Dragon's Breath (14 page)

Nineteen

When we finally left the tunnel and flew into the open air, Ralf circled above the ground once before starting an upward spiral. "Hold on tight!" he shouted.

The air had been pleasant at ground level, but the higher we flew, the colder it became. Although Ralf generated a lot of heat, keeping us warm, the heat didn't reach his wings and snow began to accumulate, weighing him down and slowing our flight. What had started out as a few drifting flakes became a blizzard, obscuring everything around us.

"We're almost there!" Ralf shouted just as I was beginning to think we might be flying into a white void forever. "Shirley's cave is at the top of the mountain." I was grateful that dragons were famous for their sense of direction.

"Why would anyone want to live on the top of a mountain?" I shouted.

"My grandpa says that Shirley moved here to get away from the flies when he retired. It's too cold up here for them. Here we go!" I nearly fell off when Ralf landed with a thump. "Hold on just a little longer. I'll get us inside where it's warm."

The little dragon caught hold of a string blowing wildly in the wind and pulled with all his might. Peering through the falling snow, I saw that the string led into a tiny hole in the rock face of the mountain. Ralf let go of the string, and a door opened, revealing a hole twice as tall as I was when I was human.

Something moved out of Ralf's way when he shuffled through the opening, but I couldn't see what it was until my eyes adjusted. After the glare of the snow, the cave interior seemed dark, making it difficult to see. Dim light came through holes in the cave walls, and the room finally became visible. We were in a cave about the same size as my bedchamber at home. Its rock floor was level, its ceiling too high to see clearly.

I was startled when an old, sway-backed horse wearing a thick wool blanket whinnied and trotted toward us. White with gray stockings, the horse's splayed hooves clacked against the stone when it stepped into the wind to push the door closed. Once the door was shut, the old horse turned and looked at Ralf. "I know you!" said the horse, nudging Ralf with his nose. "You're old Gargle Snort's grandson. What brought you all the way up here?

Your grandpa's all right, isn't he?"

I bit my lip and tried not to laugh.
Gargle Snort?

"Grandpa is doing fine," said Ralf, flapping his wings to shake off the snow. "These are my friends Emma and Eadric. They want to ask you a question."

"Your grandpa is dying fast? I'm sorry to hear that. I always liked the old lizard, even if he did have a temper like a ... never mind. You're a young one and shouldn't hear such language. So what brought you all the way up here?"

Ralf glanced at me and rolled his eyes. Then, rising up on his hind legs, he shouted into the horse's ear. "My friends Emma and Eadric want to ask you a question."

"There's no need to shout! So, you brought your friend Amandedric. Another one of those newfangled names? Who's your other friend?"

"You don't understand. One of my friends is Emma, the other is Eadric."

"They each took half the name, huh? Well, that's fine, too."

The little dragon cleared his throat, which was sounding scratchy from yelling. "We're looking for the feather of a horse. Do you have one you could give us?"

"Brother of a Norse? Why would you look here? I was an only child."

"Not Norse, horse! Do you have an old feather that you could give us?"

"Leather? Why would you want my old leather? All I've got are my old saddle and tack, but they wouldn't fit any of you pipsqueaks."

"I didn't mean—" began Ralf.

"I don't understand what's wrong with you young people. First you want one thing, then another. You can't make up your minds, can you? Why, in my day, we knew exactly what we wanted." The old horse yawned, showing us what was left of his yellowed teeth. "I was about to take a nap when I heard you at the door. You wouldn't mind showing yourselves out, would you? My old bones need a lot of rest these days."

"Actually, we were hoping—"

"Don't forget to shut the door behind you," Shirley said, trotting out of the room.

"I'm sorry," Ralf said, turning back to Eadric and me. "I can't seem to make him understand."

"But we don't really need the feather if there aren't any green dragons. We can't reverse the spell if we're missing even one ingredient. Besides, why would we come to Shirley for a feather?" I asked. "I really think we should be getting back." I couldn't figure out what we were doing wasting our time there.

"I thought you knew," said Ralf. "Shirley's great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather was Pegasus."

"You mean he has feathered wings under that blanket?" I asked.

"Pretty gray ones."

"Then all we need is one of his feathers!" Eadric said.

Ralf nodded. "If you can get him to give it to you."

"Couldn't we just take one?" asked Eadric. "I doubt he'd miss it."

"Take it without asking?" Ralf sounded shocked at the idea.

"You tried asking, and you saw where that got us."

"That's true," Ralf said, tilting his head to the side as if it helped him think. "Well, maybe we can find a loose one on the floor."

"But what's the point?" I asked.

"We said we weren't going to give up yet, remember? I say we get the feather and then see about the green dragon," said Eadric.

"Fine." I said. "We're here, we may as well."

Ralf carried us to the next room, where he let us off at the door. It was little more than a large stall, with a trough for water, a bucket for grain and a rack for hay. Clean straw covered the stone floor, and the air smelled sweet and fresh.

"How does a horse keep his own stall so clean?" Eadric whispered.

"Magic," answered Ralf. "I've been here with my grandfather a couple of times, and this cave is always like this."

"I could use some magic for Bright Country," said Eadric. "He makes a real mess of his stall."

I peeked through the doorway again. Shirley lay in the middle of the room, stretched out on his side. His eyes were closed, and his deep, even breathing told us that he was asleep. Eadric and I kept our eyes on the old horse as we hopped into the room.

The prickly straw stabbed the bottoms of my feet. Eadric, however, didn't seem to notice the straw and hopped all the way to Shirley's side. The blanket was slack around the horse's belly, so it was easy for Eadric to slip his hand underneath and feel for a loose feather.

I watched him for a moment, then decided that I'd better go help. I was studying the ground, preparing for my next carefully placed step, when I saw something gray partly buried by the gold-colored straw. Stretching out my arm, I pulled out a long, sleek feather. Excited by my find, I whispered, "Eadric!" but he didn't hear me.

I took another step, waving the feather like a flag. Without turning around, Eadric said, "I can't reach his feathers from here," then lifted up the corner of the blanket and slipped underneath. I could see him moving about under the blanket, a frog-sized lump crawling across the horse's side like a mole burrowing in the kitchen garden.

"Eadric," I said, hopping one step closer.

"I can't find any loose ones," he said in a muffled voice. "I'll just pull out one of these."

"No, Eadric, I found—"

The lump under the blanket jerked, and Shirley snorted, opening his eyes partway. He flicked his tail, whipping his hindquarters and narrowly missing the lump that was Eadric. Lifting his head, Shirley looked blearily about. When he didn't see anything, he muttered, "Darn flies," then dropped his head and went back to sleep. The lump moved again, and I held my breath until Eadric tumbled out from under the blanket.

Wearing an enormous grin, he hopped toward me, holding the feather high. He stopped when he saw my feather. His grin disappeared.

"Great," I said, wishing I could put the grin back on his face. "We'll keep my feather in case we ever need another one."

When we finally set out, sitting on the feathers so we wouldn't lose them, the wind was blowing just as fiercely as before. The snowfall was so heavy that I couldn't see the back of Ralf's head. Comfortable from the dragon's body heat, I closed my eyes and let myself relax against Eadric. I was almost asleep when he shouted to Ralf, "How did the grandson of Pegasus get a name like
Shirley?"

"It's a nickname, really," said Ralf. "Even when he was too young to fly, he was so surefooted that he could go just about anywhere. The name stuck, and—"

I sat up a little straighter. "You mean he's called
Surely,
S-U-R-E-L-Y?"

"Of course. What did you think I said?"

"You don't want to know." I chuckled and closed my eyes again.

"What about your name, Ralf?" said Eadric. "How did you get a name like that if your grandfather is called Gargle Snort?"

"I still have my baby name, even though I haven't been a baby for a couple of years now. I'll get to choose my real name when I grow up. I want a strong name like my hero Flash Red-Snout. My mother's name is Flame Snorter, but everybody calls her Snorty. She's known for how far she can belch flames. My father is Grumble Belly because his belly grumbles before he breathes fire. I haven't decided on my name yet."

"If I had to choose my own name, I think I'd want it to have something to do with bravery," said Eadric. "Yours could be about your magic, Emma."

"Are you kidding? I'd probably be called Fumble Fingers or Clumsy Toes. Even if it were about my magic, it probably wouldn't be very complimentary. My magic still needs a lot of work."

"I'm sorry I couldn't find a green dragon for you," said Ralf. "I owe you for saving my life."

I patted the dragon's shoulder. "Don't worry. You did your best, and that's all anyone can ask."

Ralf turned his head and peered at me with one eye. "What did you need from the green dragon, anyway?"

"Nothing much," I said. "Just some breath."

"I have an idea. How would you like to come with me to the Dragon Olympics?" asked Ralf. "My mother is entered in the distance flame-belching contest tonight."

I scratched my head with my toe. "Distance flame-belching? We appreciate the offer, but it doesn't sound like the kind of place that would be safe for frogs. Frog skin is kind of tender, and those flames—"

"Don't worry. The salve I gave you in my grandpa's cave will protect you."

"That's a great offer, but—" said Eadric.

Ralf looked so eager. "All the dragons will be at the Olympics. If any green dragons exist, they'll be there."

"But your grandfather said—" I began.

"It's worth a try, isn't it?" asked Ralf.

He was right. If there was even the smallest chance that we might be able to get the last ingredient, then we'd have to go. It was already Friday afternoon, and we had to have everything before dawn the next day. "Of course we'll go with you," I said. "Won't we, Eadric?"

Eadric nodded, although his mouth was set in a thin line and his eyes looked uneasy. "Thanks for inviting us, Ralf," he said.

Twenty

Grassina had told me about the ancient Greeks and their fondness for athletic contests, but I couldn't imagine how the dragons would compete. I wondered if all their contests involved fire.

After flying back down the side of the mountain, Ralf carried us into the same main tunnel where we'd met his grandfather, then turned into the first branching tunnel we encountered. Hot air met us like an invisible wall, but the ointment kept us from feeling much more than a slight change in temperature. It was dark inside, perhaps too hot for the fungus that illuminated the other caves.

Flying through a network of connecting tunnels, we entered a cave filled with bats and another that reeked so badly it gave me a headache. Eadric said that it smelled like trolls, so I was glad we weren't on foot. When we finally emerged from the last tunnel, we found ourselves in an enormous, bowl-shaped arena open to the sky. With a level floor and high rock walls, it was the perfect spot for a gathering of dragons. It was hotter than inside the tunnel, and I could see why when Ralf flew up onto a small ledge so we could look around. A bubbling pool of red liquid seethed in the center of the arena, the air above it wavering in the rising heat.

"What is that?" I asked Ralf.

The little dragon glanced at the scarlet pool. "That's lava—liquid rock. My dad likes to swim in it."

"Eadric, did you hear that?" I asked, but he wasn't paying attention. His face had turned a paler green, and his eyes looked like they were about to jump out of his head. I followed his gaze back to the floor and understood why. There must have been at least ten times the number of dragons than there are people in my father's castle, with more dragons arriving all the time.

I studied the dragons, hoping to see a green one, but none of their colors was even close. This seemed to reinforce what the Dragon King had told us, yet I couldn't stop hoping that Eadric was right, that the old dragon really didn't know everything, and that a rare green dragon might still show up.

At first, I thought the dragons were just milling about, but as I watched, I noticed a purpose to their movements. While a few dragons darted across the floor on errands of their own, most were heading toward the low stone walls that defined the fields of competition. Only a short distance from where we sat, athletes raced around an oval with other dragons standing by, watching. A roar went up when a yellow dragon passed a blue one, a sound that would have been terrifying if I'd heard it anywhere else.

A little farther away, dragons wearing armbands ran back and forth between brightly colored tents. Each tent was big enough to fit at least twenty grown dragons, although I never saw more than a few enter at once. I couldn't read the symbols on their banners, so I had no idea what they stood for, but when I saw an injured dragon carried into one tent, I assumed that it housed a healer.

I grabbed hold of Ralf's ridge when a gust of heated air almost knocked me off his back. Looking up, I saw six dragons chasing one another around the giant bowl, flying faster than any bird ever could. A pink cloud floated above the flying dragons, distorting my view of the mountains surrounding the arena, making them seem closer, then farther away. I turned to watch the dragons in the oval ring again. When one of the racers flamed, a small pink cloud formed in the air above him. The smell of boiled cabbage drifted by, reminding me of the magic miasma.

"Ralf," I said, "does anyone use this arena when the Olympics aren't going on?"

"Sure. Lots of dragons come here to practice. My mother comes here almost every day. It's one of the reasons we live where we do."

I heard shouting and glanced down at the crowd directly below us. A group of giants had arrived, carrying baskets filled with skinny brown pods and long purple peppers. The dragons seemed eager to get at the baskets, following the giants to a low ledge carved into the far wall. When the giants emptied the contents onto the ledge, the dragons lined up behind them and helped themselves to the food.

"Those are flamers," said Ralf, pointing to the eating dragons. "They're stoking themselves with gunga beans and hot flami-peppers. Those peppers are one of the reasons the Olympics are held here. Gunga beans will grow just about anywhere, but flami-peppers grow only in volcanic ash."

"Why do the flamers like them so much?"

"If you combine big batches of them and mix them with a dragon's digestive juices, you get the best flames in the world. My mother eats them all the time. The beans are okay, but the peppers are too bitter for me. Look, there's my mother. Let's go down so I can introduce you."

Taking a step forward, Ralf dropped off the ledge and glided across the arena above the heads of the walking dragons. There were more giants here now, and Ralf had to swerve around them while trying to keep his mother in sight. The giants were sweating profusely, the huge drops that beaded their faces dripping onto the ground and anyone unfortunate enough to be standing nearby. Neither the dragons nor the giants seemed to mind, although some of the drops were as big across as my father's shield.

"What color are your mother's scales?" I asked Ralf as we approached the group of flamers.

"Red. My father's scales are blue like mine, although his are a lot darker. I hope mine get dark like his when I'm older."

"Hey, Ralfie!" called a voice from behind us. An enormous blue-black dragon only a little smaller than the Dragon King was trotting toward us from the direction of the lava pool. His head was huge, his eyes deep-set and shadowed by jutting ridges. When he opened his mouth to talk, I saw a long forked tongue and teeth so brilliantly white, they didn't seem real.

"Hi, Papa!" said the little dragon. With a bounce in his step, Ralf bounded across the rock floor to the larger dragon's side. "Where's Mama? I thought I saw her."

"She had to get ready. The competition is starting soon and she was afraid you weren't going to make it in time, so she asked me to find you. Are these friends of yours?" When the dragon leaned down to get a better look at us, Eadric dug his fingers into my arms.

"They sure are," Ralf said, a hint of pride in his voice. "The little one in the front is Emma. The bigger one in the back is Eadric. Don't worry. They don't bite."

Ralf's father snorted. "That's good! I don't think I want to know a biting frog."

When Grumble Belly picked up his son and set him on his shoulders, Eadric and I clung to Ralf's ridge, wob-bling back and forth until we were dizzy. Pushing his way through the crowd, the big dragon headed to the area set up for the distance flame-belching contest. The next contestant, a large yellow dragon, was lumbering up to the line when we arrived. Nodding to a black dragon wearing an armband, he took a few deep breaths and belched a flame half as long as the field.

"Huh," said Ralf's father. "Not bad."

A murmur went up from the crowd when the next athlete came forward. A slender dragon with red scales verging on magenta, she looked very feminine, with a refined head and delicate features.

"That's my mother!" Ralf said.

Eadric ducked, knocking his head against mine when Ralf's father reached up and patted his son on the back. "Hold still, Ralf. You don't want to distract her."

When his mother began her series of deep breaths, Ralf's wings stiffened, and I could feel his muscles tense beneath us. "Here we go," his father whispered. "Come on, Snorty, you can do it!"

Taking one last breath, Ralf's mother opened her mouth and raised her wings, sweeping them back as a flame nearly as long as the field shot from between her gaping jaws. The flame was hot, glowing white where it left her mouth, fading through yellow and orange to red where its tip licked the rocky ground.

The crowd cheered wildly as the black dragon raced to the end of the field before Snorty's flame died down. The noise drowned out the announcement of her distance, but it was obvious that she had won. "Next year they're going to have to lengthen the field just for her, aren't they?" an older dragon with rust-red scales bellowed to Ralf's father.

"Sure looks that way," the huge blue dragon agreed.

"No knight would stand a chance against her," Eadric whispered into my eardrum.

It was impossible to get through the crowd, so we waited for his mother at the side of the field. She disappeared behind some of the bigger dragons, then suddenly she was beside us, reaching for Ralf.

"I knew you could do it!" Ralf shouted, flinging himself at her.

"Ralfie!" she said, sitting back on her haunches as she caught him. "How did you like it?"

"You were super, Mama! You're the best!"

His mother laughed and fondled the ridge atop his head. Turning toward the larger dragon, she smiled. "And what about you, Grumblekins?"

"You were great, Hot Lips," the big dragon said.

Eadric snorted, and I poked him in the stomach with my elbow. Laughing at your hosts is not a good idea, especially when they're dragons.

"Guys," Ralf said, covering his eyes with his wing. "Do you have to do that now? You're embarrassing me."

His mother laughed again and looked down at Ralf, noticing us for the first time. "You must be the frogs who are searching for a green dragon. My father told me about you. Any luck yet?"

Eadric shook his head. "Not so far."

"Why don't you three go look around?" she suggested, gesturing with her wingtip to encompass the entire arena. "It will be a while before they announce who won. Perhaps you'll get lucky and find your green dragon."

"That sounds like fun!" Ralf said, squirming out of his mother's grasp. "Roar for me when the ceremony's going to start."

Leaving his parents behind, Ralf flew across the arena, looking for a place to land. While the little dragon studied the crowded fields, Eadric whispered into my eardrum, "What did you think of his parents?"

"They're nice," I whispered back, "but I don't think they take us very seriously."

Eadric glanced at a passing deep purple dragon. Long and lean, the dragon had a surly expression on his face and wary eyes that probably didn't miss much. "I don't mind," said Eadric. "In fact, I think it's better this way. I'd rather be ignored as a frog than eaten as a human."