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Never speechless for long, Dory wondered out loud if she should just hurry along into the cave and hope to catch up with some other expeditioners, or explore the area around the cave first.

Have a look around, a voice in her head said. Ever the wanderer, always curious to just see what’s around that next corner, and the next….Dory wandered through the strange tall rock shapes. In a sort of natural passageway between vertical rock faces she came upon a group of people squatting next to a large oblong hole in the ground. The womans shawls and headscarves were flapping madly in the wind as she conversed with a boy of about 13, and it seemed to Dory as though they were discussing moving something so that it wouldn’t be found. Dory stood perfectly still just watching, and somewhat strangely they didn’t seem to notice her standing there.

An older man with curly grey hair and a long maroon djelaba and a tall narrow brimless black hat started to hurry away, as if a decision had been made.

Dory watched him until he disappeared from view. When she looked back towards the hole in the ground, it had vanished, and so had the woman and the boy.

PPFFFT! Dory had been deserted again. She turned and headed back towards the cave. Suddenly she felt hungry, and an image of a plate of cool crunchy coleslaw popped into her head.

I hope they’ve laid food on in the cave, she said.

After Arona said she was hungry, the energy of Malvina disappeared, and once again Arona found herself alone in the cave.

She found this quite irritating. They are really bit rude around here, she muttered.

Arona sat down on the floor of the cave and considered her options. She was tired of the cave and could barely remember what had drawn her here in the first place.

It had been the music of course. She had wanted to find the source of the music. However for the most part she decided her experience had been rather disappointing.

(Arona was never at her best when hungry and this was causing her to quickly forget some of the wonderful experiences with the music and the paintings, and take a rather negative view of events.)

All I have done is wander around dark passageways really.

And now, to top it all off, apparently things are shifting. In the name of heaven what does that mean?

AND if one more person tells me to use my magic I will probably scream or something!

Perish the thought, came a grumpy voice from a particularly dark corner. Your moaning is quite sufficiently bad enough.

And Mandrake the cat emerged from the shadows and made himself comfortable on Arona’s lap. This is great, much more comfortable than the ground he purred.

Oh cute, said Arona, a talking cat.

Cute yourself, responded Mandrake, love your cape by the way.

(Mandrake was prone to sarcasm, considering it a perfectly valid form of humour.)

Arona stroked Mandrake’s soft black coat and tried her hardest to work out what to do. It was all feeling a bit bleak at the moment, the ever changing cave, the half light, the heat and humidity… and especially her hunger.

Mandrake sighed in an impatiently eggsagerated sort of a way.

Heavens to murgatroyd^¹, how can I relax with your incessant thinking? Okay so here’s an easy one for you: what’s the most important thing about magic?

All of a sudden Arona felt a flash of lightness and a sense of new energy moving within her.

of course! She exclaimed delightedly, hugging the less than enthusiastic Mandrake, you have to believe in it!

—

[¹] Note from the editor: Mandrake being a very educate cat from noble ancestors, some of its speech may be difficult to grasp for the average reader, which was certainly not the case for the astute Arona.
Anyway, here is some complement on that ‘Murgatroyd’ .

Fiona had just received another rambling note from Dory, and was feeling rather bemused and perplexed.

Dory’s notes seemed to make less and less sense. The worst thing was that lately Quintin and Yann appeared to be following her lead. Of course she could be mistaken, the difference in language could be confusing things .. and there was all the merging they had been doing lately which meant they usually spoke in riddles. Fiona spoke very little French, just a few handy phrases such as “hello” and “butt”.

But as for Dory …

Fiona was a kindhearted person and tolerant of others. But these tales Dory was spinning appeared to be increasingly bizarre and nonsensical. Endless beginnings which never seemed to lead anywhere.

Am I being too rational? Fiona wondered, always humbly willing to accept her own shortcomings, or “dark corners” as Quintin liked to describe them.

One day, after a particularly outrageous note from Dory about an orgy in her kitchen with 57 Italians she had to cook for, Fiona felt compelled to gently and tactfully question Dory.

You are just out for revenge, Dory had hissed at her. It’s just a dream, I think … hmmmmm or am I a dream … or is it all a dream ….. I will go and ask Archie! and off she had dashed in a flurry of colourful shawls.

Bugger this, thought Fiona. Revenge had been the last thing on her sweet natured mind. With no more housework left to complete, she decided to go for a walk to the nearby cafe to take her mind from all this madness.

Dory dodged in and out of the people crowded in the narrow back street. She needed several meters clear run to activate her special flying sandals, and she had no idea which way to go.

A girl in a dark heavy blue cape was fiddling with a map on a street corner. Dory snatched the map off her as she ran past, shouting over her shoulder ‘thanks awfully, dont mind if I borrow your map do you?’

Glancing down at the map, she found it had morphed into a page torn from the old testament.

Lord Wrick was reading a bedtime story to his great grandson, Cuthbert. A huge open fire roared beneath the stone mantelpiece, and cast tall flickering shadows in the dark corners of the room. Cuthbert snuggled in to his great grandad, who pulled the red tartan shawl up under his chin. The Orkney Islands were cold in September, and a chill draught was ever present in the ancient castle. Cuthbert’s twin sister India Louise had already been taken to bed by Nanny Gibbon, who would read her a story in the nursery.

“Back from the depths of his sleep, the dragon Naasir exhaled in a puff of smoke” read Great grandfather Wrick. “He’d just woven a wonderful dream…”

A parcel had arrived at the castle yesterday, delivered by a travelling artist, who had been invited to paint portraits of the Wrick family. There was no message with the parcel, and the artist, Bill Jobsworth, explained that an old woman in black had given it to him at the crossroads, asking him to deliver it to Cuthbert and India Louise Wrick.

Arona eventually woke from her sleep, still tangled in the images from her dreams. Unable to remember these images she was left feeling as though she were adrift in a boat on the ocean, not caring where the wind and waves may take her.

She had no feeling that morning. It was as though a door had closed in her mind, shutting out the part that could feel. She did not know, nor care, whether she was shutting out joy or sorrow, only that some part of her wanted to be alone.

She remembered the words of the older woman who had sat with her and soothed her to sleep. Or was she already asleep? Was the woman a dream?

Use your magic, she had said.

When she was young, in the Village, magic had come easily to Arona. When did it end?. She screwed up her eyes trying to concentrate. It hadn’t ended all at once. Did it start to end with the cloak her parents had given her?

Arona shook her head briskly and thoughts, like leaves in the wind, lifted and fell back to earth again in new formations.

The candle still burned brightly and her attention was drawn to the heavy wooden door, knowing she could not put it off any longer. In her bag of treasures was a key. It had been given to her at the beginning of her 21 ^st year, as was custom in the Village. It was no surprise to her that it fitted the lock perfectly.

Thank you for having me room, she said as she left.

No, thank YOU, replied the sleepy glukenitch.

The door led directly into another space, larger, brighter. She could sense someone there, but not in solid form. It was a beautiful woman who Arona felt an immediate affinity with, and then a strange sadness came unbidden.

Why sad?

I have no clue answered Arona briskly, quickly shutting the door back on these pesky emotions.

You always know, just feel it

So Arona closed her eyes tightly and allowed herself to feel the answer.

Because you know who you are, and it made me realise I have no idea who I am.

Mmmmmmm, said the woman, maybe you would care to look at my new paintings. Actually they are some of yours.

Intrigued, Arona felt this would be a suitable distraction and she looked with much interest.

The first painting was of a child, in a beautiful meadow of flowers. The child appeared to be completely absorbed, concentrating on a small blue butterfly which had lighted on her finger.
The picture itself moved and changed shape as though it were a portal to another living, breathing world. In the corner of the picture were some other children who seemed to be playing happily together.

Arona, who had felt immediately connected with the young child frowned.

Doesn’t the little girl feel left out?

Go in, said the woman, Go inside the picture and feel the answer.

Oh, and you might want to leave your cloak behind.

So Arona did, and she became the child, but also stayed herself, observing the scene. She felt the child’s happy fascination in her connection with the butterfly. Not just the butterfly. She could feel her connected with the earth, and the gentle breezes and the beautiful flowers … The child was deeply contented, absorbed in the moment, moving happily with the flow of her interest.
I remember feeling like that, thought Arona, before the magic went.
She gently drew the child’s attention to the other children and felt the flow of energy between them. The child was so sure of who she was and where she wanted to be, and Arona could feel the loving acceptance of her playmates.
As the child’s attention went to the others, one of the children looked up and came running over. They sat together and laughed at some funny rabbits which had appeared in the meadow.

Arona returned to the cave.

You look troubled

Well, Arona felt a little perplexed. It’s all very well playing with butterflies and rabbits in a meadow, but it is not terribly practical.

On the contrary, perhaps it is very practical. Would you like to see another of your paintings?

Suspended gracefully between two posts was a beautiful, glistening spider web. Little drops of rain hung like jewels on a chain. An enormous spider waited patiently in the shadows. As Arona watched a small insect happened at that moment to be caught, and the spider began to creep along the delicate lines.

Arona shuddered a little. I might not jump into that one .

The woman laughed, Use your magic Arona. Weave your magic web and let it all come to you.

Oh you are the second person to tell me to use my magic. An old lady came to me in my dreams, I think.

Well I gave her the same advice, years ago.

More damn riddles, Arona thought to herself, and the woman laughed.

One final painting of yours I would like to show you. It is beautiful is it not?

Arona stared mesmerised for a moment, and then leapt right in.

She sat among an audience, captivated by the dancers on the stage ahead. Beautiful music played and it reminded Arona of the music she had heard earlier. The dancers leapt and twirled and Arona was enraptured.

Dance Arona, she heard the woman’s voice

I can’t dance like that, I’m not good enough.

It doesn’t matter

And Arona could not hold back any longer and entered the body of one of the dancers. She did not know the dance so she made up her own steps, and strangely this seemed to fit perfectly with the other dancers.

Back in the cave the woman seemed to be listening to something Arona did not think she could hear.

Things are shifting she said

Oh lordy, are they said Arona, What should I do now?

Feel the answer

Arona felt. I am very hungry, eggceptionally so.

But the brave front Arona had put on for the dragon crumbled as she looked at the door.

She sat down on the ground and started to cry, and once she started she found she could not stop.

She was so afraid. The courage she felt earlier had deserted her and been replaced by a sadness she did not really even fathom herself.

I am tired of this no man’s land, this endless searching. And I am so afraid that behind the door is just yet another dark tunnel. I hate riddles, people should say what they mean, and yes, I am very tired of this heavy black cape.

And so saying Arona angrily took off the cape and threw it to the ground.

She cried and cried and cried, and the little glukenitch lying unseen in the darkest corner luxuriated in the extra dampness her tears added to the ground.

When she had done crying she found her strength again, enough to keep going with the journey

Arona peered inside the darkness of the cave and got the fright of her life as a disembodied voice commanded imperiously to know her business. Not being particularly brave, or especially stupid, Arona began to back away.

Stop, commanded the voice, and Leormn the dragon moved slowly out into the light.

Holy Pixiesticks! gasped Arona, and found herself rendered momentarily speechless.

Leormn, secretly always rather flattered at the reaction his presence elicited, smiled rather mysteriously at Arona, “And what brings you here, where you have no business to be?” .

Arona finally found her voice “I heard the music, it is so long since I have heard music and all I wanted was to listen for a while, but it’s okay, I will go now if I am not welcome here”

Leormn pondered this, rather longer than was necessary, but it was a long while since anyone had come to the cave and he enjoyed the distraction. He was in a particularly good mood that day, delighted with little Buckberry and life in general.

“If you can answer this riddle I will allow you to listen” he said at last.
I am a box with no corner or side. I hold a golden treasure inside. What am I?