The Dragon's Eye (19 page)

Dr. Drake was still struggling with Ignatius and the man with the gun. Dr. Drake had taken hold of the pistol, which was aimed at his face, and was trying to turn it away. But Ignatius was biting his arm. It could only be a matter of time.

The other man left us and ran over to help them.

Meanwhile Beatrice was opening the box of dragon dust.

“What are you doing?” I said. “We need to get away from here!”

“We have to do something,” she said. “Look!”

She opened the box, and I saw that it contained a fine silvery powder and a silver dish.

“Abramelin's Taming Spell!” I cried. “Can you remember the words?”

“I think so,” she said. “Can you?”

“Yes, but do you think it will work? Will one taming spell cancel out another? And don't we need three troy ounces? How much is that?”

“I don't know, but we must give it a try.”

We stood side by side, and poured out a good portion of dragon dust onto the silver tray and then cast it over the dragons as we cried,

Nothing seemed to happen for a moment, then, suddenly, the dragons froze. The green dragon dropped its head and looked about as though it was dazed. Then, seeing us, it came over and looked at us inquisitively, as though asking us what we wanted. The red dragon did not stir. Flitz dropped out of the sky and landed with a bump.

“Save Dr. Drake!” commanded Beatrice.

At once Idraigir flicked his tail and sent Ignatius and his ruffians flying. Dr. Drake lay panting on the ground as the pistol spun away. With a look of contempt, Idraigir trod on it with his huge claw, crushing the barrel flat.

“Idraigir!” cried Ignatius. “Your master commands you! Kill Dr. Drake.”

Idraigir looked at him blankly.

Beatrice turned to Ignatius, a look of fierce hatred on her face. Then she relaxed. A dark thought had passed.

“Ignatius Crook,” she said, “if I were you, I would leave. Now.”

Ignatius stood for a second, open-mouthed. Then he turned and ran down the mountain as fast as he could, followed by the two ruffians.

We went over to Dr. Drake and helped him to his feet.

“Thank you,” he said. “You both acted like true dragonologists.”

“What about the dragons?” I asked.

“You have charmed them,” he said. “You must release them.”

“Can't you do it?” I said.

“I cannot,” said Dr. Drake. “They are under your command.”

“How do we release them?” asked Beatrice.

“It's simple,” said Dr. Drake. “You have used only just enough dragon dust to counter the charm Ignatius used. The effect will wear off soon. Until then, I suggest that you simply command them to obey no one but themselves.”

I looked at the dragons. A thought occurred to me. Idraigir was a remarkable creature. Who knew how far he could fly? Our parents might be in desperate danger at any moment. I imagined myself riding him triumphantly across the Thar Desert to save them, blasting dark dragonologists from my path.

“But can't we —?”

“No,” said Dr. Drake. “This is the most important lesson of all. A dragonologist does not take advantage of dragons, and he never uses spells and charms against them. A dragonologist simply seeks to study dragons and to conserve and protect those dragons that still remain.”

I hung my head. But Beatrice came and put her arm round my shoulder.

“Let's do it together,” she said.

So we both stood before the three dragons.

“Dragons,” said Beatrice, “you are free.”

“Obey no one,” I added, “but yourselves.”

Dr. Drake smiled.

Idraigir let out a sigh.

Flitz sat up and hissed at us. Then he flew off after Ignatius, giving me a nasty scratch as he passed.

“Idraigir,” said Dr. Drake, “I apologise that you have had to suffer the indignity of taming, and so crudely. In a way, it is partly my fault, because I did not realise just how much Ignatius had managed to learn or how much help he had gathered. I ask only that you forgive us and that you go in peace.”

The dragon bowed his mighty head. He gestured towards Scramasax with his claw. Scorcher, who was not really hurt, was snuffling at his mother, making very sad little noises.

Dr. Drake was at the red dragon's side in a moment. As Dr. Drake knelt by her enormous head, the prone dragon let out a long, rasping breath. My heart leapt, for it seemed that Scramasax was not dead after all. She raised her head a little off the ground.

“Drake,” she said, “I am badly wounded. I must sleep in my lair for a long time in order to recover my strength. Scorcher will be all right. He can stay with me and help me recover, but I have another egg that has not hatched yet. I cannot look after it while I heal. I would not even trust another dragon with it. But you will become Dragon Master, I am sure. So I will trust you. Will you take care of it for me, until I am strong enough to come and claim my baby from you?”

“I will,” said Dr. Drake. “And I will keep it safe from harm and raise it properly as a wild dragon, so that when you are able to, you may bring it back to its home here.”

“Then I thank you,” said Scramasax. “And now I shall tell you what you seek to know. The Dragon's Eye is guarded by the most ancient dragon still living in the British Isles. She is the one who knows the ways of humans better than all other dragons. But I am not able to simply tell you where to find her lair. You must pass a riddle test. Listen:

And with that, Scramasax began to drag herself into her lair, with Dr. Drake following. Soon he emerged again, carefully cradling something large and round in his flameproof cloak.

“This cloak will help to keep the egg warm and your fingers cool,” he said. “Do not touch the egg itself; it will burn you. Beatrice, will you look after it?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but Dr. Drake gave me a smile and said, “When we reach St. Leonard's Forest, you may look after it together.”

He then turned to Idraigir and said, “But now we have a problem. We still need to solve that riddle and find the Dragon's Eye before Ignatius. Idraigir, will you help us?”

“I long to get back to my lair in Wales. For who else but I can protect my hoard? But for releasing me, yes, I will help you,” said Idraigir.

“Then we shall fly back to my home, Idraigir.”

Dr. Drake turned to us and said, “Prepare yourselves, my dears. For you two are about to have your first ride on a dragon. But you must be careful, for we will be flying bareback!”

Idraigir lowered his long neck to the ground. Dr. Drake took the blanket that had covered Scorcher's cage, folded it several times, and placed it over the dragon's shoulders, so that we would be protected as much as possible from the spines on Idraigir's back. He then helped us to climb up. I sat in front of Beatrice, who gripped me tightly about the waist. Then Dr. Drake climbed onto the dragon too, sitting in front of us so he could direct Idraigir. Just then, Scorcher came padding out of the cave mouth to see us off. He made a few screeching noises, and we waved at him.

“Good-bye, Scorcher!” shouted Dr. Drake. “By the time I see you again, perhaps you will have begun to speak a little! Take care of your mother!”

Idraigir stood up slowly, spread out his huge wings, took two or three steps forward, and launched himself off the mountainside and into the sky. He beat his powerful wings to gain height, then turned in a great, slow arc towards the south. I could feel my heart pounding. Far below us, I could see the forests on the slope of Ben Wyvis and farther off, Loch Ness shimmering in the Great Glen. But soon we were past it, winging our way across the Grampian Mountains and crossing the Firth of Forth.

A few hours later, after flying over a great deal of countryside and several towns, Dr. Drake shouted, “See that city below us? That is London! We are nearly home!”

We did not fly directly over London, for there was too much smoke rising up from the thousands and thousands of chimneys, even though it was July. Instead, we flew around it in a large arc until we were above Sussex, where we began our descent. Idraigir began swooping around in a series of circles, getting lower and lower each time, until he must have been only a few hundred feet above the ground.

“Now,” cried Dr. Drake, “there is Horsham. I can see the church spire. Bear to the left, and fly out past the farmland and over to the forest.”

Idraigir obeyed, and it was not long before we saw Castle Drake nestled amongst the trees.

“Set us down there,” cried Dr. Drake.

The dragon made one or two more slow loops and put his feet down on Dr. Drake's front lawn.

We climbed down off Idraigir's back and saw Darcy, Emery, and Mademoiselle Gamay running out of the house to welcome us.

Dr. Drake turned to Idraigir.

“Now,” said the dragon, “I shall return home. I do not like to leave it for long. But if you wish me to, I will return. I would not like to see the Dragon's Eye in the hand of that man Ignatius.”

“Then return to us in three days' time,” said Dr. Drake. “I do not think this riddle will take me long to solve.”

Idraigir bowed. Then, without further ado, he took five paces forward, lunged upwards, and flew into the sky.

Next, Dr. Drake spoke to Beatrice, who, carrying the egg, went into the house with Mademoiselle Gamay. He then led Emery, Darcy, and myself to the old coal shed.

“We need to erect some sort of chimney in here,” he said. “We have a dragon's egg to hatch and we are going to need ventilation.”

Emery nodded, and he and Darcy set off to find some tools.

“Now, Daniel,” said Dr. Drake, “I would like both you and Beatrice to work on this riddle. You will need to write it down in your dragonological record books. But I would also like you to spend time writing notes on everything that you have learned on our adventure.”

I went back into the house to find Beatrice.

To my horror, I found that Beatrice had built a little fire in the grate in the drawing room, even though it was summertime, and had placed the egg among the flames.

“What are you doing?” I cried, leaping forward in order to rescue the egg.

“It's all right, Daniel,” she replied. “Dr. Drake says that we must keep the egg as warm as possible, so as not to harm the developing chick inside. Emery and Darcy are going to build a proper charcoal nest for it in the coal shed, but until then we need to keep it here.”

Later that evening, Dr. Drake called us into his study.

“Have either of you had any ideas on the solution to Scramasax's riddle?” he asked.

Beatrice and I had spent the afternoon making copious notes in our diaries, with breaks to check on the egg. We had talked about the riddle, but it didn't seem as simple as the one on Ebenezer Crook's grave.

“Is there a place called Wantley somewhere?” asked Beatrice.

“That's the trouble,” said Dr. Drake. “I have pored over my atlas, and I cannot find Wantley anywhere. I wish I had my dragon diary. You see, there is an amusing rhyme about a dragon from Wantley. It is based on a legend about a dragon that is defeated by a knight in spiked armour who hides at the bottom of a well. It is very frustrating. I can only hope there is a reference to it in one of my books. I have also written a short note to Mr. Flyte at my shop and one to Lord Chiddingfold explaining what has happened. It may be that they can find out some information up in London.”

But much as Dr. Drake searched through all the books in his library, he could not crack the puzzle. Darcy meanwhile, took us to see Weasel, and to help look after Jamal, who seemed pleased to see us every time we turned up with a wheelbarrowfull of meat for him. We even tried to play another game of football with him, but he merely crushed the ball beneath his feet. His attempts at flying were growing better by the day, and I knew that before long, Dr. Drake would have to take him home. We also went to check up on the egg, which was now installed on its own little nest in the coal shed. Dr. Drake showed us how to use the bellows in order to bring the charcoal fire up to the right temperature.

It was two days later that help with the riddle finally arrived. Beatrice and I were on our way to visit Jamal when a carriage pulled into the drive of Castle Drake, bearing Billy and Alicia. Dr. Drake came out to greet them immediately.

“I have a message from my father,” said Billy. “He says that a researcher he knows at the British Library has confidently identified Wantley. Given what has happened, he wants you to go there as soon as possible. Mr. Tibbs doesn't exactly agree with him, but this time my father overruled him.”