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. Every time it caught sight of
the nightmare it tossed its head and pawed the ground.
"She'll calm down before long," Denzil announced.
"They always do."
With that, he turned and rode from the baron's
yard. Gisella followed, thinking about what the eve-
ning might hold in store.
They climbed into the mountains, over a carpet of
crunchy, fragrant pine needles, riding until late in the
afternoon. Long shadows soaked the ground beneath
the heavy, sweeping bows of the mountain fur trees.
Sunlight seldom poked through the thick treetops. No
breeze stirred the branches. No birds chirped. Gisella
became acutely aware of a growing stillness in the air,
which she attributed to the nightmare, although she
could not explain why.
Eventually they stopped in a small clearing. Gisella
shivered in the silence and the cold. "How do we know
we're looking in the right place for this tower?"
"We don't," Denzil said simply. "I watched the
dragon until it was a distant speck. I believe we're on
the right track." His eyebrows knit as he squinted to-
ward the sun, which had dropped below the summit.
"We'll stop here tonight." He swung down from Scul's
back, speaking a few tender words into the anxious
animal's ear. The horse trotted to a nearby tree to
graze.
"That's quite a trick." Gisella's voice was filled with
admiration as she held out her hand demurely.
Denzil took it and helped her down. "Scul and I
have an understanding," he said mysteriously.
Turning his back to Gisella, he took stock of what
needed to be done
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