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Authors: Simon West-Bulford

BOOK: The Beasts of Upton Puddle
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Why the dragons had turned against each other during the attack was a mystery to Joe, and although he wanted to find out more, Snappel needed help—and quickly. Joe was about to call out for help when he
heard the collapsing beams and splintering wood below the skewed deck. The whole ark shuddered, and the noise drowned out the screams of the wounded.

Joe climbed the deck to the upturned side to look over the edge. An enormous breach had appeared in the lower part of the hull. A crowd of animals spilled out from the hole, milling, striding, and leaping onto the sand. Joe spotted Mrs. Merrynether among them, and already Danariel had set about trying to herd the crowd into one area.

Joe cupped his hands around his mouth and called, “Mrs. Merrynether. We need help. Snappel's hurt.”

She looked up, trying to locate the source of Joe's voice, then saw him. “We'll have things sorted out down here momentarily.” The tone of her reply sounded far less confident, but she continued, “I'll come to Snappel right away and take a look at her. If you're mobile, check around the deck to see if there are any wounded that need help, will you? We need to get organized and gather them all in one place. Danariel will help you in a minute or two, and Kiyoshi should be near you too.”

Joe gave her a thumbs-up and slid down the width of the deck, looking around for signs of other animals.

Kiyoshi had just crawled through a gap in the boards to meet Joe, his strange monkey face wrinkled in concern. “You are granted my servitude through the duration of this emergency. I will assist you in any way possible.”

“Thanks, Kiyoshi.”

Joe looked around. Apart from Snappel, the deck was clear. He turned to watch the two dragons stooped over the dead dragon on the beach. He saw Cornelius also watching from a distance. The right wing of the smaller dragon hung limply by its side, broken by its impact with the beach.

Mrs. Merrynether had asked Joe to look for any wounded, and this certainly classified as an injury. With a tightly held breath, Joe walked toward the huge lizards before fear could stop his feet from moving. He stopped a mere ten paces from the leader. A gust of air, possibly the beast's breath, passed across Joe's face, carrying a prickly heat and a strong smell like burnt meat, but he resisted the urge to step back.

“Excuse me,” Joe said, his voice sounding a little too insignificant for his liking.

The lead dragon tilted its head toward Joe with the sleepy motion of someone disturbed from a world of sorrow. It fixed him with its fiery reptilian eyes for a long moment.

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Joe asked. “For that dragon's broken wing?”

The dragon continued to stare, then lowered its head flat to the ground, arched its back, and released a roar so loud that Joe fell backward and sat in the sand. Kiyoshi backed off too. The beast took one step before the other dragon unfurled its good wing to hold the leader back. Brief growls were exchanged, and the leader
focused on Joe. Too fearful to look away, Joe stared back but decided to say nothing else.

Kiyoshi, however, took the opportunity to speak, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Our apologies if our pestiferous interruption has disturbed your time of omphaloskepsis. Unfortunately, we—”

“Not helping,” hissed Joe as the dragon shifted its dangerous gaze to Kiyoshi. “Why don't you go back to the ship and have a look in the lower decks for some more wounded, then try and gather them. If they're seriously hurt, you could give them some of your kappa juice to help them recover.”

Kiyoshi glared at Joe, then scuttled off.

Joe shook his head and looked back at the dragons. Thankfully, they had refocused on their fallen friend.

“You'd better lie low for a bit,” said Danariel, now hovering beside him. “They're not exactly happy to see us.”

“Why?” whispered Joe. “What have we done? What was all that about up there?”

Danariel flew down to face Joe, but then she twitched her head as if hearing something behind her. Joe caught a glimpse of a scowl on her face as she turned on the dragons.

“And if you so much as try and touch him, I'll make sure you regret it.” She paused, then spoke again. “I may be separated from Gnauserous, but don't presume my influence over her is gone. I meant what I said. If you hurt this boy, you
will
regret it.”

The lead dragon bellowed and puffed a huge ball of smoke.

Joe stared at the tiny seraph. He had never seen her act so aggressively before. “Danariel,” he whispered, “what's going on?”

She turned, her face now apologetic. “So sorry. I forgot you can't see or hear them. It seems they didn't think about that either.”

“See who? And who's . . . Gnauserous?”

“Do you remember why I came to Merrynether Mansion? Do you remember what my ailment was?”

Joe scratched the bump on his head. “No, remind me.”

“You shouldn't be able to see me, remember? Everybody can see me, but nobody should be able to see a seraph unless two things happen.”

“Right,” said Joe. “I remember now. You have to believe the seraphim exist, and you have to know the seraph's name.”

“Exactly. Now, I know you believe in the seraphim, but you don't know the names of three seraphim that happen to be in our presence right now.”

“There are three here? Now?”

“Oh, yes. There were five earlier, but the other two fled. Of the remaining three, one is unconscious and the other two are mourning over the fallen, alongside their kin-ties.”

“What's a kin-tie?”

“I'll explain in a moment. First, I think it's best to
make sure you can see and hear them.” She pointed at each dragon in turn. “Alariel, Semeriel, and Tabariel.”

As Danariel spoke each name, a flash of light appeared near each dragon, revealing beings similar to Danariel but each with its own subtle difference in color. The one identified as Semeriel lay next to the dead dragon, her eyes closed and her violet-blue pulse very weak. Tabariel, the seraph closest to the leading dragon, had a faintly apple-green glow, and so did the other, though his was a fraction deeper.

“Amazing,” said Joe. “I can see them now. Are the seraphim connected to the dragons somehow?”

“That's right, but it's actually a lot stronger than a simple connection. You could say each dragon has a spirit and its spirit is the seraph. The dragon and the seraph are separate, but they are also one.”

“Oh,” said Joe, nodding and pretending to understand. “How did they . . . Has it always been like that?”

“No. There was a time when seraph and dragon were united as a single being. Nobody really knows how or why that changed, but there's an old legend about it. It tells of an ancient Pyronesian king who lost his queen to a terrible illness. The physicians did all they could to save her, but when they failed, the king became so angry that he ordered every doctor to be executed.”

“That's insane.”

“Absolutely. Even the king thought so when he finally came to his senses. He grew so distraught at
what he'd done that he decided he never wanted to be angry again, and so he went to the highest mountain on the farthest land to be alone for twenty years. At the end of that time, he vomited the rage from his spirit, which created the first dragon. He himself became the first of the seraphim.”

“Weird. It sounds a bit like the story Mrs. Merrynether told me about the squonks.”

“Ah, yes, about how the oceans of the world were created when the dragons wanted to get rid of their ugliness.”

“That's the one. Do you think any of them are true?”

“They're just old myths.” She laughed. “Like the ones the Greeks invented when they wanted to explain the laws of nature through metaphor.”

A seraph drifted to Danariel and grabbed her arm. “I told you to remove that human from my sight. I might not agree with Gnauserous and her plans, but that does not mean I have any love for these . . . abominations of nature.”

“Well, Tabariel, you'd better get used to this one,” she replied, pointing at Joe. “He might be our best hope for a peaceful solution.”

“Was he worth the death of three dragons?”

“Are you blaming
him
for their deaths? Surely you can't hold this small boy responsible for that ugly display in the sky. Are you going to tell me what that was about?”

Tabariel's lips thinned as he looked down at Joe, then back to Danariel. “I'll tell you but not here. We
need to find somewhere safer for everyone to stay . . . if there
is
anywhere.”

“The old Nesting Caverns.”

Tabariel looked at the sky. “Yes, the Nesting Caverns will be adequate for the time being, but we must move quickly. It's dusk already, and it will be dark within the hour. Gnauserous will likely send a larger contingent to deal with you now that you have managed to survive. I cannot believe you came, Danariel. What did you think you could achieve by coming here with—?”

“As you said, we should discuss this in a better place.” Danariel turned back, then faced Joe. “Come on. We need to get everyone gathered, including the wounded. We have to make a trip along the beach before we're attacked again.”

T
HIRTY-THREE

The journey from the ruined ark to the Nesting Caverns was mercifully short. Once the wounded had been gathered, makeshift stretchers were fashioned out of the remaining balloon canvas, and a generous dose of Kiyoshi's kappa juice enabled the others to transport everyone to safety. Passed out from supplying so many, Kiyoshi had been carried in one of the stretchers, mumbling in his sleep about the joys of eating cucumber.

Twilight brought the chirruping of a thousand insects. The sky darkened to a murky blue, a cold wind following. Joe entered the caverns, grateful for the rocky shelter. He carried one end of a stretcher that held an animal resembling a rabbit but the size of a husky. Several dozen oil lamps lit the cavern, the stuttering flames creating an orange glow against the glittering walls. Joe guessed this was the very same place Mrs. Merrynether had spoken about.

The cavern was huge. At some time in the past, volcanic activity had formed a tall mountain, but much of its interior had been gouged out and burned away by the nesting dragons who had clearly returned year after year for millennia to nurture their young. Joe stood in one of the hub areas, a vast chamber with scores of tunnels leading away from it. Clusters of sparkling diamonds lined every surface except the floor, which was carpeted with the broken shells of countless dragon eggs.

Joe looked around for Mrs. Merrynether as he lowered the stretcher. Flarp and his friend hovered by the entrance as lookout. Snappel waited underneath, her right leg bandaged by Mrs. Merrynether's expert hand. Kiyoshi lay asleep nearby, his limbs neatly tucked inside his shell. Danariel hovered with the other seraphim, engaged in a heated discussion. Deeper into the cavern, the various animals had been rounded up by Cornelius, who paced the crowd, growling and swishing his barbed tail to keep them in order.

Joe thanked the long-legged animal that had taken the other end of the stretcher as he lowered it near the herded group. Then he continued to look around for Mrs. Merrynether. He spotted her sitting on a wooden crate by herself in a darkened part of the cave, Archy curled up by her feet, asleep. Mrs. Merrynether seemed unconcerned by the needs of the creatures around her. Her brow even more wrinkly than usual, she stared ahead in dreamy thought.

Joe sat on the floor next to her. “Hello. You all right?”

She continued to stare ahead. “No.”

Joe waited a moment. “Want to talk about it?”

She let out a long sigh and scanned the rocky surface of the cave floor.

Joe held one of her hands. “There are still some wounded animals. They're all over there.” He pointed toward Cornelius, who was thumping the ground beside a group of boisterous imps. “Will you show me how to help them?”

She squinted through her glasses at the group. “Of course I will help, Joseph. I was just taking a minute to think things through. That's all.”

“Okay. I'll be over there when you're ready.”

He went to pull away, but Mrs. Merrynether tightened her grip and looked at him with a curious sadness in her eyes. “You're a good lad, Joseph Copper.”

Joe smiled. “Thanks. Will you tell them that?” He nodded toward the two dragons standing side by side in another part of the cavern. Their fallen comrade lay stretched out behind them next to a line of six other creatures killed in the crash. At the far end was the tiny body of Thumbler, the young troll, neatly tied up in what looked like a ceremonial cloak.

Joe immediately regretted drawing Mrs. Merrynether's attention to that area of the cave.

“We're lucky there weren't more deaths,” she said.

“I'm sorry,” said Joe, looking down.

“Right where Thumbler is now—that's where Gloria and Donald Merson were burned alive all those years ago.” She motioned to the left. “I found my husband's body right over there. And just beyond that tunnel—that's where I watched four more of my team die . . . Now I'm afraid it will happen all over again when the Conclave get here. I have made such a terrible mess of things and put you right in the middle of it all.”

“None of this is your fault, Mrs. Merrynether.”

“I should never have come.”

“But you had to.”

“Did I? Where is Redwar? He isn't here, is he?”

Joe stopped to think about that. She was right. So far they had not seen or heard any sign of him or his army.

“And look at my army!” Mrs. Merrynether waved at the crowd of animals around her. “My task was to amass a force that could overthrow the Conclave and keep the world from being thrown into a war it could never win. I've had all these years to do that, and I've done nothing . . . Nothing!”

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