The Dragon's Lair

"That's why I told you she's the friend I've known the longest here, even longer than you," Ven went on. "Her father's a merrow, but her mother's a selkie, which is almost the same, but they have cloaks that make them look—"

  "Like seals!" Char finished. "Blimey, I have heard about 'em from the sailors. But I thought it was just a lot o' superstitious hogwash."

  Ven sighed. "Magic hides in plain sight, remember, Char? I learned that on my fiftieth birthday, and I've been seeing it ever since. She and I kept promising each other—well, inviting each other, I guess—to see each other's worlds since we met. Finally she decided to take me up on my invitation and come with me."

  "So how'd she grow legs?"

  "A merrow can do that if she gives her red pearl cap to a human man," Ven said sadly. "It was probably a bad idea, but she wanted to come, and I wanted her to see our world—plus the Raven's Guild was searching the harbor, underwater, for us, so I was worried about what would happen to her if she didn't come with us when we left. The transformation from merrow to—well, whatever she is now—was really scary, and I almost put her cap on her head and tossed her back in the harbor right then. But she wanted to see the dry world, so I let her."

  He began to pace back and forth in the dark. "And she made me swear I wouldn't tell anyone about her—she's desperately afraid of humans, because her mother has warned her all about you. Human men have a tendency to take advantage of a merrow's curiosity. Normally they're pretty spunky, but if the man takes and hides a merrow's cap, she becomes a perfect wife and kitchen slave, quiet, patient, obedient—it's sickening that anyone would do that to such an independent creature."

  "So you're going to marry her, then?" Char asked.

  Ven looked horrified. "Don't be ridiculous," he said. "I don't even know how old she is—neither does she, by our reckoning. And I'm only fifty years old, for goodness sake. Get back on target, Char. That's the story, and why I have to find that bloody cap."

  "I'll help you," Char promised. "But Ven, you sure just made a horrible mess. This whole time you've been ignorin' everybody, favorin' Amariel—and all you had ta do was trust us with the secret. We would have understood."

  "She wouldn't let me."

  "I understand that. But we're your friends, too. Not just everyday, ordinary friends, but the kind that risked dyin' for you. Several times over. You owe us, Ven. You owe us your trust, if nothin' else. And, in a way, by makin' you keep her secret, Amariel's stolen that from us. That might be why nobody likes her."

  "And that's such a shame, because she's amazing," Ven said. "Just like all my friends are. Especially my best friend."

  "Well, right now your best friend is pretty mad at you, mate," Char said. "An' I imagine it's gonna be a while before the others are gonna forgive you. So you should set about making amends pretty darn quick, before we run into the dragon and the girls toss you to him to give them time to get away."

  "I would deserve it," Ven said. "Thanks for setting me straight."

  "So you gonna explain about Amariel to Clem an' Ida?"

  Ven shuddered. "Not yet." He withered at the look on Char's face. "I told you—give me some time with the others, please? It's not my secret to tell—or yours."

  "Well, if you want their help in findin' her cap, you may have to do some things you don't wanna do."

  "I know," Ven said. "Let's go back.

  Inside the wagon, the silence was deafening. Ven cleared his throat and apologized, but no one responded. He asked again if anyone had seen the red pearl cap. but the girls were sitting with their backs to the middle of the wagon, looking out over the sides.

  Away from him.

  Ven sighed and sat down in the corner. "I'm sorry I accused you, Ida—" he began.

  "Shut up, Polywog."

  "Drop it, Ven," Clem said. "I'll try to talk to her later. Leave it alone for now."

  "I'll search the wagon," Char said.

  "Are you ready to go back there?" Tuck asked from the wagon board.

  A quiet chorus of yes, sure, yeah, answered him.

  Tuck picked up the reins and nickered to the horses.

  "Good," he said. "Because the ravens are back, just beyond the horizon, and the fire I'm smelling is growing stronger. And it lies directly in the path of where we are going."

  "Fire?" the companions asked in unison.

  Tuck said nothing, but continued to drive. The team clopped along until the wagon reached the top of a high swale. The forester dragged the horses to a stop.

  "Ven, you might want to look at this," he said.

  Ven rose from the corner of the wagon bed and made his way past the others to the front. He looked over Tuck's shoulder and gasped.

  The field below the top of the swale was scorched, smoldering still. A great rip in the earth lay open like a gaping wound.

  And just beyond it, great letters as tall as the roof of the Crossroads Inn, were burned into the hillside.

  SCARNAG.

  "I guess he knows you're coming, Ven," said Tuck.

  17

  From Bad to Worse

  VEN WAS DREAMING OF FIRE PIRATES CHASING HIM THROUGH THE hold of a dark ship when he felt his shoulder being shaken.

  He opened his eyes. He could see nothing but inky blackness all around him.

  They were sleeping in the open because the glade in which Tuck had sheltered the horses was too small for the rest of them. The crescent moon had set, taking any light with it. The stars that had been so bright the evening before had disappeared behind racing clouds. All he could feel was the breath of the wind, rustling the grass around his head.

  It smelled like the burned porridge in the bottom of Char's cooking pot.

  "Get up," Tuck said quietly. "It's time to go."

  Ven sat straight up and looked around. He could see the shapes of his friends beginning to move as they, too, shook off sleep. He knew they could see even less than he could.

  "What's burning?" he asked nervously.

  Tuck's voice came from behind where he sat. Ven had not seen him move.

  "Fields," the Lirin forester said. "The grasslands to the north of here, I'd wager. I'm surprised you're not used to the smell by now."

  "Is it the dragon?"

  Tuck came around in front of him and crouched down. "Maybe. If it is, this fire has caught and spread from a spark. But this itself is not from the beast. Can't miss the smell of dragon's breath."

  "Wh—why?" Char stammered from the darkness next to Ven. "What does it smell like?"

  The forester was helping Amariel to her feet. He turned and looked at Char for a moment, thinking.

  "There's a dirt smell to it, like wet firecoals," he said at last. "But sharper, like acid or pitch has been poured into the smoke. Once you've smelled it, you never forget it. It haunts your dreams."

  "Great," Ven muttered. "My dreams aren't haunted enough."

  "Let's move out," Tuck said, hoisting his enormous pack onto his shoulder. "The night-hunting ravens sleep when the moon goes down. Those that hunt by day will be up with the sun again. We have to travel fast."

  Ven slung his own pack onto his back, as did the others. They followed Tuck's dark outline over the fields, stepping through the highgrass that billowed like waves on the sea.

  After what seemed like an eternity of wading through endless scrub, they came to the thicket where the horses stood, the wagon hidden among the trees. Tuck tossed his pack into the back of the wagon and helped the children in, then climbed up onto the seat board and took the reins.

  "Go back to sleep," he said over his shoulder.

  "Yeah, that's gonna happen," Char said under his breath.

  "May as well rest while you can," Tuck replied. Char jumped. He had forgotten how sensitive the forester's ears were. "Not a good idea to deal with a dragon when you're tired. We're not far from some of the Nain settlements now."

  "I, for one, don't think it will be hard to fall asleep at all," said Clem, shoving aside a sack of cornmeal and moving away from the water
barrel, which had leaked a little and dampened the floor of the wagon. "I feel like I could sleep for days."

  Not me, Ven thought. His scalp was on fire, his fingers tingling. It was all he could do to keep from peering over the edge of the wagon, but Tuck's warning was still ringing in his ears, drowning out his curiosity for the moment. Stay down, children. It's best that anything passing by thinks you are cargo, nothing more.

  Surrounded by blackness, his mind was racing. He tried to think of home, of his family, of boring lessons in school, anything to get his thoughts to settle down and allow him to fall asleep again.

  Inside his shirt pocket, the thin sleeve of Black Ivory vibrated slightly. Ven put his hand on top of it and was surprised that he could feel warmth, even through the fabric. There was a pleasant buzz in his skin, even through the smooth stone. Without thinking, he slid the tip of the dragon scale out of the protective sleeve and ran his finger over the edge.

  The rim of the scale was so finely tattered that it felt as soft as flax, but I knew that if I pressed too hard it would slice through my skin to the bone. There was a hum that tickled my fingertip, a feeling of old magic that shot through me, all the way to the roots of my hair, to my toenails as well. Even the two whiskers on my chin vibrated.

  In that magical buzz there was a sense of joy. That's really the only word I can think of to describe it. Just touching something so ancient, so magical, made me feel good all over.

  Even in the scary darkness, even running from those who sought us by night and those that would return with day's light, I was excited.

  At least I was until someone grabbed my throat.

  All the breath choked out of Ven. His head spun woozily and he felt sick as he was hauled out of the wagon and up onto the board behind the horses.

  Tuck's voice spoke quietly in his ear, its tone deadly.

  "Put that bloody thing away, Ven. Do you want the dragon to find us?"

  "N—no," Ven whispered.

  Tuck's grip on his collar tightened. "Well, I can feel it when you pull it out of the Black Ivory—it vibrates so strongly that my teeth sting. So if I can feel it, don't you think a dragon can? Perhaps from miles away?"

  "Sorry," Ven said. He pushed the scale back into its envelope, and the envelope back into his pocket. The vibration vanished, taking with it the joy that had been coursing through him a moment before.

  Tuck shook his head in disgust and released his grip on Ven, who slid off the board and clattered back into the wagon. The eyes of the other children were wide, staring at him in the darkness, even Amariel, who smiled at him after a moment. Ven's face flushed hot in embarrassment, so he turned around and settled back down between two sacks of carrots, pretending to sleep.

  Great, he thought. I've just annoyed the king's forester, frightened my friends, and possibly alerted the dragon to our presence. I wonder if carrying around this dragon scale is making me more stupid than usual.

  He sighed miserably. Not since he had been floating on the wreckage of his father's ship after the Fire Pirate attack had he felt so vulnerable. The edges of the night seemed to be endless, especially when the moon was down. It was a little like being lost at sea, without the safety of the Crossroads Inn to return to. What have I done, bringing my friends out here, with no settlements around for miles? he thought. If something happens to Tuck, how will we ever get home?

  He raised himself up a little and glanced back over his shoulder. The wind was growing stronger, battering the wagon and blowing the children's hair and the manes of the horses wildly about. Behind him Clem was shivering, even though the night was hot. The Mouse Lodge steward pulled her woolen cloak closer around her shoulders.

  Just as she did, Ven caught sight of a tiny flicker of light in the fields behind her.

  He sat up and peered over the side of the wagon behind the girls. The tiny light had vanished, but suddenly several more winked in the moving sea of highgrass.

  Ven spun and looked out the side of the wagon next to him. At first he saw nothing but blackness, but after a moment the little lights appeared within the meadow grass there as well, a few at first, then several more, and finally dozens of them, only to disappear as quickly as they had come.

  He reached over the sacks of carrots and grabbed Char by the sleeve.

  "Look out there," he said, trying to keep his voice low. "What is that?"

  The cook's mate scooted closer to the edge and peered through the slats in the wagon.

  "What's what?"

  "Those flickering lights—can't you see them?"

  "Blimey, I dunno," Char whispered. "Hey, Clem, come 'ere, quick!"

  The house steward raised her head sleepily. "Huumm?"

  "Come an' look at this," Char insisted.

  An annoyed snorting sound came up from the depths of the wagon. "All right, just a minute." The sacks of carrots wiggled as Clemency crawled over them, looking less than pleased. "What do you want now?"

  "There's about a bajillion tiny flickering lights out there," Char whispered.

  Clem looked over the side of the wagon and stared into the dark.

  "Fireflies," she said. "Lightning bugs. You've never seen them before?"

  "Never heard of 'em," Char replied as Ven shook his head. "Lightning bugs?"

  "It certainly is obvious that you grew up on the sea, Char, and you in a city, Ven," Clem said. "Anyone who's ever been in the countryside knows about lightning bugs. You can see them all over the fields where I live, mostly in the summer."

  A soft cough came from the board of the wagon.

  "Those are not lightning bugs," Tuck said quietly. The children looked at each other. Again the king's forester had heard them over the rattling of the wagon, the clopping of the horses, and the howl of the wind, even though they had been whispering.

  Ven raised himself onto his knees. "What are they, then, Tuck?"

  The forester clicked reassuringly to the horses, who had begun to nicker nervously.

  "They're the points of tracer arrows," he said.

  Ven looked out over the side of the wagon again. For as far as he could see around him in the highgrass were thousands of twinkling lights, glittering like the stars above the sea at night. They winked in and out, not moving, hovering in the scrub. He turned to Clem and Char, whose faces were as white as the moon had been.

  "Tracer arrows?" he repeated.

  The Lirin forester nodded, urging the horses forward, though the wagon had slowed.

  "Arrows whose points have been dipped in a kind of concoction that glows in the dark. They only glow when they are just about to be fired, sparked by being drawn across a bow string. Their radiance lasts long enough to leave a path of light for others to see, so that the target is easier to hit.

  "And behind each one is an archer."

  18

  The Lirindarc

  DON'T MOVE," TUCK SAID QUIETLY. "OR SPEAK."

  Slowly the Lirin forester stood up on the wagon board, allowing the wagon to roll to a smooth stop in the darkness.

  He didn't have to remind us. I kept my head steady, but I could feel my eyes darting around in it like birds that had just taken flight. My companions were frozen as well. Char and Clem, who were sitting next to me, had backs as straight as broom handles.

  The only one I couldn't see was Amariel, because she was asleep.

  Tuck waited until the wagon had stopped completely, then spoke aloud in a language Ven didn't recognize. It was musical and pretty, but had a sharp edge to it, not the harsh sound of the language his family spoke in their home, but crisp and biting, like the sound of the wind. The Lirin tongue, he thought.

  For a long moment there was nothing but silence.

  Then, from somewhere amid the grassy sea of twinkling lights, a voice called back in the same language. It sounded like a question, but a threatening one.

  "I am carrying children and foodstuffs, nothing more," Tuck replied in the common tongue. "The children are not Lirin, they do not understand our words." br />
  A harsh command was shouted in reply. Then another, which seemed to be directed at the fields of grass around them. The sparkling lights winked out. Whoever is in command must have told them to hold their fire, Ven thought.

  The dark sea of grass swayed, then parted. Shadows of humanlike figures, tall and slender, appeared around the wagon. Ven could not make out their features in the moonless night. One of them stopped next to where the horses were hitched to the wagon.

  He grasped the side of the wagon and shook it. The merrow sat upright and looked around, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

  "Stand up, all of you," came the voice from the figure, spoken in the common language with a thin accent. "I advise you to keep your hands still."

  At first the children remained frozen in place. Then, slowly, Ven stood and nodded to the others.

  "If these are Lirin, why are they bein' unfriendly to Tuck?" Char whispered in Ven's ear as he rose beside him. The king's forester turned quickly and shot the boys a stern warning glance. Even though they could not see his face in the absolute dark, there was no mistaking the meaning.

  The dark figure slowly began to circle the wagon. As it came closer to him, Ven could see it was a man with what appeared to be dark hair bound neatly back, carrying a long slender bow. He could see the whites of the man's eyes as they searched the front of the wagon. They came to rest on Amariel, who was still sitting, crouched behind some sacks of potatoes. The man stopped.

  "Get up," he ordered.

  The merrow looked at Ven. He nodded encouragingly. Slowly she obeyed, and rose unsteadily to her feet.

  "Come here," the man said, indicating the side of the wagon.

  The merrow shrank away.

  "Come to the edge of the wagon," the man repeated.

  Ven watched her nervously. He tried to smile to give her confidence, but the merrow did not seem comforted. Finally, she picked her way over the provisions and came to the side of the wagon.

  The man stood and stared at her for a few moments. Then he turned away and continued making his rounds. Ven sighed in relief.