Gethyn and the Wind Dragon – Middle Grade
Gethyn scanned the shelves in Grandad’s store cupboard. They were a jumble of jars, bones and skulls, whiskers and unicorn hooves. Piles of jars-upon-jars, balanced on bowls-inside-bowls, all stuffed with things - and some of them were moving. Amongst the spell ingredients, he could see a gromlet for cleaning Bicorn nostrils, a tiny pogo stick, a tank of flurobeetles glowing in the corner, a pair of socks - and a massive pair of feather pants! No-one had a bottom that big he thought, as he rifled through the chaos for a second time. He was looking for the jar of gleem petals and he needed them quickly.
This is no good he thought. How could you do first aid on a dragon when all you could find was pants – and wait, what was that? A tiny pink zombat was fast asleep in the key dish.
Why did Grandad have a zombat in there?
Gethyn shouldn’t have been surprised really. When your grandad was a wizard, anything was possible.
Gethyn’s grandad was not just any old wizard. He was a dragon-wizard… a unicorn-wizard and centaur-wizard – call-it-what-you-like-wizard, any-mythical-beast-you-can-think-of-wizard. There wasn’t really a word for it – he was just Blethyn-the-Heal, and Gethyn was his weekend assistant.
One day, when Gethyn was older and wiser, he would be awarded the Rings of
Rocknor that would let him use magic and treat beasts all by himself. One day, he would be Gethyn-the-Heal, but that was still a long way off and there was so much to learn.
Right now, he needed to find gleem petals in Grandad’s crazy cupboard. As long as they were on the bottom shelf, he’d be fine – there was no way he was climbing up that magic ladder again. Last time he’d gone up it, he thought his insides were going to burst out of his eyes. Hopefully he would find a way to cure his fear of heights – that was his mission. Grandad said he would grow out of it, when his ears got bigger, and then he’d be able to stand on Landoc Hill and watch the dragons fly over, but Gethyn got queasy just thinking about it.
“Where are they, Grandad? I can’t find anything in here.’’
“Under the cowkpats, on the right!” came the reply.
“Oh Grandad!” said Gethyn, staring at his hand in dismay. His fingers had gone up into the soft brown underside of the crispy looking dung and were now covered in cowkpoo!
Grandad didn’t even notice Gethyn carrying the jar in with his elbows. He was totally absorbed in his stirring, humming merrily as he mixed a curious yellow goo in a wooden bowl.
“This will help the scales to mend,” he shouted to no-one in particular. “We’ll have her fixed in no time.”
His patient looked up at him with a crusty eye. A tiny puff of smoke leaked out of her nostrils and whiffled sadly onto the table.
Grandad rubbed the ointment into the little dragon’s wound. All at once the scales became flatter, and brighter. The blue bruising disappeared, and the ragged edges of the torn skin started to knit together.
“It’s working!” Gethyn whooped. “I didn’t think a cut that big could be cured so quickly. You really are the greatest healer in Landwest!”
Grandad chuckled. “And one day it will be you my son, when you are ready to open your mind, and let the answers in.”
Grandad was always talking about letting your mind open – but Gethyn still didn’t really know what he meant!
He smiled and held his destiny pendant between his finger and thumb, loving the way it vibrated slightly when the subject of him being a healer was mentioned.
He stroked the dragon and imagined it flying high in the sky with the others, returning from lands unknown, with stories to store and secrets to keep. He couldn’t wait for the celebrations as the first of the dragon-cloud was spotted heading over Cranlon Vale in a few days’ time. He laid his palm on the little Snootlebot’s leg.
The skin around the wound was rippling and growing.
And growing, and growing…
And growing! Wait!
Gethyn looked at Grandad.
Grandad looked at the dragon.
The dragon looked at her skin, which was now beginning to cover her like a giant white sleeping bag.
“The petals! Grandad – you’ve forgotten the gleem petals!”
Gethyn quickly pounded the missing ingredient into a powder and rubbed it over the dragon’s skin, which was already hanging off the edge of the table.
“Quick, help me Grandad, I don’t think I’ve got enough! Grind up some more!” He felt his pendant fluttering madly on his neck, matching his heartbeat. “Grandad!”
But Grandad was staring at his mistake, frozen to the spot. And going fuzzy round the edges!
Grandad couldn’t help. Grandad was disappearing.