The Wrath of the Lizard Lord (8 page)

‘You goin’ to stay there, then?’ Mary called. Dakkar could still hear twigs snapping under her feet and see the leaves waving. He hurried after her, pushing branches and ferns aside.

‘What are you checking?’ he called after her when he saw the back of her bonnet again.

‘Keep your voice down,’ she hissed, turning and scowling at him. ‘Look.’

They had entered a small clearing. The giant ferns and trees reared up all around them, making the light from above green. A cairn of stones stood at the centre of the clearing. Mary stalked over to it and looked all around, giving a sniff.

‘All fine,’ she muttered.

Dakkar picked up one of the stones. A spiral pattern curled around it.

‘It’s like a snail shell,’ he said. ‘Only it’s stone.’

‘There are some prize specimens,’ Mary said, grinning. ‘Not bashed up by the sea. I take a couple up every now an’ then to sell ’em to the lords and ladies who visit. They pay a fortune.’

‘You come down here for
these
?’ Dakkar snorted, throwing the stone back on the pile.

‘Careful!’ Mary said. ‘Money mightn’t be a problem to the likes of you, Mr Prince of Dakkarkan or wherever you said you come from, but those rocks put food on my old mam’s table.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Dakkar said, feeling his cheeks flush. Sometimes he forgot how privileged his life was, even living with Oginski; the count never wanted for money.

Mary just stared at him and raised her shotgun. Dakkar’s stomach lurched and he raised his hands.

‘Look, I said I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean to –’

‘Get ready to duck,’ Mary said in a low voice. ‘Duck and run. NOW!’

Dakkar threw himself on the ground as Mary pulled the trigger. He saw her leave the ground as the explosion from the gun filled the clearing. An even more deafening roar answered the dying blast.

Turning, Dakkar saw an enormous yellow eye, rows of teeth the length of steak knives and a drooling red mouth. It was a huge lizard and reminded him of the beast he’d seen in Elba, but this one stood some ten feet high when it reared up. Dakkar scurried over to Mary. Pulling her up by the arm, he dragged her through the undergrowth. She stumbled after him, leaves and fronds whipping in her face. But Dakkar couldn’t stop. The earth shook as the creature gave chase. Trees groaned and splintered as the monster thrashed through the jungle after them. Dakkar tripped over a root, pulling Mary down too.

‘Get up, you idiot!’ she screamed, dragging at his sleeve.

Dazed, Dakkar staggered to his feet and started running again. The giant lizard was gaining on them. Dakkar could hear its growling breath and smell the rank odour of rotten meat that surged ahead of it.

‘We
.
.
. can’t outrun
.
.
. it,’ Dakkar panted, glancing desperately around for a place to hide, a hole in the ground, anything.

‘That tree!’ Mary yelled.

Ahead of them, the jungle fringed the thick trunk of an old fir tree. It soared above their heads but the branches stuck out at regular intervals, making it easy to climb.

The lizard roared again. Dakkar glimpsed red on its shoulder where Mary had winged it with the blunderbuss. It hadn’t slowed down, though.

Dakkar reached the base of the tree and pushed Mary up as she leapt for the lowest branch. Leaves and saplings were torn aside as the lizard drew near. In a moment, it would reach Dakkar. He could see its claws now and the brilliant green of its scales between the foliage.

Mary cleared the first few branches and Dakkar hurled himself upward to the bottom boughs. The trees around them swished and the lizard’s head grazed Dakkar’s boot as he climbed up to the next branch.

‘Keep climbing!’ Mary screamed.

The lizard coiled itself for a leap. Dakkar could see its powerful back legs and wondered just how high it could jump. He dragged himself upward, glancing down in time to see the lizard spring up. Its snout and teeth grew larger as it hurtled towards Dakkar. The stink of the creature enveloped him and he leapt himself, ignoring the danger. For a moment, he felt weightless, expecting to be snatched back to earth by those vicious, snapping jaws. The next branch up drew near and Dakkar gripped it as tightly as he could, hoping that the weight of his body wouldn’t break his grip. His shoulders burned as he swung on the branch, dangling like a tempting titbit for the lizard. But he was out of reach. The lizard snapped on thin air and then tumbled to the ground, falling heavily.

Dakkar’s heart hammered against his ribs. He heard Mary give a nervous laugh and grinned up at her.

A low growl returned Dakkar’s attention to the base of the tree. The lizard was back on its feet and glared up at them, growling.

‘Now what do we do?’ he said under his breath.

The monster wasn’t going away. They were trapped.

Chapter Twelve

Trapped

Mary Anning scowled down at Dakkar from her perch a few branches above him. Below, the huge lizard hissed and snapped. Every now and then, it would circle the thick trunk as if trying to find a way up.

‘This is all your fault,’ Mary said, throwing a pine cone at Dakkar. ‘If you hadn’t chased me down here, shouting like a lunatic, that lizard would never ’ave bothered.’

Dakkar snatched the pine cone from the air as it sailed past his head. ‘You say the most obvious and pointless things,’ he said. ‘Of course the lizard wouldn’t have chased us if we hadn’t come down here.’

‘You know what I mean,’ Mary snapped, narrowing her eyes.

Dakkar looked down at the lizard. From his vantage point, he was able to take in more detail: the strong back legs that pushed the creature upright, the long tail that tapered to a point and seemed to act as a counterbalance to its huge head. Its tiny arms hung stubby and useless in front of it.

‘What is that thing?’ Dakkar whispered to himself.

‘What do you think it is?’ Mary said, launching another pine cone. This one missed entirely and bounced off the lizard’s head, making it rear up and hiss. ‘It’s a big crocodile. I’ve seen pictures of ’em in a book.’

‘I’ve seen real crocodiles,’ Dakkar said, rolling his eyes. ‘And they don’t generally walk on two legs. Have you still got the blunderbuss?’

‘Yes but I ain’t usin’ it up ’ere,’ Mary said. ‘It’d blow me out of the tree! I’m not savin’ you from that monster by breakin’ my neck.’ She launched a pine cone at the lizard, clipping its nose and making it snap at the air with its razor teeth.

‘Well, antagonising the beast won’t help matters!’ Dakkar grumbled.

‘It makes me feel better, though,’ Mary said, flinging another cone. The lizard caught the pine cone in its mouth, crunching it to splinters and shaking them out of its mouth. ‘Maybe it’ll get fed up of being pelted with cones and go away.’

‘Unlikely,’ Dakkar replied. He heaved a sigh then looked up at Mary again. ‘Do you have powder in that satchel of yours?’

‘Course I do,’ she said.

‘Pass it all down here,’ Dakkar replied. ‘I’ve got an idea. Keep throwing things at it.’

Mary eyed him suspiciously but climbed down a few branches and swung the satchel by the strap towards him. Dakkar grabbed it, hugging it to him in case it spilled its contents to the ground.

The creature clashed its razor teeth at them as Mary continued to drop pine cones on to its head.

Rummaging through the satchel, Dakkar found a case full of black powder for the blunderbuss, some lead shot, flints and some wadding. The powder case was flat and triangular with a spout at one end for pouring the contents into a gun barrel.

‘Perfect,’ he muttered, pushing the lead bullets into the powder case and shaking them so they mingled with the contents. He ripped the wadding into strips and poked them into the spout of the powder case.

‘What’re you doin’?’ Mary called down, craning her neck.

‘You’ll see,’ Dakkar replied, wedging the case full of powder between his knees so that the ragged strands of cotton poked up towards him. He took the flints and began scraping them together. Sweat slicked his palms and fingers, making Dakkar slip. He cursed as he scraped his skin. Blood trickled down on to the case as he struggled to get a spark.

‘Why don’t you use the flintlock on the gun?’ Mary said, leaning forward and holding the blunderbuss out to him.

Dakkar pursed his lips but reached up, nearly dropping everything. He slung the satchel over his shoulder. Their movements made the giant lizard lash its tail and glower up at them.

Dakkar settled back on to his branch and pulled the lock back on the blunderbuss.

‘Flintlocks work by striking stone against metal,’ he said to Mary. ‘The spark ignites the powder in the pan at the side of the gun which in turn causes an explosion in the barrel. That fires the bullet out. If I can just get the spark to light the wadding
.
.
.’ He held the side of the unloaded gun against the wadding and pulled the trigger. The gun clicked. He did it again and again, sweat dripping from his brow.

‘I know how a flintlock works. Do you want me to try?’ snorted Mary.

‘Shut up,’ Dakkar hissed, and pulled the trigger again. This time a small flicker quivered in the ragged cotton threads. He gave a grin and blew. Soon the heat of the burning cotton singed his cheek. ‘Hey!’ he shouted, half standing on his branch and waving the powder case. The lizard swung its head up and Dakkar thought it grinned at him.

Then the world turned upside down. Dakkar’s foot slid on the bough beneath him. Mary screamed as he pitched down into open space. The lizard hissed and leapt up to meet him, its mouth a mantrap ready to spring. Once more the rancid stench of rotten meat overpowered Dakkar as the yellowed incisors grew ever larger. He hurled the flaming powder case as hard as he could into the gaping maw of the beast and then closed his eyes, expecting to follow it inside.

Pain stabbed across his chest and under his right shoulder as Dakkar’s fall was abruptly halted. He opened his eyes again.

The lizard stood beneath him, bobbing its head repeatedly as it choked on the powder case. Dakkar dangled from an overhanging branch by the strap of the satchel. He gripped it with both hands and swung his feet up, desperate to get back into the tree.

With a triumphant gulp, the lizard swallowed the powder case down and threw its head up towards Dakkar.

Dakkar scrabbled and kicked, managing to hook one knee over the limb from which he dangled. Now he hung upside down, his head perilously close to the scaly jaws of the creature.

A dull rumble brought the lizard to a dead stop. Dakkar fancied that its eyes widened. Then the tree shook and the clearing beneath it filled with fire and noise as the powder in the creature’s stomach exploded. The blast swung Dakkar upward, coating him in a shower of guts and blood. Something wet and slimy slapped into his cheek. An eyeball bounced off one of the branches. Half a jawbone whirled mere inches past Dakkar’s ear, like some gory boomerang.

The echo of the blast grew fainter. Bits of bone, hide and flesh thumped to the ground, followed by a shower of pine needles. A smell of charred meat hung in the air. Dakkar stared at the scattered remains that littered the clearing below. Somehow the blast had ripped through the upper part of the lizard, and the creature’s lower abdomen and legs still stood, blackened and smoking. It would have looked vaguely comical if it hadn’t been so disgusting. Mary peered down at Dakkar. Smoke from the explosion blackened her face and her eyes were wide.

‘That’ll teach ’im not to bolt ’is food,’ she muttered, grinning.

Dakkar, still dangling upside down, broke into a giggle and couldn’t help laughing along with Mary. Then the satchel strap snapped.

Dakkar tumbled, weightless, through the air. He scrabbled at the few low branches and twigs that whipped past him but gravity wrenched them from his feeble grasp. Then the hard ground punched the air from his lungs. He lay, gasping and dazed, staring up at the branches.

Mary’s face appeared high up above him.

‘Are you all right?’ she called down.

Dakkar opened his mouth but no words came out.

A few minutes later, Mary appeared beside him.

‘I think
.
.
. we should try
.
.
. and find another cage,’ Dakkar said in a hoarse voice.

But Mary didn’t reply; she only stared into the undergrowth. He pulled himself up into a sitting position, his bruised back stiff and aching.

The leaves and branches shook as something approached them – several somethings, judging by the movement all around them.

‘Not more of the beasts?’ Dakkar groaned, climbing to his feet and preparing to drag himself back up the tree again.

‘Worse, I think,’ Mary whispered, and pointed.

The green, glossy leaves of the jungle were swept aside by a dark, muscular arm. A human arm. Enormous and covered in fine, black hair. The rest of the giant pushed his way through the foliage and stood glaring at Dakkar and Mary. As tall as the lizard they had just slain, his thick black hair tumbled on to his shoulders and down to his waist. His dark eyes glittered under heavy brows. Animal skins covered his body, some scaly and reptilian, others the fur of some kind of mammal.