Escape from the Dragon's Lair!

“Oh, springtime,” said the dragon, “My favorite time of year, when dragons scoop rabbits into waffle cones and swallow them up!”

 

This Kraków dragon gave Szerykl such a fright! By some weird power, it kept changing in shape and substance right before her eyes. One moment it looked like a regular scary dragon, with its skin rough and scaly as an alligator. Then the next moment it transformed and was spiny as a porcupine. Its breath blew fire, then snow. It blinked small eyes, then large; those same eyes flashed green then black then violet. The dragon’s mouth showed fangs like a snake, then teeth like a shark. Its wings were those of a bee, then those of a bat, and then it had no wings at all and instead a back lined with spiky horns.

 

And this terrifying dragon was reaching to scoop up the trio of trembling rabbits!

 

“RUN AWAY!” cried the Rabbit Prince.

 

He fled right, Szerykl leapt left, but Beamish just stayed put, twitching and trembling. Szerykl glanced back at her frightened friend, then tripped over a bump in the rock and tumbled, bouncy-flouncy, ears-over-tail, until she landed–SPLAT!–on the hard cavern floor.

“Errglurg,” she said.

 

“Oh,” said the dragon, “I like it when rabbits get all soft and creamy inside.” He loomed so near that Szerykl could feel his icy-fiery breath on the back of her neck.

 

And that’s when Beamish shouted, “JABBERWOCKEEEEEEE!”

 

Then he sprang right toward the dragon and grabbed a furry wing. The dragon roared and reared back, then flapped its wings as if to shake Beamish away, the way you or I might shake our head when a fly buzzes near our ear. But Beamish held tight. And suddenly, Szerykl saw a puff of fog. When that fog faded Szerykl saw that both Beamish and the dragon had disappeared.

 

“What a hero, that Beamish!” said the Rabbit Prince as he helped Szerykl stand again on two  rear paws. “He poofed that dragon to some far away place!”

 

“Will Beamish be okay?” Szerykl asked.

 

“He’s clever,” said the Rabbit Prince, “he’ll poof himself to safety. Look, though, he’s given us time. Let’s find that amber!”

 

The shadowy cavern still seemed haunted. Lights glowed here and there, then faded, luring Szerykl and the Rabbit Prince into one cleft of a cave wall and then leaving them in darkness. They searched and searched for amber and found many other amazing things in the dragon’s cavern. Tufts of lambs' wool. The ancient bones of some prehistoric creature. Thousands of lollipops waiting to be unwrapped and eaten, and thousands of lollipop sticks without their lollipop heads.

 

Then, a cavelight grew from dim to bright like a firefly and drew Szerykl’s attention. She saw the orange glow of amber. Szerykl rushed toward it.

“Here! Here!” she cried.

 

Yes, this was it. The last amber bead, shaped to fit inside a silver heart. Szerykl gazed and felt something inside she couldn’t quite name. Part of the feeling was relief: she’d found this final piece the prophecy required to make the Rabbit Prince into a Rabbit King. Hooray! But she also felt a mixed-up jumble of joy and sadness, because this piece of amber was so-so-so beautiful. And, finally, the feeling included a a little frizzle of belief in herself, because Szerykl–a small rabbit–had broached the lair of a ferocious rabbit-eating shape-shifting dragon and been brave enough to grab the treasure.

 

Wait.

 

Grab the treasure?

 

“Is this stealing?” Szerykl asked the Rabbit Prince.

 

“Um,” he said. “I don’t think so. Not if it’s part of a prophecy.”

 

“I don’t see how that makes it right. Since when does a legend get to decide right from wrong? A legend doesn’t have any moral authority. Are you saying that by participating in a prophecy, we lose free will? We just do what the prophecy tells us to do and we’re absolved, forgiven, even if we’re stealing?”

 

“Um.” The Rabbit Prince lay his tattooed ears back against his head and down his back. “Rabbits are good; dragons are evil?”

 

Just then, they heard a great echoing roar. Then another, different roar in answer. The Rabbit Prince grabbed the amber heart and hopped away. Szerykl followed him as he rushed toward a glowing light, which grew brighter and larger until she recognized it as the opening to the dragon’s lair. In just a few hops, they escaped into bright day.

 

And when they did, there was the dragon, now neither furry nor scaly but instead rough and metallic, like an iron dragon. Beamish hid near the dragon’s great claws, and Charley Bear roared toward the dragon.

“NO ONE HURTS ANY RABBITS!” Charley Bear bellowed.

 

The dragon answered with fire.

 

Beamish ran to the Rabbit Prince and Szerykl. “Snicker-snack!” he cried. “Snicker-snack!”

 

“Why does Beamish blabber such nonsense at the worst times?” asked the Rabbit Prince.

 

“BACK OFF, DRAGON!” shouted Charley Bear.

 

And the dragon breathed fire.

 

Then, Szerykl grabbed the heart-shaped amber from the Rabbit Prince and stepped between Charley Bear and the dragon.

 

Szerykl said, “Pan Smok,” because that is the polite way to address a dragon in Poland. It’s like saying, “Mr. Dragon.”

 

Szerykl said, “Pan Smok, we only want this small item from your many treasures. We need it to fulfill a prophecy. We were ready to steal it from you, and maybe that was wrong, but if we ask nicely, maybe you’d like to give it to us? Or, we could just borrow it?”

 

Pan Smok–Mr. Dragon–stared at Szerykl, his breath icy as a February wind off the Baltic Sea. Now Pan Smok’s eyes were striped like rainbows.

 

Szerykl lifted the heart-shaped amber so Pan Smok could see.

 

“But orange lollipops are my favorite,” he said.

 

Szerykl said, “This isn’t a lollipop.”

 

“It looks like an orange lollipop.”

 

“It’s just old tree sap, really.”

 

“Does it taste like an orange lollipop?”

Szerykl licked it. Then she let Charley Bear lick it, too.

 

“Nope,” Charley Bear said.

 

Pan Smok rose up to his full height. His wings, now covered in feathers, beat against the air and a wind swirled around Szerykl and lifted her off the ground, so high she stared right at Pan Smok’s rainbow eyes.

 

“You’re pretty brave for a rabbit,” Pan Smok said. “Probably you are tasty, too. But if that tree-sap stuff doesn’t taste like an orange lollipop, I don’t want it. Go ahead. Take it. I hope your prophecy works out. Maybe some day you’ll bring me an orange lollipop.”

 

Pan Smok retreated to his lair, the wind ceased, and Szerykl fell. But Charley Bear reached out one of his great paws and caught her.

 

“Pretty brave for a rabbit,” he said.

 

The Rabbit Prince had a glazed look in his eyes. “Pod ziemią zaśpiewają króliki,” he said. “Under the earth, rabbits will sing. Friends, we’re so close. Our adventure is almost ended. Now we must bring our four amber beads to the great rabbit warren, the burrow beneath Królik Polski, where the prophecy will be fulfilled, and I’ll become the rabbit king.”

 

“To where?” said Szerykl. "Kr-ew-leek Poleskee?"

“Yes: Królik Polski,” said the Rabbit Prince. “It’s a village in the mountains of southeastern Poland, and its name means Polish Rabbit.”

“Ha ha,” said Charley Bear. “That’s a funny name for a town.”

 

“Lots of Polish towns have funny names,” said the Rabbit Prince. “There’s one called Bad Meat and another called Monsterville. There’s even one called Kissing.”

 

“But how will we get to Polish Rabbit village?” said Szerykl.

 

“We’ll rely on your friends Sheri and Michael,” the Rabbit Prince said, and he looked off to the south east as if into a better future. “Even though they don’t know it, Neighborhood Grandparents play an important part in this quest.”

 

NEXT TIME:

The magic rabbits arrive in Królik Polski!