Dragon Dreams - Triangelum Teil 1

Prologue: In the Hayn

The ceremony master turns his head to the south,
raises his wooden bar and points to the water.

All through the silence of the bosket,
we can hear his clear voice:

"Look like that our future will be,
therefore we are here,
to renew an ancient alliance."

A druid stands up in his circle,
stretches the magic pole,
the wand out of fog sinks.
A fish takes a short glance up,
down from the lake.

From the rank of the witches,
3 of them appear with baskets.
Each one put the willow netting
in front of the water to the ground.
Removing the shawls above,
3 birds fly up high.

Lightning cranks over the sky,
thunder shakes the trees,
the new dragon is born.

The witches take their baskets up,
fold their neckerchiefs to scarfs
to put it around the hair.

The druid signs a circle with the pole,
then disappears in a grew cloud.

The ceremony master takes the bar
with both hands over the head,
announcing:

"A Glass-Bead-Game is coming
back to true life."

Immediately it starts to rain,
short after the whole Hayn lays quitted.

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Chapter 1: Dragon dreams

Piëct Tynact awakes feeling little unpleasant,
it are these call it visions,
hunting him now near to sleep.
Urges him to take a cold bath
in the abandon bay of the lake aside.

Even though he won't say
he detested the water.
For sure a creature of the air
wasn't born as fish, however
he already has questioned this sometimes.

The other thing helps him into the sea,
is a hidden passion of him.
Lying backwards in the water
looking to the sky,
he automatically starts to sing.

One of his most loved songs is:

"Dragon should be hero."

His mother was singing it
each Saturday the bathing day.
Then she scrubs his back
with a wooden brush.

He often has looked last years for such a tool,
but none he found,
has been the same as the one,
they have had at home.

Meanwhile the singing isn't
that naturally to him.
This has to do with
the noise inside his head;
every time him falling asleep,
with that monotonous voice
in the background murmuring:

"Mine fro' Il'se'bil',
d'ut ned' th'at wh'at,
Ik' ch'ar wil'."

Then enters such a nerd
of speaker with perm the stage,
in his hand a bouquet of parsley.

Oh, these scenes in his dreams,
maybe he's becoming insane,
no, that he won't believe,
perhaps his subconsciousness is doing it.

Likewise at times he thinks
it comes from the appetite he mostly has,
especially in the morning.

What lets him slightly hesitate
to enter his wading pool,
is out of another reason.
It's the tickling at his nose,
this buzzing like,

t'sch.., t'sch.., t'sch't,

which makes him also sneeze.

A true dragon problem
the thing with the fire-spitting,
he not really has it under control.
The more to his career as singer
it will be a big impediment.

He has tried some times the c''',
but all that has come out of his mouth
has been the flame of a lighter.

Well, now, a dragon
doesn't matter much about career.
Maybe a small theatre
or some producers of the film business,
nowadays still have use of it.

Won't be for no ones help
to wait any longer,
time for the bath.

T'sch.., t'sch.., ch'uack...

Caught a cold too, it seems.
There the humming again
even louder than before:

"Il'se'bil', Il'se'bil',
c'ime, c'ime,
hi'lp m', hi'lp m',
q'itsch, q'itsch,
is s'range, is s'range".

Disturbing Piëct Tynact thinks,
trying to find his relaxation.
He is swimming out into the bay,
nearly crossing it for the half,
today he can't find much pleasure.

Even whistling the melody of
'Dragon should be hero',
is of any help, too.
Better leave the water again,
enough for the moment.

Reaching the beach he means
hearing humdrum humming still:

"Il'se'bil' b' kid'nap'ed her',
b' kid'nap'ed her',
al' dunc'el, al' d'ark,
al' dunc'el, al' d'ark,
un au ar'ch c'ald."

Piëct reflects a moment,
then he remembers
an old trick of him.
He walks to the water,
looking for some seaweed.

At the shore he catches up two,
three cords to wind them around the eyes.
That way he will hear better:

"Il'se'bil', Il'se'bil'
th' ta'ch ned' c'ime wil',
th' ni'gt s'go'th evi'ch hit',
al' dunc'el, al' d'ark,
un' au ar'ch c'ald."

Where it's coming from, he asks himself?
Seems from up in the north!
Oh, no, wrong;
turning his head in all directions
he locates the origin.
South-west seems to be the right way.

Flying without any sight
not the best idea,
although his flight
is more a hopping about the ground.

He loosens the seaweed cords
the way he can see a bit through.
Oh, it works,
the humming is still there:

"Il'se'bil', Il'se'bil',
hit th' ta'ch is c'imen,
a cir'le up'n m' sh'ines,
ful' o' wi'th li'gt,
al' th' r'of is blu',
sh'ines l'ice, cold ice."

To matter about breakfast,
nonetheless it's already after midday,
will have time till later.
More urgent seems right now
to find the reason of the thing,
which has tortured him this much last days.

The winds aren't exactly the way,
he needs for take-off,
not strong enough only a breeze.
He will try a water start for that reason.
Nothing that enjoys your eyes.

You know about,
if you have seen once,
how a duck is starting out of the water.
At least it minimizes the possibility
of a crash with the hard ground,
if it fails.

Pitsch.., pitsch.., patsch...

Nearly the upper half out of the sea,
catching a slight squall
with the underside of his wings
and a fast stroke with his tail,
Piëct conquers the air.

Never he has been far from this place,
neither he has ever reached
the ground of the sea,
cause it seems to be indefinitely deep.
Now an adventure is waiting for him
out in the big world.

Up in the air Piëct looks around himself.
Under him lies the huge lake;
like to the right though to the left,
he can't even anticipate the borders.

Only in front of him it appears to be narrow,
from there the humming is coming.
Seems to be a point up in the far mountains
the sun has already past.

"Il'se'bil', Il'se'bil',
th' sun h'et shin'ed,
lon'ch ned' mor' wa'ten wil',
cr'ul her' is in,
kid'nap'ed sho, so lon'ch I b'en."

A sigh relieves from Piëct lips,
him knows now where to fly,
what isn't actually the biggest problem.
It is more the flying itself,
we have said before,
he isn't really good in it.

If someone will watch it from the side,
it will look like
the crazy drive on a roller-coaster.
Up and down just with no loopings in,
but sometime he will try that, too.

The reason for his bad style,
the wings to small, to weak,
however his bottom to thick.

The heavy long tail doesn't make it better
but it is useful, if him keeps it quiet,
to hold the course.

To manæuvre left or right,
up or down, if he moves him really slow
to the opposite direction.

Like a dolphin ploughs the ocean,
Piëct whirls through the heaven,
not really a flight,
even not a fast way of moving.
All at all not that bad,
how he finds himself,
better than ever before.

The sun is wandering deeper
on the right of him,
the air is becoming colder.
Since long he has left the lake behind.

Now there is a forest under him,
with beeches and oaks.
The mountains come nearer, getting steeper,
covered with snow on the top.

Somewhere must have been a hole in the air.
Suddenly Piëct finds himself
dangerous near to the ground.

All the way are treetops beside,
avoiding hardly to hit them.
With unrestrained movements of his wings,
he tries to gain more height.

The moment it seems to be under control again,
a flock of geese crosses his lane,
travelling back from their winter accommodation
in the warmth, in the south.

Nervousness takes possess of Piëct's movements.
One goose hits his right wing nib,
another nearly sits down herself
on the left handed side.
A wing punch short after,
of a third, takes his sight.

There it happens again;
fire-spitting is leaving his mouth,
meets one more goose on the twelve.

The situation collapses,
it smells like roasted duck,
the air around him gets turbulent.
All signs showing just one direction,
down, down, down.

Piëct opens his eyes;
trees all around,
except of the little meadow he lies,
a clearing in the forest.

On the way back to earth
he has lost his consciousness.
He tries to move his limbs
one after the other.

Nothing seems broken,
nowhere any hurts.
He is used to this kind of landing,
automatically he has done
all it needs for such an emergency.

First thing that catches his look,
is a roasted goose lying not far from him.
The problem with breakfast is solved,
although it's already late afternoon.
Sunset soon will bury the light of day.

While he nibbles on his snack,
he reflects what to do next.
Better stay here for the night.

The more as the region is
totally unknown to him.
By the thought of a night flight,
not only his stomach revolts.

At the view of some small heaps
of snow not far from him, he recognizes
the freshness of the evening.
Nothing unusual,
after all he has reached the mountains,
flew them a pretty bit up.

He will do a campfire
therefore he has to search some dried wood,
a lot of it,
thus it will burn all night to the sunrise.

Entering the forest Piëct
hears some strange sounds.
A lot of animals must be
hidden in the dark.

He starts to sing
like always in such situation,
'Dragon should be hero',
you know we have
already spoken about the song.

Firewood is an easy thing
to find in the forest,
if it isn't raining for longer times.

He selects the best pieces
which wil be useful for the fire,
piles them up under one arm.
The wings enlarge them here
do a good work.

Piëct has collected nearly the much he
needs for a comfortable overnight stay
and stacked under his right side.
Suddenly he hears an awful hissing behind,
simultaneous something nips in his tail.

Bad an idea of it,
cause the tail fights back.
Goes for a hard stroke.
Something cracks against a tree nearby.

What has this been?
Checking the environs he finds
a dead woodchuck with a smashed leg.

It must have been the way,
he is stepped on it,
his tail has hurled it then away to death.

Tomorrow he won't starve for sure,
today he has had enough.
He will make a barbecue out of it.
Short after he is awoken.
These are the thoughts of Piëct
on the way back to his camp.

Arrived there he arranges the wood to a pile.
He lays some remain of it further away,
under which he buries the woodchuck.
None of the monsters out there in the forest
will find and devour it.

The thrilling moment now has come,
he has to light up the fire.
Piëct takes a deep breath,
waits a moment and blows.

Oh yes, it works,
him is spitting real fire.
The pile of wood flashes up at once.

The fact will strengthen his self-reliance
after all the jumble of this exciting day,
the hubhub of the voices in his head last weeks.

Piëct lays himself on the back,
looks into the heaven up to the stars.
Sometimes he dreams
another dragon does live there,
a true dragon mighty and strong.

Perhaps he will meet this dragon
some day, the usual dragon dreams.
He has had these dreams already,
all the times since he is able to think.

Falling to sleep
he hears the shut of an owl.
She must sit in one of the oaks
at the edge of the woods.

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Chapter 2: Leaving the dungeon

Piëct wakes up the sun high in the sky,
the campfire is extinguished some time ago.
That isn't a huge problem to him,
because of the wood remained from last evening.

Oh yeah, the woodchuck lies still below.
What could be better than breakfast
out at a meadow on a sunny morning.

A try worth to see if the fire-spitting
will work like yesterday has done.
He takes a deep breath of air,
a brilliant flame comes out his muzzle.
Piëct feels really proud about.

'One fine day a big dragon you will be',
his father has told him once.
Has been some days
before he left his mother.
Tired of the endless urging, uttering
and quarrelling between the both.

Barbecue out of roasted woodchuck,
well, you may be able to eat,
but nothing what you would call delicious.

Strict in the smell,
stale in the taste,
tough in the bite;
even some mustard with it,
would make these circumstances any better.

Anyway at this time of morning
you better shall call it lunch.
Nothing Piëct will matter about,
in the opposite,
his thoughts are going all another direction.

Will be nice to stay some days here
or even better move to this place at all.
Spent the time in the forest with hunting,
climb up on each tree.

Spare the morning bath in the cold water,
oh no,
perhaps then he will miss the singing.

"Il'se'bil', Il'se'bil',
n'one c'imet, n'one c'imet,
lo'sen mi' h'art,
s'its so h'rd."

There it is again,
the voice in his head.
Further dreaming won't be of anyone's help.
Piëct will have to do
one more try in flying,
in the moment the situation
seems to be to take advantage from.

Piëct climbs a small cliff,
bravely jumps into the gulf,
spreading his weak wings wide.

The sun has heated up
the cold air down in the valley.
The drift of a warm gentle wind
along the mountain slope
lays itself under his body, surrounds him.

In screwing circles Piëct mounts
high and higher in the sky.
Who does matter about swimming,
if you are able to fly like a bird.

The last trees of the forest
which have looked at night that giant,
causing him nearly being afraid,
now they seem to be like matches in a box.

The snowfields above
solidify gradual to ice.
Between two peaks of huge mountains,
the enormous surface from
a glacier guides his way.
Some heaps out of ice and stones
are placed above.

"Il'se'bil', Il'se'bil',
s'on, s'on ned' m're can,
cr'ul h'er is in."

Piëct supposes he can locate now exactly,
where the voice is coming from.
It must be the one heap on the ice field,
nearly all up on the top.
Out of that reason he flies there.

Yeah, he's right,
no doubt about.
Under a mound of stones
covered with tight ice,
the desperate voice
can be listened clear and loud.

"Il'se'bil', Il'se'bil',
lon'ch ned' m're wa'ten wil',
kid'nap'ed sho, so lon'ch I b'en."

What to do about now?
He won't be able to move
even the easiest of the stones.

No tool anywhere around,
except of some other boulders
lying further up.
The more everything is frozen together
to a firm rock.

'Nothing shall be able to stop a dragon',
a saying his father told him once.
Isn't he flown all up here?
Hasn't he lit a fire twice?
Somewhere a solution must be!

Oh yes, he has an idea!
Piëct takes once more deep breath,
moisten with the tongue his lips.
Then he starts to spit fire,
hot fire like the one of a volcano.
All the ice over the heap
you may confident forget.

Now he marches up the glacier.
With his mighty tail to the valley down,
he is gliding on his bottom
over the slippery plane,
the same like on a sledge track.

Faster and faster becomes the ride,
till with the peak of his tail,
he crashed into a heavy block of rock.
He flings the projectile on the pile of stones,
which immediately breaks apart.

Hardly the cavern is open,
a small creature is creeping out
on all of his 6 legs.
Oh, what it is?
A spider for sure,
a talking spider the more.

"Hav' fo'low'ed th' rainbo',
wh'ch pr'mis'ed m' a gul'dn tre'sur',
l'ad m' up al' th' way tu' h're.
Sa' th' spa'kl'nch o' it
un'dr th' h'ap o' sto'ns.
Oh, I tr'ed tu' ca'ch him,
al' th' sto'ns muv'.
I just c'uld co'vr in th' cav'.
Th'at way I wa' ca'ch'ed in th' tr'p."

The wink of an eye Piëct is left without any thought.
Completely surprised he asks the spider
the thing his mind him calls:

"The treasure is it still here?"

"A gul'dn tre'sur' ne'vr h're ha' b'en,
al' must b'en part o' th' tr'p.
B't if y'u lo'kin' o' tre'sur',
mi' fre'ndship tu' of'er,
may b' tre'sur' en'ugh."

"Howdy, howdy, ho,
haven't I heard you howling
some moments before?"

"Hav' re'ch'ed th' end o' rainbo',
with'ut findin' a' tre'sur',
ne'thr y'u lu'ch,
wis' man wil' walk o' sea,
sit o' shor',
li'stn th' wav'."

"Oh, in walking you are certainly well,
with all that much of feet.
Never have been at the sea,
just home at my lake."

"This may be not that bad an idea.
Think we just have to follow the sun,
down to the south to look for the ocean."

"But we won't walk,
we will fly.
Come on,
all up to the top of the ice.
There you can jump on my back,
to be ready for take-off."

Soon they have reached
the top of the ice field,
which stretches itself too,
down on the other side of the passage.

Oto'kar Rad'ect
that is the spider's name,
jumps on the back of
Piëct Tynact the dragon,
for a spider likewise
jumping isn't any problem.

Leaning back his body
supported by his tail on the ice,
Piëct slithers down the frozen snow.
He spreads his wings,
immediately they are back in the air.

"Ne'vr b'en fl'wn b'for'."

Oto'kar voice shyly can be heard,
then there is silence on Piëct's back.

The winds at this side of the mountains
aren't that favourable in the moment,
like on the way up.
Piëct instantaneous finds back
to his former roller-coaster style.

Up and down,
somewhere between falling and rising.
The diver in the water,
the jumper on the springboard,
he just wonders,
that his new companion keeps that quiet.

No voices,
no urging any more,
he turn his head to see,
if him still up on his back.
Oh, yeah, for sure,
still there,
seems he has become
a little pale around the nose.

The region of the snow and ice
they have abandoned already.
Piëct follows now a river
on his right side, which gets
bigger and wider with the time.

Still the both glide
along the slope of the mountains.
Here the thermodynamics
keep them better up in the air.

They pass huge coniferous forests,
which further down are bordered
by walnut and chestnut trees,
standing in endless blue lavender meadows.

Nearer to the river
are located fields and vineyards.
More and more often
with houses and even villages in between.
Piëct reflects to take a break,
look for his passenger.

Same moment he goes down for landing,
he notices a rabbit hopping
through the small streak
of grass direct beyond him.

To late for the poor animal,
to get a real dragon
sitting direct on the head,
only few creatures from
that small size will survive.

"How about Oto'kar,
also like a mouthful to eat?
I will roast the rabbit
on the flame of the fire I'm spitting."

"Hav' stav'ed th'at lon'ch,
th' bl'od, th' bl'od,
wil' refr'sh mi' h'art."

Oto'kar jumps of from his back,
hurries around to one of the walnut trees.
At his return he is carrying
with the two front legs,
some of the empty shells of the nuts.

"Th' bl'od, th' bl'od,
pur' it 'n h're,
it wil' b' delic'us fo' mi'."

Piëct does how him is told,
holding then the dead, bloodless rabbit
with his claws in front of him.
Like expected the dragon spits fire
to roast his victim,
which soon is done.

Now they sit side by side
up on the slope busy by eating.
During their meal they are
watching the events down at the river.

Behind a farm some people can be seen.
They handle around
with a huge barrel and wooden cases
full of pitchers out of clay.
In the crocks they fill some red liquid
until now locked in the cask.

"Mayb' is als' bl'od the' du' in ju'ch,
wil' b' wort' a tri'."

"Better let us fly on,
when we have finished.
I yearn for the ocean,
watching the high sea.
I have heard this often from."

The problem with the take-off,
just the same than before.
No fitting winds to put him up.
Therefore Piëct looks
for the steepest part of the gradient.

He runs down the lavender meadow
the fastest he can,
he starts to tumbling;
no more ground under the feet.

Elsewise he would have hit the hedgehog,
like the centre forward
in a soccer game scores the goals.

The prickled comrade turns his head wondering,
while Piëct is passing
one foot above him the air.
Whereas our little dragon thinks,
what lucky the landing on a rabbit has been.

His rotten style of flying hasn't improved.
Wrong winds, better nearly no of them,
hard work to do for Piëct,
staying above the level of ground.
His stomach nearly revolts
about the permanent up and down.

"Onc' hav' s'en som' ch'ld,
mak' a pi'ce o' pa'pr fl'.
Hav' an ide' to mak' it sam' way.
Wil' com' ar'und tu' y'u be'ly,
b't y'u hav' k'ep mi' wit' y'u f'et."

By his words Oto'kar
crawls up the neck of Piëct,
winds himself around.
Now he is hanging
upside-down on the dragon's throat.
Backwards he is shoving
himself down Piëct's body,
till he has reached the abdomen.

"Piëct no' mus' k'ep mi' wit' y'u f'et."

Piëct acts how Oto'kar has suggested.
The spider stretches all of his 6 legs.
How long they are, you won't believe.
Our dragon feels,
how each leg from the front pair
grasps one top of the wings.

The other two pairs
catch hold on the border of them,
tighten the wings of Piëct a pretty
piece bigger that way.
Oto'kar the more stiffen the legs,
by that the fickleness of the wings stops.

What a new way of flying!
The stream of air rustles now all over
Piëct's body, nearly like swimming it feels.
Moving his head or moving his tail,
the reaction is a controlled steering,
the one, the other way, up and down.

"You may not loosen your grip now,
that long I am hanging down under you,
here in the air."

Piëct abrupt turns his head to behind,
which causes a nearly 90° curve to the left,
where a white high above all other peaks
reaching mountaintop comes into his sight.

Has that been really Oto'kar,
who has spoken?
Yes, of course, must be,
no one other all around!

"For sure I won't do,
what ever will come.
I won't only go in lack of a spider,
we both may tumble to death."

Slowly Piëct glides back to the old course.
Left handed the mountains,
under them the forests,
the right guided by the river,
on his way to the south.

With the time they leave the mountains
further and further behind.
The country beneath them shallows,
the river becomes to a stream.

In front of them a village,
seems worth a nearer look.
Meanwhile flying turns out
to be more and more difficult.
A wind from the south
strikes gradual in,
increasing with the times.

A huge castle on top of the hillock,
dominates the scenery.
Beneath extends the village
itself down to the water.

Boats lie there fastened at the river border.
Behind the barges the ruin of a bridge
raises just to the middle of the stream,
ending there without any continuation.

Up on the bridge
a celebration gets going on.
You can hear a band is playing music.
In front of the musicians,
girls in coloured, striped dresses are dancing.
Like blossoms are rocking their skirts
in the breeze of the spring.

Around them are standing men in circles,
they are yelling loud.
Mugs they are carrying in their horny hands,
red juice is pouring in,
out of some huge casks.

Above,
from the other side of the river,
the amused gathering
is illuminated by a reddish shimmering sun,
on her way down under the horizon.

Suddenly a gust from the south-east,
takes control over our two heroes.
No possibility to get nearer to that town.
On the contrary the wind,
he won't stop anymore.

It presses Piëct over the river,
urges him here in just one direction,
all up the valley,
back to the north.

'On the roller-coaster again',
Piëct thinks,
all still the same,
all has changed.

Thus the storm now really becomes heavy,
shakes them in any possible way,
the dragon feels to have all under control.

Piëct even starts to sing,
'Dragon should be hero',
like he usually has done home on his lake.

With the fading of the light,
the storm slowly dies away.
Piëct calls Oto'kar up
on his back in reason of landing.

Cautious the spider crawls
along the dragon's body.
Oto'kar is sitting himself high up in the nape,
winding all his legs firm and
persevering around Piëct's throat.

'Better in the grip of a storm,
than in the one of a spider',
are the dragon's thoughts
while going down for landing.

A last squall hunts about the meadow
sprinkled with fruit trees,
turning Piëct round like a whipping top.
The blast still pushes him
several hundred meters over the grass,
until he hits with his bottom a pear tree.

Abruptly their movement is stopped.
Fruits are falling down,
as well they may be hailstones.
Oto'kar jumps around like a rubber ball
for not being smashed.

Barely the bombardment has ended,
our two companions lay
themselves under the pear tree.
In the pale shine of the moon,
they taste the juicy fruits.

"Th'at juic' y'u sh'al fil' als' in ju'ch,
lik' w' hav' s'en."

"Yeah, sure, we will do!
I will put on top a cork,
which I will fix
by winding your legs around."

Has been a strenuous day for our heroes,
tired they now are.
In a chestnut tree
not far away an owl is howling.
Piëct peers for it,
seems her gives him a wink.

"Have you seen the owl Oto'kar?
The bird can fly
like we are able to do, too."

"Sur' hav' s'en it sinc' lon'ch,
b't b' afr'id th' b'est wil' æ'tn mi' up."

"Oh then, fast, come nearer,
slip down under my wing."

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Chapter 3: Flight of the dragon

Piëct awakes by a moving on his left side,
Oto'kar the spider already is up.
He is busied with trying
to pull a pear below the wing.
Time for breakfast like it seems.

The dragon takes himself
also some of the fruits.
Down under the tree they sit now
together they are at eat.

The winds of yesterday are gone at all.
Nevertheless they decide to forget
about another departure to the south.
There where each evening
the sun will go down,
they agree about to fly.

Still they have some more to discuss.
In the flight through the storm
the dragon has perceived,
he isn't able to move the wings,
whilst Oto'kar is fixing them with his legs.

The spider replies that he will weaken
his knee joints as well as the pelvis joints.
By some practice they may dub their movement
this way to an efficient wing stroke.

For starting place they choose the tree,
the owl has been sitting on the evening before.
They select for the launch a limb,
which isn't attached far above.
Neither Piëct, nor Oto'kar will get hurt,
if the take-off fails.

Climbing up a tree,
sure yesterday morning
Piëct has dreamed about.
Other thing it is to do for a dragon,
with a tidy filled up stomach and limbs
thought for everything else than to climb.

Somehow they manage to get on the tree,
up there they are now
around 10 feet to the ground.
Oto'kar takes his position under Piëct,
at once he will jump off,
if the only direction shows down.

Luckily out in the air,
Piëct moves his wings timorous,
simultaneous the spider bends his knees.

A real wing stroke for sure,
undoubtedly,
only just pretty slow,
each stroke lifts them up
for more than two feet.

The course they fly actually,
points to the north-west-west.
Another mountains are waiting for them.
These hills aren't that mighty
like the giants the day before.

Here the high reaching areas
have no snow and ice upon.
You won't find high summits
or steep slopes, except of
the regions all up to the top.

These ones have the shape of
a cone, but in lack of the peaks.
Deep funnels take their place instead.
What our both heroes have discovered
are burning mountains, old volcanoes
becoming long ago extinguished.

The vegetations below ceases in sparse green.
The place is taken instead by
thorn hedges lost in an extended scree.
Yet they have overcome the passage
between some of the volcano craters.

They glide now lengthwise along
the inclination on the western leaning.
The vegetation below is splendid,
with sheeps grazing down the slant.
Suddenly a dog starts to bark.

An elder man appears
out of the door from a shed beside.
He first looks to the herd of sheeps,
then up to the mountains and the sky.
There he discovers our two journeymen.
It must look for him,
like they are flying direct out of the sun.

Next he starts to shriek:

"Dragon volant, un dragon volant!"

He bends himself over,
takes up some of the pebbles lying around.
Angrily he throws them towards
the direction of Piëct and Oto'kar.

Of course he can't reach them,
they are still miles away.
Then he turns round,
running down the slopes the fastest he can.
As it seems he tries to reach a hamlet
located at the bottom of the valley.

Piëct and Oto'kar keep their route,
they follow a narrow brook
running further down through the small village,
which they have seen by coming nearer.

A handful of people have gathered there
on the way leading up the mountain.
They hold long sticks and
some other utensils in their hands.
The moment our both heroes come in sight,
they start to shout and
to wave with them up above their heads.

That doesn't look much friendly.
Piëct therefore decides to change
his course once more to north-west now.
Another time they pass over
a hill range in the ravine lying behind.

Nonetheless all stays the same than before.
Where ever people get view of them,
they come together and arm themselves,
they are yelling loud and threatening.

The sun meanwhile stands high in the south
on the left handed side.
Our small colleagues pass mountain range by
mountain range, hill by hill.
The only things they find are
rage, fury and menace, everywhere.

One time Oto'kar is hit nearly
from an arrow, flying close by.
Seems like their arrival has spread over
the whole country, how a wildfire will do.

Little later they have left
the mountains and hills behind.
They fly now over a wide hollow
on both shores from an increasing stream.

The river is meandering in the landscape
to the south-west, urges them
to cross it, by flying north-west again.
Here a town blocks the way.
The settlement lies a bit beside,
at a sideway river from the big stream.

Strong thick walls surround the fortress,
with circular towers at each corner.
Fires are burning up on the walls,
next to the flames
soldiers with bows are on guard.

Barely the watchmen recognizes them,
revolt can be heard all over the fortress.
The sound of trumpets rings over the plane,
the bowmen light up their arrows
at the fires burning on the fortification.
Then they shot them in long ranks
one after the other over the walls,
towards our flabbergasted heroes.

The more the gateways of the town swing open.
Nearly two dozen horsemen burst out.
They sit on galloping stallions and are
dressed in armours shining metallic in the
hot sun, which beams down from the blue sky.

The cavalry carries with itself
four to five metre long thin wooden rods
with coloured banners and
sharpened iron points on the top.

At first the sight causes Piëct to stop
breathing, for a few seconds he forgets
about the wing stroke.
After he has calmed himself,
he takes a look down to Oto'kar.
The spider makes faces,
then he shakes with his head,
instantaneous Piëct veers off to the north.

The troops at the ground follow their movement,
hunting continuous behind them.
After a ferocious restless race
about miles and miles it seems,
that they soon will lose the connection.

The moment Piëct notices this,
he starts to sing his song:

"Dragon should be hero."

Shortly afterwards our tormented dragon hears,
how the rattling of the hoofs behind him
is becoming faint, before it dies away at all.

Piëct changes his course once more.
He passes the river below,
watching how the knights stop their chase
down at the shore of the waters.
Straight over the plateau they fly now,
aiming towards to some new mountains in the west.

It becomes already dark,
till they have reached the hills.
In between on the way over the plane
nothing has happened to them any more,
cause they have changed their route
every time people come in sight.

Piëct flies still over the first hill range,
then he decides to go down for landing.
He calls Oto'kar up on his back.

Fine touchdown Piëct shows now, slow dropping,
the landing upright on his two legs.
Meanwhile darkness has laid itself over the grove,
beside which they were going down.

Just enough time to look for something to eat.
Mushrooms and small blueberries,
that's what they find in the wood.

Together they take their meal,
while relaxing under an ash tree.
Stars sparkle above at the sky.
Really nice to look Oto'kar utters.

Happiness and delight possesses the brave.
After the threatening fires of the fortress,
the bowmen and horsemen of the afternoon,
our both dauntless wanderers enjoy their banquet.
Barely they have finished,
Oto'kar crawls under the wing of Piëct;
our courageous travellers fall to sleep.

In the morning they awake by a screaming
out of the willow bosket nearby.
Have some of the hunters from yesterday
discovered their camp under the ashes?

No, no, it's the voice of a young wife,
maybe even a girl that can be heard.
She is shouting loud:

"Help, help, the bear, the bear!"

Piëct looks inquiring to Oto'kar,
who suckles at some of the blueberries.
Oto'kar looks up from his meal,
pointing with his eyes
into direction the screaming comes from.

The dragon jumps up at once and
runs to the source of the quarrel.
Our hero breaks through the thicket between.
What he discovers is a girl
in the middle of her twenties.

She is sitting up on a huge oak.
With a sprig from the willows nearby,
she tries to beat an animal with a brown coat,
in front of her at the ground.
It's a bear more than 6 feet tall,
nearly the size of Piëct.

The bear hears something behind him,
he instinctively turns himself around.
A pair of red eyes scintillate evil at Piëct.

The bear strikes with his
ghastly paws towards the dragon.
He roars in terrible sounds
and shrinks his nose.
All at all the bear raises a fuss.

This urges our young friend to set himself
upright on his hind legs.
With a deep breath he catches some air,
then Piëct flings a lightning flame
towards the abominable raging lout.
That way he gives this beast,
a parting in the crown of his head.

The smell of burning hair irritates the bear,
looking up he remarks some cloudy smoke
which billows above between his ears.
The beast reflects for a short moment,
then it turns around again
and escapes to the woods.

Meanwhile Oto'kar has arrived,
he installs himself on the left of the dragon.

"O' I hav' s'en th' mo'ster s' alre'dy gon'."

The young woman climbs down from her tree,
addressed to Piëct she asks him
to fetch a basket out of the oak.
There it is placed in the fork of a branch.
The dragon catches the weaved bag,
hands it over to the girl.

"My name is Keara Lecieen,
I live in the village beside."

That is what the girl says,
before she takes a white scarf
with also white embroidered flowers on,
from the basket, that the cloth covers.

The moment she winds it
around the neck of the dragon,
Oto'kar starts to laugh.

Immediately the girl calls him:

"Oh I see you don't like it,
you think it looks childish?
Now, I won't have needed your help, too!"

Trying to help, Piëct falls in:

"This is my foolish friend Oto'kar Rad'ect,
I myself, I am Piëct Tynact.
We two have met some days ago,
now we are on the way to the sea!"

Keara means then:

"The ocean is all to the west,
there where the sun disappears in the evening.
I have been there once myself as a young girl.
With a fast horse you will make
the whole distance in just one day.
This morning I have been to the forest,
collecting blueberries for a cake,
my mother will bake right away I return home."

"We will have this afternoon
a big party in the village.
There will be a lot of guests all around.
Each and every one will be disguised
in colourful fancy costumes.
Music will be played all the time.
Plenty of food and different drinks
will be served on precious plates.
If you like you can come with me,
you may help us even at the baking counter."

"Certainly there will be a lot of work,
we will be in need for any helpful hand today.
My dear friend Guir Natrac
has done the job all the last years,
before he has left us in early spring
for a long journey to another country."

For sure the both will come with Keara,
the way to the village isn't that far.
It takes a quarter of an hour,
then they have reached the simple shack
Keara and her family are living in.

The hut is located close to the village,
at the border of the forest.
It is lying in some broad pastures for the cattle.
In front of the farmhouse
a woman in her best years can be seen.
Her is fiddling around outside next to
a shed standing at the right handed side.

Keara's mother recognizes her girl,
she shouts:

"Fast, fast, Keara the oven is already hot,
we have to hurry up, not much time left.
I see you have some of our guests
caught up on your visit to the wood."

"Allô maman, it's quite a different way,
these are Piëct and Oto'kar!
I met a nasty angry bear,
while I have been searching some berries.
The both have chased him away.
They will help us with the bakery today.
I have asked them yet and
they feel fine about, isn't it?"

"That will be fine!
You know, your father went for the pub.
He practises there the bagpipes
with the other musicians of the band.
They will play for dancing later the day.
The granny also is with hers, together
they run the flower booth of the festival."

Jointly they sort now the blueberries.
Afterwards they put them
on thin round flat loafs and
shove the dough in the oven.

Soon you can smell anywhere
the taste of fresh bread.
After a while then they
take the fresh baked cakes out.

They pack now these tarts in cases
and load them on a hand cart,
to a lot of other kind of pastry.
Finally they leave to the village green,
where the party will take place.

Piëct is pulling the small wagon,
while Oto'kar is crawling by his side along.
The both women walk in front showing the way.
During all the time they are gossiping.
Keara talks to her mother about Guir Natrac,
that he is the son of the village chief and
how it has come that he has left the village.

Since long foreign mercenary troops,
raid and pillage all over the country.
This army now has crossed the sea,
where they have started a real war.
On the other side of the ocean lives
a nation Keara and her people trade with,
since the times anyone is able to think of.

Keara means people from the village
have told her recently about,
how Guir has been caught abroad.
Actually it seems to her,
he is lying now down in
the dark dungeon of a castle.

There he shall have
neither anything to eat nor to drink,
fighting for his bare survive.

Our both compassionate comrades can hear
the sorrow in Keara's tender voice.
Appreciative they turn their heads,
they look each other in the eyes.

When they arrived at the village,
the party has already started.
Like Keara has told,
a huge crowd of people has gathered there.
There is joking everywhere all over the place
and laughing from every side.
Our both friends stand all the afternoon
together with their hosts,
behind the well visited bakery counter.

One time Oto'kar screams with laughter,
because Piëct has eaten much of the
blueberry cake himself the time between.
He now not only has a white scarf on his neck,
the more he is coloured blue all over his face.

Later on they take a stroll through the festival.
They pass the music band with Keara's father;
many of the visitors linger nearby.
Suddenly there seems to be
no more hold for Oto'kar.
The sound shows the same effect to him,
like the consumption of a magic drink.
This time it's Piëct's part to laugh.

You must imagine a spider with his 6 legs,
which whirls wild around in circles,
kicking impetuous with the legs,
the order how it seems by chance.

Oto'kar does even somersaults,
or he turns around upside-down,
in the own axis with his stretched out legs,
exactly like a wheel.

Many of the visitors remains standing
with open mouths or they are shaking
displeased with the head, others however
laugh and clap their hands.

Towards the evening more and more
of the guests are leaving the feast.
Piëct and Oto'kar have decided in the meantime,
they will start same day the search for Guir.
Right now they are telling Keara about.

Keara means her will be sad, if her both
protectors will depart this soon.
On the other hand it's a pleasure to her,
that they will look for her friend.

They will perceive Guir by a tattoo,
when the both meet him abroad.
A red dragon marks his left upper arm.
Guir on the other hand will recognize them
by the scarf, her has given to Piëct.

The region where her friend is gone to,
lies on the south-western coast of the country
you will reach by crossing the sea to the north.
The shore area is dominated by a mountain,
around this landmark are situated several castles,
at one of them her friend shall be captured now.

At the farewell Keara and her mother
are waving long behind their both guests,
which march up the western mound.
When Piëct and Oto'kar arrive at the top,
they turn themselves around for a last look.
One more goodbye down to the village green,
then they were out of sight.

"Oto'kar will you take your position below,
the remaining way to the sea we will fly."

The dragon makes some fast steps,
with the help of the spider and
some strong effective wave strokes
they are up on their track, in the air again.

Half way to the shore they cross a lake,
it reminds Piëct much at the one he lives.
For a short moment he feels a bit of
homesickness till he remembers,
that they have promised Keara to find Guir.

They arrived at the ocean the same moment,
the sun touches the still quiet flowing waters.
In front of a small hovel direct at the shore,
they put up their camp for the night.

It's getting more and more dark,
only some stars light the sky.
Piëct and Oto'kar are lying outside in the sand,
looking up to the endless obscure universe.

Several time later Oto'kar notices three stars,
which are standing at the firmament
in a line deep in the south-east.
Beside the three are situated some other stars.

The spider means,
that together with the ones on both sides,
all of it has the shape from a butterfly.
Piëct looks out of that reason to the left,
how Oto'kar has showed him,
pointing up the dim sky.

Easy thing it is to find the three stars;
they seem to be the clearest lights up there.
And yes, exactly the view of a butterfly they have.

They stare for a long time up
into the immeasurable wide of heaven,
till Piëct marks:

"I have found a dog!"

Oto'kar says, he don't know what he means.

"There look,
on the right of the butterfly,
the next stars not that far away.
A dog with his face to the west."

"Can you see;
the two blurred spots only a less darker?
The upper one seems to be his set of teeth,
the lower one a light mark on his chest,
in the middle of his two front legs."

"You just must imagine yourself,
how he draws with the other stars around,
the picture of the mighty sky dog."

"Further to the east you even may recognize
his tail, he is waging with.
On his run,
rushing behind the arrows of the hunter."

"Oh sure,
now I can see the dog,
I even can hear him bark."

Oto'kar has to commit.

Little more time passes,
then an owl flies over the water,
changing from one tree to another.

By the view of it, the spider
immediately crawls under the dragon's wing.
Soon our both friends fall to sleep.

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Chapter 4: Dragon raider

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