeing myself crawling through the bushes of Exmoor day in and day out.Your aunt has real class", Richie laughed and they entered Mr. Twiggle's.

Mr. Twiggle’s Ice Cream Parlour was the ultimate paradise for everyone with a sweet tooth, whether they lived in town or in the surrounding area or were here on holiday. Simon loved the shop. Whenever he was visiting Aunt Abygale, he had to pay a visit to this wonderland at least once. Richard who had the sweet sticky pleasure for the first time stepped into the shop after Simon and his amazement found no end. With wide-opened eyes, he remained standing in the middle of the shop and just didn't know where to look first. Although the two-storey house was inconspicuous on the outside, inside it was a dream for every sweet tooth, big or small.

As usual there was a lot going on. On the right side, next to the door, was a large display window where wide white shelves were embedded. The shelves held big lidded jars with all sorts of cookies, biscuits, waffles and macaroons, the fragrance of which filled the entire shop. Connected to the shop window was the heart of Mr. Twiggle’s business, the ice cream counter.

There were over thirty flavours of ice cream to choose from and every year a new creation was added.

„Wow!It's so incredible here", Richie exclaimed.The sweet surroundings finally got him on the move and he made his way over to Simon.Richie passed by faces as amazed as his own, people who had the same problem of choosing fruit drops, jelly beans or maybe some gingerbread cookies and ice cream.

"Simon, this is so cool", Richie enthused.

"Happy you like it here", Simon laughed and waited to be served at the ice cream counter.

"We sure don't have such a cool shop in Portsmouth", his friend said enviously, who still couldn't believe the wide variety of cookies and ice cream he saw. After standing in line long enough, Simon decided on a monster scoop of rhubarb-marzipan ice cream. He also treated himself to a large bag of mixed cookies while Richie chose to sweeten up his afternoon with a scoop of strawberry ice cream and a bar of peppermint chocolate. They left the shop and sat down on an old bench on the other side of the street in the shade of an old tree.

"As I recall, you wanted to tell me something extremely important", Richie reminded his friend while enjoying his tasty ice cream.

"Right, hold this a second", Simon told Richie and handed him his cone with the two scoops tilting dangerously to the side. Richie took the ice cream cone from him and Simon started rummaging through his backpack. After he found the platelet, he took back his ice cream and placed that magical shining thing expectantly in Richie's hand. He went about examining it at once.

"That's a big fish scale. Did you find it here on the beach?", he asked Simon, blinking at him over the rim of his glasses.

"No, I didn't. It was stuck in the roof under my window on Monday morning. I had a feeling that someone was at my window during the night. And just imagine, my Mum also heard something. It could be that I imagined the whole thing and there might be a simple explanation for how this piece came to be on our roof", he told him and nibbled on his ice cream. Richie played with the platelet in his hand and looked at Simon thoughtfully.

"So it was under your window ledge? OK, let me think a minute. One thing I can tell you for sure. It is definitely the scale of an animal. I guess we can rule out a fish. A fish would not simply jump out of the water and make its way along a few streets up onto the roof."

Simon scratched, clueless. "But what else could it have been?", he asked. "There aren't that many scaly animals on earth, are there?"

"No, there aren't", Richie replied deep in thought.

"I only know of lizards, snakes or ..."He paused and Simon looked at him with eyes wide open."Dragons!", he blurted out.

"Dragons in Portsmouth?", Simon said amazed and looked at Richie incredulously. "Sure, Rich. That's the brightest idea of all! About as likely as fish climbing upon the roof", Simon laughed.

"It was just an idea", Richie snarled, a little offended.

"It changed colours", Simon added, "on Monday it was radiant white and shimmered like a pearl. Since then it has turned to a light blue". However it was clear that this information did Richie as good as it did himself. And so for now he returned the scale to his backpack.

When they finished their ice cream, they decided to postpone their trip to the cliffs in the moor till the next day. They were running late and didn’t want to keep Aunt Abygale waiting with the meal and they also had to set up the tent for the night. So they grabbed their backpacks, ambled over to their bicycles and took their time riding back to Greenwood Castle.

When they got back to the house, they saw that Professor Dawson had brought Richie's things. They were neatly arranged to the right of the staircase in the hallway. According to Aunt Aby, they had enjoyed good conversation with a cup of tea and a few cucumber sandwiches. After he had admired her rose beds and was given politely-formulated advice about how holidays should be made suitable for children, she went into the kitchen to prepare dinner for her young guests, pleased with herself and the rest of the world.

Dinner consisted of a huge stack of lamb chops, corn on the cob with butter, freshly baked bread, salad and her famous peach pudding for desert. Following dinner and an exciting story by Aunt Abygale, the two boys made their way to the garden to set up camp under the old oak tree, loaded down with provisions, sleeping bags, covers, a flashlight and lanterns. The old tent had seen better days, that was for sure. It smelled a bit moldy, was stained and had mended tears here and there. But it would keep out wind and rain just as it had many years ago when Simon's great aunt, together with her husband, had traveled around the world.

Chapter 3

The two friends set up their camp. A light wind was coming up, so it might turn chilly in the night. But that wouldn't ruin the adventure. They both wore thick sweaters and also took their jackets into the tent.

It turned dark and Simon and Richie were stretched out on their sleeping bags, gluing pictures into their album by the light of the lantern. Over in the house, Aunt Abygale had turned off the lights an hour before and the small estate was in ghostly darkness. In the back part of the garden, something rustled near the gorse bushes.

"What was that?" Richie said with a jolt and looked at Simon anxiously.

"No idea", he said and continued to nibble on his chocolate cookie and busy himself with his ships. "It was surely a rabbit", Simon said absently.

"Yeah, I suppose you're right", Richie calmed down some.

There was a rustling in the bushes again. It was so loud this time that even Simon was alarmed and looked up from his photo album. Twigs snapped. And then all was quiet again.

"I don't think a rabbit would make so much noise hopping through the bushes", Richard commented, his heart beating for fear. "Maybe we should better sleep in the house", he suggested and drew back into the tent.

"It could have been a fox", it occurred to Simon, knowing right away that this information wouldn't calm Richie down much. Especially since he wasn't sure himself and was also a bit nervous.

"Let's have a look", he suggested all of a sudden and grabbed his flashlight. Richie looked at him incredulously and instead of jumping up to look into matter, he entrenched himself in his sleeping bag.

"Come on, Richie, don't be a scaredy cat!" Simon prompted, shining his flashlight around in the dark garden. Richie anxiously moved a little closer to the opening of the tent when suddenly there was a rustling in the bush again. But this time they clearly heard wheezing.

From one moment to the next, the boys were terror-stricken. They carefully leaned out of the tent and pointed the flashlight in the direction of where they thought the strange noises were coming from.

The two friends froze and Richie nearly peed his pants for fear. Two green eyes starred at them from out of the thicket and they were absolutely sure that they were not the eyes of the neighbour's cat. Richie poked Simon. "You got any idea what we are supposed to do now?", he whispered fearfully.

"Not the slightest", Simon replied. And before they could consider who or what was staring at them from the undergrowth, the terror grew instantly worse. No more than twenty metres away, a fireball shot up into the air which slowly started to turn on its own axis and came towards them inexorably. Simon and Richie were paralysed with horror and fear. They couldn't move an inch, let alone bring themselves to say anything. They were rooted in front of their tent and stared spellbound at the fireball drawing menacingly near to them.

"Oh my goodness, a fireball!", Richie screamed, the first one to find his voice again, and threw himself to the ground with his arms protecting his head.

"Simon, we're going to die.That thing's going to burn us alive!", he wailed at Simon's feet.

"Richie, that's not a fireball!It must be something else!", said Simon, who couldn't take his eyes off the brightly shining ball.The faster it rotated and drew near to the boys, the more clearly the two friends became aware of the loud puffing and groan that came from within that turned into a bloodcurdling scream and ended abruptly when the ball reached the entrance of the tent.No longer rotating, the glistening bright ball of light hovered about a meter over Simon's head.

Simon tried to get a closer look and kept his hands over his eyes because of the bright light.A biting smell of sulfur reached their noses and Richie found the courage to place himself next to Simon when it became clear that the ball meant them no harm with all the noise it had made.

"What the heck was that all about?", asked Richie, staring at the fireball and forgetting his fear.

"I don’t have a clue", Simon said.

Suddenly there was a strong blast, causing both of them to scream and knocking them back inside the tent onto their sleeping bags.

They remained still for a moment, completely stunned and not knowing what had happened. The loud whistling noise in their ears was staggering and they feared that they would never again be able to hear a peeping sound. They slowly recovered and dared a glance toward the front of the tent, where only a few moments before the fireball had hovered above their heads.

The smell of sulfur was stronger than ever and brought tears to their eyes. Not believing their eyes, a fat grey dragon was moving around in the grass in front of their tent. Silently moaning and cursing to itself, the creature stretched its wings. Carefully sweeping its scaly tail, the dragon raised its head while grumbling. With its mouth full of grass and dirt, the dragon finally looked directly at the boys with its fierce green eyes.

"Yuck, disgusting", snarled the enraged dragon and spit grass and black dirt in a high arc. Fascinated, Simon and Richie watched as their strange guest slowly sat back on strong hind legs. He was at least three heads taller than Richie with a scaly, slate grey body that was lighter in colour on his well-nourished belly, a powerful tail that slapped around furiously and strong, sharp claws. The wings were similar to those of a bat and situated on the back, and there were horny scales from the head to the tip of the tail. The head was lizard-like with small ears out of which small tufts of fur grew. Cunning green eyes, a wrinkled face and a wide mouth with sharp teeth completed the picture of their nocturnal visitor, which didn't exactly inspire confidence.

Outraged, the dragon puffed smoke out of his nostrils, looked down and gave himself a shake and grumpily began knocking the dirt from his scale-studded skin while stamping a foot and swearing.

"Just look at me, what a mess!" Simon thought, just as Richie, that he was dreaming and had difficulty believing what was going on before his eyes.

"Now that we know that dragons really exist, perhaps we should reconsider the theory of fish that climb up on roofs", Richie whispered, still staring in utter fascination as the grumbling dragon dusted himself off.

"Now's not the time for that, Richie", Simon said, turning silently to his friend and saw out of the corner of his eye how their scaly visitor was rummaging through a somewhat greasy-looking, old leather bag he was carrying over his shoulder.

"Not that too!Half of it is mush, squashed, inedible!", moaned the dragon and shook out the contents of the bag on to the ground.Simon and Richie couldn't believe their eyes when they saw fleecy and beeping little fur balls rolling around on the ground.The dragon sat down awkwardly in front of the tent and started sorting through his travelling companions. Those little fur balls that no longer moved, they had no doubt been cute little animals of some sort, were heedlessly thrown into the thicket.Those members of the tour group who were still alive he put back into the bag.

He held an extra fat specimen in his claws, examined it in detail and tossed it in the air. Simon and Richie's blood ran cold as suddenly a flame shot forward out of the mouth of their guest, turning the poor little squeaking creature into a flame before disappearing between the teeth of the hungry traveller. Simon turned white as a sheet and felt chills down his spine. Richie was also as quiet as a mouse and was about ready to throw up when he heard how the dragon enjoyed his meal, smacking his lips and chewing thoroughly.

The snack must have been overdue, for right after the scaly beast finished his meal, his facial features relaxed. Picking his teeth clean with a sharp claw, he was now interested in his surroundings. After a mighty burp, the dragon rubbed his belly in satisfaction and let his eyes come to rest on Simon and Richie. The situation seemed to relax a bit. Still they remained cautious, neither of them wanting to put their trust, just like that, in a fluffy ball grilling monster. After the three of them just sat there quietly looking at each other, however, curiosity caused Simon and Richie to move in a bit closer to the dragon.

"Who are you?", asked Simon.

"And where are you from and what are you doing here?", Richie added.

"My name is Grewels, Excubidor of the holy Well of Hope of Morana, Simon. And I've been looking for you for a long time now", the dragon replied with his deep, smoky voice while thrusting his chest out proudly.

"However, there was no mention in the prophecy about your round-eyed friend", Grewels commented with raised eyebrows and looked Richard over from top to bottom.

"These are glasses I'm wearing", said Richie indignantly and glared at the impudent dragon, who was rather amused by the boy's sudden courage but remained unperturbed. Simon couldn't make heads or tails out of what Grewels was saying.

"Excubidor?, Well of Hope?, Morana?, and what kind of story is that about a prophecy?", he stammered to the monster.

The dragon examined Simon with narrowed eyes and shaking his head, he sighed. "Oh my, you don't really know, do you? Oh dear, we'd better start at the beginning", groaned Grewels a bit irritated and said more to himself: "Great, just as I imagined it would be - an unenlightened human, together with such a perky, four-eyed friend. Always the same, everything's up to me and here the Gateway will be closing this night. I said from the beginning that I don't like field service. But nobody listens to me. Grewels can do it, he'll swing it somehow", he griped to himself.

"Err...", harrumphed Simon and interrupted Grewels, who was slowly drowning in self-pity.

"You seem to be pressed for time. Maybe you can just tell us the short version", he suggested to the dragon. Grewels paused briefly, looked at Simon reproachfully and thought for a moment.

"Hm, yeah OK", he snarled, "we don't have much time but I'll do my best".

"Once upon a time, a thousand years ago", Grewels began his story as Simon and Richie listened with pounding hearts.

"...the mighty dragon Asragur ruled over Morana, a land beyond imagination, created from the dreams and hopes of dragons. A holy Well deep within Mount Tularon, for centuries nurtured by the devotion of the dragons, was to be the center of the universe, of good, of abundance and of peace for all eternity. That's what the prophecy said.

Asragur was the greatest and most magnificent dragon of all. He was the first of our kind, chosen from the beginning of time to nurture the Well of Hope by his devotion, so that all beings in his kingdom could live forever in peace and prosperity.

One day it happened that a baby boy was born of the elves in the moorland Xuria. He was a strong child and filled his parents with joy and happiness, going by the name of Rodan; a boy who was different from others. He was taller and stronger than other kids his age, with black hair and cold, grey eyes. Over the years the boy turned into a full-grown elf, handsome but also cruel, and his people began to fear him because nothing good came out of him and he was in league with the powers of darkness. So it happened that the Council of Elders banished Rodan from Xuria for life, hoping never to fear him again and to live in peace.