Dragon Rider (16 page)

21. Twigleg’s Decision

 

 

F
iredrake wanted to fly on at once, but the sun was still high in the sky. Although it had soon grown dark in the djinn’s ravine, there were still many hours to go before night would fall outside. So they found a place far from the djinn’s lair, down by the river among the leaves that tasted so good to Sorrel, and waited there for the moon to rise. However, the dragon could not sleep. He paced restlessly up and down the riverbank.

“Firedrake, you really ought to get some sleep,” said Ben, spreading out the map on a sea of white flowers. “There’s still a long way to go before we reach the coast.”

Firedrake craned his neck over Ben’s shoulder, his eyes following the boy’s finger as it traced their way over mountains, gorges, and deserts.

“This is where we ought to reach the sea,” Ben told him. “See the mark the rat made? I don’t think that part of the route looks difficult. But this,” and he indicated the vast expanse of sea between the Arabian peninsula and the delta of
the Indus, “this bothers me. I’ve no idea where you’ll be able to land. Not an island in sight. And it will take us at least two nights to get across.” He shook his head. “I can’t see how we’re going to do it without coming down on the water.”

Thoughtfully Firedrake looked first at the map and then at the boy. “Where’s the village where the woman who knows about dragons lives?”

Ben tapped the map. “Here. Right at the mouth of the river Indus. So it wouldn’t take us far out of our way to visit her. And do you know where the Indus rises?”

The dragon shook his head.

“In the Himalayas!” cried Ben. “That fits, doesn’t it? We only have to find the palace I saw in Asif’s eye and then —”

“Then what?” Sorrel sat down beside them in the fragrant flowers. “Then you break moonlight on the stone dragon’s head. Can you tell me what that’s supposed to mean?”

“Not yet,” said Ben. “But I’ll know when it happens.”

“And how about the twenty fingers?” The brownie lowered her voice. “Always supposing that blue person wasn’t just putting us on.”

“Oh, no.” Twigleg climbed onto Ben’s lap. “That’s only the way a djinn talks. The young master’s right. The words will explain themselves, you wait and see.”

“I hope you’re right,” muttered Sorrel, rolling up in a ball underneath a huge fern frond.

Firedrake lay down beside her and lowered his head to his paws. “Break the moonlight,” he murmured. “Sounds like a riddle to me.” He yawned and closed his eyes.

It was dark and cold under the palms now. Ben and Sorrel pressed close to Firedrake’s warm scales, and soon all three of them were asleep.

Only Twigleg remained awake, sitting beside them among the white blossoms. The scent of the flowers made him feel dizzy. He listened to Ben’s peaceful breathing, looked at Firedrake’s silver scales and his friendly face, so different from the face of Nettlebrand, and sighed. A single question was buzzing around in his head like a captive bumblebee.

Should he tell his master what the djinn had said and, by doing so, betray the silver dragon?

Twigleg’s little head was aching so hard as he pondered this question that he pressed his hands to his throbbing temples. He hadn’t stolen Nettlebrand’s scale back from the boy yet, either. He leaned against Ben’s back and closed his eyes. Perhaps his brain would calm down in his sleep. But just as he thought the peaceful breathing of the other three was making him drowsy, something plucked at his sleeve. The homunculus started and sat up. Was one of those nasty giant lizards that lurked among the creepers trying to take a bite out of him?

But it was the raven sitting in the tangled leaves in front of Twigleg, plucking at his sleeve with his beak.

“Oh, it’s you. What do you want?” whispered the homunculus, annoyed.

He rose quietly and beckoned the raven to follow him away from his sleeping companions. The big bird stalked after him.

“You’ve forgotten your report,” he croaked. “How much longer are you going to leave it?”

“What business is that of yours?” Twigleg stopped on the other side of a tall bush. “I — I’m going to wait until we’re over the sea.”

“Why?” The raven pecked a caterpillar off the branches of the bush and looked at the manikin suspiciously. “There’s no reason to wait,” he cawed. “You’ll only make our master angry. What did the djinn say?”

“I’ll be telling our master,” replied Twigleg evasively. “You ought to have listened more carefully.”

“Huh!” croaked the raven. “That blue creature wouldn’t stop growing. I thought I’d better keep out of the way.”

“That’s your bad luck.” Scratching his ear, Twigleg peered at Firedrake through the branches. But the dragon and his friends were fast asleep, while the shadows in the ravine grew ever darker.

The raven preened his feathers and gave the homunculus a black look.

“You’re getting too uppity, manikin,” he cawed. “I don’t like it. Maybe I ought to tell the master.”

“Go on, then, do! Goodness knows that won’t be news to him,” said Twigleg, but his heart beat faster. “Anyway, I can set your mind at rest.” He assumed a grave expression. “I’m going to report to him today. Word of honor. I just have to take another look at the map first. The boy’s map, I mean.”

The raven put his head on one side. “The map? Why?”

Twigleg made a face. “You wouldn’t understand, beaky. Now get out. If that brownie girl sees you, she won’t believe it if I say we have nothing to do with each other.”

“All right.” The raven caught another caterpillar and flapped his wings. “But I’m following you. I’ll be keeping an eye on you. So you be sure to make that report.”

Twigleg watched the raven until he disappeared among the tops of the palm trees. Then he quickly went over to Ben’s backpack, took out the map, and opened it. Oh, yes, he’d make his report. At once. But it would be a special kind of report, a very special kind indeed. His eyes scanned the seas and mountains until he spotted a large, pale brown area. He knew what brown meant. Ben had explained exactly
how to read the wonderful map. Brown meant no water. Not a drop of water far and wide. And that was exactly what Twigleg was looking for.

“I’m sick and tired of it!” he muttered. “I’m sick and tired of being his spy. I’m going to send him off to the desert. The biggest desert I can find!”

Only a desert could keep Nettlebrand away from the small human being and the silver dragon a little while longer. He couldn’t have cared less if his master had only wanted to eat the unfriendly brownie! But not the small human. No — he, Twigleg, wasn’t going to help him do that. He’d seen Nettlebrand crunch up his brothers. He’d seen him devour their maker. But Nettlebrand wasn’t going to get the little human into his greedy jaws. Ever.

Twigleg noted exactly where the great desert lay. Then he walked deeper and deeper into the ravine, far from the lair of the blue djinn, far from the sleeping dragon.

Leaning over the waters of the river, the manikin reported back to his master.

22. The Vanishing Moon

 

 

T
hree days and three long nights later, Firedrake was standing on the shores of the Arabian Sea waiting for night to fall. His scales were dusty with yellow sand. It was a long time since he had set out from his northern valley in search of the Rim of Heaven. His cave at home seemed infinitely far away, and the dark sea ahead of him looked like an infinite expanse, too.

Firedrake looked up at the sky. The last of the light vanished as if the waves had swallowed it up, and only the round moon, bright as silver, shone over the water. There was still quite a long while to go before the dark time of the moon and the new moon’s rising, but would he have found the Rim of Heaven by then?

“Ten more days,” said Ben.

He was standing beside the dragon on the sand and, like Firedrake, looking toward the horizon where sky and sea merged. There lay their journey’s end, hidden beyond the
waves and mountains. “We ought to reach the palace I saw in Asif’s eye in ten days’ time at the latest. It can’t be much farther after that.”

Firedrake nodded. He looked at the boy. “Are you homesick?”

Ben shook his head and leaned against the dragon’s warm scales. “No,” he said. “I could go on flying like this forever.”

“I’m not homesick, either,” said Firedrake. “But I wish I knew how the others are doing back at home. I’d like to know how close the humans have come, and whether the sound of their machines is already echoing over the dark mountains. But unfortunately,” he sighed, looking out to sea again where patches of silver moonlight floated on the waves, “unfortunately, I don’t have a thousand eyes like Asif. Who knows, by the time I reach the Rim of Heaven it may be too late for the others.”

“Oh, come on!” Ben patted the dragon’s silver flank affectionately. “You’ve made it this far. Once we cross the sea we’re almost there.”

“That’s right,” said Sorrel. She had been off to fill the water bottles. “Smell this,” she added, holding a pawful of prickly leaves under Ben’s nose. They had a heavy, spicy fragrance. “These things prickle your tongue, but they taste almost as good as they smell. Where are the backpacks?”

“Here.” Ben handed them over to her. “But be careful you don’t squash Twigleg. He’s asleep in among my clothes.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t snap his little legs off,” muttered Sorrel, stowing the aromatic leaves away in her backpack. As she bent over Ben’s pack Twigleg stretched his arms out of it, yawning. He looked around, then hastily tucked his head back inside.

“What’s the matter?” asked Ben in surprise.

“Water!” replied the manikin, wriggling down among Ben’s now sandy clothes till only the tip of his nose was showing. “All that water makes me nervous.”

“Just for once we feel the same way,” said Sorrel, putting her backpack over her furry shoulder. “I’m not too keen on water, either. But we have to get across it.”

“You never know who can see you when you’re over water,” muttered Twigleg.

Ben glanced down at him in surprise. “What on earth do you mean? Who’d be looking at you? The fish?”

“Yes, yes, that’s what I mean!” Twigleg giggled nervously. “The fish.”

Shaking her head, Sorrel climbed on Firedrake’s back.

“What utter rubbish he talks!” she growled. “Even the elves aren’t that stupid, and they can chatter on all night.”

Twigleg stuck out his pointed tongue at her.

Ben couldn’t conceal a grin. “Want me to leave the backpack open?” he asked the homunculus.

“No, no,” said Twigleg, “strap it up, by all means, young master. I’m used to the dark.”

“If you say so.” Ben closed his backpack, climbed onto the dragon’s back with it, and strapped himself to Firedrake’s spines. Then he took the compass out of his pocket. If they weren’t going to rely on Sorrel’s instincts, they’d be needing it over the next few days and nights. Hundreds of kilometers of seawater lay ahead of them. There would be no coastline to help them find their way, only the sky above, and none of them knew much about navigating by the stars.

“Ready?” called Firedrake, shaking the desert sand from his scales for the last time and spreading his wings.

“Ready!” Sorrel called.

Firedrake rose into the dark sky and flew toward the moon.

It was a fine, warm, starlit night.

They had soon left the mountainous coast behind. Darkness swallowed up the land, and ahead of them, behind them, to the left and to the right of them stretched nothing but water. Now and then the lights of a ship winked on the waves. Seabirds flew by, squawking in alarm at the sight of Firedrake.

Just after midnight, Sorrel suddenly gave a terrified shriek and bent over the dragon’s neck.

“Firedrake!” she called. “Firedrake! Have you seen the moon?”

“What about it?” asked the dragon.

All this time his eyes had been fixed on the waves below, but now he looked up. What he saw made his wings feel as heavy as lead.

“What is it?” Ben leaned over Sorrel’s shoulder in alarm.

“The moon,” she cried frantically. “It’s turning red.”

Now Ben saw it, too. The moon was indeed taking on a tinge of coppery red.

“What does it mean?” he asked, baffled.

“It means it’ll disappear any moment now!” cried Sorrel. “There’s going to be an eclipse — a moldy old eclipse of the moon! Now, of all times!” She gazed down at the crashing, foaming waves in terror.

Firedrake was flying more and more slowly, his wings beating as sluggishly as if invisible weights hung from them.

“You’re flying too low, Firedrake!” called Sorrel.

“I can’t help it!” the dragon called back to her wearily. “I’m as weak as a duckling, Sorrel!”

Ben looked up at the sky, where the moon now hung like a rusty coin among the stars.

“We’ve seen eclipses before,” babbled Sorrel, “but we
were always above solid land at the time. What are we going to do now?”

Firedrake dropped lower and lower. Ben could already taste the salty sea spray on his lips. And then, in the last red glow of light cast on the waves by the fading moon, he suddenly saw a chain of small islands rising from the sea in the distance. Strange islands they were, rising humpbacked from the water like half-submerged hills.

“Firedrake!” shouted Ben as loud as he could.

The pounding of the waves tore the words from his lips, but the dragon had keen ears.

“Look there, ahead of us!” yelled Ben. “I can see islands. Try to land on one of them.”

At that very moment the earth’s dark shadow engulfed the moon.

Firedrake plummeted from the sky like a bird winged by a shot, but the first of the strange islands was already below him. To Ben and Sorrel, it looked almost as if the island chain were rising toward them from the foaming sea. The dragon fell rather than landed on the island. His riders were almost wrenched from their straps. Ben realized he was trembling all over, and Sorrel wasn’t doing much better. But Firedrake let himself sink to the ground with a sigh, folded his wings, and licked the salt water off his paws.

“Lawyer’s wig and hedgehog fungus!” Weak at the knees, Sorrel slid off Firedrake’s back. “This journey’s going to shorten my life by a hundred years — no, more like five hundred or a thousand! Ugh!” Giving herself a shake, she looked down the steep slope of the hilly island to the black waves breaking on its shore. “We almost took a very nasty dip in the sea!”

“I can’t make it out.” Ben slung the backpacks over his shoulders and climbed down Firedrake’s tail. “There weren’t any islands marked on the map.”

Narrowing his eyes, he peered into the darkness, where one steep little hill after another rose from the sea.

“That just proves what I keep telling you,” said Sorrel. “The rat’s map is useless.” She looked around her, snuffling. “There’s something fishy about this.”

“Well?” Ben shrugged his shoulders. “We’re in the middle of the sea. There’s bound to be fish around.”

“No.” Sorrel shook her head. “I mean there’s something wrong about this island —
and
it smells of fish.”

Firedrake got to his feet and looked more closely at the ground. “Look at that!” he said. “The island’s covered with fish scales. It’s like a —”

“Yes, like a giant fish!” whispered Ben.

“Get on my back!” cried Firedrake. “Quick!”

At that moment the island quivered.

“Run!” shouted Sorrel, pushing Ben toward the dragon. They scuttled over the damp and scaly mound. Firedrake stretched out his neck, and as the island rose higher and higher from the waves the two of them hauled themselves up by his horns. Clutching his spines, they scrambled onto his back and strapped themselves in place with trembling fingers.

“But the moon!” cried Ben desperately. “The moon is dark. How are you going to fly, Firedrake?”

He was right. There was nothing but a black gaping hole in the sky where the moon should have been.

“I must try anyway!” cried the dragon, spreading his wings. But whatever he did, his body wouldn’t rise a finger’s breadth into the air. Ben and Sorrel exchanged horrified glances.

Suddenly, with a loud snort, a mighty head shot out of the sea in front of them. It had large fins like decorative feathers growing on it. Slanted eyes flashed at them mockingly beneath heavy lids, and a forked tongue flickered between the two sharp, needlelike fangs that emerged from the creature’s narrow jaws.

“A sea serpent!” cried Ben. “We’ve landed on a sea serpent!”

The serpent’s long, long neck rose from the water until its head was hovering directly above Firedrake, who stood on the scaly hump of the creature’s back as if he’d taken root there.

“Well, well, look at this!” hissed the serpent in a soft, singsong voice. “Such strange visitors to the realm of salt and water where my twin sister and I reign supreme. What brings a fiery dragon, a small human, and a shaggy brownie girl out to sea, so far from solid ground? Not just an appetite for a supper of slippery shiny fish, I suppose?” Her tongue flickered like a hungry wild beast in the air above Firedrake’s head.

“Get down!” the dragon whispered to Ben and Sorrel. “Get right down behind my spines.”

Sorrel obeyed at once, but Ben stayed where he was, his mouth wide open, staring at the sea serpent. She was a beautiful sight, an astonishing and enchanting creature. In the absence of the moon, the only light came from the stars, yet every one of her millions of scales shimmered with all the colors of the rainbow. Observing Ben’s amazement, the serpent looked down at him with an ironic smile. He was not much bigger than the flickering tip of her tongue.

“Ben, get your head down!” whispered Sorrel. “Unless you want it bitten off!”

But Ben wasn’t listening to her. He felt all Firedrake’s muscles tensing as if he were preparing to fight.

“We’re not after anything of yours, serpent,” called the dragon, and his voice sounded as it had when he rescued Ben from the men in the old factory building. “We’re searching for a place that lies beyond the sea.”

A quiver ran through the sea serpent’s body. To Ben’s great relief, he realized that she was laughing.

“Are you indeed?” hissed the serpent. “Well, if I know your fiery kind you’ll need moonlight before you can rise into the air. So until the moon shows its face again, you’ll have to stay with me. But don’t worry. I’m here purely out of curiosity, sheer insatiable curiosity. I wanted to find out why my scales have been itching ever since sunset, in a way they haven’t itched for more than a hundred years. I expect you know the rule: One fabulous creature attracts another, correct?”

“Yes, and a thorough nuisance it is,” replied Firedrake, but Ben felt the dragon’s muscles beginning to relax again.

“A nuisance?” The sea serpent’s slender body rocked to and fro. “That rule is what saved you and your two friends
from drowning when the moon went dark.” She lowered her pointed muzzle until her face was level with Firedrake’s. “So where have you come from and where are you going? I haven’t seen anyone like you since the day your silver relations were disturbed as they bathed in the sea and vanished from my realm.”

 

Firedrake straightened up. “You know that story?” he asked.