As the dragon fell to the ground, Shamrock lowed his shield. He lowered is sword arm, resting the tip of the sword’s blade on the grass.
“You saved my life,” the young, dark-haired princess standing behind him said, giving him a hug from the back, causing him to drop his shield. “I was so scared of that monster!”
“Dragons are no problem for a good sword arm,” the 13-year-old warrior told her, thinking, and a magical glove.
“But,” the princess continued, loosening her hold, and slowly lowering her arms, “Are you really fighting alone today?”
“I always fight alone,” Shamrock told her, turning to face her. “You’re looking around as if you expected someone else. Who are you looking for?”
“You are Shamrock, aren’t you?”
“You know my name? We haven’t had a chance to even talk yet.”
“I thought maybe Clover would be with you.”
“Something happened a long time ago, and Clover doesn’t want to be a magic girl anymore. I don’t think she even remembers being Clover anymore. But how do you know about Clover? And about me? Just who are you? Somehow… You seem familiar.”
“Ah, well… You see, you saved me from a bad dream when I was younger.”
“Are you remember it? How?”
Arle backed away a couple of steps. She rubbed her hands together by her chin. “You’re asking so many difficult questions. If I remember something, it’s because I remember it. I’m not special or anything. I just remember because I remember.”
“It’s you, isn’t it?”
Shamrock’s words caught Arle off guard. He looked directly into her eyes, causing her to turn her eyes away, but then turn and look back into his eyes.
“Your name is Arle, isn’t it?”
“Ho–how did you know that?”
“I remembered it. Simple as that. Besides, you’re the girl who knew that was a dream. But, if this isn’t your dream, then whose dream are we in?”
“I don’t know. I don’t see anyone else around here.”
“Pardon good sir and fair maiden,” a boy’s voice spoke. The two turned to see a man in a fluffy shirt and pants made of bright and contrasting colored squares sewn together. Over his curly brown locks of hair, he wore a large, round hat made of the same style and cloth. He carried a harmonica in one hand, and a notepad and pencil in the other. “I am a traveling bard and history keeper. I am here to write of your exploits, in hopes of making them into a wonderful song, a song to spread all across the land. Please, tell of the events having transpired here.”
Shamrock lifted his sword, pointing off to the side. “I guess you could write that I slaid the dragon over there.”
The historian bard let out an audible gasp. “Did you slay yonder dragon? Do you realize who this dragon is?”
“It was a bad guy, right?” Shamrock asked. “I saved this princess, too.”
“Lend me your ears, blue-haired hero, dark-haired princess. Listen to my story. There once was a dragon of legend, a dragon who none dared face. This dragon breathed fire, and ice, and lightning. The dragon attacked one town after another, and no home was safe.”
“Shouldn’t you be singing this,” Arle interrupted.
“It seems I should be,” the bard responded. He lifted a finger, and waved it from side to side. “However, I had yet to set this tale to verse. I came here to learn the ending for the tale first, so please listen carefully. The dragon was said to have terrorized the people of all lands. The truth is, I assure you, the stories of his monstrosity were heavily exaggerated. The real story is a whole other story altogether. This poor dragon enjoyed tea and bagels on a Sunday afternoon. He enjoyed reading the Sunday funnies in the daily printed paper. By day, he worked to support himself and his wife. By night, he worked to support is 15 dragonlings, and his seven eggs. His life was never an easy life. Knights came by day, and day brought knights. He was often at his wits end, and his wits would certainly be the end of him.”
“That’s awful,” Arle accidentally said aloud.
“It is, it is, fair princess. He wanted nothing more than to have a happy family, and look at him now. Because of this encounter, his wife will not know what to do, his children will starve, and his eggs will never hatch. It is a terrible thing this blue-haired knight has done. Please, Sir Knight of the Blue Hair, do a favor to the world and hand in your sword, your shield, and your glove.”
“My glove?” Shamrock set the sword on the growth, then held his left hand around his gloved right hand. “Why my glove?”
“Only knights of valor and honor and bravery may wield a sword. After this foul deed, you shall have no sword, and no sword means no need for a glove on your sword hand.”
“I guess…” As Shamrock slid the glove him his hand, the blue jewel vanished from the glove’s back, disappearing in a speck of blue light. The light flicked along Shamrock’s arm, stopping at his right ear. There an earring appeared, with the jewel encrusted on the end. Holding the glove in his left hand, Shamrock reached up and felt the jewel between his thumb and fingers of his right had. A feeling, not quite a tingling, more of a pulsation, touched his fingertips from the earring’s jewel. “All right,” Shamrock said, joining his right hand with his left. With both hands, he held the glove out to the bard, and the bard slowly reached back, taking the glove, all the while keeping his eyes fixed on the new earring. “You can take the sword and shield with you, too,” Shamrock told him. “I won’t be needing them.” He turned and walked away, passing alongside the slain dragon. Arle followed after.
“Is he the one dreaming?” Arle asked. The two continued walking, the bard left behind.
“No. I don’t know what his story is, but I think I have an idea. Clover hasn’t transformed into a magical girl lately, so she can’t remember her dreams very well, but recently she’s been having this same nightmare every night. There are two boys in the nightmare, a curly-haired boy about her age, and an older boy who speaks in another language.”
“What kind of language?”
“I don’t know. Clover said he used words like rainbow and jewel.” Shamrock spoke the two in a language unknown to himself, speaking them exactly as Sarah had said them during a math lesson at her house a few days prior.
“Rainbow and jewel,” Arle said back without realizing it, as she thought about who would be speaking her homeland’s language within a recurring nightmare.
“You understand the words?” Shamrock asked. “It makes sense, considering how you know about dreams, and the powers these jewels give.”
“I never said I know the jewels give power,” Arle responded in haste.
Shamrock could hear desperation in Arle voice. “Don’t worry, I won’t ask about where you’re from. I do need to know, is there some way I can find Clover? I don’t know how I first found her dream when we were little, but after she started transforming into Clover, it became easier and easier to find her dream each night. After she stopped becoming Clover, it became harder and harder.”
“You can use your blue jewel to find her green jewel,” Arle said. “Each jewel has its own beat, its own… I’m not sure the right word for it.”
“Its own pulse?”
“Pulse, yes, that’s the word. Not like the beat of a heart, but rather like the pulse of magic flowing through it. Each color of jewel has a different pulse. When the magic of two pulses touch, they react, sort of bouncing off of one another. When the pulses return, you know if a jewel is far or near.”
“It sounds like sonar,” Shamrock said.
“What’s sonar?”
“My uncle’s in the Navy, any they let me on their submarine one time. It’s like a boat that goes under the water. Sonar is this thing that makes a sound in the water, and then it listen for the sound to bounce off of something and come back. The longer the sound takes to return, the further away things are. The sooner the sound returns, the closer something is.”
“That’s exactly how the jewels work,” Arle said. “There’s only one problem, though. If Clover isn’t using the jewel, its pulse will be very weak. You might not even be able to find it.”
“That’s not a problem,” Shamrock said. “She doesn’t even have the green jewel.” He stopped walking, then turned and looked back, toward the dragon. “But that won’t be a problem, either. I think we’re far enough away, now. We’re going back and watching that bard from a distance. He’ll lead us to Clover’s dream.”
