Under Pressure With a Squash

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE A Pointless Test *MAGELLAN*

AT FIRST, NO one at the Royal Aeronautical Academy would talk to Prince Magellan. He was glad to have surprise on his side. He was only eleven years old. No one suspected he was hoping for free room and board for his perpetually hungry dragon.

The Royal Aeronautical Academy was full of royals from all over the Seven Kingdoms. A plain old prince was nothing special, even if he could draw maps. Standing on the open parade grounds of the Magenta Kingdom, he felt like a blade of grass. Cadets and officers filed passed him without a second glance.

He wasn’t as well known as his twin sister, Saffy, the Crown Princess of Saffron Kingdom. She’d won every Archery Contest she’d ever entered. Even outside their own kingdom, people asked for her autograph. While Magellan was being ignored on this side of the Magenta Kingdom, she was registering for an Archery Contest on the other.

The Royal Academy students had definitely seen her hit a bullseye. She competed in every Archery Contest in the Seven Kingdoms. She also never missed.

After a three-hour trip from the Saffron Kingdom by dragon, and a few more minutes dropping Saffy off on the other side of the fortress, Magellan was under pressure.

Weak from lack of food, the dragon was slower now. It lay on the paved walkway like a large, lumpy, saffron-yellow boulder. The dragon was the whole reason they were in the Magenta Kingdom today.

They were running out of dragon food. The mountain of coal donated by the other kingdoms had dwindled to almost nothing. The Saffron Kingdom’s treasure chests were empty. The Royal Aeronautical Academy was Magellan’s last hope.

A battalion of maintenance staff with massive brooms swept towards them.

“Sir? Can you move your equipment?” one of them asked Magellan, nudging the sleeping Saffron dragon’s tail with her broom. “We’re working here.”

“Oh, right. I mean, yes, ma’am.” Magellan looked around and saw a tidy row of gliders parked on the far end of the parade grounds. Probably not an outstanding idea to park his “equipment” there.

He patted the Saffron on the head. “Find a tunnel under the fortress and rest. After I find Harold, I’ll whistle for you. No snacking and no sightseeing!” He bored into the dragon’s eyes with his own.

The dragon gave him a huge, toothy yawn, shook itself, and took to the air.

The maintenance crew surged forward. Jogging backwards to keep his feet out from under their brooms, Magellan asked, “Can you tell me where the student rooms are? I’m looking for Crown Prince Harold, from Cochem Kingdom.”

The maintenance crew swarmed right around Magellan. A crew member on the right pointed her broom at a building on the other end of the parade ground. “The dormitory is over there.”

With quick broom strokes, she caught up to the rest of the crew.

“Thank you very much!” Magellan jogged over to the dormitory, got the room number from the mailboxes, and knocked on the door to Harold’s room.

Harold stuck his head out.

“Don’t know if you remember me . . . Prince Magellan?” Magellan pointed to himself and sketched a casual bow to Harold number one, the Crown Prince of Cochem Kingdom.

“Oh, yeah, come on in.” Harold held the door open wider, but after Magellan came in, Harold stuck his head out again and scanned the hall. “Saffy’s not with you?”

“Archery Contest.” Magellan was on a mission, and he didn’t have much time. “I need to fly in the trials this afternoon.”

The Royal Aeronautical Academy held equipment trials to test the newest, shiniest plane gliders and decide which ones to add to its fleet. If they picked the dragon, that would solve everything.

“Wait—” Harold’s head tilted to one side and then he shook it. “Come to the cafeteria and explain this to me while you eat.”

Harold shut his door, and they walked over to the cafeteria together. Magellan smiled. The Academy provided food for the students. And for their guests.

This could work.

Now that the dragon had finally kicked its snacking-from-passing-barges habit. At least, Magellan was pretty sure the habit was kicked.

At the table, with two steaming bowls of split pea soup in front of them, Harold asked, “You mean the equipment trials this afternoon, right? Find a spare glider in your tunnels?”

He took a big spoonful of soup.

“I parked the Saffron in one of yours,” Magellan said.

Harold choked. His eyes watered and he forced a swallow. “You want to fly the dragon—” He lowered his voice and his spoon traced a loop de loop in the air.

“We’re out of coal.” Magellan shrugged and stirred his soup with his spoon.

Harold whistled. “You want to get the dragon in, so the Academy will have to feed it?”

That was the general idea, yes. Until this moment, Magellan had thought it was brilliant.

Harold covered his mouth with his hand, and his eyes laughed.

Magellan shoveled soup into his mouth, ignoring the burn. He had to convince Harold to let him try. Otherwise, the dragon had exhausted itself for nothing. “Can’t you tell them I want to come to the Academy?”

“Oh, I didn’t know. It’s hard to get in.” Harold leaned towards him, concerned now. “How are your math scores?”

“Math scores? Who’s talking about math scores?” Magellan scowled. Maybe all crown princes and princesses were obsessed with points. He’d always thought it was a Saffy thing. “All I need is ten minutes in the air. Once the judges see what the dragon can do, they’ll be falling over themselves to get it.”

“Oh, yes! Wouldn’t you love to see their faces?” Harold’s spoon scraped against the bottom of the bowl, traced out a complicated path, and added a loop de loop here and there.

Magellan waited, letting the idea of dragon flight work on Harold’s imagination.

Harold swallowed, shaking his head again. His spoon made a final ting sound in the empty bowl. “It’s too bad you’re not a student.”

Magellan had a back-up plan, but it would only work if the dragon behaved. He’d been hoping not to have to use it. “What if you flew the dragon for me?”

“Me? Could I?” Harold’s eyebrows came together. “I thought you had to be a Saffron to fly a Saffron dragon.”

“No. Nero’s a Blackfly,” Magellan said. Nero was the Crown Prince of the Blackfly Kingdom. “He’s flown the dragon all over the place.”

Of course, the tiny blackflies that showed up around Nero were dragon candy. But Harold didn’t need to know that.

Harold’s eyes narrowed, considering. “I always wanted to fly a dragon.”

His tone made Magellan jump up. “Then you’ll do it?”

Harold grinned. “Why not?”

“The dragon’s too tired for a test drive,” Magellan warned.

“That’s okay.” Harold grinned, grabbed their bowls and got up. “Let me see if I can get us a flight ticket. Maybe the two of you should lie low for a few minutes.”

Magellan couldn’t argue with that. The judges were more likely to give the dragon a chance if it surprised them.

On the paved path, Harold passed under the banner of the Mapmakers Guild on his way to the huge parade grounds. The banner marked the entrance to the Guild headquarters. Magellan had always wanted to go in there, but he had to check on his dragon. Some other day, he’d come back.

Magellan climbed down to the nearest Magenta tunnel and whistled for the dragon. An answering “Creeee!” came from inside the tunnel. Using his tunnel vision, Magellan found the dragon. “We’ve got to move closer to the entrance, so I can hear Harold.”

“Creee!” said the dragon, but it dragged itself after Magellan and they made themselves comfortable in the tunnel mouth. Tunnel vision was a practical fairy godparent gift.

The dragon put its head in Magellan’s lap. Full size now, it seemed more tired every day. In a few moments, it was snoring. Bats chittered above their heads. The dragon belonged to the Saffron tunnels, like Magellan. They were tunnel buddies. Saffy kept talking about sending it to the Magical Creature Reserve, but that would mean never seeing the dragon again. The thought made Magellan’s stomach churn.

Today was a gigantic game—tickets, judges, and points. Saffy enjoyed this kind of thing. She’d be figuring out how to get a perfect score. Magellan wondered if he should say something to Harold about staying away from coal barges. In case the dragon’s bad habit kicked in. Diving for a coal barge in mid-trial would make the dragon look even less like the real glider.

Harold could fly anything with wings. That was why he was at the Royal Aeronautical Academy in the first place. Giving him tips would be kind of insulting.

Besides, what were the chances that a barge full of coal would happen to cruise by the Magenta Kingdom during the dragon’s short trial? Hardly worth mentioning. Magellan decided he wouldn’t mention it.

After a long wait for Magellan and a second nap for the dragon, Harold called down to them, cupping his hands around his mouth, “Everything okay?”

Magellan leaned out of the tunnel and waved. He glanced down at the snoozing dragon and back up. “Hanging in there.”

Harold held out a bright blue ticket. “We got number 117. Come on up.”

“Come on, baby,” Magellan nudged the dragon awake by pushing on its armored stomach with his feet. They had to get back up to the parade grounds for the trials. It was sunny up there. Maybe sunbathing would warm up the dragon’s muscles so it could fly more easily. The dragon stretched out its long neck with a terrible squeaking sound.

Creee-k!

“You don’t feel well, do you?” Magellan patted its head and held back some branches so it could get through more easily.

The dragon scraped along the earthen steps, not like a flying creature at all. The long flight here had burned up all the coal the dragon had eaten this morning.

When they finally got up to the top, Magellan thumped the pavement in a sunny corner of the parade ground with his foot. “Come on, lie down and get some rest until it’s your turn.”

Magellan moved out of the dragon’s way.

Harold came up behind them. “Is something wrong with it?”

Magellan peered up at the sky. The sun seemed to help. Not as much as coal. “If it stays sunny until it’s our turn, it’ll be fine.” He hoped that wasn’t a lie.

“A solar-powered dragon, eh? If you say so.” Harold said.

“It’s a lizard thing.” Magellan wondered if Harold was onto something. Harold’s youngest sister, Princess Twyla, could probably build a solar dragon-recharger. But Magellan dismissed the idea. Even if she could, the Saffron Kingdom couldn’t pay for the materials.

Harold held out a scroll with a list of tasks and the points for each one. “Do you want to know how the judging works?”

“Oh. Right. Yeah, sure.” Magellan took it. It hadn’t occurred to him that the dragon’s flight would be graded. But he didn’t think scoring would be the problem. A dragon was much smarter than any glider and could fly circles around any of them.

Normally, Magellan didn’t have much use for scores. What could a score say that you didn’t already know? The stuff that mattered most to him was his sketchbooks. They didn’t get grades. Either a sketch needed more work or it was time to go on to the next project.

Nothing else mattered.

Magellan was much more worried that the dragon would be disqualified. He looked down at the rivers. Please, no coal barges today. The maps he’d been drawing—night and day—for the angry barge captains were only a drop in the bucket towards the enormous cost of coal the dragon had stolen.

Harold rubbed his hands together. “If we want to convince the Academy to give room and board to a flying reptile, we’ll need a perfect score.”

“Can we get one?” Magellan asked. Saffy was the only person Magellan knew who regularly got perfect scores. In everything. He’d never tried for one before.

“We can try.” Harold winked at him. “We’d get all the best assignments. The Academy couldn’t turn down a dragon with a perfect score, right?”

Magellan coughed. He had a sudden vision of the dragon’s version of a perfect score. Magellan shook himself. He’d broken the dragon’s snacking habit. He did NOT have to worry about it anymore. “I hope not.”

“I know they wouldn’t,” Harold said. “Environmental, adaptable, renewable flight ‘equipment’ doesn’t knock on the Academy’s door every day.”

Two hours later, the Saffron dragon soared into the air and did a perfect loop de loop. The judging table looked surprised, and Crown Prince Vlad riffled through the Magenta Kingdom’s enormous rule books, but no one disqualified the dragon, yet.

Magellan looked down at his paper. A loop de loop was worth 10 points. The dragon corkscrewed down, then banked sharply, right before the river. Another twenty points each: 10 for the corkscrew and 10 for the recovery.

Magellan smiled. This was going to be like watching Saffy scoop up all the points on the archery range.

The dragon couldn’t lose. Magellan pumped his fist in the air.

Harold number one wasn’t having any trouble getting the Saffron dragon to do what he wanted.

Magellan huffed out a big breath to release the tightness in his chest. Better a prince from another kingdom flying on a Saffron than a dragon wasting away to skin and bones.

For the next task, the dragon had to chase a glider, pick up a mail bag in mid-air and carry it back to the judging stand. It was supposed to cross over the "Seam", the place where the Rhine and Mosel Rivers joined.

Easy peasy for a dragon with talons. The dragon caught the mail bag in mid-air and banked to come around above the Seam . . . then took a completely unexpected dive towards the water.

Magellan’s stomach took a matching dive.

“Nooooooo,” he whispered. “You don’t do that anymore!”

Harold’s arm came up and down again—he’d whacked the dragon.

The dragon kept diving.

Harold's body leaned way out to one side. He must be pulling the dragon’s head around to get it back on course, but the dragon swerved away from the Magenta Fortress and towards a river barge.

Harold must know the dragon was fond of coal barges. Everyone in the Seven Kingdoms had seen the stories in the Proclamation about the angry barge captains. Was Harold so busy studying and flying that he didn’t read the Proclamation?

The dragon was right over the barge now.

“No, please no.” Magellan couldn’t take his eyes off them. He looked over at the judging panel and shifted from foot to foot, wishing he were on the dragon right now.

The dragon landed on the black pile of coal and dipped its head, ignoring Harold completely. After the long flight to the Academy and the loop de loop, corkscrew, and recovery, the temptation of a coal barge had been too much.

Magellan should never have let Harold fly. Magellan and the dragon were both Saffrons. They had a better bond. They'd kicked this habit together. Magellan yanked his hair with both hands. It didn't help.

The dragon flew back up to the fortress--dipping its head and looking the other way as it passed Magellan--but flying higher and with more energy than it had for days.

The dragon landed, dropping the mailbag in the target box.

Perfect.

But too little, too late.

The judges held up their scores.

0 0 0 0 0 -5

Minus 5? Magellan had seen a lot of terrible scores on math tests, but this was ridiculous. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on his dragon. It had thrown this chance away.

Minus 5.

Magellan yanked his hair again. It hurt, but everything else hurt more. The dragon could have had all it wanted to eat for the rest of its life. One little test would have done it.

Harold number one vaulted smartly off the dragon’s back and saluted the judging panel—including Crown Prince Vlad and Princess “Shush” of the Magenta Kingdom. And a jeering Academy. The back of Harold’s neck was bright red.

He strode straight over to Magellan, and his tone was sharp. “Why didn’t you tell me your dragon has no control around coal? You made me look like an i***t in front of the entire Academy.”

“I’m sorry. I thought I’d broken that habit. Really. When I’m flying. Or Saffy.” Magellan babbled. “I thought you could fly anything.”

Magellan shut his mouth. Ooops. That wasn’t what he’d meant to say. Harold could fly anything. Except a Saffron dragon with an addiction to coal barges.

There was a tense moment.

“Well, if you can fly it better, then you apply to the Royal Aeronautical Academy,” Harold said. “I’m done. I think your math scores are the least of your problems.”

Harold shoved the dragon’s reins at Magellan and walked off.

Magellan called after him. “I thought you knew. Don't you read the Proclamation around here?”

Breathing hard from the flight, the dragon burped up a jet of flame. Everyone stepped back.

“Cut it out,” Magellan said to the dragon. “You’ve already lost all your points. Are you trying to get us thrown out?”

Crown Prince Vlad walked over from the judging table. “Prince Magellan, we’ll need the dragon off the parade grounds for the rest of the equipment trials. Can you control your ‘equipment’ or do we need archers for back-up?”

Magellan gave Vlad a polite head bow and said, sweetly, “Thank you, I can control my dragon without archers.”

“What did I tell you?” Magellan muttered to the dragon and vaulted up onto its back.

As the dragon sprang up into the air, Magellan asked himself how he would ever make this right: a starving dragon, too many barge captains, Harold, Vlad, and the entire Royal Aeronautical Academy.