SandRider (30 page)

The lions easily followed the sleds as they ran along the top of the ridge, and every time she glanced around, Tod could see that little by little the pride was gaining on them. But there was nothing she could do. There was no way she was going to take the
Wiz
up to full speed and leave Oskar and Ferdie behind.

Oskar did not glance back; he could feel the padding of the lions steadily growing stronger and he had no wish to see them as well. Ferdie, however, could hardly take her eyes from the scene behind. The dark shapes of the lions and the glassy glint from their eyes terrified her; she held on tightly to Oskar and wished she could do something—
anything
—to make the
Beetle
go faster. And then it occurred to Ferdie that she could. If Oskar could will the
Beetle
faster, then surely she could too.

Ferdie remembered what Oskar had excitedly told her when he had first been picked to ride in the Apprentice Race. “You have to imagine that you actually
are
the sled,” he had said. Ferdie knew that Oskar had expected her to laugh at him.
But she had simply asked him how he did it, because she wanted to know. There was so much Ferdie wanted to know. Her brother, like Tod, was learning so many new things and Ferdie sometimes felt a little bit left behind—but there was no way that she was going to let that happen now.

And so, saying nothing to Oskar, Ferdie focused on the small wooden sled beneath her as it traveled steadily along the sandy ridge, closely tailed by the
Wiz
. In her mind, Ferdie became the
Beetle
. She felt the slip of the sand beneath her, the resistance of the cold night air before her; she became fast and sleek, full of energy, power and speed.

To Oskar's shock and delight, with a tremendous kick, the
Beetle
suddenly shot off, spraying sand over a surprised Tod. Ferdie and Oskar felt as though they were flying. Far below, the desert lay before them like the ocean; above, the immense indigo sky seemed to sing a high, thin tune as the stars whistled by. Only the greatest willpower stopped Ferdie from shrieking with exhilaration as the
Beetle
reached the end of the ridge and went barreling down the slope, heading for the wide plains lying before them.

At the foot of the dune, Oskar slowed the sled to allow the
Wiz
to catch up. His eyes were shining with excitement.
With Kaznim clinging on to the back, covered in sand, Tod brought the
Wiz
alongside.

“Oskie . . . that was brilliant!” she said, breathless. “I never knew the Beetle could go so
fast
!”

Oskar grinned. “Neither did I!” he laughed.

Ferdie just smiled. “Look at the lions,” she said, pointing to the top of the dune.

Lined up along the ridge, silhouetted against the sky, was the pride of sand lions looking mournfully at the two sleds. They were exhausted. Even the tasty scent of four small humans was not enough to risk good energy on a chase they were never going to win.

Twenty-one pairs of mirrored eyes watched the
Beetle
and the
Wiz
set off at a steady speed across the desert plain, their course set for the Palm of Dora.

O
raton-Marr arrived exactly where he
had planned. He stood for some minutes to allow the effects of his
Transport
to fade and as the last wisps of purple evaporated into the night air, he walked over to the encampment. He opened the door flap of the Egg tent and stepped inside.

The Egg Boy jumped to his feet and stood at attention. He had been dreading this moment and had not slept all night. “All in order, sir,” he said.

“I'll be the judge of that,” Oraton-Marr snapped—secretly gratified that not only was the Egg Boy still afraid of him but that he did appear to have done a good job.

In the shadows of the tent, the Apprentice Mysor watched warily. No one wanted the Egg hatched successfully more than he, so that the sorcerer would go away and leave them
alone. Even so Mysor disliked seeing the sorcerer getting what he wanted. He watched Oraton-Marr kneel down, lift the furs from the Egg and place two proprietorial hands on it and run them across the Egg's smooth, leathery surface. When they reached around to the back the long, questing fingers found what they were looking for.

“The Egg Tooth bulge,” Oraton-Marr whispered excitedly. He looked at the Egg Boy and gave a thin smile. “You have done well.” The Egg Boy almost fainted with relief.

Oraton-Marr knew that the most prudent course of action was to keep the Orm Egg within the tent, so that when the little Orm emerged it could not escape. But Oraton-Marr had not put in years of planning, violence and intimidation to have no one witness his moment of triumph. He would never admit it, but he wanted his sister to see how clever her big brother really was.

And so, as dawn began to break over the desert, Oraton-Marr watched Mysor and the Egg Boy stagger out of the tent with the Orm Egg and lay it gently on the sand. Then, under instructions, they lit a fire on the flat rock beside the pool and brewed coffee. Oraton-Marr settled down to gaze at the Egg and enjoy the moment. Soon the key to an endless supply of
lapis lazuli would be in his grasp.

The smell of coffee woke the Apothecary, who had only just fallen into a fitful sleep. She emerged from the star-strewn tent, haggard with exhaustion and fear for her two daughters. She saw the sorcerer sitting beside the fire, drinking his—or to be accurate, her—coffee. In the sand beside him was the hateful Egg, still unhatched, but clearly not for much longer. Even from a distance, Karamander could see the lump of the Egg Tooth bulging in the smooth ovoid.

On his last visit to the star-strewn tent, Oraton-Marr had gleefully informed Karamander that he now had custody of Kaznim too. At first Karamander had been ecstatic to hear that Kaznim was actually alive, but her joy had soon been replaced with fear for her daughter's safety in the clutches of such a wicked man. Karamander Draa stood still and took three deep, slow breaths of cold morning air. She must calm down, she told herself. She must
not
run screaming at the sorcerer, punch him in his smug face and demand the return of her children—she must
not
. She had only to wait a little longer and all would be well. The Egg would hatch, Oraton-Marr would get his stupid Orm and then he would give her back her daughters. Wouldn't he?

From the top of the long dune, Spit Fyre watched the proceedings below. He had not eaten for twelve weeks, and even though a dragon is a beast built for endurance and he still had reserves left, Spit Fyre was not feeling his best. He didn't look too good, either. He was no longer the shining green dragon that had once glittered in the skies above the Castle. Sand had settled over him, sticking to his scales, which had been dried and roughened by the sun, so that his brilliant color and sheen had long gone and he now looked as though he were carved from sandstone. The only glimpse of color was in his eyes, a deep emerald ringed with red.

Some weeks previously a rumor had spread around the encampment that the dragon had turned to stone. Spit Fyre had heard the mutterings and decided to encourage the idea by moving only at night and making sure he resumed the same position at daybreak. One of Oraton-Marr's guards had eventually ventured up for a closer look. Spit Fyre had remained immobile and had not reacted even when the guard had given him a vicious jab in the belly with the end of his charred
FireStick
. The guard had returned with the news that
the dragon had indeed turned to stone. And on his next visit Oraton-Marr had taken the glory of the awesome feat of turning a dragon into stone.

From his vantage point Spit Fyre now saw all. Below to his right, he saw the Orm Egg lying on the sand, surrounded by people whose hopes and fears rested on its hatching. To his left on the plain that stretched all the way to the Port of the Singing Sands, Spit Fyre saw a small group of people making their way toward him, a long trail of foot- and hoofprints stretching out behind. A large woman swathed in blue rode a small, grumpy camel. Behind her came a dumpy woman on a donkey carrying a small, sleeping child upon her back and in front walked a man with a long stave, leading the way.

Spit Fyre also was aware of two fast-moving objects on the plains some distance behind him. There was something familiar about them. They had, he thought, a feel of the Castle to them. He had at first wondered if it was his much-loved
Imprintor
, Septimus. But as they drew closer he could tell that sadly, it was not Septimus. Spit Fyre was intrigued. There was an air of
Magyk
about them and they were hurtling toward him at a surprising speed, but the dragon resisted the
temptation to turn and look. He must remain immobile for now. He did not want to draw attention to himself. Not yet.

With an unblinking eye, Spit Fyre watched the man lead the camel and donkey with their burdens up the dune. They stopped at the top and the travelers looked at him warily. The one in blue stared hard. “So he
did
do it,” Spit Fyre heard her say in an awed voice. “He really has turned a dragon to stone.”

Spit Fyre felt the near-irresistible urge to yawn that always came before a breath of
Fyre
. How he would have loved to have aimed a blast at the shiny blue one and seen it shrivel up to a crisp. He put the thought from his mind and allowed his right eye to follow the group as they made their way down the dune toward the little group gathered around the Egg.

The minutes passed slowly. After spending so long waiting so very patiently, Spit Fyre found it hard to contain his excitement. He longed to fly down and retrieve the Egg
right now
but he dared not risk it. He knew he was weak from lack of food and stiff from lack of movement—he could not risk a fight that he may well not win. His advantage must be in surprise and perfect timing. He had to get it right the first time. There would be no second chance.

A lightening of the sky in the east told Tod that the night was nearly gone. The Palm of Dora was beginning to fade but in its place, at the foot of the vertical line of stars, was the dark shape of a tent. Sitting behind Tod, Kaznim saw the same. A thrill of excitement ran through her at the sight of her home, quickly followed by the terror of what she might find there.

With the threat of the sand lions gone, the sleds were now traveling at a comfortable pace. The sand no longer stung the riders' eyes and cut at their faces, and Tod and Oskar could actually see where they were going. They had now reached the beginnings of the gentle swell in the sand that rose up to form the ridge of the long dune above the star-strewn tent. A short conference between the riders—in which Kaznim took no part—led to the decision to head to the top of the dune. Tod hoped to be able to see the Egg from there. Oskar hoped for a quick descent, giving them the advantage of surprise.

Ferdie was keeping watch on Kaznim. She did not trust the
girl at all, but she could not entirely blame her. Ferdie knew that if the safety of her own little brother was at stake, she suspected that she might well do as Kaznim had done.

They ascended to the ridge of the long dune and coasted quietly along the top. Soon the stone-still shape of Spit Fyre came into view. Tod turned to Oskar and Ferdie. “There's a dragon up ahead,” she whispered.

“A stone dragon,” Kaznim said. And then wished she hadn't. How stupid could she be? It would be much better if they were too afraid of the dragon to go any farther. She quickly added, “It belongs to the sorcerer. It is there to protect the Egg. It will come alive if anyone but the sorcerer
Imprints
the Orm.”

Tod, Ferdie and Oskar exchanged glances. No one knew whether to believe Kaznim. “Do we risk the dragon?” Tod whispered.

“If it's stone, then surely we're safe,” Ferdie said. “It can't become a live dragon in just a few seconds . . . can it?”

Tod was not sure. She had heard many things about
Darke Magyk
and not all of them made sense. But a sudden change in the balance of the
Wiz
and a gasp from Ferdie drove the conundrum of stone dragons entirely from her mind—Kaznim was off and running fast.

Skidding, sliding, hurling herself forward, Kaznim took the steepest part of the dune, which was too sheer for any sled. “Ammaa!” she screamed out, her voice piercing the silence. “Ammaa!
Ammaaaaa
!
” The sounds fell away as Kaznim hurtled out of sight.

The Tribe of Three stared at one another in dismay. Their only advantage was surprise and now that was gone. There was no doubt in their minds that Kaznim would very soon be telling everyone exactly who was on the dune—and why.

Throughout their long ride across the sands, Tod had been thinking about what they would do if they were seen too early. She knew they needed a backup plan, and her brief stint as Oraton-Marr's prisoner had given her an idea, but it was not a pleasant one. It was to use only as a last resort—and the last resort had arrived unexpectedly fast. “I'm going after her,” Tod said.

“We're coming too,” said Ferdie at once.

“No,” Tod said. “It won't work if you come too.”

“Why not?” Oskar asked.

“Trust me, it
won't.
Okay?”

“Okay . . .” Ferdie and Oskar agreed reluctantly.

“We're here if you need us,” Ferdie said.

“Ready and waiting,” added Oskar.

Tod set off on the
Wiz
with a heavy heart. She took a diagonal route across the face of the long dune, keeping well below the dragon. Halfway down the dune, the encampment came into view. She saw the faded silver stars stitched across the roof of a large, circular tent. She saw the smaller tents gathered around it. She saw the dark, mirrored water of the pool beneath the long dune, the flat rock in front of the pool on which a fire was burning and people were gathered around. And then she saw the Orm Egg for the very first time—as large as a small child, deep blue, lying quietly in a dip in the sand, unaware of all the fuss it had caused. And was still causing. A flash of light from the rising sun touched the surface of the Orm Egg, which shimmered like water. Tod caught her breath with excitement. The Egg was beautiful. And even better,
it was unhatched
.

The
Wiz
continued its downward path toward the encampment. It felt so wrong to be coasting along in full view of everyone, but Tod steeled herself to act the part she had set herself to play—and to act it well. Ahead of her she could see another party on a small camel and a donkey stumbling
down the long dune, and as the
Wiz
drew slowly closer, Tod's heart began to race with fear. She was heading toward two people she had hoped never to see again—the Lady and her tormenter of old, her mother's stepsister, Aunt Mitza. Tod's instincts screamed at her to turn the
Wiz
around
right now
and head away as fast as she could. But she resisted. She must keep going. For the sake of all the people she loved, she must get to the Orm Egg and then, when it hatched, she must
Imprint
it. That was all that mattered. And so Tod let the
Wiz
saunter nonchalantly down the long diagonal, drawing ever closer to the nest of vipers below.

Suddenly Tod saw the tiny figure of Kaznim Na-Draa hurtle out of the shadows behind the star-covered tent. Her shouts of “Ammaa! Ammaa!” were closely followed by her mother's answering screams of joy. Tod saw a woman in red robes lift Kaznim into the air and swing her around and around in utter delight. An unexpected twinge of sadness for what she had lost when her own mother died caught at Tod. She pushed the feeling away and allowed the
Wiz
to trundle on.

And then, as Tod knew it surely would, the sled caught the eye of Oraton-Marr.

The
Wiz
coasted to a halt beside the Egg of the Orm. Oraton-Marr looked down at Tod with an expression of annoyance. “Where have you been?” he snapped.

Hating the thought of what she was about to do, Tod forced herself into role. She got off the
Wiz
and stood meekly before Oraton-Marr. “I am sorry,” she said. “I disappeared from your tower by mistake. I was . . . I was bored so I was playing around with some
Magyk
. It was a stupid thing to do, because I really do want to be your Apprentice. It is such a wonderful opportunity.”

Oraton-Marr was impressed by Tod's acquisition and mastery of a
SandRider
and her obvious talent for
Magyk
. His arrogance was such that he found it very easy to believe that Tod truly did want to be his Apprentice. “It is indeed a wonderful opportunity for you, Apprentice,” he told Tod. “However, you are very late. I shall expect better timekeeping in future.”

“I came as fast as I could,” Tod said. “And you were hard to find.”