Dragon's Breath Book 2 (Completed)

Chapter 2

Whoosh! A damp breeze whisked me from the stool where I'd been sitting, twirled me until I was dizzy and plopped me down on a lumpy sack somewhere cold and dark. Dazed, I shook my head and looked around. It could have been worse. At least I knew where I was: my parents' dungeon. And the door was most certainly locked.

I'd visited the dungeon often, but always dressed warmly and carrying a torch. It wasn't safe to walk around the dungeon in the dark. Unseen hands moved barrels, holes appeared where none had been before and doors that were centuries old suddenly disappeared. Witches had lived in the castle for generations, and here, where the early witches had set up their workshops, the magic had permeated the walls and still floated about in currents and eddies that smelled like rotting vegetables.

My mother, who wasn't a witch, had ordered the dungeon cleaned out and now used it just for storage. But the witches' ghosts remained to haunt the old dungeon, and not all of them were friendly. My mother didn't believe in ghosts and kept the salt in the room where I now found myself, a long, narrow room that had once been used as the torture chamber. Why had I wanted salt for the eggs?

The torture chamber had no windows; not even the faintest glimmer disturbed the inky dark. I thought about using magic to go back upstairs, but I didn't know any spells that would take me from one place to another. Though I wanted to practice my magic, I didn't think I was ready to try to come up with my own spells yet, especially since it was a simple spell that had brought me to the dungeon. To get out safely, I needed some sort of light. A tethered witches' light would have to do, even though it would be vulnerable to the old magic wafting through the dungeon.

One of the first spells my aunt had taught me was for creating such a light. I'd used it many times, but only when Grassina was around. I recited the spell, shaping my hands as if I was holding a ball.

Create a glow to chase the dark.
A light to help me see.
Let neither wind nor rain nor snow
Take it away from me

The space between my hands began to glow a rosy shade of pink as a ball of gentle light took form. I released the ball, and it drifted above my head.

I'd started toward the door when a whisper of sound behind me made me turn to look. A swirling mist glowing a faint blue poured through a hole in the wall. As the mist filled the room, a young woman appeared only a few feet away, her long tresses lifting in a nonexistent breeze. She gazed at me through shadowed eyes, her lips moving, her hands reaching in a pleading sort of gesture. An aura as cold as a winter's night surrounded her, giving me goose bumps as she drew near. Her lips moved again, and I strained to hear her words.

"I'm sorry," I said, tilting my head so that I might hear her better. "Could you repeat that?"

The ghost sighed and dropped her arms to her sides. "Then listen carefully this time," she yelled. "I hate repeating myself. I said, 'Help, help, save me. The executioner is coming and I've done nothing wrong.'" She spoke in a matter-of-fact sort of way, as if reciting lines that she'd repeated too often.

"Too late!" said a voice by the far wall. "I'm already here!" A broad-chested ghost dressed all in black materialized before us. His eyes glowed crimson through holes in the hood covering his head. Silently, the executioner wielded an axe, its blade dark with blood. The young lady shrieked and started to run. I closed my eyes, and when I opened them, her head lay on the floor, gazing up in silent reproach.

"That was pretty good," I said, "although it works better when you delay your entrance, Cranston. It's more effective when Margreth convinces me of her innocence first."

"Sorry," said the executioner. "We're both a bit off today. We've had so many visitors lately, stomping around in heavy boots and thrusting torches in dark corners."