Dragon Rider

Page 21

“A very nice story, too,” said Sorrel. “Come on, it’s time we were off.” She tugged at Ben’s arm, but he stayed put.
“We can’t just leave him here,” he said, “all alone like this.”
“Oh, yes, we can,” Sorrel whispered, “because I don’t believe a word of his touching tale. There’s something wrong about this little titch. I mean, it’s rather odd the way he turns up here at the same time as us. What’s more, he’s too friendly with ravens for my liking.”
“You were the one who said ravens were only suspect on their own,” Ben whispered back.
Twigleg pretended to take no notice of their whispering but inched slowly closer to them.
“Oh, forget that!” whispered Sorrel. “Okay, I often do talk dreadful nonsense.”
“Like now, for instance,” said Ben. “You’re forgetting how he helped us. We owe him.” Ben held his hand out to the homunculus. “Come on,” he said. “We’ll take you part of the way with us. We’re sure to find somewhere you’d like to stay, okay?”
Twigleg jumped up and made a deep bow. “You have a kind heart, Your Honor!” he said. “It is with the greatest gratitude that I accept your offer.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” groaned Sorrel. She turned angrily and said not a word on the way back to the cavern.
As for Twigleg, he sat on Ben’s shoulder, dangling his legs.
13. The Basilisk
Firedrake wasn’t bothered about anything. He was fast asleep. Outside the sun burned down, making the land hotter and hotter, but it was cool in the cavern, and the dragon was dreaming of mountains, of dwarves climbing up his tail, and of the dirty canal flowing through the great human city.
Suddenly he raised his head. Something had roused him from sleep. A horrible stink rose to his nostrils, washing over him like the dirty water in his dream just now. Outside the mouth of the cave, the leaves of the thornbush went limp and drooped.
The dragon sat up, uneasily. He listened.
A hiss came from a crevice in the darkest corner of the cavern. Feathers rustled, claws scraped over the stony ground. And suddenly the most monstrous creature Firedrake had ever seen emerged from the darkness.
It looked like a gigantic cockerel with yellow feathers and broad, spiky wings. The monster’s staring eyes were bloodred, and it wore a circlet of pale spines like a crown on its horrible head. Its tail coiled like the scaly body of a snake and ended in a claw, which was snatching at invisible prey.
The monster stalked slowly toward Firedrake.
The dragon could scarcely breathe. The dreadful stench made his head swim. He retreated until his tail became entangled in the thorny tendrils outside the cave.
“Aaargh, you woke me!” croaked this ghastly creature. “A dragon! A fire-worm! Your sickly sweet smell made its way into my darkest dreams and disturbed them. What are you doing here in my cavern?”
Firedrake wrenched his tail free of the thorns and took a step toward the monster. The stink surrounding it still made breathing difficult, but he was no longer frightened of the strange creature’s horrible appearance.
“I didn’t know this cavern was yours,” he replied. “Forgive me, but if you don’t mind I’d like to stay here until nightfall. I don’t know where else to hide from human beings.”
“Human beings?” hissed the monster. It opened its curved beak and laughed. “You took refuge from human beings in my cave? That’s a good one! That’s a really good one!”
Firedrake looked curiously at the ugly cockerel-headed creature. “What are you?” he asked. “I’ve never heard of anything like you before.”
With a shrill cackle, the monster spread its spiny wings. Dead beetles and spiders dropped out of its plumage. “Don’t you know my name?” it screeched. “Don’t you know my name, fire-worm? I am the worst nightmare in the world, and you have woken me from my sleep. You are the light, but I am the deepest darkness, and I shall swallow you up. The two of us cannot be in the same place, any more than night and day can ever exist together.”
Firedrake stood there as if rooted to the ground. He tried to move. He wanted to breathe dragon-fire and drive the horrible cockerel-headed creature back into the crevice in the rock from which it had crawled, but he simply could not move at all. The monster’s eyes began to flash. The spines on its head quivered.
“Look at me, fire-worm!” whispered the yellow monster. “Look — deep — into — my eyes.”
Firedrake wanted to turn away, but those red eyes held him spellbound. They were filling his head with a black fog that was smothering everything he knew.
Suddenly a sharp pain roused him from his daze. Someone had stepped on his tail — hard. Firedrake whipped around and saw a man standing in the cave entrance, a man as thin as a rake and wearing shorts. He was holding a large round mirror high above his head.
Firedrake heard the monster behind him beat its wings.
“Move aside, dragon!” the man called. “Quick! Move aside, and don’t look at it if you value your life!”
“No, look at me, fire-worm!” screeched the cockerel-headed monster, lashing the rocks with its snaky tail. “Look at me!”
But Firedrake looked at the man instead, stepped aside — and the monster saw its own reflection.
It uttered a shriek so terrible that the sound echoed in Firedrake’s ears for days to come. Then it flapped its wings until the entire floor of the cavern was covered with poison-yellow feathers, puffed itself up so that the spines on its head touched the roof of the cavern … and burst into a thousand pieces.
Incredulous, Firedrake looked at the place where the monster had just been standing.
The man beside him, exhausted, lowered the mirror.
“My word, that was a close shave!” he sighed, propping the mirror against the cave wall.
Firedrake, still dazed, stood staring at the remains of the monster. Nothing was left of it but feathers and stinking dust.
The man cleared his throat and cautiously approached the dragon.
“May I introduce myself?” He bowed slightly. “Barnabas Greenbloom, Professor of Archaeology, special subject fantastic phenomena of every kind. It’s an honor to make your acquaintance.”
Firedrake nodded. He still felt numb.
“May I ask you,” Barnabas Greenbloom continued, “to breathe a little dragon-fire over the remains of that terrible creature? It’s the only way we can prevent the cave from being contaminated for hundreds of years. What’s more,” he added, holding his large nose, “it would get rid of this disgusting smell.”
Firedrake was still staring at the man in some amazement, but he did as he was asked. When he breathed blue fire on the monster’s remains they crumbled into a fine silver dust that filled the whole cavern with glittering light.
“Ah!” cried the professor. “Doesn’t that look wonderful? Yet again we see that beauty can arise from the worst of horrors, wouldn’t you agree?”
Firedrake nodded. “What sort of creature was it?” he asked.
“That,” said Barnabas Greenbloom, sitting down on a rock and mopping his brow, “that, my friend, was a basilisk. A fabulous creature like yourself, but one of the more sinister kind.”