The Dragon's Mark--A Twisted Fairy Tale

Part 11: Chasing The Dragon

Stella ran, dragon-like, through the endless inferno. All around her was flame, but she didn't feel it. Henrik ran next to her, and she could see his body covered in the dark, shifting scales. Would they find his father before they, too, became dragons?

At last, Henrik cried out, "I see them!"

Stella followed his gesture and saw two dark blots among the flames—Sigmund the Dragon and his prisoner. Agatha crouched in a patch of blackened soot, her face curled into her lap. Stella noticed that the dress didn't seem damaged at all; was it some sort of special material Nadia had discovered, resistant to flame? The young woman did not make a sound—probably she had worn herself out screaming as the dragon carried her away. Sigmund waited defensively by, watching the two of them approach, spewing fire wherever his protective circle broke away.

Henrik approached just ahead. "Father!" He cried. "It's me—Henrik! See, I've brought the girl, Nadia's heir!"

Sigmund swung his head around and regarded the two of them. Angrily, he sent a blast of fire over their heads, but Henrik and Stella stood their ground.

Stella stepped forward. "My name is Stella; I am the Bride you seek," she said. "Let me have the Ring, and I can lift this terrible curse."

Standing there in the heat, Stella could feel all her exposed skin thickening and hardening. It was hard enough to breathe, harder still to see in the blinding light. The dragon snarled at them as it angrily stalked the perimeter of the clearing. Stella wondered if Sigmund was too far gone, if he understood human speech at all by this point. Abruptly, at the far side of the circle, the dragon's head jerked up, and he took off into the sky with a screech, lost amid the smoke.

Henrik stared helplessly after his father. "Where has he gone? What are we going to do?"

Stella, on the other hand, focused on the terrified figure huddled on the ground. "Agatha!" she called, running toward her.

The tousled dark head came up, revealing the tear-stained, scratched, terrified face underneath. After the fear came anger, and Agatha glared at the scarred young woman before her. "You!" she grunted. "This is all your fault! If you hadn't gone to the stupid party, Mother wouldn't have known you had the Ring, and I wouldn't have had to stand in the Governor's Court wearing borrowed clothes!" She thrust an arm out, gesturing toward the flames surrounding them. "And now look where we are! I'm going to die out here, and it's all your fault!"

Stella ignored Agatha's complaining, as she had so many times before. "Agatha, listen to me! I think I have a way to put an end to this, but I'll need the Ring—"

Agatha wasn't listening. She stared over Stella's shoulder and gasped. "Is that... Henrik?" She clapped grubby hands to her cheeks. "Ugh! What have you done to him? He looks... He's like you! How awful!" Her mouth curled in a horrified grimace.

The former serving girl saw the red gem still on her finger. "Agatha!" She begged. "Give me the Ring! It was meant for me!"

"Meant for you?" Agatha shrieked over the roar of the fire. "You think just because everything was wonderful when you wore it, but when I put it on everything went terribly wrong, that it means you somehow deserve it, that I'd just hand the ring back to you? Why should I believe you are anything more than a servant?" She plucked the Ring off her finger and held it up between them. "You want this cursed thing?" With a flick of her wrist, Agatha sent it flying into the ring of fire. "Go and get it then, Toad-face!"

Desperately, Stella leaped after the Ring, searching frantically for where it might have landed. The flames nibbled at her eyes and her hair as she dug her fingers into the ashen earth until she felt its familiar shape.