Free Cauldron Spells by C. J. Busby

he did really want to go to tomorrow’s lesson. It was the last one with Aleric. The following day they started a week with Lady Morgana herself, and that was not going to be half as much fun.
    “Okay,” he said at last. “Ferocious, you’re in charge. And make sure he doesn’t see you.” 
    Ferocious rolled his eyes. “Of course,” he said scornfully. “He won’t suspect a thing.”
    ***
    Snotty Hogsbottom was in an extremely bad mood. He and Jerome had spent nearly a week searching the dragon’s hoard – pulling out bits of treasure, stacking piles of cauldrons, rearranging gold and silver and precious ornaments – and he still hadn’t found what he was looking for. Worse, today they had been ordered to take Caradoc the Bard along with them to help. Snotty was not happy about having anyone else there to share the glory if they found the Treasure of Annwn. Jerome didn’t count, but Caradoc had already wormed his way into Morgana’s good books with his knowledge of ancient lore and his silvery spells. Snotty would happily have turned him into a snail if he’d known how.
    At the cavern entrance, Snotty grumpily indicated the ropes they had put in place to help with the climb down.
    “After you,” he said, with exaggerated politeness, and Caradoc nodded and lowered himself carefully down. Snotty considered cutting the rope with his hunting knife, but then shrugged and headed down after him. Morgana would have words to say if he came back without the bard, and Morgana’s words generally had the effect of leaving you upside down in a pile of steaming horse manure.
    When they reached the dragon’s cavern, Caradoc stopped, and whistled.
    “No wonder it’s taken a week,” he said, surveying the vast pile of gold and a slightly smaller pile of other stuff that had been sorted and stacked. “How many cauldrons did she have?”
    “We’re not sure,” said Jerome with an apologetic glance at Snotty, who had stalked off to start pulling things out of the remaining pile. “It’s rumoured as many as two thousand.”
    “My word,” said Caradoc in admiration. “What an obsession! Makes our job difficult, eh?”
    By mid-afternoon, Snotty was feeling more well-disposed towards Caradoc. He was a willing worker and had pulled out, sorted and discarded at least fifty cauldrons. Best of all, none of them had been the Treasure of Annwn. Not that Snotty had found it either, but at least Caradoc hadn’t beaten him to it.
    It was while they were resting, backs against the huge pile of as-yet unsorted gold, chewing bread and cold meat, that Snotty thought he heard something. He held his hand up for silence and they all listened. There was definitely a flapping sound high in the roof of the cavern. And a squeaking. They had hardly had time to exchange glances when the squeaking rose to a crescendo and hundreds of bats suddenly dived from the roof and started swirling around the cavern like a writhing mass of black smoke. In their midst, looking rather disoriented, was a small blue-green dragon, flapping its wings to try to drive the bats away and looking like it might crash into the cavern wall at any minute. Which, after a few more bats had flown into its ears, was exactly what it did. It hit the rocky wall with a thump and slid down to the sandy floor, dazed and confused. 
    Snotty was on his feet in an instant and had the dragon by the throat.
    “Right! Got you, you stupid dozy interfering beast,” he snarled. “Did Max send you spying, eh? Didn’t he know better than to send such a brainless waste of space? Well, now you’ve had it, dragon. Now you’re dead meat.”
    ***
    The sun was setting to the west of Castle Gore and shadows were stretching out across the courtyard. Max and Olivia were taking it in turns to peer anxiously out of the narrow arched window of their room hoping to catch a flash of blue-green flying over the castle walls, but so far they’d seen nothing.
    “Do you think they’re all