Dragon Rider (17 page)

The serpent smiled, stretching her huge body in the waves. “Of course. In fact, I was there at the time.”

“You were there?” Firedrake took a step back. A growl emerged from his chest. “Then you were the sea monster who chased them away!”

Terrified, Sorrel flung her arms around Ben. “Oh, no, no!” she moaned. “Careful, it’s going to eat us up!”

But the serpent merely looked down at Firedrake with an amused smile. “Me? Nonsense!” she hissed. “I only chase ships. The monster was a dragon. A dragon like you, only much, much bigger, with armor made of golden scales.”

Firedrake looked at the creature incredulously.

The serpent nodded. “His eyes were red like the dying moon, full of murderous greed.” The memory wiped the smile off her face. “That night,” she said as the sea rocked her great body, “that night your relations came down from the mountains to the sea, as they always did when the moon was round and full in the sky. My sister and I swam close to the coast, so close that we could see the faces of the people sitting outside their huts waiting for the dragons. We submerged our bodies in the water so as not to alarm them, for human beings fear what they don’t know, especially when it’s bigger than they are. Moreover,” said the creature, smiling, “we serpents are not popular among them.”

Feeling embarrassed, Ben bowed his head.

“The dragons,” continued the serpent, “plunged into the foaming waves, looking as if they were made of moonlight.” She looked at Firedrake. “The people on the shore smiled. Creatures of your kind calm the anger that human beings always carry with them. Dragons banish their sorrow. That’s why they believe you bring good luck. But that night, yes, that night,” hissed the serpent softly, “another dragon came to
chase the good luck away. The water boiled around his great muzzle as he surfaced in the sea. Dead fish floated on the waves. The silver dragons spread their wet wings in fear, but then, all of a sudden, the light of the moon was hidden by flocks of black birds. No cloud, however dark and heavy, can rob the moon of its power, but the birds did. Their dark feathers quenched the moonlight, and hard as the dragons tried to beat their wings, they couldn’t fly. They all would have been lost had my sister and I not been there to attack the monster.”

The sea serpent fell silent for a moment.

“You killed him?” asked Firedrake.

“We tried to,” replied the serpent. “We wound our coils around his armor and kept his jaws shut with our bodies. But his golden scales were cold as ice and burned us. Before long, we had to let him go, but our attack made the black birds disperse, and the moonlight gave the dragons enough strength to escape. The humans, stricken by grief and terror, stood on the shore watching them go as they flew up the river Indus and disappeared into the darkness. The monster plunged beneath the waves, and no matter how hard my sister and I searched the deepest depths of the sea we could find no trace of it. The black birds flew away, cawing. But the silver dragons never returned, although for long afterward people stood waiting on the seashore on nights when the moon was full.”

When the sea serpent had finished her story, no one said a word.

At last, Firedrake looked up at the black sky. “Did you never hear of them again?” he asked.

The serpent swayed back and forth. “Oh, there are many stories. The mermen and mermaids who swim up the Indus from time to time tell tales of a valley far, far away in the mountains, and they say that the shadow of a flying dragon sometimes falls on the valley floor. They believe that brownies have helped the dragons hide. And looking at your companion here,” she added, glancing at Sorrel, “I’d say the story is not improbable.”

Firedrake did not reply but stood there sunk deep in thought.

“I really wish we knew where that monster went,” growled Sorrel. “I don’t like the way he can appear and disappear, just like that.”

The serpent bent her head until her tongue was tickling Sorrel’s pointed ears.

“The monster is in league with the powers of the water, brownie,” she hissed. “All dragons can swim, although they are creatures of fire, but this one is lord of the water. Water is his servant even more than it is mine. I never saw that monster again, but sometimes, when I feel a cold current
passing through the depths of the sea, I know that the dragon with golden armor is out hunting.”

Firedrake was still silent. “Golden,” he murmured at last. “He was golden. Sorrel, does that remind you of anything?”

The brownie looked at him in surprise. “No, why should it? Oh, wait a minute —”

“The old dragon at home in the north!” said Firedrake. “He warned us against the Golden One before we set out. Strange, don’t you think?”

Ben suddenly clapped a hand to his forehead.

“Golden!” he cried. “That’s it! Golden scales!” He quickly opened his backpack “Sorry, Twigleg,” he said, as the homunculus sleepily put his head out from Ben’s things. “Just looking for my bag with the scale in it.”

“The scale?” All at once the homunculus was wide-awake.

“Yes, I want to show it to the serpent.” Ben carefully fished out the golden scale from among his other treasures.

Twigleg emerged anxiously from his warm hiding place.

“What serpent?” he asked, peering out of the backpack — and then, with a shriek of terror, he dived back into Ben’s clothes.

“Here, Twigleg!” Ben pulled him out by his collar. “There’s nothing to be frightened of. She’s rather large but perfectly friendly. Honest!”

“Friendly?” muttered Twigleg, digging himself in again as far as he could go. “Anything that size is dangerous, however friendly it may be.”

The sea serpent brought her head closer, looking curious. “What do you want to show me, little human?” she asked. “And what’s that whispering in your bag?”

“Only Twigleg,” replied Ben. He carefully stood up on Firedrake’s back and held the scale out to the serpent on the palm of his hand. “Look, could this be one of the giant dragon’s scales?”

The serpent bent so close to Ben’s hand that the tip of her tongue brushed his arm. “Yes,” she hissed. “Yes, it could be. Put it against my neck.”

Ben looked at the serpent in surprise, but he did as she asked. When the golden scale touched the serpent’s iridescent neck, her whole body shuddered so violently that Firedrake almost fell off her back.

“Yes,” she hissed. “That is one of the monster’s scales. It looks like warm gold, but it burns like ice.”

“It’s always icy cold,” said Ben. “Even if you leave it out in the sun. I’ve experimented.” Carefully he put the scale back in his little bag. Twigleg had disappeared from view entirely.

“Fair cousin,” said the sea serpent, addressing the dragon politely, “you must take good care of your little human. Possessing something that belongs to so wild and rapacious a
creature is not without its dangers. Perhaps the monster will want its property back one day, even if that property is only a single scale.”

“You’re right.” Firedrake turned to Ben, concern in his eyes. “Maybe you ought to throw that scale into the sea.”

But Ben shook his head. “No, please!” he said. “I really want to look after it for you, Firedrake. It was a present, don’t you see? Anyway, how would the monster know I have it?”

Firedrake nodded thoughtfully. “You’re right, how would he know?” He looked up at the place of the moon in the sky. A faint rusty-red glow was beginning to return.

“Yes, the moon will soon be back,” said the serpent, following the direction of Firedrake’s gaze. “Do you wish to take to the air again, fiery cousin, or shall I carry you over the sea on my back? You’d have to tell me where you’re going, though.”

Surprised, Firedrake looked at the serpent. His wings were still heavy, and his limbs felt as weary as if he hadn’t slept for years.

“Go on, say yes!” said Ben, patting the dragon’s scales. “Let the serpent carry us. She won’t get lost, and you could have a good rest, couldn’t you?”

Firedrake turned his head to look at Sorrel.

“I expect I’ll be seasick,” she muttered. “All the same — yes, you really could do with a rest.”

Firedrake agreed and turned back to the serpent. “We are bound for the village on the coast where the dragons were attacked. Someone we want to visit lives there.”

The sea serpent nodded. “Then I will take you to the place,” she said.

23. The Stone

 

 

T
he great sea serpent carried the dragon and his friends over the Arabian Sea for two days and two nights. She did not fear daylight because she was not afraid of human beings, but at Firedrake’s request she steered a course through the sea where no ship ever sailed. Her scaly back was so broad that Firedrake could sleep on it, while Sorrel tucked into her provisions and Ben stretched his legs. When the sea was calm, the serpent glided over the water as if it were a green glass mirror. But if the waves surged rough and high, she raised the coils of her body so far into the air that not a drop of spray splashed into the faces of her four passengers.

Sorrel overcame her seasickness by eating the delicious leaves she had picked in the valley where the djinn lived. Firedrake slept almost all through their sea voyage. But Ben spent most of his time sitting behind the high crest on the sea serpent’s head, listening to her singsong voice as she told him about all the creatures hidden from him by the waters of the sea. He was spellbound by her tales of mermaids,
ship-haunting sprites, eight-armed krakens, royal mermen and singing giant rays, luminous fish and coral gnomes, shark-faced demons and the children of the sea who ride on whales. Ben was so captivated by the sea serpent’s stories that he forgot about Twigleg in his backpack.

The homunculus crouched among Ben’s things with his heart thudding, listening to the sound of Sorrel smacking her lips and the soft hiss of the great serpent’s voice, and wondering with every breath he drew where his master might be.

Had Nettlebrand really gone off to the desert? Was he still stuck among the dunes? Had he realized yet that Twigleg had fooled him, or was he still searching for Firedrake’s tracks in the hot sand? Twigleg’s head was aching, ready to burst with all these questions, but worse, much worse, he was tormented by a sound that came to his keen ears on the second day of their voyage with the sea serpent. It was the hoarse croaking of a raven.

Strange and menacing, that sound rang through the roaring of the waves, drowned out the hissing of the serpent, and made Twigleg’s heart thump frantically. Cautiously he crawled a little way out of the backpack, which was still hanging from one of Firedrake’s spines. The dragon was breathing peacefully, fast asleep. High above them in the blue
sky where the sun blazed, a black bird was circling among white seagulls.

Twigleg withdrew his head until only his nose emerged from the coarse fabric of the backpack. Much as Twigleg wanted to think so, that wasn’t just any old raven who had lost its way and had been carried by the wind to this part of the world. No, it certainly wasn’t. If only the gigantic serpent would simply rear up and lick it out of the sky with her tongue, like a frog catching a fly!

But the serpent didn’t so much as glance at the sky.

I must think of a good story for Nettlebrand,
thought Twigleg.
A very good story. Think of something
, he told himself,
think of something, why can’t you?

The manikin was not the only one to notice the raven. Darkness had hidden the black bird during the night, but Sorrel couldn’t miss him against the blue sky, and soon she was sure that he was following them. Carefully keeping her balance, she made her way along the serpent’s body to Ben, who was sitting in the shade of the creature’s shimmering crest and listening to a tale of two warring mermaid queens.

“Have you seen it?” Sorrel asked him, in some agitation.

The sea serpent turned her head in surprise, and Ben reluctantly made himself emerge from the underwater realm into which her stories carried him.

“Seen what?” he asked, watching a shoal of dolphins cross the serpent’s path.

“The raven, of course,” hissed Sorrel. “Look up there. Don’t you see it?”

“You’re right,” he said in surprise. “It really is a raven.”

“It’s following us,” growled Sorrel. “It’s been following us for quite some time, I’m sure it has. All through this voyage, I’ve had a feeling that one of those beaky creatures was after us. I’m beginning to think there was something in what that white rat said about someone sending out those ravens as scouts. Suppose the golden monster’s behind it? Suppose the ravens are his spies?”

“Well, I don’t know.” Ben narrowed his eyes. “Sounds a bit far-fetched.”

“And what about the birds that covered the moon?” asked Sorrel. “In the old days, when the dragons were trying to escape the monster? Those were ravens, weren’t they, serpent?”

The sea serpent nodded and swam more slowly.

“Black birds with red eyes,” she hissed. “They’re still sometimes seen on the coast to this day.”

“Hear that?” Sorrel bit her lip angrily. “Oh, moldy morels! If only I had a stone to throw. I’d soon send that black feathery thing packing.”

“I have a stone,” said Ben. “In my backpack, in the bag
with the scale. The mountain dwarves gave it to me. But it’s only a little one.”

“Never mind.” Sorrel jumped up and made her way along the serpent’s back to Firedrake.

“But how are you going to throw a stone so high?” asked Ben when she returned with his backpack.

Sorrel only chuckled. She rummaged around in Ben’s backpack until she found the bag. It really was a small stone, not much bigger than a bird’s egg.

“Here!” Alarmed, Twigleg put his sharp nose over the top of the backpack. “What are you going to do with that stone, fur-face?”

“Get rid of a raven.” Sorrel spat on it a couple of times, rubbed her saliva off it, and then spat again. Ben looked at her, baffled.

“Better not,” whispered Twigleg from the backpack. “Ravens don’t take kindly to that sort of thing.”

“Don’t they indeed?” Sorrel shrugged her shoulders and tossed the stone playfully from paw to paw.

“No, honestly they don’t!” Twigleg’s voice was so shrill that Firedrake raised his head and Ben looked at the homunculus in surprise. Even the sea serpent turned her head to them.

“Ravens,” faltered Twigleg, “ravens bear a grudge. They’re vengeful birds — the ones I know, anyway.”

Sorrel looked at him suspiciously. “You know a lot of ravens, do you?”

Twigleg jumped nervously.

“N-n-not really,” he stammered. “But … I’ve heard people say that.”

Sorrel just shook her head scornfully and glanced up at the sky. The raven had come closer and was circling lower and lower. Ben could see its small eyes quite clearly.

“Look, Sorrel!” he said in surprise. “That raven has red eyes.”

“Red eyes? Well, well.” Sorrel weighed up the little stone in her paw one last time. “I really don’t like this at all. No. That bird must go.”

Like lightning, she took aim and hurled the stone into the sky.

It flew straight as an arrow to the raven, struck his right wing, and remained stuck to his feathers like a burr. Cawing angrily, the black bird fluttered about, beating his wings violently and lurching around in the sky as if he had lost all sense of direction.

“There!” said Sorrel, pleased. “That’ll keep him occupied for a while.”

Ben watched incredulously as the raven pecked more and more frantically at his wing and finally flew unsteadily away. Before long, he was a mere speck in the distance.

Sorrel chuckled.

“Brownie spit — nothing like it,” she said, going back to have a nap in the shade of the dragon.

The sea serpent lowered her neck into the cool water again, and Ben settled down close to her crest to listen to more of her stories. But Twigleg crouched low in Ben’s backpack, his face as white as chalk as he thought despairingly that the raven, too, knew exactly how to summon their master.