‘Even if you do find griffins, Barnabas,’ she said, ‘and I have no doubt that you will… they’ll bite your head off just for not bowing low enough to them! They think the earth and the sky belong to them, and they certainly don’t want to see a winged horse in that sky!’
‘I know, I know,’ replied Barnabas, sighing. ‘And I really am most grateful to you for letting me have this family heirloom. It’s probably worth more than all of MÍMAMEIĐR,’ he added, glancing at the casket that Bağdagül had given him. ‘And I’m sorry to say it’s very unlikely that you will get this treasure back.’
‘Who cares?’ said Bağdagül, with a dismissive gesture. ‘The use that’s to be made of my father’s old paperweight would make him very happy. Don’t look so incredulous; that’s what he generally did with the casket. And if the Feathered Kings, as griffins like to call themselves, will really take it in payment for the feather, and the treasure it contains saves three unborn Pegasus foals – well, what better purpose could it serve?’
Treasure. Seeing Bağdagül again made Barnabas aware again of how many treasures he had found in his life already, but his were human treasures. He opened the casket. The ends of the gold bangle inside it were shaped like two griffins confronting each other with menacingly ruffled plumage. There was a similarly fine example in the British Museum in London, but Bağdagül’s bangle was older and contained more solid gold. The eyes of the griffins were tiny rubies, their wings were set with pearls.
‘I can’t thank you enough, my dear Bağdagül,’ said Barnabas. ‘You’re a treasure yourself. This is truly princely payment for a feather. Inua says you mentioned something else that might make griffins look kindly on our request, if offering gold doesn’t work. But he was leaving it to you to tell me about it.’
‘Kindly? Griffins?’ Bağdagül laughed. ‘Inua is a joker. I guess he wouldn’t tell you himself because he doesn’t want to be the one who put the idea into your head. But I’m sure that even you, with your passion for Pegasi, wouldn’t pay that price.’
Barnabas put the casket and the bangle in his backpack. ‘Now you really are making me curious.’
‘Or then again, there’s always the possibility of throwing yourself to them as food.’ Bağdagül stroked the cloud-dog’s pale grey coat. Such dogs were said to be able to pick up the scent of evil. ‘Inua says you could offer them a duel with your dragon. Any griffin would give you a sun-feather for that opportunity. They boast of being the only fabulous creatures that can easily defeat a dragon in single combat. But they last had the chance to prove it over six hundred years ago.’
Barnabas did not reply. It was a price that he would not pay even for three Pegasus foals. He was extremely glad that they had lied to Firedrake about the purpose of their quest.
‘Who won the fight over six hundred years ago?’ he asked.
‘The griffin. He killed the dragon and adorned his nest with its scales. So let’s hope that the griffins will accept the bangle as adequate payment. It’s said that they grow sun-feathers only after doing many heroic deeds. So they’re certainly not going to give one up easily.’
Barnabas had read that story himself. ‘We’ll do it!’ he said. ‘And you must come to MÍMAMEIĐR once the foals have been born!’
‘That sounds like a good plan!’ Bağdagül smiled, but she still looked concerned. ‘Griffins can smell gold miles away, Barnabas. They’ll probably just kill you instead of negotiating for the bangle.’
That seemed only too likely to Barnabas himself. But what choice did he have if he wanted flying horses to live on in this world?
‘Do you know where to look for them?’ Bağdagül asked. ‘All I know is the rumour that a pride of griffins has settled somewhere in Indonesia. That covers hundreds of islands!’
‘Seventeen thousand at the last count,’ replied Barnabas. ‘Although the rising sea level is said to have drowned several of them already. We have a rat pilot who is an excellent scout, and I’ve thought of a way to find a guide. But you’re right, it won’t be easy.’
Bağdagül smiled. ‘We’re used to that, aren’t we?’ she said. ‘What we do is never easy. But sometimes luck is on the side of those who mean well.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
One Heart, Two Places
There ain’t no way you can hold onto something
that wants to go, you understand? You can
only love what you got while you got it.
Kate DiCamillo, Because of Winn-Dixie
Hothbrodd’s plane had already disappeared among the clouds when Ben climbed up on Firedrake’s back. The dragon was glad to see the moon in the sky, because it made flying easier. But Sorrel had also brought a good supply of the flowers that could replace moonlight for silver dragons in her backpack. Vita grew them in the hothouses of MÍMAMEIĐR from seeds she had been given by Zubeida Ghalib, the Indian dracologist who had discovered the flowers, and whom Ben had met on his first journey with Firedrake. It seemed incredible that barely two years had passed since then.
Vita and Guinevere were not the only ones who had come to say goodbye to the dragon and his rider. Ànemos was there too. The Pegasus looked a little more confident now that he had talked to Firedrake. He had accompanied the mist-ravens on one of the flights that they made several times a day to patrol the boundaries of MÍMAMEIĐR, and had explored the forests bordering its land with the hedgehog-men. It was not a good idea to be inactive when you were waiting for something, and Ben was very glad that Ànemos had taken on the task entrusted to him by Firedrake for the coming weeks.
Guinevere put something else in Ben’s hand before he got on the dragon’s back. It was a photo of the Pegasus eggs, and showed them shining with a silvery light, like Firedrake’s scales.
‘To remind you all of that you want to save,’ Guinevere whispered to Ben, giving him a goodbye kiss on the cheek.
It was a wonderful feeling to be travelling with Firedrake again. Even Sorrel seemed glad to have Ben with them, and the night and day that it took the dragon to reach the south-west coast of India passed much too quickly.
By now Firedrake flew so well that he rivalled the speed of the wind. It felt intoxicating to be carried around the world by so much power and beauty, and Ben lay close to the dragon’s warm scales and felt sure that he was the happiest person in the world.
The hill on which they came down to land hardly twenty-four hours after their departure was many miles south of the place where the great sea serpent had put them ashore during their last adventure, and beyond the fields and huts, even without his field glasses, Ben could see the ruined temple that Barnabas had described to them as the meeting place.
The others wouldn’t arrive until tomorrow morning – even Gilbert Greytail had underestimated the dragon’s speed – and of course Firedrake didn’t want to leave Ben alone, which gave them a few precious hours together before the dragon set off again for the Rim of Heaven, hours in which Ben, after a long time, could be nothing but a dragon rider again. Rider, friend and companion of a dragon. No word could really express what linked the boy and Firedrake.
As the sun went down beyond the Indian fields, Ben used his jacket as a supper table, spreading out some of the provisions that Tallemaja had given him on it. Sorrel wrinkled her nose when Ben offered her some of the delicacies that the cook at MÍMAMEIĐR had packed up. She was very quiet, for her. Brownies were as reluctant to leave their homes as trolls, particularly Scottish brownies, and Sorrel made no secret of the fact that she was homesick, and was going back to the Rim of Heaven with Firedrake only for love of him. She sat down with her stock of mushrooms under the nearest tree, and when she finally fell asleep, she was holding a half-eaten chanterelle in her paw, with Indian flies buzzing around it, and in her dreams was murmuring something about boletus mushroom species and wild champignons.
After his long flight, Firedrake was so exhausted that he too was silent, but Ben could tell from his expression how much he looked forward to returning to the Rim of
Heaven and the other dragons. The Himalayan valley had become home for Firedrake, and Ben was sure that the dragon would never leave it again of his own accord. After a while his muzzle sank to his paws, and Ben sat there with the hot nocturnal air of India on his skin, Firedrake’s peaceful breathing beside him, and wished you could carry moments like this around with you like garments – magic jackets which, when you put them on, brought back all that went to make up such times: Sorrel murmuring in her sleep, the wide expanses of the foreign landscapes where they had travelled together – and the closeness of the dragon. The dragon in particular. There was nothing that made Ben happier, nothing in the whole world.
Why was the Rim of Heaven such a terribly long way from the place that was the most wonderful home you could wish for? Over eight thousand kilometres separated MÍMAMEIĐR from the peaks of the Himalayas.
‘There’s something I still have to tell you.’ Firedrake stretched his weary wings. ‘I was really going to tell you all at MÍMAMEIĐR, but somehow it never seemed to be the right moment, first because of Slatebeard, then because of the Pegasi…’
Ben heard something he didn’t like in Firedrake’s voice. It sounded alarmingly serious.
‘It’s not only Pegasus foals that will be born this year. We’re expecting young in the Rim of Heaven as well.’
Ben stared at the dragon, so speechless that Firedrake uttered the quiet purr that Ben called his laughter.
‘Twelve young dragons if all the eggs hatch. Two of them will be Maia’s children, and mine.’
Ben forgot the Pegasi and the griffins.
Young dragons!
‘Oh… oh, I must see them!’ he stammered. ‘When will they hatch?’
‘Our young take a little longer than Pegasus foals. In three months’ time.’
Three months! Three months would pass like lightning and – he would be far away! And…
‘And I’m afraid I won’t be able to come to MÍMAMEIĐR again for some time.’ Firedrake said just what Ben was thinking.
For some time? Maybe he wouldn’t be able to come for years! Did dragon fathers look after their children? Firedrake surely would.
Ben didn’t know where to look. Oh, this goodbye would be so much worse than all the others! Suppose he told Barnabas that he couldn’t go on to Indonesia with him? Suppose he asked Firedrake to take him along, and he stayed at the Rim of Heaven until the young dragons were born? Even if the Pegasi did hatch out, they would only remind him of the young dragons whose birth he was missing.
Firedrake gently nudged his chest with his muzzle, as he always did when he wanted to cheer Ben up.
‘Of course you’ll see them! I’ll come and fetch you. Promise! As soon as I can leave Maia alone with our little ones.’
Whenever that would be!
The last daylight was dying away, and the temple ruins where Ben was to meet Barnabas and the others disappeared into the night.
‘Don’t worry,’ said Firedrake. ‘Everything will be all right. And now we’d better go to sleep like Sorrel. We both have a long journey ahead of us.’
He stretched out beside Ben, and was soon sleeping as deeply and soundly as Sorrel. His silver scales caught the starlight, and Ben sat there wondering how you could teach your own heart to love and not pay for it with pain. Was it better, in the long run, not to need anyone and so not to miss them? That night, Ben didn’t know the answer.
The possibility of not seeing Firedrake again for so long made everything he loved in MÍMAMEIĐR seem unreal. The foreign night surrounding him ate up his distant happiness, and the only thing that counted was the dragon.
When the sun rose, Ben hadn’t slept a wink all night, but he had come to a decision. He would help Barnabas with the griffins, but after that he wouldn’t return to MÍMAMEIĐR. Instead, he would make his way somehow or other to the Rim of Heaven. Ben couldn’t say that the decision made him happy. On the contrary, he felt as if he had made a plan to cut his own heart in two down the middle and throw half of it away. But what else was he to do?
Ben made up his mind to tell Barnabas once they had the griffin’s feather. Barnabas would surely understand his decision. After all, they both remembered that he had been a dragon rider first, and had only then become one of the Greenbloom family.
And what about Firedrake?
The dragon opened his eyes, as if Ben’s decision had woken him.
‘You look tired,’ he said as he stretched his scaly limbs. ‘Didn’t you sleep well?’
‘Not particularly,’ replied Ben. He would have liked to tell Firedrake right away that he would leave with him, but he couldn’t let Barnabas down. Not when he was searching for one of the most dangerous fabulous beings in the world. And then again… Ben had to admit that he really did want to see the griffins.
‘Will I see you again before we fly on?’ he asked. Barnabas had asked Firedrake to drop Ben off only somewhere near the temple, because a dragon at the temple itself would attract too much attention.
‘Of course,’ said Firedrake. ‘I’m not starting out until this evening. I always prefer to fly by night. Send Lola to me when the rest of you are ready to take off. But now let’s see whether Barnabas is waiting for you yet.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
A Temple to Garuda
When his time came, Garuda burst from the shell
of his egg, as incandescent as the sun and the fire-god
Agni. His radiance was like that of the fire which
will devour everything when this world ends.
The Mahabharata First Book: ‘Adi Parva’,
The Book of Beginnings
Barnabas was indeed already waiting for them. At first sight, the temple where Ben found him, in a courtyard surrounded by columns, looked deserted, as if no human being had wandered into its crumbling ruins for hundreds of years. But the god whose weathered likeness appeared everywhere on the remains of its walls probably did not think much of human worshippers. He had wings and a beak, and the ruins of his temple echoed to the voices of thousands of birds. They were sitting on the sand-brown walls everywhere, like feathered flowers: red, yellow, blue-black, emerald green or white as snow. Ben had never seen so many birds in one place before. They were whistling, croaking, cooing, and screeching in such shrill tones that Twigleg, who was sitting on Barnabas’s shoulder, put his hands over his sensitive ears.
Many of the birds were as large as him, or even larger. And all those beaks! Why hadn’t he gone with Hothbrodd and Lola instead, when they went in search of a calm river where they could refuel the plane in peace? Because Barnabas needed an interpreter, and he couldn’t refuse him, that was why.
‘Maybe you can guess why I chose this temple as our meeting place,’ Barnabas whispered to Ben. ‘Do you see who it’s dedicated to?’ He pointed to a fresco that adorned the wall to their left.
‘Garuda!’ Ben whispered back. ‘The creature ridden by Vishnu. Thief of immortality and god of the birds.’
‘Exactly,’ Barnabas replied quietly. ‘Many birds come to this place from very far away to ask for divine help. Who knows, maybe one of them can help us in our quest!’
Of course. That was why he had been told to come without Firedrake. Ben looked around the ruined temple.
‘Help human beings who are in league with the king of the snakes?’ croaked someone between the columns.
This remark irritated Twigleg so much that he did not translate what the discordant voice said until Barnabas cast him an enquiring glance.
Everyone knew the bird who drew a shimmering train of feathers after him as he stepped out from the columns. His beauty was as famous as his unmusical voice. So far Ben had seen peacocks only in zoos and the gardens of great houses, but he thought this one would have taken it as an insult if he said so. When he fanned out his magnificent tail, all was so still among the columns that even Sorrel wished the croaking, screaming voices would start up again.
‘My lord and master, the mighty Garuda,’ screeched the peac
ock, as he fanned his tail again, showing colours to outdo any rainbow in splendour, ‘will make you all feel the force of his wrath! How dare you bring a dragon to his shrine? That boy,’ he added, with his beak swinging around to point at Ben, ‘was brought here by one of those fire-breathing creatures! No less than three birds on guard here have told me so!’
‘Oh, don’t give yourself such airs, Magura!’
The bird calling down to the peacock so disrespectfully had a crest of red-brown feathers on his head, and was feared for his aggressive nature. He was a hoopoe, and his English was so flawless that he didn’t need Twigleg to interpret what he said, even if he spoke with a strong Indian accent. Ben had often noticed animals communicating in human language when there was a fabulous creature present.
‘A dragon is as much of a bird as a snake, O maharajah of all the vanities!’ cried the hoopoe in his mocking voice. ‘Furthermore, if I am correctly informed, your lord and master last showed himself in this temple over seven hundred years ago. Nor, to be perfectly accurate, was it ever just Garuda’s temple. He has a single niche to himself, and it’s in a rather remote spot, as you must admit. The rest of the place,’ continued the hoopoe, indicating the temple building around the courtyard with his beak, ‘is dedicated to Krishna. And very appropriate, if you ask me. After all, your lord and master is only the mount that Krishna rode!’
The peacock puffed himself up with indignation at such lack of respect. Every feathered eye on his tail seemed to flash fury. But the hoopoe uttered the loud cry of huphuphup that had earned him his Latin name of Upupa epos, like a challenge, whereupon the peacock, sulking, made off between the columns, tail and all. He wasn’t about to play around with a hoopoe, even if the bird was considerably smaller than he was. You had only to watch one spear its prey with its long beak, or smash it with a stone.
So far Ben had kept his mouth shut. Only when the hoopoe fell silent did he hesitantly step into the middle of the temple courtyard. Hundreds of birds’ eyes stared down at him from the ruined walls and towers.