Princess Sabina and the Quest for the Golden Fiddle

Prologue

     The night was cold and dark.  The wind howled around the caves of the mountains, causing an eerie, moaning sound to reverberate around the peaks. This high up, there were constant snows, and the flurries drifted in the mouth of the vast glacial caverns. 

     No human had ever set foot on this mountain. No human could reach it, even if they wanted to. The air grew too thin, and frost crept down your throat and froze the very words in your mouth. There were no handholds to climb, only sheer cliffs on all sides. Yet the mountain was not uninhabited. For this was the land of the dragons.

     Only the dragons, the most powerful beasts of the sky, had the wingspan to reach the highest peaks. The fires burning withing them meant they could withstand the harsh climates. And the flocks of sheep being herded in the meadows far below made for easy prey. Over the centuries, the dragons had expanded the natural caves into vast caverns, their fiery breath melting the rock and stone.  They had no desire to leave their caves; why should they? It had been a hundred years since any mortal had laid eyes on a dragon, and the dragons were all too happy to keep it that way. The dragons were loathed by the humans for stealing their livestock and burning their homes. Ever since the Great Dragon Wars of the centuries prior, the dragons had fled from the humans, and created this sanctuary for themselves in the sky.

     After all, who could reach them on the highest peak in the world? 

     The moon was full that night,  but clouds swirled around the sky, obscuring all light.  Not even the stars were visible. The dragons were nestled peacefully in the largest cavern, quietly conversing while the little ones slept.

     Then suddenly, the clouds shifted, and a shaft of moonlight illuminated a cloaked figure at the entrance of the cave. The dragons were on their feet in an instant.

     "Who are you to enter upon the domain of the dragons?" boomed the largest dragon.  His gold scales glinted in the moonlight as he moved to approach the stooped figure.

     "I am one who has come for your help," said a weak, feminine voice.

     The gold dragon scoffed. "We do not help anyone, outsider. Our days among the humans are over. Begone." He turned away from the old woman. 

     "I'm sorry..."

     The dragon stopped, his feet frozen in place. The voice, once broken with age, was now crisp and youthful. But it was not pleasing to the ear. It was cold, without an ounce of emotion, and it made every scale on the dragon's hide tingle with fear.

     "Did I say I was asking?"

     The gold dragon was thrown backwards, hitting the far wall with a resounding crack. He stumbled to his feet, baring his teeth at the old woman.  But she was old no longer.

     Her hood was thrown back, revealing long dark hair and sharp, cruel features. She had her hand outstretched,  and dark tendrils of electricity danced between her fingertips. Her nails were long and sharp, resembling claws.

     "Now," she said, her voice harsh and gradient, yet musical at the same time. "Will you do as I say? Or must another be made an example of?"

     "We take orders from no one, witch!" screamed a dark purple dragon. He launched himself at the woman, fire streaming from his maw. The woman sighed, and, with a wave of her hand, turned the dragon to stone. She sidestepped easily as he crashed against the cavern floor, shattering into a million tiny pieces of sand.

     "I do so hate the term 'witch'," she sighed, brushing sand off of her skirt. "It makes one seem so uncivilized, don't you think?"

     "What do you want from us, sorceress?" growled the gold dragon.