Three Tasks for a Dragon

"Sonorous and suspenseful, always with the feeling of a twinkle in its eye, and every page is splendidly illustrated. . . . A wonderfully classic fairy tale that still surprises and delights." -- Studious Prince Lir is next in line to become the Wolfhound King, but he can't ride a horse, lift a sword, or summon the fabled wolfhounds. So his stepmother decrees that her own son will inherit the crown instead, sending Lir away on a seemingly impossible--and assuredly fatal--quest: to rescue the maiden Cethlenn from the once-fearsome dragon Lasvarg. Rather than wage battle, Lir insists that Lasvarg, now decidedly past his prime, honor tradition by setting him three tasks to perform--starting with tackling the mold encrusting the dragon's cave. As Lir improves Lasvarg's life, he grows closer to Cethlenn . . . as well as the wolfhound puppy strangely devoted to her. In time, they learn more of the dark magic that may be making pawns of them all--and how Cethlenn could be the key to breaking a spell that clouds the entire kingdom. With transporting language, P.J. Lynch make their own magic in this classic fantasy with a light feminist twist.

Auteur
Eoin Colfer is the New York Times best-selling author of the children’s fantasy series Artemis Fowl. His other notable works include Half Moon Investigations, Airman, and The Supernaturalist as well as his previous collaboration with P.J. Lynch, The Dog Who Lost his Bark. The recipient of many awards, he lives in Ireland with his wife and two children.

P.J. Lynch has won many awards, including the Mother Goose Award, the Christopher Medal three times, and the Kate Greenaway Medal twice, first for The Christmas Miracle of Jonathan Toomey by Susan Wojciechowski and again for When Jessie Came Across the Sea by Amy Hest. He is the author-illustrator of The Boy Who Fell Off the Mayflower and The Haunted Lake. P.J. Lynch lives in Dublin.

Échantillon de lecture
Chapter One
 
The Disappointing Prince
Once there was a prince in the kingdom of Lagin who was such a disappointment to his royal stepmother that she sought to have him banished from the realm.
   “You cannot ride a horse, Prince Lir,” said Queen Nimh one evening after dinner in the great hall. “You can barely lift a sword. And you cannot summon the wolfhounds.”
   The last accusation was peculiar because until this very day, and for the past five hundred years, the act of summoning the wolfhounds had been little more than a story passed down by campfire bards.
   Summoning the wolfhounds involved standing on the balcony built into the Wolfhound’s Tooth, a towering spire of sand-stone and ivory, and hoping the large shaggy dogs gathered below.
   The legend had it that in times gone by, kings had been chosen because of their magical bond with the majestic wolfhounds of Lagin city and dominion, but no true wolfhound king had summoned the hounds in half a millennium—and for coronations and royal weddings the wolfhounds had to be played by schoolchildren in costume as the dogs themselves were reluctant to show up for state occasions. The last true king to be chosen in this way had been of Lir’s family, the Wulfsons, and the line of succession had not been challenged since that time; but now it seemed as though the prince’s poor dead father would be the last Wulfson king, as Lir had unsurprisingly failed the wolfhound test that very morning—for the third time in a week—and his father had had no more children with either of his wives.
   “Therefore,” continued Queen Nimh, “I decree that your birthright as successor to Good King Rufus is forfeit, and the crown shall pass to my own son, Prince Delbayne of the house of Malygnus. And as Delbayne is of age, he shall be crowned at the coming solstice.”
   Lir was not upset in the least. He had no wish to be king and had only taken the wolfhound tests at his stepmother’s insistence; and so he said, “My stepbrother will make a fine king, Your Majesty. And I will be happy to serve as an apprentice in the royal library. Science and learning are of more interest to me than the crown.”
   But the queen was not finished.
   “According to ancient Lagin law,” she continued, “if a man presents himself three times to summon the wolfhounds and fails three times, then that man must leave Lagin forever.”
   Prince Lir was surprised by the suggestion that he should leave his beloved home, but it was not in his nature to rage and stamp, and so he said respectfully, “I would never even have taken the tests had you not insisted, Your Majesty. And in any case that is, as you say, ancient law and has not been enforced in generations. Not since Prince Faebar the Fallen.”
   “Thus remembered because he was hurled from the walls into the ocean when he refused to leave the city,” Queen Nimh reminded the court. “I have no wish to see you dashed on the rocks, Lir, so you had better leave tonight.”
   The first to object to this command was Prince Delbayne himself, who had grown up in the same castle as Lir and had ever been his protective older stepbrother.
   “Mother,” he said, getting to his feet. “My brother has a great many talents that will serve our kingdom better than an ability to commune with wolfhounds.
   There is no one in the palace better read. Lir knows every plant in the province and their healing properties. He understands the workings of water, which is undeniably important to a coastal kingdom. Perhaps he cannot build a ship with his own hands, but he can instruct men how to do it. Surely talents such as these must be taken into account.”
   Many remarked to one another that Delbayne’s declaration was an admirable display of friendship and loyalty, but this was not in truth the case. Delbayne was an ambitious and ruthless prince, who had coveted the throne from an early age and had already gone to dark magical extremes to secure the wolf crown for himself. Now he was about to make certain that Lir never returned. Exile was not enough for Delbayne; he wanted his stepbrother dead.
   Fortunately he had his mother on his side.
   “My son,” said the queen now. “You yourself have summoned the hounds. Many of us here today saw from the battlements how they gathered below you, and therefore you shall be the rightful king. Prince Lir may not covet the throne now, but time may change his mind and there are many who would support his claim. The law may be old, but it is the law. In the name of unity, though it breaks my heart to command it, our beloved Prince Lir must leave Lagin forever.”
   It was true that after Lir’s failed attempt, Delbayne had succeeded in summoning the wolfhounds by the power of his will alone. It had been a strange summoning, as the eyes of the dogs had been as black as river pebbles, something that had never been mentioned in the stories. Stranger still was that when Queen Nimh leaned forward now, emerging from the throne shadow, it seemed as though her eyes had that same glistening quality, and Lir wondered whether she might have succumbed to the lure of dark magic and enchanted the wolfhounds.
   The prince was right about the dark magic but wrong about its source. It was Delbayne who had put a spell on both his mother and the hounds so that they would smooth his path to the throne. That very morning, the gathering of half a dozen confused dogs below the Wolfhound’s Tooth had effectively crowned the treacherous prince.
   Whether there was trickery afoot or…