The Boy Who Lived with Dragons

by Andy Shepherd

  ‘Well, we can’t let it happen,’ Kai said. ‘We need to get that dragon back before Liam does anything stupid.’

  ‘Yeah, but how? I mean, Liam’s not going to let us near it. And if he thinks we’re after him, he could just tell everyone about us and our dragons.’

  For a while we all sank into a pit of gloom. It sucked us down into its stinky murky depths; even Ted stopped reaching for food and his hand fell limply to his lap.

  Eventually Kai stood up. He put his hands on his hips, striking his best Superman pose. ‘Look, come on everyone,’ he said. ‘We need a plan.’

  Kat jumped up next to him. ‘Kai’s right – we’re always better with a plan. It worked for catching the dragons. We just need a new one.’

  ‘Sounds good to me,’ Ted said, his hand already reaching back into the sweet bag.

  I looked up at their faces. And then over to Flicker, who was staring out of the window. Maybe they were right. After all, we were the superhero squad. We could do anything.

  Operation Liam Watch got under way the next day. Kat had set up a rota to keep tabs on him. Lolli and I were spending the weekend with Nana and Grandad so Mum and Dad could have a night away. It meant while I was off-duty I could go and help Grandad and check on the dragon-fruit tree.

  The trouble was, things were still a bit awkward between me and Grandad. I got the feeling he knew something was going on with me that I wasn’t telling him. Every so often over the last few weeks I’d found him watching me, a thoughtful look on his face. Thoughtful and a little hurt, if I’m honest. It wasn’t going to be helped this time, with my head full of Liam and what he might be planning.

  I found Grandad outside his shed talking to a jam jar. He gave me a nod and then tipped the jar to show me. It was full of ladybirds.

  ‘Just talking to the troops,’ he said. ‘Right, you lot, look lively. Dotty, Scarlet, Midge, Mrs Polka, I’m relying on you.’

  He winked at me and released the latest battalion of bugs into the garden.

  ‘I’m hoping this lot’ll sort out my beanstalks,’ he said. ‘I might have a handful of giant pods, but the plants themselves are looking none too happy. In fact, you’d best look lively too, Chipstick – that dragon-fruit tree of yours is looking a bit sorry for itself as well.’

  Horrified, I raced over to the tree. Grandad was right. The droop had got even worse. Some of the tendrils had shrivelled up, and although there were one or two fruits, it didn’t look a great crop.

  ‘What’s happened to it?’ I asked, my voice little more than a squeak.

  ‘Might just be needing extra water, but these exotic types can be a bit temperamental,’ Grandad said.

  A horrible feeling squirmed in my belly like a maggot wriggling through one of Grandad’s pears. I’d tried to pay more attention to the tree after seeing how droopy it had been. But it was still struggling. What if somehow I’d done this? The tree had been fine until we’d cleared the garden – and until we had all started hatching our dragons. I’d always been so sure that Flicker’s fruit had dropped into my hand that first day. And that the same had happened with the others. But what if I was wrong? What if we’d taken the fruit before they were truly ready and we had damaged the tree in the process?

  The squeak of a wheelbarrow sounded from across the fence and I looked up to see Grim heading towards his shed. His barrow was full of boxes half covered by a tarpaulin. When he saw me he scowled, let go with one hand and pulled the tarpaulin all the way across, hiding the contents. I watched him wrestle the load across the uneven ground. When he finally reached the shed he fumbled with the double padlock on the door.

  I couldn’t help wondering what was in those boxes. And more to the point, why he was being so secretive about whatever was in his shed. Maybe he was a bank robber and kept all his money in there, or a spy sending out secret messages in the dead of night.

  I sidled along the fence, pretending to pick caterpillars off leaves but all the while keeping my attention fixed on Grim.

  ‘Tomas,’ Grandad called. He shook his head and frowned. ‘You’ll lose your nose in that there bush in a minute.’

  I stepped away, trying to act like I hadn’t been spying.

  ‘You haven’t been over there messing about again, have you?’ Grandad asked, giving me a hard stare.

  ‘No way! What’s Grim been saying now?’ I said, launching into full-on defence mode.

  ‘Now hold your horses. No one’s been saying nought. And who’s “Grim” when he’s at home?’

  I looked sheepish and nodded over the fence.

  Grandad sighed. I could tell he was going to do that thing where he stuck up for people, even people who totally didn’t deserve it in my opinion.

  ‘Just leave him alone, OK? He’s had a hard time lately, poor Jim, so I’ve heard. He lost his wife a while back and his only son is off in Australia.’

  ‘But that’s no reason to be having a go at us all the time, is it?’ I snapped, even though I could feel another maggot joining in the squirming in my tummy as I said it. I couldn’t help feeling bad about his wife. But then again I couldn’t imagine Grim with a cosy home and a family. He was way too prickly for all that.

  Grandad looked at me. His eyebrows wiggled higher up his forehead like two little fluffy grey caterpillars. I was still poised as if I was ready for battle right then and there.

  ‘Just leave him alone. OK, Tomas?’

  I mumbled something about it not being us who’d started it. And the caterpillars marched back downwards as Grandad gave me a warning stare.

  As he turned to go into the shed I saw Flicker dart past one of the tendrils on the dragon-fruit tree and into the heart of it. He reappeared a minute later, but before I could peer in to look closer, Grandad called out again.

  ‘Come on, Chipstick, let’s take another look in that old book we found, see if we missed something about your tree.’

  Not wanting to draw attention to Flicker, who was now rapidly changing colour, I hurried over to Grandad.

  ‘Fancy crawling into a dirty corner?’ he said with a little grin.

  ‘What?’ I said.

  ‘I knocked the book off the counter earlier and it’s gone behind some boxes.’

  I followed him into the shed.

  Grandad pointed under the counter that ran along one wall. ‘Just at the back there,’ he said.

  I bent down and shuffled forward on my hands and knees, looking for the book. It was an old encyclopedia of plants that had been left behind by the woman who’d lived in the house before Nana and Grandad. I’d already been disappointed once by what I’d read in it. You see, it talked about this legend where dragons were supposed to breathe out the dragon fruit. But it didn’t say anything about dragons actually hatching out of the fruit. Still, maybe Grandad was right about it helping us work out what was wrong with the tree. It was definitely worth a look, even if it did mean scrabbling about on the floor.

  ‘What is all this stuff under here?’ I asked, dragging out box after box and trying not to think about the size of the spiders that had no doubt taken up residence in this neglected corner of the shed. They’d probably wear battle armour and ride mice.

  ‘Dunno, most of it belonged to the lady who lived here before us. Elvi, I think her name was. The trouble is,’ Grandad went on, ‘when someone dies and they don’t have family about to sort stuff, things get shoved in corners and forgotten. Nobody wants to spend time going through it all. We’ve stored what we can – photos and stuff. But I have to admit I haven’t got round to looking through all this.’

  I reached in further and felt my way along. The tips of my fingers touched something. I felt the leathery spine and the embossed lettering and remembered how it had reminded me of some kind of ancient spell book.

  I closed my eyes, ignored the mental images of weightlifting spiders and stretched out till I could get my hands round it enough to pull it free.

  As I lifted it, something that had obviously been tucked between
the pages fell out. I picked it up and crawled out. Grandad took the book from me and laid it on the counter. He flicked through the pages till he found the one about the dragon-fruit tree. His finger traced the words, hovering over certain passages.

  ‘All it says here is be careful not to overwater it, so maybe it likes things dry, unlike the rest of the garden. I guess that makes a certain amount of sense, given it says it comes from Mexico originally. Perhaps we’ve been a bit too generous with the water sloshing?’

  But I was only half listening. I was too intent on the piece of paper in my hand. I’d known the instant I saw it that this was something important. My fingers seemed to buzz just from touching it. Along the edge of the paper was curled a drawing of a dragon’s tail. When I started to unfold it I could see the whole shape of the creature, stretching out across the page. And within its wings was a map.

  ‘What you got there then, Chipstick?’

  I quickly pocketed the map. And leaned over the counter, pretending to peer at the writing in the book.

  ‘Oh, it’s just something Ted gave me,’ I blustered. ‘Something he did for art.’

  I could feel the heat rising up my face. My ears were positively sizzling. Grandad cleared his throat and I waited for his words, knowing full well he had seen enough to know it wasn’t a kid’s drawing. But they never came. He gave a sigh instead and reached over to fish some string out of a pot. As my eyes fell on it I gave a little involuntary squeak.

  ‘Is that yours, Grandad?’

  Grandad, who was now winding the dishevelled string into a tight ball, looked back at the pot. ‘S’pose it is now – it’s another leftover, like the book. Thought I’d keep my bits ’n’ bobs in it. Pretty, huh?’

  I nodded and when Grandad headed back outside I pulled the pot closer. It was purple with flecks of gold, very pretty. But it was the tiny head peeking over the rim that I couldn’t stop looking at. Stretching up the inside of it was a dragon, its tail swirling round and round the sides down to the bottom.

  This had belonged to Elvi. Along with the book, and the map. Surely it all pointed to her having known about the dragon-fruit tree in her garden? I thought again of its drooping leaves and shrivelled tendrils. If she’d known about it, maybe she’d left something that would tell us how to look after it properly.

  The real question though – exploding and whizzing round my head like popping candy – was: had she, like Grandad, seen it as some exotic plant, or did she know more? Could she – like us – have known about the dragons?

  One thing was for sure: I had to find out.

  It was easy enough to persuade Grandad to let me cart the boxes up to the house.

  ‘I could sort some of this stuff out for you, you know,’ I said. ‘Clear things up a bit in here. Make some space. See if there’s anything worth holding on to.’

  Nana was less thrilled to see it all coming in. She looked up from the dining table where she and Lolli were making pastry shapes. Lolli had so much flour in her hair it was white. She pointed to the shape she was squidging with her chubby, and really quite grubby, fingers.

  ‘Charlotte’s making a dinosaur, I think,’ Nana said. ‘It’s got great big spines and everything.’

  They weren’t spines of course, they were wings. I could see that straight away. Lolli frowned and poked a lump of pastry.

  I bent down and whispered in her ear. ‘That dragon needs some fire.’

  She grinned and wiped a blob of jam across the table to look like it was breathing flames.

  Upstairs, of course, the first thing I wanted to do was to look at the map. I put down the last of Elvi’s boxes, pulled out the map and unfolded it while Flicker perched on my arm looking just as curious. A long winding river snaked its way up the paper with loads of little tributaries branching off. They stretched right out to the edges of the dragon’s wings that framed the map. As I traced the widest part of the river it was clear from the symbols that my finger was moving through thick rainforest. The only other features I could see were a few clear patches where the forest stopped. It was hard to imagine how anyone could usefully navigate by it. I turned the map over, wondering if there was more detail on the other side. It was blank. Except, no, it wasn’t exactly blank. There were the very faintest marks across the top of the sheet. I held it up to the light. But it was impossible to make out whether they were words or just the ink from the map soaking through.

  I folded the paper and started looking through one of the boxes. It was full of masks and figures and animals made of stone and wood. I picked out odd-shaped bottles and little keepsakes like pan pipes and bangles. There were dog-eared travel books too, and guides to far-off places: Indonesia, China, Bhutan, Mexico, Namibia and Mongolia and others. I flicked through a couple and found Elvi’s name written inside. Elvi Jónsdóttir. Now that was a cool name!

  Elvi must have spent a long time travelling and collecting stuff along the way. But there was nothing more about dragons or the dragon-fruit tree that I could see in that box.

  Lolli skipped into the room we shared when we stayed over and gave a little squeal when she saw the boxes, quickly followed by a frown. As if it was Christmas and I was opening presents without her.

  ‘You can help if you like,’ I said. ‘I’m hunting for dragons.’

  Excited, she grinned and started pulling things out of another of the boxes, scattering them across her bed under the window. I looked at the mess she was making and wondered if maybe it hadn’t been such a great idea to get her to help. Especially with all the dirt and dust she was unloading at the same time.

  But after another few minutes she lifted something out and made a little ‘oohing’ noise. I glanced over and saw her holding a tin. It looked like a barrel-shaped biscuit tin, except you wouldn’t want to keep biscuits in it because it must have been about a hundred years old and was pretty rusty.

  ‘Dagondagon,’ she babbled.

  And then I noticed the handle on the top was the arching back of a dragon. Lolli held the tin up to her ear and shook it gently. It made a quiet shushing noise, as if there was sand or something in it.

  She held it out to me, jiggling up and down. Flicker was changing colour quickly, lighting up the air above us. He seemed just as excited as Lolli. I grinned and started to lever off the lid with my fingertips. When it finally came loose we both peered in.

  Poor Lolli’s face crumpled. And then she sneezed as a smoky smell filled our noses. Inside was a heap of grey dirt. No, not dirt – ash. I think Lolli had actually believed she was going to find a dragon tucked up in there. Big fat tears started to roll down her face. Flicker flew down, for a moment his scales no longer bright. He wrapped his tail around her neck and sent a warm breath across her face that made the tears dry up. She sniffed noisily.

  I found one of Grandad’s caramel toffees in my pocket. It was partly unwrapped and covered in fluff but it seemed to cheer her up. ‘Sorry, Lollibob,’ I whispered, ‘but this is still really important.’

  And it was. Because as well as the ash in the tin there were marks on the inside. It looked like someone had been trying to work something out. First they’d written ‘Per day’. Then ‘1 tsp’, which had been crossed through, with ‘2 tsp’ written underneath and also crossed out. The numbers kept on rising until they got to ‘5 tsp’.

  And the best thing was, I knew what it must mean.

  We already knew that dragons loved ash. So what if dragon-fruit trees loved it too?

  It seemed pretty clear that Elvi had been looking after the tree, protecting it. And thanks to her, now we had some vital information to help us do the same. Maybe all I needed to do was to sprinkle ash on the tree and it would grow healthy again?

  I was used to vivid dreams with Flicker curled up beside me. Imagining flying over strange lands of fire and ice, volcanoes erupting all around. They were happy dreams. But that night my dreams were different. I don’t know if it was finding the secret map or seeing all those travel books that did it.

>   I was high up, looking down on a forest that stretched on and on, as far as I could see. And there was a river twisting its way beneath me – and clearings. Just like on the map. Except in my dream there were strange towers in the clearings. Buildings. Like a city.

  And then I felt this intense heat. Flames were shooting out around me. I turned my head and saw wings. My wings. I was a dragon. And next to me was another dragon, soaring alongside, its eyes ablaze. We passed over the city, our great wings beating the air. Faces looked up at us. Hands were raised, pointing. Then suddenly my stomach lurched and we dived down, down, down. Towards the canopy of trees.

  As we got closer we opened our mouths and fire burst from us, scorching the trees below. The land was burned. And we rose up, leaving nothing but ash behind us.

  I woke up and flung the covers off, still feeling the heat of the fire on my skin. My heart was racing, whether through excitement or terror I couldn’t tell.

  Flicker wasn’t curled up against me any more but perched on the windowsill. He was glowing fiercely, sweeping his little pointed tail back and forth.

  Lolli was kneeling up on the bed and staring out of the window, her hands pressed against the glass.

  ‘What is it, Lollibob?’ I whispered.

  She turned, rubbing her eyes and looking grumpy. Then pointed.

  I knelt up beside her and peered out across the garden. At first I couldn’t see anything. There was just the inky night sky and the silhouettes of the crooked fruit trees.

  But then right down the end, almost at the hedge, I saw a beam of light. It moved from side to side and then stopped. It was far too dark to see where it came from exactly, but I could guess. It must be Grim’s shed. But what on earth was he doing out there in the middle of the night? What was so urgent it couldn’t wait until morning or so secret it needed to be done under cover of darkness?

  The next day I couldn’t wait to get out to the dragon-fruit tree. While Grandad was still having breakfast I took the tin of ash down to the garden. Easing the lid off, I started to scoop out five teaspoonfuls just like the instructions said. I sprinkled it over the soil, around the trunk and then raked it in for good measure. The tree looked even worse than the day before; all the cactus leaves had gone from glossy green to brown. And the worst thing was that the couple of fruits I’d seen growing had started to shrivel. The poor tree looked like I had felt when I was poorly – all saggy and sorry for itself.