CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
THE RUN THROUGH THE JUNGLE
As they ran through the jungle, with Cass shushing them and hurrying them along at every step, Clay did his best to explain to Satya who he was, why he was at the Keep, and how he planned to escape. And even though it wasn’t strictly necessary, he told her why he wore a wool hat in hot weather. Just so she wouldn’t think he really thought it was cool.
In most circumstances, his tale about a magical camp for juvenile delinquents and an evil society of centuries-old alchemists, not to mention his desire to become a Dragon Tamer and follower of the Occulta Draco, would have seemed far-fetched, to say the least. However, Satya had been living for weeks among the Midnight Sun and had seen dragons up close, so she was inclined to believe him.
“The way you handled Houdini—I knew you looked a little too comfortable for it to be your first time with a dragon.”
Predictably, the part of Clay’s story Satya had trouble with was the part that had him and Cass flying away.
“Be serious—you can’t just fly those dragons out of here. First of all, there’s the electric dome, remember?” Satya pointed at the sky. “Plus, I don’t know what Ariella was like, but those dragons aren’t really hop-on-board types.”
“What about that crazy guy with the mustache and the cowboy hat?” said Clay, trying not to let her see how winded he was. “Show-ringer or something. He was trying to jump on Snowflake like it was a horse. He even had a bullwhip in his hand.…”
Clay held up an invisible whip, imitating. Satya looked at him like he was nuts, until it dawned on her.
“Wait, are you talking about Mr. Schrödinger? They told me he was gone.…”
“Well, maybe gone in the head, but he’s still around.” Clay almost tripped over a root, then righted himself. “I overheard him talking, and it sounded like he’d actually ridden the dragon before. He wouldn’t stop babbling, saying he had to go back somewhere, that he’d never really left.”
Cass stopped and looked back at Clay. “What else did he say?”
“Uh, not much. Nothing that made any sense, anyway. Ms. Mauvais promised he would be able to go back eventually, and that when he did, he would be a young man again.”
“A young man again—she said those exact words?” asked Cass sharply.
“Uh-huh,” said Clay, surprised by her tone. “I mean, I think so.”
She silently considered what Clay had said.
Clay turned back to Satya. “Well, anyway, I still have Gyorg’s keys, so I can turn off the dome if—”
Satya shook her head. “You can’t go back to the control tower; they’ll be watching it now.” She hesitated. “But I guess if somebody else went—like me, for instance…”
“No way,” Clay said quickly. “You’ve done enough.”
“Very gentlemanly,” said Cass. “But isn’t this her choice to make?”
“Here’s the thing,” said Satya. “If we turn the dome off, the other dragons will get out, too, and they’ll attack everyone here. I don’t like those white-gloved weirdos very much, but I don’t want to kill them. Plus, my dad would totally get fired.”
“Trust me, you don’t want your dad working for them,” Cass said.
“And anyway, even if they get out, the dragons will still have their collars on,” said Clay. “So your dad can still control them, right?”
“Maybe. Once the dome is turned back on,” said Satya. “But let’s try not to let them get out in the first place.”
She looked from Clay to Cass and back again. “Okay, if you give me the key, I’ll create a distraction, then shut off the dome. But only for, like, a minute. Seriously”—she held up her index finger—“one minute. And it has to be at night so nobody sees me. Let’s say right after sunset.”
“That should be about eight twenty-one tonight,” Cass said. At Satya’s look, Cass shrugged. “Always good to know what time the sun sets, just in case.”
“Fine. Say, four minutes after that, to give you guys time. At eight twenty-five, I’ll shut down the dome. You’d both better be on a dragon and flying the heck out of here by then, because a minute later—” She made a buzzing sound to indicate the dome turning back on.
“You realize the Midnight Sun will be very unhappy with you if you’re caught,” said Cass.
“They won’t catch me,” Satya said confidently.
“You’re sure?” prodded Clay. “Because we can do this ourselves, really—”
“No, you can’t, and it’s gonna be fine.”
“Okay, thanks,” Clay said awkwardly. “This is really cool of you.”
“Yeah, it is,” said Satya, businesslike. “Now, where are you going to hide in the meantime?”
Clay stared into the jungle. “I think it’s time for me to ally with a dragon.”
“Ally?”
“Like, make an alliance? That’s what it’s called in the Occulta Draco when you make friends with a dragon. Except you can’t ever make friends with a dragon. So… yeah.”
Both Cass and Satya blinked at him.
“You’re not exactly inspiring confidence,” said Cass.
“Oh, no worries,” Clay said with an effort at heartiness. “I’ve read all about it, and I’ve got a couple of hours, right?”
“If you say so…” Cass was looking upward and frowning.
While they were talking, the clouds had parted and the mysterious line had appeared in the sky again. It flashed in the sunlight.
“That line in the sky—I saw it three weeks ago. Has it been there this whole time?”
Satya shrugged. “I think so? I mean, I only notice it sometimes. Why?”
“I’m just thinking about my original mission, that’s all,” said Cass, still focused on the sky. “What are they really doing with the dragons here? This guy Schrödinger—I have a hunch that he might be the answer.” Cass looked at her young companions. “Where do I find him?”
“Um, he’s in one of the tents, unless he got out again,” said Clay. “But you’re not thinking of going now, are you?”
“I’ll meet you at nightfall.”
“Where?” asked Clay as she ran off.
“At the edge of the clearing, near the tower,” Cass called over her shoulder.
And with that, she disappeared into the shadows of the pathless jungle, leaving Satya and Clay alone.
“I have to get back,” Satya said. “They’re going to freak when they realize you two have broken out again.”
She backed up and paused.
“What?” said Clay.
“Nothing. Just… your watch is working, right?”
Clay nodded, suddenly very grateful that Owen had given him the watch.
“Good. Remember: 8:25.”
“I will. Don’t forget this—” Clay handed her Gyorg’s key ring, with the dome key sticking up. “Hey, Satya?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, now that you know who I am…”
“What?”
“Nothing,” said Clay helplessly. He wouldn’t have known how to tell her he liked her, even if they’d been in the normal world and not in an unbelievable, life-threatening situation.
Satya looked at him, a little confused. “Okay, well, I’ll be at the guard tower tonight,” she said, then turned to run off. Hero squawked something that Clay hoped meant she likes you, too—although it sounded more like I’m hungry—and flew after her.
Suddenly, Clay felt very alone. He tapped the side of his ski hat, hoping to hear his Earth Ranch buddies on the other end. There was no response.
He tapped again. Still nothing. Could something have happened to the hat while it was out of his hands?
Clay sighed. Oh well. It wasn’t as though Leira or Brett could really advise him on how to ally with a dragon. He considered taking the hat off—it was as hot and itchy as ever—but he was loath to. Even if it wasn’t working, it made him feel a little more connected to his friends.
CHAPTER
/>
SEVENTEEN
THE FIRE IN THEIR BELLIES
Clay loved the Occulta Draco and the whole idea of becoming a Dragon Tamer too much to think ill of that ancient memoir-slash-instruction manual, but I have no such scruples: It was, and is, a singularly unhelpful document.
Clay well remembered the page in Secrets of the Occulta Draco where allying was discussed. According to the author, most Dragon Tamers formed an alliance by bestowing a gift, performing a favor, or singing a song. Well, he had no gift to give and no idea what favor to bestow; and as for a song, he could hardly carry a tune.
He would just have to improvise.
During the helicopter tour, he’d seen all three of the grown dragons hanging out at the big lake near the center of the crater. If he didn’t run into any of them sooner, he decided, he would make his way there. He only hoped he’d find a dragon before a dragon found him.
Taking a deep breath, he walked between two poles and crossed the border of the dome.
Clay might not have had a good singing voice, but unlike his older brother, he had a decent sense of direction (perhaps because he had been left to navigate for himself so often as a young kid). Watching for telltale footprints, listening for telltale footsteps, and even smelling for telltale, well, dragon patties, Clay pushed his way deeper and deeper into the jungle, terrified all the while that he would be caught unawares.
Soon enough, he could see cracks of light between the trees, and he could hear what sounded like a distant waterfall. A moment later the jungle suddenly ended, and Clay was squinting against the bright late-afternoon sun. He’d found the lake, but as far as he could see, he hadn’t yet found a dragon.
He started walking around the water’s edge, looking for any talon or tail that might happen to be peeking out from behind a boulder, listening for a roaring yawn or a stomach rumble that might be coming from a hidden cave. The lake was perfectly clear, and Clay could see the sandy bottom—probably the only part of the crater that looked the way it had before the Midnight Sun arrived.
Then Clay heard a loud metallic scratching that made the hair on his neck stand up. It was coming from a little ways down the lake, just inside the tree line.
Clay proceeded with caution, peering around the trunk of a giant banana tree. There was Snowflake standing up on two powerful hind legs. The smallest of the three grown dragons, Snowflake nonetheless looked huge in this posture. The dragon was backed up against a tall boulder, scraping its back and neck against the rock’s surface. From the expression on Snowflake’s face, the dragon was having a difficult time scratching whatever spot was itchy.
As Clay watched, unsure what to do, the frustrated dragon let out a roar of aggravation and slumped onto its big scaly rear end.
Was there a way Clay could help?
He stepped out from behind the tree and approached slowly.
“Hey there, buddy,” Clay said, putting on a big smile. “Whatcha doin’? Can’t get to that itch, huh?” He took one step forward, then two. “I hate that feeling.”
Snowflake turned toward Clay and gave him a sullen, withering look.
Silently, Clay cursed himself, remembering how Ariella had reacted every time Clay suggested there was any similarity between a human and a dragon. On the upside, at least Snowflake appeared to understand him.
“Oh, sorry!” Clay said. “You’re totally right. I have no idea what you feel. I’m just a lowly creature who can’t fly or do anything cool.”
He paused for a moment, then took another step. “I wouldn’t bring it up except—if you wanted—I could help you out and give you a scratch. I mean, if you had an itch. Sometimes you need a second pair of hands… or, er, claws or whatever.”
Snowflake continued to stare dubiously at him but seemed to be considering Clay’s offer. With a resigned snort, the dragon slumped down on its belly, wings folded at its sides and front legs folded underneath like a cat’s.
Clay glanced around quickly and spied a palm frond lying on the ground. The leaves had fallen off, leaving a long serrated edge.
“Hey, now, this looks like a good back scratcher, doesn’t it?”
Holding up the palm frond so Snowflake could see it, Clay approached slowly. The dragon followed his movements with a dark, unblinking eye. Cautiously, Clay leaned against the dragon’s side, feeling its great belly rise and fall as it breathed. He reached up as far as he could with the palm frond and started scratching the sharp ridges of Snowflake’s back.
“Here? No—a little farther up… Here? Okay, to the left…”
Clay scratched and scratched, following Snowflake’s directions, until he was scratching along the dragon’s neck. Clay was momentarily confused by a strange buzzing sound, then realized it was coming from the gleaming steel ring around Snowflake’s neck.
“Er—uh—” Clay stalled, nervous about getting too close to the mysterious piece of technology. But the dragon twisted its neck, urging Clay forward, until Clay got the message and slid the end of the palm frond under the collar and started scratching as best he could.
The dragon shut its eyes and made a rumbling sound almost like a purr. “Aha, found it, huh?” Clay said, scratching harder. He wasn’t sure how vigorously dragons liked to be scratched, but there wasn’t much chance of damaging the steel-hard scales.
Could he really be making an alliance this easily? Clay wondered. What would happen if he were to try to climb onto the dragon’s back right now?
He was on the verge of asking for a ride when the dragon abruptly shook itself and knocked Clay onto his butt.
“Hey!” Clay said, getting up. “What did I do?”
With a casual swing of a wing, the dragon swiped at Clay, brushing him away. Clearly, petting time was over.
Blinking lazily, Snowflake stretched, then readjusted, seemingly ready for a nap. Seeing that Clay was still standing there, the dragon swiped once more. Clay leaped backward, barely avoiding the knife-sharp talon at the end of Snowflake’s wing.
“Jeez!” Just when he thought he was making progress…
The dragon twisted its neck around and roared into the air. Clay scrambled back to the edge of the lake, unsure whether Snowflake would pursue him.
When Clay looked back, there was no sign of the dragon. Snowflake didn’t want to play cat and mouse after all.
He leaned over, resting his hands on his knees while he caught his breath. Should he go back and continue trying to ally with Snowflake? He didn’t relish the idea, especially if the dragon was taking a nap. But he had so little time; he couldn’t afford to wait a few hours before trying again.
Before he could decide on his next move, a wild rustling in the trees caught his attention. Something very big was tromping through the jungle, and it was causing quite a ruckus.
Could Snowflake have gotten over there so fast?
Clay didn’t exactly like the idea of walking toward whatever monster was tromping through the jungle, but there was no time for hesitation. He stood up straight, set his jaw, and marched in the direction of the rustling trees.
It wasn’t Snowflake; it was Rover. The gigantic gray dragon was hopping and skipping around, thrashing its head and whimpering. The sight of the great beast in such distress was a little bit comical, but a lot scary. Clay was almost clawed, walloped, and trod upon—all before the dragon had even glimpsed him.
Rover hopped around a few more times before Clay could see what was upsetting the dragon so much: a honey-dripping beehive nestled in the crook of a tree—a crook too narrow for the dragon’s massive claws to squeeze into. Clay watched as the dragon tried once, twice, and a third time to stick its long twisty tongue inside to get to the honey.
The bees were onto Rover, though, and they flew into the dragon’s mouth and buzzed around the dragon’s eyes, sending Rover into fits of fury. There was probably no way the bees could sting through the dragon’s armor of scales, but by all appearances they were driving the dragon crazy nonetheless.
Clay stepped cl
oser, smiling wide to show he was friendly (though come to think of it, baring his teeth at a dragon wasn’t necessarily the greatest idea). “Hey—hey there, Rover,” said Clay, his hands sweating. “Are you trying to get some honey?”
The dragon spotted him—and let out a roar that shook the trees.
Clay swallowed but didn’t move. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he said. “Why don’t you give me a shot?
The dragon roared again, a little more angrily this time.
“Sorry!” Clay said quickly. “I didn’t mean so I could have it. I meant, why don’t you let me get the honey for you?”
Rover’s eyes looked confused and suspicious. Generosity seemed to be a new concept for the dragon.
“Really, I just want to help.”
Rover seemed to get the gist and reluctantly backed away from the beehive, but only a few feet. The dragon wasn’t about to leave this strange human alone with such a treasure.
Last summer at Earth Ranch, Buzz had taught Clay the most common beekeeper trick for extracting honeycomb from a beehive: smoke.* Alas, Clay had no matches or lighter, and he couldn’t just snap his fingers to create a flame, like Flint could. But Buzz, quite unintentionally, had also taught Clay a little about talking to the bees.
Clay approached the beehive slowly, with steady footsteps. He carefully stuck an arm out, not flinching when first one and then a dozen angrily buzzing bees landed on his hands and arms. They tickled a bit as they walked on his skin, and Clay was certain he would be stung at any second, but he reminded himself that getting killed by a dragon, or by the Midnight Sun, would be much worse.
“I need to take a little bit of your honeycomb,” he told them, in the peculiar humming voice Clay had heard Buzz speak in. “It is for your own good. It is the only way the dragon will leave you alone.”
It took a few tries and some more coaxing, but apparently he was doing a passable imitation of bee-speak, because eventually the bees allowed Clay to get a handle on the hive and to snap off a Frisbee-sized piece of honeycomb.