The Flight of Dragons (16 page)

Marlon waved the other wing. “Danger-schmanger. She’s got her uncle Marlon to keep an eye on her. No worries! All the same . . .” He hesitated.

“Yes?” Val prompted.

“Gotta go. Marlon Batster, ever the open eye.
Ciao!
” And he was gone.

T
he dawn light was still thin and gray when Great- Uncle Alvin took it upon himself to wake Marcus and Gracie. He woke Gracie first, and she sat up as he fluttered across to Marcus, who came to with a start and was on his feet almost before his eyes were open.

“I’ll saddle Glee,” he said. “You go and meet Hinny. You’ll get on ever so well with her — she’s just like a rocking horse. Arry used to fall off all the time, but now he hardly ever does. She’s in the loose box next door. Oh, and have a look in the cupboard on the wall. There’ll be apples and carrots in there — but don’t give them all to Hinny. I’m starving, and I bet you are too!”

Gracie, who was so hungry her stomach kept rumbling, treated him to one of her sunniest smiles and went to look. There were indeed apples and carrots, and after making Hinny’s acquaintance, Gracie helped herself. She took a handful back to Marcus and Glee, and the three of them munched companionably while Marcus finished saddling the pony.

“That’s better,” Marcus said as he gave Glee his apple cores. “I’ll get Hinny ready, and we’ll be off.”

Ten minutes later, they were riding the ponies out of the stable yard and into the early morning, guiding them away from the cobbles and onto the soft grassy verge, where their hooves would make no sound. A mist hung over the fields, and Gracie became very aware of the silence. Even the birds were still asleep; when Hinny tossed her head and whinnied, it made Gracie jump. “Oh!” she said, and then, “Marcus! Have you seen Great-Uncle Alvin since he woke you up?”

Marcus shook his head. “I thought he was with you.”

Gracie put her hand to her mouth. “Oh,
no
! How could we? We’ve forgotten him —”

“Nice to know you’re thinking of me at last,” said a sarcastic voice. The bat emerged, ruffled, from the saddlebag and landed on Gracie’s shoulder.

“I’m so sorry,” Gracie said in heartfelt tones. “I think it’s because it’s so early.”

“Hmph,” Alvin said. But he stayed on Gracie’s shoulder, and as they turned out of the palace gates and set off toward the road to Niven’s Knowe, he was still there. A moment later Glee broke into a canter, and Hinny followed suit; Gracie took a sharp breath, but she soon began to enjoy herself. They covered the miles steadily without pushing the ponies too hard, and it was still early when they reached Niven’s Knowe.

Marcus pulled Glee to a walk and gave Gracie an inquiring look. “Shall we head straight for the palace? It’s not far from here. If we ride across the grounds instead of going up the drive, we should be able to get reasonably near without being seen.”

Gracie nodded. “Let’s hope everyone’s still asleep.”

Great-Uncle Alvin gave a small gusty sigh. “If I was the smart young bat I once was, I’d fly over and check for you. Where’s Marlon when you need him? Or young Alf ? Nowhere to be seen. Typical. Only the aged still on duty —”

“Complaining again, Unc? Alf Batster, present and correct!” The small bat wheeled around their heads, making sure he was well out of his great-uncle’s reach. “Want the palace checked? I’m your bat! Safety report coming up ASAP!” He waved cheerily and zoomed off in the direction of the palace — only to reappear a moment later. “Forgot to say. Prof sends his best wishes ’n’ says you’re to be careful. Says if you find the Thing We’re Looking For”— Alf attempted to wink, shut both eyes by mistake, and saved himself from a crash landing by a whisker —“you’re to take it to the House of the Ancient Crones. He’ll meet you there. See ya!” And he was off again.

“Let’s go!” Marcus picked up Glee’s reins and led the way into the parkland that surrounded the palace.

The trees were widely spaced, and it was possible to keep the ponies at a steady trot as they threaded their way in and out of towering beeches and oaks and lofty pines. Gracie kept glancing around as they rode; she had a strong sense of something unpleasant close by, but she could see nothing but the trees and ornamental shrubs and bushes.

“The back door of the palace and the outbuildings are just over there.” Marcus pulled Glee to a halt under a gnarled old oak tree. “Why don’t we leave the ponies here for the moment and go the rest of the way on foot?”

Gracie nodded, and they dismounted.

Marcus tied Glee and Hinny to a low branch, then took Gracie’s hand. “Come on!” he said, his eyes bright with excitement. “Let’s go find a dragon’s egg!”

“Shh!”
Gracie looked agonized. “Don’t even say it!”

“Sorry,” Marcus apologized. “But it’s OK, Gracie. There’s no one around — it’s just trees!”

Great-Uncle Alvin shook his head. “There’s a lot more to a tree than leaves. Bad mistake.”

Gracie shivered, her skin prickling. “I think you’re right. There’s something listening. I’m sure there is. . . .”

Marcus dropped her hand and strode on ahead, his cheeks flaming. Gracie, a small uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach, followed him. A moment later they were out in the open. In front of them was a low stone wall, to their right an arched gateway. The Niven’s Knowe crest was carved on the supporting pillars, and Great-Uncle Alvin snorted. “Look at that! Used to be dragons holding a shield! And now look at them! All hacked about! Could be anything. Looks more like dogs with a cannonball. Pshaw!”

Gracie was watching Marcus. He was crouched behind the shelter of the wall, beckoning. When she ran to join him, he said tersely, “If we go through the archway, we’ll be in the yard. Where were the dragons kept, Great-Uncle Alvin?”

“Away from the horses,” the bat said. “Tall stone building. Big doors.”

Marcus nodded. “Oh! I know! They use it for the old carriages. Right. I’ll start looking in there. Gracie, why don’t you go and check the other outbuildings?”

Gracie didn’t agree or disagree. She merely looked at him, and although there was no hint of reproach in her blue-eyed gaze, Marcus blushed to the roots of his hair.

“I’m a toad,” he said. “I really am. I’m sorry — come on. We’ll go together.” He took Gracie’s hand, and they ran toward the gateway, Great-Uncle Alvin clinging to Gracie’s shoulder.

As they passed under the arch itself, Gracie staggered and almost fell. Uncle Alvin fluttered into the air, and Gracie put out a hand to steady herself.

“You OK?” Marcus asked. He glanced back at the arch. “That was in the picture in the prof’s book! I recognize it! And there were dragons carved here as well . . . Are you sure you’re all right?”

Gracie nodded. “I’m fine. I just felt a bit weird for a second,” and they ran on.

From the top of the gnarled old oak tree, Carrion was watching them with interest. “A dragon’s egg. Well, I never. Well, well, well, well, well. Old Malignancy’ll be interested in that. Very interested, indeed!” He spread his wings and flew.

Old Malignancy had spent the night perfecting a tempting selection of chocolates for Fedora, and the results lay in a small red velvet heart-shaped box on the kitchen table. Beside it lay Conducta’s work of the evening before: a declaration to the effect that restrictions on entry to the Five Kingdoms were to be lifted by Royal Decree, and, as from the date of signature, all would be welcome whatever their background or personal leanings toward blood, mutilation, and general evil.

As Carrion made his report, the huge shapeless body of his master quivered and grew larger, and the pale eyes gleamed. Alf, swinging on the ivy surrounding the open kitchen window, gulped.

“A dragon’s egg . . .” Old Malignancy wound his long sinuous fingers around and around. “Carrion — do you know what a dragon’s egg can do?”

“Hatch a dragon?” the crow suggested brightly.

Old Malignancy gave a hollow chuckle. “It can do more . . . far more, if it is close to hatching. It can double and redouble my powers. Evil will make its way back to the Five Kingdoms, Carrion, and I shall see that it reaches every man, every woman, and every child. All will be corrupted, and Misery, Hunger, and Vice will prevail. And this egg . . . this dragon’s egg . . . that will be my prize. I will watch over it until it hatches, and the dragon will grow strong in my ways. I shall teach it the ways of Evil, and those ways are all it will ever know. We will stride the kingdoms together, he and I . . . and no one will stop us. No one!” He gave an echoing high-pitched cry of ecstatic anticipation, and the crow made a quick hop backward. Outside the window Alf shivered uncontrollably.

“Ark.”
Carrion recovered himself. “Sounds like a barrel of fun and games. D’you want me to keep an eye on the kiddywinks out there?”

Old Malignancy blinked and came back to reality. “Watch, but do not let them see you. Let them find the egg, and then we will strike. In the meantime, fetch my little cankerettes. Drag them from their beds. I have need of them.”

Carrion nodded and flew off to wake the twins. This was not easy; neither had any intention of getting up until they felt like it. They buried themselves under the bedclothes and ignored the crow’s exhortations to rise and shine. Carrion was finally driven to remark that there were two intruders on the palace grounds hunting for a dragon’s egg. “Yer granpappy needs you to sneak and spy. Valuable, that egg is . . . special.”

The twins sat up, alert but suspicious. “What’s in it for us?” Conducta wanted to know.

“Word to the wise. Keep yer granpappy happy.” Carrion let out a raucous caw of laughter. “That’s good, ain’t it? Happy Granpappy! ’Cause let me tell you, ladies — one thing I do know, and I knows it well. If he ain’t happy, he’ll make sure nobody else is neither.”

The twins had seen enough of their great-grandfather to believe this to be true. They looked at each other, then Globula said, “OK. We’ll get up.”

“Good thinking.” Carrion gave her a leering wink. “Now, open this window. I need to check on the young adventurers down below.”

Alf, now hovering in the shadow of the eaves, had only just time to swoop away before the crow flapped into the early morning sunlight. His heart beating hard in his small furry chest, he headed down to find Gracie and Marcus. “Boy!” he muttered as he flew. “Boy! Have I got news! Boy! Have I got
big
news! Boy —”

He didn’t see Carrion coming. The first thing he knew there was a swirl of air followed by a massive blow that sent him spinning into blackness. Blackness punctuated by tiny stars and, in some dim outer world, a rasping voice. “Out of my way, bat! Gotta job to do. . . .”

G
ubble had also gotten up early, and the determined boy got up with him. The troll was not much improved by his night in the ditch; waterweed was draped around his neck, and his face was covered in mud.

“You could do with a wash,” the boy said. He was taken aback when Gubble grunted and splashed water over himself, and even more surprised when the troll stomped into a neighboring field, pulled up two turnips, and offered him one. When the boy shook his head, Gubble grunted again and ate both. Moments later he set off, his eyes firmly fixed on the distant horizon.

“Oi!” The boy recovered his wits and hurried after him. “You’re going the wrong way! You’ve got to come back and sort out my mum’s wall!”