“Two dragons!” Barnabas Greenbloom frowned anxiously. “That’s not without its dangers, my dear Firedrake. It will be harder for two dragons to find places to hide during the day.”
“Don’t worry about that!” Lola Graytail scampered in among all the huge feet and claws. “You see before you the best pilot they could possibly have! And as it happens, I’m going the same way. The dragons will have to adjust to my speed now and then, that’s all.”
“Are you going back already?” asked Twigleg in surprise, looking down from Ben’s arm. “I mean, have you finished your surveying?”
“Surveying? Huh!” The rat waved a dismissive paw. “You know what I’m going to do? I’m going to invent things. I’m going to fake the map of these parts so cleverly that no one will ever find the Rim of Heaven.” She smoothed her ears with satisfaction. “What do you say to that?”
Firedrake bent down his neck to the little rat and gently nuzzled her fat hindquarters. “We say thank you. And we’d be even more grateful to you and your uncle if such a map were widely distributed.”
“Oh, it will be,” replied Lola. “You bet it will. Uncle Gilbert has a very select circle of customers and a large extended family.”
“That’s wonderful!” With a sigh, Firedrake straightened up again. “Then may I invite the smallest monks to go for a farewell flight on my back? Will you come, too, Maia?”
“Of course,” replied the she-dragon. “I’ll even carry some of the older ones, if they like.”
And so it was that the farmers down by the river, walking through their fields in the dusk, saw two dragons circling above the mountains. On their spiny crested backs, laughing like little children, sat the monks of the monastery, even the very oldest of them.
57. Good News
Two months later, the Greenblooms were having breakfast. Ben had just helped himself to a second roll when Barnabas suddenly spoke up from behind his newspaper.
“Good heavens!”
“Really?” said Twigleg who, as usual, was sitting on the table next to Ben’s plate. “You mean the forecast promises nice weather?”
“No, no!” cried the professor, lowering his newspaper. “I didn’t mean the weather, my dear Twigleg. There’s a news story here that ought to interest you all.”
“About Pegasus, perhaps?” asked his wife, stirring milk into her coffee.
Barnabas Greenbloom shook his head.
“Some fairies have got another bulldozer stuck in the mud?” suggested Guinevere, licking marmalade off her fingers.
“Wrong again,” replied her father.
“Oh, come on, Barnabas, don’t keep us in suspense,” said Vita. “What is it?”
Ben looked intently at the professor. “Something about the dragons?”
“Ex-act-ly!” cried Barnabas Greenbloom. “The boy’s hit the nail on the head again. Listen to this!” And he read aloud:
“A strange phenomenon was observed two days ago in the night sky over a Scottish valley. A large flock of gigantic birds, or some have described them as creatures resembling giant bats, rose into the sky and flew south in the light of the full moon. Unfortunately all trace of them was lost over the open sea, but scientists are still trying to identify the species of bird concerned.”
Guinevere and Ben looked at each other.
“That was them,” murmured Ben. “Firedrake really did manage to convince the others.”
He looked out the window, where there was nothing to be seen but empty gray sky.
“You miss them, don’t you?” Vita leaned over the table and took his hand.
Ben nodded.
“Well,” said Barnabas Greenbloom, pouring himself more coffee, “the school vacation begins in eight weeks’ time, and we’ll be setting out in search of Pegasus. I’ve found an interesting clue near the ancient city of Persepolis. And it’s not too far from there to the village where Zubeida lives. I assume that if all goes well, Firedrake and the other dragons will reach the Himalayas within a month. Why don’t we ask our good friend Lola Graytail to carry news to the Rim of Heaven, asking if he can meet us at Zubeida’s in two months’ time?” The professor turned to Ben. “You know his traveling speed — do you think he’ll do it?”
“Perhaps.” In his excitement, Ben had almost spilled his cocoa. “Yes, probably! Hear that, Twigleg? We may be seeing Firedrake again in a couple of months.”
“That’s good,” replied the homunculus, sipping tea from his thimble mug. “But I’m afraid it means seeing Sorrel, too, and she’ll start needling me horribly again.”
“Oh, we’ll tell her not to,” said Guinevere, giving him a fragment of biscuit. “The moment she starts winding you up, we’ll take away the mushrooms we’ve been collecting for her.”
Ben went to the window and looked up at the sky.
Two months. He might be riding on Firedrake’s back again in just two months.
He sighed.
Two months can be a long time. A very long time.
“Come on,” said Guinevere, leaning against him on the window seat. “Let’s go out and look for fairy tracks, okay?”
Ben tore himself away from the sight of the empty sky and nodded. “I saw some down by the pond yesterday,” he said.
“Good.” Guinevere led the way to the garden gate. “We’ll try there first, then.”
“Dress warm,” Vita Greenbloom called after them. “There’s a smell of autumn in the air this morning.”
“Wait a minute, I’m coming, too!” cried Twigleg, scrambling hastily down the table leg.
“But this time, you must translate everything they say to us,” said Guinevere, putting his knitted jacket on him. “Promise?”
“Even if those fairies just talk more nonsense?” snapped Twigleg.
“Yes, even then,” replied Guinevere. “I want to hear their nonsense, too.”
Ben grinned. Then he picked up Twigleg and followed her outside.
Yes, two months could be a long time. But not with a sister like Guinevere.
Also by Cornelia Funke
The Thief Lord
Inkheart
Inkspell
Inkdeath
When Santa Fell to Earth
Praise for
Dragon
Rider
“Exciting adventures abound….
This book delivers.” — The Horn Book
“Readers will delight in the creatures that turn up in this quest.
Lively characters, hilarious banter.” — Publishers Weekly
“Funke knows how to tickle the imagination…. A good,
old-fashioned ensemble cast quest.” — Booklist
“Will thoroughly satisfy Funke fans.
Engaging and suspenseful.” — VOYA
“A warm-hearted dream of a book.” — The Guardian UK
Letter from the Author
Who’s Who in Dragon Rider
Dragon Tales
Sorrel’s Story
Visit www.CorneliaFunkeFans.com
Letter from the Author
Dear Readers,
How Dragon Rider came to be is quite a crooked story!
It all began with my very first book. Like this one, it was about a dragon, only it was much shorter! Some years later, a television producer approached me looking for an idea for a cartoon show. “I like the dragon story,” he said, “but we’ll need much more. Can’t you stretch it a bit?”
But you can’t just stretch a story, as I explained to him. I was also sure I would be awfully bored just adding things. So I decided to write a brand-new dragon adventure, and for the first time I planned a really long book. Luckily my publisher in Germany encouraged me, and since my other books were doing well, I knew that my family wouldn’t starve!
So I wrote and wrote for a whole year—but when I had finished, I decided I didn’t want it to become a cartoon show.
Dragon Rider made me realize that I was born to write, and that there is nothing in the world I love doing more. Onl
y by writing such a big book did I learn that your characters can develop a life of their own—and that a truly adventurous writer lets them show you the way.
Dragon Rider is dedicated to my German publisher, who sadly died before it was published. He kept telling me to be brave and write a long book—and this is my way of saying thank you.
Best wishes,
Who’s Who in Dragon Rider
FABULOUS CREATURES
Brownies
Burr-Burr-Chan – a Dubidai, or mountain brownie. Male, four arms.
Sorrel – a young forest brownie girl. Two arms, grumpy, loves mushrooms.
Djinns
Asif – the Djinn with the thousand eyes. Lives in a large wrecked car and materializes from blue smoke. Tells Ben a riddle that reveals where the Rim of Heaven lies.
Dragons
Firedrake – a brave young silver dragon and hero of this story.
Maia – a she-dragon, the first to be woken from stone in the Rim of Heaven.
(Sometimes called Maia the Reckless or Moonstruck Maia.)
Nettlebrand – the Golden One: an evil, gigantic, golden-armored monster disguised as a dragon.
Shimmertail – the second dragon to be roused from stone.
Slatebeard – a wise old dragon living in the Valley of the Dragons.
Dwarves
Graniteface, Leadengleam, Stonebeard – all dwarves’ scalps prickle when other fabulous creatures are nearby.
Gravelbeard – a mountain dwarf. Loves gold, jewels, and large hats. Spies for Nettlebrand. Good at polishing.
Homunculi
Twigleg – a spindly little manikin, and slave to Nettlebrand, who has eaten all of Twigleg’s relatives. (Prefers being with Ben, Sorrel, and Firedrake.)
Rats
Gilbert Graytail – a white, former seasick ship’s rat, now a mapmaker, lives in a human city.
Lola Graytail –fat gray rat; daredevil pilot, cartographer, and tour guide. Niece of Gilbert.
Rosa Graytail – gray rat and cousin of Gilbert; warns the dragons about humans.
Sea Serpents – twin serpents who reign in the realm of salt water. One carries Firedrake, Ben, and Sorrel across the sea and tells them the truth about Nettlebrand.
HUMAN BEINGS
Ben – a homeless young boy who flies with Firedrake and Sorrel to find the Rim of Heaven. Also known as the Dragon Rider.
Professor Barnabas Greenbloom – professor of archaeology, doctor of history and ancient languages. Becomes a good friend to Sorrel, Ben, and Firedrake.
Guinevere Greenbloom – the professor’s clever daughter, about the same age as Ben.
Vita Greenbloom – the professor’s wife and Guinevere’s mother. An expert on ancient tombs and paintings.
Zubeida Ghalib – an expert dracologist. Tells Ben the story of the legendary Dragon Rider.
The Lama – the highest-ranking monk in the monastery of the moonstones.
Plus a supporting cast of villagers, monks, fairies, sandmen, basilisks, giant rocs, ravens, and other fabulous creatures!
DRAGON TALES
The word dragon comes from the Greek word drakon, meaning “enormous serpent.” Dragons have featured in stories around the world for about 7,000 years.
In Western cultures, dragons are nearly always seen as bad,
and the stories are of the heroes who destroy them:
♦ In an ancient Roman story, the sun god Apollo killed a dragon with just a bow and arrow.
♦ A hero called Beowulf killed a dangerous dragon, but then died himself from its poisonous breath.
♦ St. George battled with a dragon to rescue a young lady—and in doing so became the patron saint of England (even though he was originally a Roman soldier).
♦ The Sraheens Lough Monster is a legendary Irish dragon. It is described as “a little dinosaur with a swan neck that steals sheep and moves like a kangaroo.”
♦ In Scotland, many believe there are dragonlike creatures such as the Loch Ness monster.
♦ In Wales, the Red Dragon (Y Ddraig Coch) is the national emblem.
In Eastern cultures, the dragon is a symbol
of good luck and loved by all:
♦ Chinese dragons include the horned dragon, the winged dragon, the celestial dragon (which supports and protects the mansions of the gods), the spiritual dragon (which generates wind and rain for the benefit of humans), the dragon of hidden treasures (which guards hidden wealth), the coiling dragon (which lives in water), and the yellow dragon (which once emerged from water and presented the legendary Emperor Fu Shi with the elements of writing).
♦ In Japanese mythology there are nine dragons. The fire dragon is the most popular in stories, even though he’s a dragon with a very short temper. (Wonder if he would get along with Sorrel!)
♦ After his travels, Firedrake certainly knows which part of the world is best for him.
“I admit, I prefer Asian dragons, as they are forces of nature and not, like in Western myth, incarnations of evil. It sometimes seems to me that in our dragon stories we show how we look upon nature: as something to love and respect, or as something we want to rule over and destroy.” – Cornelia Funke
Sorrel’s Story
Sorrel wasn’t born in the valley of the dragons. When she first set foot there she was already more than twenty-three winters old (which is the same as eight in human years). She and her five brothers and sisters were born in a cave with a view of the mountains. The valley lay beyond them, and sometimes, on starlit nights, Sorrel and the other little brownies sat in the cave waiting for one of the dragons to appear in the sky, expecting to see the jagged outline of a back suddenly covering the moon, or a crested tail sweeping across the stars.
Her mother often told her and her brothers and sisters about the dragons, for her grandmother had sung for a dragon all her brownie life, until her voice was too hoarse to sing anymore and it was time for her to curl up under one of the rain-soaked bushes that grew on the mountain slopes around the valley and sing a song to Death.
“Then the dragon wept for her,” Sorrel’s mother used to tell her when she was little. “He wept for two weeks, hot dragon tears, and you can still see the burning trails they left in the valley. Believe me, your grandmother always said, ‘There’s nothing more wonderful in the world than to be a dragon’s companion.’ But they don’t accept every brownie. They send most of them away again, because they want you to sing the unhappiness out of their hearts, and that’s no small task! You have to know how the rain sings, your song must be like the song of the wind, you must sing like the night and the stars. That’s what they want to hear. Dragons get sad terribly quickly. The world so soon casts shadows on their great hearts, and no one but us can drive those shadows away. Only us brownies.”
Sorrel’s brothers and sisters listened to their mother, wide-eyed. They all wanted to sing for the dragons when they grew up. Sorrel was the only one who wasn’t so sure.
After all, everyone said that dragons were gigantic—and like all large animals they were sure to be proud of it, quite apart from the fact that they could unintentionally squash or flatten something as small as a brownie at anytime, or perhaps spike you on those spines they had all over them. They even had horns, terrifyingly long horns. Not to mention all the teeth in their mighty mouths—even if her mother said that all they ate with them was moonlight. But who’d believe that?
And then there was their never-ending sadness—even the rain made them feel sad, and it rained often in the valley of the dragons. No, why waste her precious, enjoyable brownie life on a gigantic creature with a spiny crest instead of just having a good time, teasing a few fairies, chasing a couple of elves, and looking for tasty mushrooms?
Sorrel’s father felt just the same. He was not a dragon-singer, he preferred to go looking for mushrooms or stealing hens’ eggs from poultry yards, and sometimes he took Sorrel with him because she was the eldest. How she loved prowling ‘round in the moonlight outside a house where hu
mans lived, tricking their dogs and stealing eggs from under their chickens’ feathery behinds! She was soon so good at it that she would slip away even without her father and go where smoke climbed to the dark sky from the chimneys of a human house.
Humans eat the most peculiar things. Brownies think most of them are totally inedible. But there was one farm, not far from the valley of the dragons, that was said to give off the smell of mushrooms for miles around, because the farmer’s wife there knew how to find and dry the most delicious varieties. “Forget it,” Sorrel’s father told her when she’d asked about that farm. “They have a dog there, a big black dog.” But one night, when Sorrel was itching all over under her fur because her brothers had pushed her into the stinging nettles and she badly needed a few mushrooms to comfort her—for if it is true that only a brownie’s song can drive away the sadness of dragons, it’s just as true that only a tasty mushroom will make a sad brownie feel better—well, that night Sorrel prowled around the mushroom-scented farm on quiet brownie feet, with her skin itching. “So what if there’s a dog?” she whispered to herself as she crawled under the fence. “Dogs are stupid, dead stupid, even more stupid than squirrels, and that’s saying something.”