“Veronica, friend of the Zanga!” The call came from below the treehouse.

Veronica leaned over the balcony. “Jarl! What’s wrong? Is Assai all right?” Jarl stood several feet from the electric fence. He was accompanied by at least four Zanga hunters that the jungle girl could see.

“Assai is well. We are looking for Nall, my cousin. Did you see him after you left our village? He had gone hunting on the trail between our village and here.”

“No, Jarl. We saw no sign of him yesterday or today. Do you think something’s happened to him?”

“We fear that the one hunted by these Magyars has taken him. They say he is a demon sent from the spirit world.” Before he turned to leave, Jarl looked at his wife’s friend and then issued the warning he knew Assai would want him to give. “Do not travel alone until the demon is found.” Jarl and the Zanga warriors disappeared back into the jungle.

“Demons, balderdash!” Challenger scoffed.

“You don’t believe in demons, Professor?” Sándor asked curiously.

Ned and Veronica exchanged a woeful look and rolled their eyes. They’d heard this lecture before.

“What people call demons, or magic, is only something for which they don’t have an explanation. Now I admit we have seen some strange phenomena on this plateau, but I’m convinced with sufficient study that a rational, scientific explanation can be found for each of these so-called magical encounters.” Challenger was ready to continue on in that vein for some time. Veronica, however, had a distraction ready.

“I almost forgot, I picked up these plants today, and I thought you and Professor Summerlee might want to see them.” Veronica picked up her bag from the table as the pair of delighted scientists followed her, and the three descended to the lab.

“Magyars?” Marguerite inquired, as if a piece of a puzzle had just fallen into place. She had stood very still as she listened to Jarl.

“The ones we told you about yesterday.” Ned looked at Marguerite closely. “Do you know who they are?”

Before she could answer, Sándor turned to her with the book she’d been reading in his hands. He’d been glancing through it. “Is this your book?” At her nod, he continued. “You are quite a scholar.”

“Not really, I read just about everything else here.” This was said dismissively. As a matter of course, Marguerite tried to reveal as little about herself as possible. Having people, especially potential enemies, underestimate you gave you a distinct advantage.

“So modest and so very beautiful.” His voice was deep and intimate as he took Marguerite’s hand and bowed over it. A sense of unease flashed through her and she practically yanked her hand away from his surprisingly tight grasp, instead of handling the situation with her normal aplomb. She backed up; an unreasoning fear gripped her.

“Do not worry, Marguerite.” Sándor’s voice was low and almost humorous. “The ever vigilant Lord Roxton is not here to pin me to the wall.” Sándor closed in on the dark-haired beauty step by step.

Ned took a step forward; unsure of precisely what to do, but knowing he should intervene. Not only because he knew Roxton wouldn’t want Marguerite harassed; but also because something was definitely wrong when the expedition’s linguist didn’t handle a flirtatious male with a quip and an easy move.

“Speaking of Roxton, I should check on him. He seemed under the weather when you came back.” Moving away, Marguerite shook her head as if to clear it, her voice edgy. “And I need to splash some water on my face.”

Sándor watched her retreat speculatively, faintly smiling as if he savoured the taste of something exquisite.

“Veronica mentioned you wanted to see some of my journals.” Ned spoke to distract the Count from Marguerite and prevent him from following her.

“Yes, she said you were keeping accounts of all your encounters on the plateau.” Sándor’s eyes were dragged back to Malone.

“I’m trying at any rate. Sometimes I read some of them and I’m not sure I believe them.” Ned strove for a light note trying to act as if nothing was wrong.

Ned gestured at several of the journals that lay out. “I’d be interested to know if you’ve run across some of these cultures.” As the Count looked over the journals, Ned saw Veronica mount the stairs from the lab and head for her room.

***

Roxton opened his eyes sleepily to see Marguerite sitting in a chair at his bedside, nodding off.

“Marguerite.” No response. “Marguerite!” He hissed her name more vehemently. She started awake.

“What!” Her eyes focused on Roxton and she heaved a sigh of relief. “Oh you’re awake.” Her eyelids drooped down again. Roxton took her hand.

“Marguerite, what’s wrong? Is it Bocskai?” Roxton persisted.

“He took my hand. It was wrong somehow.” Marguerite tried to gather her thoughts.

“Bloody hell!” Roxton’s feet hit the floor. Exhausted or not, he would put a stop to any liberties this damned Bocskai lout thought he could take.

“No, John, it wasn’t what he did that was so wrong, but how it felt. I couldn’t stand to have him touch me.”

“We’re in agreement on that.”

“And then I was suddenly so tired. I was afraid for you, for me.” She exhaled, exasperated. “I can’t think straight. I didn’t want to leave you alone.”

“He’s done something. We need to get our wits together and figure this out. In the meantime.” Roxton lay back down on his bed, fatigue sapping his energy. He tugged on Marguerite’s hand. “You’re right that we shouldn’t be alone.”

“Are you inviting me to your bed, Lord Roxton?” Despite the tense situation Marguerite couldn’t resist teasing.

“Constantly, but in this case, I think we’re both too tired for more than sleep.” His smile was soothing.

Marguerite could never hold out when he coaxed her so gently. She slipped into his bed and into his arms, her head resting on his shoulder. In moments they both dropped off, resting more securely with physical reassurance of the other’s safety.

***

“These are most intriguing.” Sándor was skimming the stories Malone had written of their adventures. Occasionally he paused to read a line or two aloud.

“This we know through centuries of battling the dragon: So purely evil is the dragon that nothing can withstand the dragon fire.”

At those words Ned’s head went up, startled.

Unaware that the reporter found anything unusual in what he said, Sándor remarked conversationally, “This is quite a remarkable story. Did you really find a dragon?”

Malone wasn’t quite sure what to do, his normal instinct would have been to confront this strange guest with the ability he just demonstrated, but nothing about this situation was normal. And one doesn’t live in close quarters with Marguerite for over three years and not learn how to employ the occasional devious method. Ned settled for just answering the question.

“Oh yes, it was an extremely impressive dragon. Challenger is still trying to find a scientific explanation.”

Sándor chuckled and went back to the journals. Ned was left alone with his thoughts.

That indeed had been an incredible adventure. A horse designating Roxton as a king. Magical fire, an evil advisor, Ned and Veronica tracking down a cavern with buried kings and runes. He’d copied down those runes into his journal and brought them back to help find a way to defeat the dragon. Those runes had been the key. Luckily Marguerite had been able to translate them as usual. That left Ned with one question: How did Sándor just rattle off the translation of those runes and not even realize he’d done it?

The reporter sat bemused as Veronica came from her room and took the Count to the pond to cool off in the heat of the afternoon.