Moonbreaker

  I gave him my best hard stare. “No one likes a smart-arse dragon.”

  “I’m sorry,” the dragon said humbly.

  “No you’re not,” said Molly.

  “Of course I’m not,” said the dragon. “I was being diplomatic.”

  “Why does a thirty-foot-long dragon feel the need to be diplomatic?” I said.

  “Because you’re never too big for good manners,” said the dragon. “Where exactly in Siberia would you like me to take you? Only it is rather large, you know.”

  “I said that!” said Molly.

  “I know,” said the dragon. “I heard you.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” I said. “Edmund hasn’t got a hope in hell of beating us to Grendel Rex’s tomb.”

  “Oh, come on!” said Molly. “The dragon may be fast, but the Merlin Glass is instantaneous! Grendel Rex could already be loose!”

  “Trust me,” I said. “If he was out, we’d know. The whole world would be shaking in its shoes and crying for its mother. No, Grendel Rex is secure enough, for the time being at least.”

  “I know that self-satisfied look,” Molly said to the dragon. “It means he knows something we don’t know, and is about to be unbearably smug about it.”

  “More importantly,” I said, “I know something Edmund doesn’t know. Siberia may be a bit on the large side, but we only need to visit one very small part of it. And not the part Edmund thinks.”

  “But he’s got the book!” said Molly. “The official history, with all the details!”

  I had to grin. “The official history of Grendel Rex, his rise and his fall, does indeed contain the exact coordinates for his tomb. But not the correct ones. Drood policy, just in case some well-meaning fool decided to try to bring Grendel Rex back for their own reasons. The correct coordinates are only ever known to the Matriarch and the Sarjeant-at-Arms. And Maggie gave me the correct location just before I left, given that this is a special-needs situation.”

  Molly clapped her hands together delightedly. “So, Edmund’s gone to the wrong place!”

  “He can’t even see the right location from where he is,” I said. “We will get there first, and then . . .”

  “And then?” said Molly. “And then what? Come on, Eddie—that is really not a good place to pause. What are we going to do when we get there?”

  “I think . . . I’m going to have to try talking to Gerard Drood again,” I said slowly. “I was the first member of the family to speak kindly to him in centuries. Hopefully, that will still mean something. Maybe I can convince Gerard not to trust Edmund, on the grounds that he isn’t really one of us.”

  “That’s it?” said Molly. “That’s your great plan? Being the voice of reason? You really think the Unforgiven God is going to go along with that?”

  “The odds would seem to be against it,” I admitted. “If you have a better idea, I am more than ready to listen.”

  I looked at her hopefully, but Molly just scowled and shook her head. “My plans usually involve subterfuge, sneakiness, and extreme violence, and I don’t see any of them working here. Okay. The tomb is just the access point to the pocket dimension that makes up Grendel Rex’s real prison. So couldn’t we just destroy the tomb, make it impossible for him to come back? Blow it up or something?”

  “I could always dig down to the tomb and breathe flames on it,” said the dragon. “My breath could set an igloo on fire.”

  “Nice thought,” I said. “But the tomb was designed to be unbreakable. To keep everyone else in the world out, as well as him in. You could set off a nuke right on top of the tomb and not even scratch it.”

  “Really?” said Molly. “Has anyone ever tried?”

  “Not as far as I know,” I said. “I’m sure I would have heard. But I have seen the specifications for the tomb. Supposedly, the sun could go nova and incinerate the earth and the tomb would still survive, floating alone in space.”

  “If it’s that tough, what’s the problem?” said the dragon.

  “Edmund has the Immaculate Key,” I said.

  “Ah,” said the dragon. “Then Edmund doesn’t need to break into the tomb, because the Key can unlock it.”

  “Right,” I said.

  “How did he get the Key?” said the dragon.

  “Don’t ask,” I said.

  Molly glanced back at the Museum. “We should go back in and look for a Weapons Room.”

  “We don’t have the time,” I said.

  “You said Edmund isn’t anywhere near the tomb!” said Molly. “So what’s the hurry?”

  “You don’t understand,” I said. “I mean, I don’t have the time. I’m pretty much covered in armour now, under my clothes. I’m so tired, so worn-down, the armour is all that’s keeping me going.”

  Molly looked at me, and I could see she wanted to say so many things . . . But we both knew emotions would only get in the way of what we had to do. So she just nodded briefly, being strong for both of us. When she did speak she made sure her voice was perfectly calm and steady.

  “Why haven’t you put on your full armour?”

  “Because once I’m forced to do that, I might never find the strength to take it off again,” I said. “I want to see the world with my own eyes for as long as I can. Feel its breath on my face and the sun on my skin.”

  “Are you up for this, Eddie?” Molly said bluntly. “Because we’re only going to get one chance to stop Edmund.”

  “There’s enough left of me to do what needs doing, to get the job done,” I said. “My mind is still clear, my will is still strong, and my armour can carry me the rest of the way. But afterwards . . . Get me home, Molly. Promise you’ll take me back to Drood Hall, so my ashes can be scattered across the grounds. So I can rest close to my family. I never used to think that mattered to me, but, somewhat to my surprise, I find it does.”

  “Of course I promise,” said Molly. “We all want to go home, in the end.”

  We hugged each other, holding on tightly. Both of us silent, so we wouldn’t say anything to upset each other, eyes squeezed shut to hold back tears. Neither of us wanted to let go, for fear this would be the last time we’d get to hold each other, but in the end I did. Because it was kinder for me to do it. Molly quickly stepped away from me, and then hugged herself tightly, as though to keep herself from falling apart. I knew the feeling. I turned to the dragon.

  “The Matriarch put the exact coordinates for the tomb in my head. Can you read them?”

  “Not without help,” said the dragon. “Human minds are such small places to get into. I don’t want to push too hard in case I break something. I have to be invited in.”

  I armoured up my right hand and placed it on the dragon’s wide brow.

  • • •

  I was standing in a prehistoric landscape. Huge volcanoes spouted fire, blasting dark, tarry lava and great clouds of drifting ashes across a crimson sky, under a white-hot sun. The land below me was one massive jungle, with trees and ferns as big as skyscrapers. The vegetation was a blaze of bright and vivid colours, ripe and pulsing with life. Huge creatures crashed back and forth between the massive trees, killing and eating and mating, shaking the jungle with the passion of their raised voices.

  I was high up on a mountainside, under a towering wall of jagged grey stone, in front of a great, dark cave. The dragon emerged from the cave like a newborn from its egg to stand beside me. There shouldn’t have been room for both of us on such a narrow ledge, but somehow we managed. I went back to looking out over the jungle. The air was hot and humid, heavy with rich and exhilarating scents.

  “Is this where you come from?” I said.

  “This is the world I was born into,” said the dragon. “I’m a lot older than people realise.”

  “You’re older than Humanity, aren’t you?”

  “I was young when the world
was young,” said the dragon. “Leave it at that.”

  I felt very small in this world where everything else was so big. Life here had been written on the grand scale and was overpowering in its sheer vitality.

  “How can you stand to live in our world?” I said. “Having known this?”

  “Well, for a start, you get a much better level of conversation,” said the dragon. “And civilisation does have its comforts.”

  “But we’re so . . . insignificant, compared to all this!”

  “But you shine so brightly,” said the dragon. “That is the glory of the short-lived. Life means so much more to you because you only have it for such a brief time. You’d be amazed how much of immortality consists of boredom and memories.”

  “Why have you stayed on for so long? When all the world you know is gone?”

  “Humanity fascinates me.”

  “Because we make such easy prey?”

  “Because you make such worthy adversaries,” said the dragon. “And, sometimes, friends.”

  I looked at the dragon, and a great wave of affection swept through me, warm and non-judgemental. Just having him with me made me feel safe, like a small child sitting on Santa’s lap. If Santa Claus was real. The dragon picked up that thought and laughed quietly.

  “What makes you think he isn’t? It’s a much larger hidden world than you humans realise.”

  I stared out over the violent, primeval world below us. “Are you all that’s left of this?”

  “Sometimes I think one thing,” said the dragon, “and sometimes I think another. We need to hurry this up, Eddie. You’re dying.”

  “I know,” I said.

  “No,” said the dragon. “I mean, right now. I can see into you so clearly, now we’re linked. Edmund’s poison has almost completed its work, despite everything your torc has done to hold it back. Your body is shutting down.”

  I felt like I’d been punched in the stomach. It took my breath away to hear my death announced so calmly and implacably. I took a deep breath, just to reassure myself I still could.

  “You’re sure?” I said.

  “I can see death moving through you,” said the dragon.

  I nodded stiffly. “Then let’s do what we have to, while we still can.”

  “Of course,” said the dragon. “Siberia awaits. And if the Unforgiven God gives you a hard time, Eddie, I will show him why dragons are so much more to be feared than little self-made gods.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “You’re welcome,” said the dragon. “Now will you please give me the damn coordinates so we can get this show on the road? Remember: It’s opening night, and you’re going out there a Drood, but you’ve got to come back a star!”

  I shook my head. “Old movies on afternoon television have a lot to answer for.”

  I concentrated on the exact coordinates for the tomb.

  And just like that, I was back in the world I knew. I patted the dragon in thanks on his bony forehead, and armoured down my hand. Molly looked at me suspiciously. She could tell she’d missed out on something.

  “Well? What was it like?”

  “An education,” I said solemnly.

  “It’s not fair!” said Molly. “Why don’t I ever get to mind-meld with a dragon? I’m sure I’d make a much better subject. I’ve read all of Anne McCaffrey’s books!”

  “Perhaps later,” the dragon said kindly. “Now, all aboard the Siberian Express! No stop-offs, no in-flight movie, and I don’t want to hear any complaints about missing baggage.”

  I climbed up onto the dragon’s back. It took me longer than the last time, because my coordination wasn’t what it was, even with my armour to support me. I dug my feet in hard, clamping my hands onto the emerald-scaled hide. The dragon didn’t react. Molly didn’t say anything to hurry me, so I knew she’d noticed too. She waited until I’d settled myself in place on the dragon’s spine and then climbed quickly up to sit behind me. She put her arms round my waist, almost possessively, as though defying the world to take me from her. She started to say something, and then stopped and looked back at the Museum.

  “Eddie, did you think to lock the front door?”

  “No need,” I said. “The lock will have reset itself and disappeared again by now. The Museum looks after itself.”

  “What about all the exhibits we ever so slightly trashed, destroyed, or let loose?”

  I shrugged. “Plenty more where they came from.”

  “Are we finished with the light conversation?” said the dragon. “I’d really like to get started while the world is still as it should be.”

  “Siberia,” Molly said disgustedly. “Places that cold should be illegal.”

  “Ultima Thule was worse,” I said.

  Molly shuddered. “Don’t remind me.”

  “Can we go?” the dragon said loudly.

  “Go! Go!” I said. “Atomic batteries to power, turbines to speed, and don’t spare the horses!”

  “Up, up, and away!” said the dragon.

  He launched himself into the air, shooting up into the lead-grey sky so rapidly it was all I could do to stay in place on his back. The ground plummeted away, and for a moment I thought I’d left my stomach behind as well. I gritted my teeth and closed my eyes, and when I felt steady enough to open them again we were back in the freezing cold of the upper atmosphere. And I was shuddering so violently, Molly had to tighten her hold about me. I felt the cold more now, despite my extra armour and the dragon’s protections. As though my body was anticipating the cold of the grave. Molly pressed herself against my back, trying to share the warmth of her body with me. I patted her hands fondly but didn’t say anything. Because I didn’t trust my voice.

  The Rainbow slammed down ahead of us, filling the sky with colours so rich and deep I felt like I’d never really seen them before. The vivid hues and shades crashed down in a never-ending thunder, a primal sound that I heard with my heart and my soul as much as my ears. It wasn’t just a rainbow. It was something ancient and archetypal, like the dragon. He flew straight into the Rainbow and the colours leapt forward to fill my eyes and my head. When I could see and think again, we were over Siberia.

  • • •

  We flew through a deep blue sky, soaring over desolate steppes far below. Nothing but snow and ice for mile upon endless mile. No trees, no vegetation, not a living thing anywhere. My family once considered this to be the end of the earth, and looking at it now I felt moved to agree. Molly made low sounds of distress behind me as the bitter cold sank in, and I made some sort of noise in spite of myself. The dragon snorted loudly, and smoke shot briefly out of his nostrils.

  “Wimps. According to my internal calendar—and, yes, I do have one; all dragons do—this is spring. Which means the weather is merely . . . bracing.”

  He was trying to lighten the mood in his own way, and I appreciated the effort, but it didn’t make me feel any warmer. My hands were shaking, the cold burned my lungs with every breath I took, and my teeth were chattering so hard I couldn’t speak. I had no choice. I had to armour up completely. I subvocalised the activating Words, with a sense that this might be the last time I’d ever use them, and the golden strange matter leapt out and closed over me in a moment, insulating me from the cold and sealing me off from the world. But I didn’t feel as strong and fast and sure as I was used to feeling in my full armour. Perhaps because it was still using some of its strength to fight the poison, or perhaps . . . I was just so far gone now, there was a limit to what even the armour could do for me.

  Molly swore harshly and protected herself from the cold with a shimmering force shield. I couldn’t feel it through my armour, but the dragon giggled unexpectedly.

  “Tickles,” he explained.

  “Oh hush up, you big baby,” said Molly.

  I had a vague feeling you shouldn’t talk
to a dragon like that, but couldn’t quite put it into words. I leaned out a little to get a better look at the wide-open steppes below. Sunlight gleamed brightly back from the featureless snow, like a great ocean frozen in place. A thought occurred to me: This is what the end of the world will look like. When the sun is dying and heat is just a memory.

  “What are you looking for?” said Molly. “There’s nothing here! Not a tree or a shrub or a wandering shaman . . . Not even a yeti. Do they have yetis here? It doesn’t matter, because there isn’t anything here for as far as I can See, and I can See pretty damned far! Oh, dear God it’s cold . . .”

  “Look on the bright side,” I said. “At least there aren’t any Siberian Death Wurms around here. You do remember them from our last visit to this region?”

  “You had to remind me, didn’t you?” Molly said grimly. “After I’d gone to so much trouble to wipe them from my memory. And stop changing the subject! What are you looking for, Eddie? Eddie . . . Eddie Drood! Don’t you ignore me, or I will push you off the dragon’s back and the two of us will make bets as to how high you’ll bounce when you finally hit the ground!”

  The dragon laughed softly. “You know, she probably would.”

  “I know,” I said. “Molly, when I was here before, certain things happened. Which I don’t feel like discussing. But I was expecting there to be signs, things left behind. And there aren’t.”

  “This is to do with what happened at the abandoned Science City, isn’t it?” said Molly.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Were things really that bad?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then don’t think about it,” Molly said firmly. “Concentrate on the matter at hand. Honestly, Eddie, you come with more psychic trauma and emotional baggage than anyone I’ve ever met. And I’ve lived in the Nightside! Dragon, are we anywhere near Grendel Rex’s tomb yet?”

  “We’re right above it,” he said. “Though I’m not Seeing anything . . .”

  “You wouldn’t,” I said. “Take us down.”

  The dragon pulled in his wings and dropped vertically, the ground rushing up to meet us. At the very last moment he snapped his wings out and we came to an abrupt halt, before settling onto the snow-covered ground as gently as a falling leaf. The dragon tucked his wings neatly into place, and looked thoughtfully about him.