I breathe the air. He absorbs energy and expels the light he doesn’t need. If a dragon were subjected to darkness for a long period of time, he would be overcome by weakness. Without at least a candle to feed his body, he would eventually die.”
Merlin set his bag down, approached the glowing dragon, and stretched out his hands over the cone. “At night he rests on a bed of silver and gold, and the power of the day flows into his bed. The energy grows into a shroud of luminescence around his body, and he reabsorbs the light as it passes over his scales.” He pointed at the base of the dragon’s bed and moved his finger around as if stirring. “Intermixed in the precious metal pieces are polished gems. They reflect the light, making it rebound within the shroud, so that more of the light strikes his body.”
The king took a step closer. “You say that he is asleep?”
Clefspeare snorted and stretched out his leg. The king placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, but Merlin jumped back and grasped Arthur’s forearm. “You have nothing to fear, but if you think or act aggressively, he is likely to sense danger.”
Arthur returned the grasp but kept watching the dragon. “When will he awaken?”
“That’s unpredictable. I don’t understand the process completely, but the light eventually fades, and the dragon awakes.”
“Is he vulnerable to attack while he sleeps?”
“Not likely. Many have come upon dragons in their lairs, but a dragon can sense danger and always awakens. Since I am his friend, and you have come as his new, albeit suspicious ally, Clefspeare senses none. But I must awaken him now.”
Merlin unfastened a string from around his neck and used it to pull a strangely shaped object from beneath his vest, a pendant stone dangling at the end of the string, small enough for his fingers to fully envelop.
“This is a candlestone, a kind of anti-prism,” he explained. “You see, a normal prism bends light and splits the colors. This stone does the opposite. It arrests fractured light and straightens it out. The light passes into it as excited energy and is dispelled as a simple beam. If I place it at the base of Clefspeare’s shroud, it will interrupt the circuit and disperse his shield. It also interrupts a dragon’s photo-respiration, and therefore his energy flow. It can actually absorb light, and with it the life force of his body.”
“Then could it be used as a weapon against dragons?”
“Most definitely. I wear it around my neck for defense against the evil, fallen dragons. One of my ancestors found it in Shinar after the destruction of Nimrod’s tower, and it was passed down to me through the centuries. I believe I am the only one alive who knows how to use it, but after today it will matter no more.”
Merlin placed the stone on the ground and slid it into the base of the shroud. Instantly the dancing light radiated toward the candlestone, and a brilliant, steady beam poured forth from its opposite side. The shroud vanished, and the candlestone glowed with an eerie, flat light.
After a few seconds, the sleeping dragon stirred. With a great stretch and a mighty yawn, Clefspeare rose to his haunches, his enormous tail acting as a balance. Smoke and sparks belched from his open mouth. The king drew back and once again gripped the hilt of his sword.
Clefspeare spied his two visitors. His deep gravelly voice erupted. “Master Merlin! I have been expecting you, though I did not expect to see the Sovereign.” Clefspeare gave him a clumsy bow and nearly fell on his face, but with a flap of his wings, he righted himself. “Master Merlin, would you be so kind as to remove that accursed stone from my sight before I become violently ill?”
Merlin picked up the candlestone and covered it with both hands. “Are you sure the stone made you lose your balance, or are you still overcome by sleep?”
“I assure you that my eyes are clear. I recognized the king, did I not? Now please put that wicked jewel under a pile of rocks. Covering it with your hands does little to blunt its evil effects.”
Merlin walked to the cave’s edge, guided by a dim, flickering light. He found a flat rock and placed the candlestone underneath.
With a great snuff from his nostrils, Clefspeare blew a stream of flame at an iron stand on the wall, igniting a rag-topped torch.