Lost Magic
Ivy watched out the bus window and finally sighed. At least the countryside looked familiar. Bucharest had been a madhouse, still in the aftermath of a revolution and the upheaval that followed. She'd made plans to stay with some students she'd found through her university, but when she arrived, the building had been boarded up. She waited two days for a train to leave for Brasov, catnapping on a bench in the station and walking around a lot to keep herself awake. She'd found that city just as chaotic the capitol. Another overnight stay in the station there then she was on the bus.

John had been vague about the exact location where he'd seen the dragons. Not his fault, she decided; he'd probably killed a number of brain cells since then. Oddly, she still believed his story. Parts of it anyway. They'd chosen a small village in the foothills of the Carpathians as a likely place for her to start her search. The area had been a popular destination for adventurous hikers before Romanians decided to throw off the shackles of Ceausescu. No one would find it odd if she'd wander off into the woods.

Ivy nodded off as she soaked in the comforting sight of rolling hills and cultivated fields. In the distance, she could see mountain peaks. She woke up when the bus driver shook her, gesturing and speaking words she had no way of understanding. Looking out the window, she saw the tiny hovels of a village. Her destination? The driver seemed to think so.

On the cobbled street, she looked around for a likely place to stay. John had promised that someone in town would be willing to rent a room for a few nights, but very little that she'd planned had turned out. She wandered a little until she saw one building, larger than the others, with a sign in the window. One of the lines read zimmer frei--a room for the night!

She took out her phrasebook before she knocked on the door. Ivy was practicing the phrase Nu vorbesc româneste. Aveti camere libere? when a surprised-looking woman answered the door. The woman looked confused, but she smiled and gestured for Ivy to enter. It must have been obvious to her that Ivy didn't speak Romanian, but Ivy hoped that she had asked for a room correctly.

Ivy was ushered into a small parlor, the woman nodding and smiling the whole way. Ivy returned her greetings with multumesc and buna ziua, saying thank you and hello all the way down the short hall.

The woman patted a seat and waved Ivy forward. More thank yous and then the woman left the room. Ivy glanced nervously around at her surroundings. It was a very simple place; the furniture had once been good quality, but it showed its age. A hearth sat empty though the day was chilly.

After a few minutes, the woman returned with a mug of something hot and offered it to Ivy. Ness, ness, the woman said and Ivy wasn't sure if she was telling her to drink or what she was drinking. Ivy tasted something that turned out to be not completely but almost totally unlike coffee. More thank yous.

Using her phrase book along with much smiling and nodding, Ivy was able to secure a room (she thought) for a week. She would be given meals when she was around, though she'd indicated by climbing her fingers up her palm and pointing out the window that she'd be hiking much of the time.

Though she was excited finally to be so near her destination, fatigue claimed Ivy. She took a much-welcomed bath in two inches of water, leaving it a color she preferred to forget, then locked the door of the small room the woman had shown her to and slept like the dead.





In the morning, Ivy packed her things for her first foray into the mountains. She had a hearty breakfast with her innkeeper then headed out the backdoor and up into the hills. She spent the day tromping up and down, but ultimately saw no dragons. She returned to her room that night with enough energy to wash out her second set of clothes in the small sink in her room. Again, she slept heavily.

On her second morning, Ivy headed in the opposite direction, crossing the village before heading up a rocky path. She met a goatherd and some local children playing in the hills, but not one dragon. She returned in time to have a dinner of mamaliga and ciorba with Ana Batrana and her family, then joined them in the parlor for vin. She assured them (through gestures) that her room was fine and the surrounding mountains were beton, but no one could help but notice the gloom around her.

A persistant cold rain greeted Ivy's third morning in the mountains. She had breakfast with Ana then sat by a window and watched the drops roll down the glass. Finally, a break appeared in the clouds and she started off with half-hearted effort. She had decided that John Temple was completely brain-rotted and that she was on a fool's errand. Might as well enjoy the scenery and the local village life but plan on taking the return bus trip at the end of the week. It had been an interesting adventure.

At noon, she found a sunny spot with a stunning view and pulled lunch out of her bag. Her own supply of gorp was supplemented by sandwiches packed for her by Ana. As she munched, she looked out over a valley awakening to spring. Most of the trees were evergreens, but there was a crisper shade to their boughs and wildflowers decorated every sunny corner. She sat there for a long time after finishing lunch, breathing in the fresh air and loving the mountains. The sun's warmth lulled her into a light sleep.

A noise woke her from a strange dream of cows. It was loud, low and rumbling. A jeep, she thought, or maybe one of those dreadful ATVs. Still, having tromped the mountains alone for three days, she decided to head in the direction of the sound, to the west and a little uphill.

While packing her bag, she heard the rumble getting closer. The road must be closer than I realized, she thought. It seemed to be directly above her on the slope, but peering through the trees, she couldn't see anything. Suddenly, a large shadow blotted out the sun and the sound was nearly upon her. She dropped to the ground, covering her head, then rolled over to look up when the sunlight hit her again. She got the briefest glimpse of something flying overhead.

Disbelief would not allow her to call it a dragon. Was it a glider, perhaps with some motor attached? A low-flying helicopter, though the rhythm of the noise wasn't right? She made her way up the slope to a rocky outcropping that allowed her a better view of the valley and the sky above it.

That's when she saw it, following the mountain ridge to the west. It was a dragon. It was red. It was impossible, she told herself.

"I am seeing things," she said out loud. "I am not used to this mountain air or I've gotten too much sun. I am seeing things."

She turned from the sight and started hiking down the hill. Better to just go back to the inn and have some wine with Ana and her family. Maybe there would be a local festival in the area before the week was out. She kept her eyes on the trail and it seemed to pull her along. She found the pass that had led her into this valley and continued her way back to the village.

As she walked down a flower-covered slope, she had her second sighting. Below her in the meadow a giant boulder suddenly sprouted wings and took to the sky. Great rhythmic whooshes from its wings carried it higher and higher. Then another boulder, smaller than the first, followed. A pained expression crossed Ivy's face as she battled with what she was seeing.

"Either rocks fly," she whispered to herself. "Or here there be dragons."



She watched the two dragons for nearly an hour as they wheeled and dived above the field. The larger one would execute a move--a roll or a loop--and the smaller one would attempt to follow suit. Over and over, the bodies that seemed too large to leave the ground traced graceful patterns onto the sky. Ivy stretched out in a bed of fragrant wildflowers, not remembering when she'd ever been so happy.

Then it came to her. The mooncalf. The memory of sitting on another hillside and watching a magical dance came flooding back to her and she cried bittersweet tears. She wiped her eyes, though, when the dragons stopped their acrobatics and took wing to the west, the same direction the red had flown earlier. The red dragon. She'd almost forgotten about it. Where was her mind going? Ivy started west as well.

As the sun dipped down to the horizon, Ivy realized she was far too deep into the mountains to think about heading back to the inn tonight. Besides, she felt she was really on the trail of something. She couldn't give up now.

She had things in her backpack that would make a night spent out a little more bearable--extra layers of clothing and a lightweight "astronaut" blanket among them. She wished she had brought more food because she realized she was really hungry, but knew she could ration what she had. She hiked a little further, keeping an eye open for a likely sheltered spot to bed down for the night. She found the perfect boulder that would block any whistling winds but still allow her to see a large swath of her surroundings.

It was a mild night and the layers and blanket seemed to be doing their job. She watched the sky because a quarter moon was rising quickly over the opposite hillside. As she examined the swirls and spots of the moon, trying to put together a face, a figure on a broomstick lazily floated across the orb then was gone.