Sky High!

by Gareth P. Jones

  “So they come underground?” asked Dirk.

  “Not just underground. When they materialize they need to build up their strength so they go to the banks of the Outer Core where they bathe in the liquid fire. It’s painful but effective. A Sky Dragon at full strength is a powerful dragon indeed.”

  “How do you know all this?” asked Dirk.

  Fairfax’s mouth curled into a smile. “I have been around a long time. I’ve seen a lot of things. I remember a time when Sky Dragons roamed free, rather than hiding among the clouds. I’ve never heard of one kidnapping a Sea Dragon, though.”

  Dirk considered whether he had been rash in freeing Fairfax Nordstrum. There was something distinctly sinister about the Cave Dweller.

  “Where will you go now, Nordstrum?” he asked.

  “I’ll probably just go and find some quiet corner of the world to curl up in. I’ve been living on dirt for the last six hundred years. My needs aren’t great. I just want somewhere quiet with fresh vegetation. The Andes, perhaps, or a little island somewhere.”

  “Good luck with that,” said Dirk.

  Then, speaking in the ancient language of Dragonspeak, Dirk asked the rock beneath his feet to take Alba and him down to the banks of the Outer Core. The rock, being rock, obliged unquestioningly and lowered the two dragons.

  “And good luck with your detecting,” said Fairfax as they vanished.

  Archie was both impressed and unnerved by how easily Holly was able to follow her stepmum using an app on her phone.

  “My dad gave me this old phone of his, then downloaded all this tracking software to keep tabs on me,” she explained. “But he didn’t really understand it so he asked me to help set it up. I’ve made it so I can trace their phones instead.”

  The dot representing Mrs Bigsby’s phone stopped in a part of London called Kennington. Holly pressed the button marked ‘Directions’ and found the quickest route. As they stood waiting at the bus stop, Archie asked, “So you do this sort of thing a lot, do you? Follow family members?”

  “Following people is pretty standard detective work,” replied Holly casually.

  “And you’re a detective?”

  “Sort of. My uncle is. I help him out sometimes.”

  “Your uncle is a detective?”

  “Yes. His name is Dirk Dilly.”

  “That sounds made up.” Archie chuckled.

  “It isn’t,” Holly spoke firmly, then thought about it for a moment. “At least I don’t think he made it up.”

  “You don’t think your uncle made up his own name?”

  “He’s quite secretive.” Holly wondered if she had said too much.

  “What’s his agency called?”

  “It’s not important. Look, the bus is coming now.”

  Archie continued to ask about Dirk for the whole bus journey, but Holly refused to tell him. After twenty minutes or so, they got off the bus and walked the rest of the way, through a park to a busy road lined with coffee shops, hairdressers and estate agents. In between these, set back from the road, behind a set of tall silver gates was a flat-roofed two-storey building, that would have been unremarkable in appearance were it not for the group of protesters outside, waving placards with slogans that read:

  A couple of sturdy-looking policemen stood between the crowd and the gates.

  “This must be the lab I read about,” said Holly.

  One of the protestors had a loudhailer and was making a speech.

  “Brant Buchanan sits up there in his ivory tower. Well, I’ve got news for you, Mr Buchanan. Ivory is illegal in this country and when we knock down your tower you’ll come tumbling down to earth. And that’s both a metaphor and true.”

  “There must be a side door,” said Holly.

  “How do you know that?” Archie asked.

  “Because my stepmother is in there and there is no way she would be caught going through an angry mob like this.”

  She showed Archie the little dot on the phone indicating Mrs Bigsby’s location inside the building.

  “There must be another way in. Follow me.”

  They circled the building until they found a narrow alleyway with a locked door on the same side as the building. Archie moved to take a closer look but Holly stopped him.

  “There’s a camera,” she said, pointing. “They check who you are before opening it, but I’d bet that if some scruffy-looking kid was to cause a fuss outside, a security guard would come down and shoo him away.”

  “You want me to help you break into a building in order to follow your stepmum because you don’t want her working for a billionaire who experiments on animals?” said Archie.

  “Yes,” said Holly, deciding not to mention the AOG project or the secret weapon that Brant was trying to get his hands on.

  “Fine,” said Archie. “So what do you want me to do?”

  “What I just said. Cause a distraction.”

  “Oh yes. Brilliant.”

  Archie was loving every minute of his day with Holly. When he first decided to follow her that morning, he had thought it might prove a fun diversion, but it was exceeding all his expectations. Detectives, invisible girls, sinister billionaires and cunning plans. He had never experienced anything like Holly’s world before but he liked it and suspected there were more surprises to come.

  He watched as the colour drained from the tips of Holly’s fingers, her face and then the rest of her body. Even her clothes and shoes turned the colour of the wall behind her, until all that was left were her brown eyes staring back at him.

  “So cool,” he muttered under his breath.

  “Get on with it.” Holly’s mouth briefly appeared as she spoke.

  Archie approached the door, pressed the buttons on the buzzer and pulled silly faces at the screen. Eventually the door opened and a burly, uniformed security guard with a thick black moustache appeared.

  “Go away,” he said.

  “Can’t I come in?” asked Archie.

  “Noh a chance,” replied the security guard in a thick Scottish accent.

  “But I live here,” he protested.

  “Right, and I’m the Duchess of Kent.”

  “Your majesty,” said Archie, bowing.

  The security guard stepped forwards threateningly. Archie saw Holly reappear and slip behind the man, through the door.

  “I’ll set the dogs on you if you don’t clear off,” said the large man.

  “Sorry for wasting your time,” said Archie, turning around and walking away with a smile on his face.

  “I did not trust that Cave-Dweller. He had darkness in his eyes. He had been locked away a long time. Imagine having not anyone to talk to for all that time … just you and your own thinkings. Can you imagine it? No one but you.”

  Dirk imagined it. It sounded nice. There was something about travelling by rock that made Alba talk incessantly.

  “But there is one thing I am not understanding,” she continued. “If a Sky Dragon is so weak when it materializes, how could one be kidnapping my sister? Delfina is a strong dragon.”

  “We don’t know much about them,” replied Dirk. “I’ve never seen one. Not in the flesh, at least. What bothers me is why a Sky Dragon would want to kidnap a Sea Dragon at all.”

  “I have heard that Sky Dragons think they are above us.”

  “Funny that,” said Dirk.

  Alba didn’t get the joke. “I heard they can make firewalls, although I do not know what a firewall is. A wall of fire, I suppose…”

  While Alba wittered on, Dirk’s mind wandered. He found himself thinking about Holly. He had become so wrapped up in this case that he had forgotten about her. He hoped she wasn’t getting herself into too much trouble. He would make it up to her when he got back and take her for a trip over London.

  As they neared their destination the pocket of shifting rock that surrounded them grew brighter and hotter, making Alba jumpy.

  “This does not seem right to me. The banks of the Outer Core
are only for pregnant dragons,” she said.

  “And convicted criminals,” said Dirk grimly, “but they don’t stop at the banks.”

  Only a handful of dragons had ever been banished to the earth’s Inner Core by the Dragon Council but of those who had, none had returned.

  “What do you think it is like down there?” asked Alba.

  Dirk thought about it. The blinding light and incessant heat would be unbearable. “I can’t imagine,” said Dirk. “And I don’t plan on finding out.”

  “Do you think it is possible to be surviving down there?” asked Alba.

  “It’s probably better if you can’t,” replied Dirk.

  Even this far down, the air was stifling and Dirk had to squint at Alba in the dazzling earthlight.

  “Brace yourself. I think we’re there,” he said, feeling the rock pull away from under his feet.

  They tumbled on to a stony shoreline. Dirk felt disorientated. It was an odd sensation. He felt unsure which way up he was. An acute burning feeling in his belly made him cry “Yee-ouch!” and he jumped to his feet.

  The scorching pebbles were painful on the tough skin of his feet but they were agony on his soft green underbelly.

  At the edge of the shoreline was an ocean of liquid fire, bubbling, popping and spitting. It seemed to go on forever, steam rising up, obscuring the horizon.

  “Welcome to the banks of the Outer Core, dudes.”

  The greeting came from a Firedrake, sitting on the edge of the shore. Firedrakes were relatives of the Drab-nosed Drakes and had the same large bellies and tough skin, but their noses were upturned and their backs were covered in tiny holes. This one wore what looked like a pair of crudely carved sunglasses and held a long black ladle. By his side were rows of black metal flasks. He dipped the ladle into the sizzling liquid, scooped some up and poured it into a flask. He then lifted it to his mouth, gulped it down greedily, licked his lips and burped, sending blasts of steam shooting from his mouth, nostrils and all the holes on his back.

  “Wow, that tickles,” said the Firedrake, leaning back and laughing.

  “I think this one is peculiar inside the mind,” said Alba, tapping the side of her head.

  “Let’s say hello,” replied Dirk, approaching.

  The Firedrake turned to look at them. “Hey, dragon dudes, what’s happening?”

  “The name’s Dirk Dilly,” he replied. “Why are you drinking that stuff, Firedrake?”

  “It’s my job, dude… But I tell you what, after a while you develop a taste for it… The name’s Shute.” The Firedrake extended a paw.

  Dirk shook it. “Shute?”

  “Shute Hobcraft, Firedrake, at your service,” he said, taking another sip of liquid fire, shooting out steam and bursting into hysterics.

  “How can you drink something so hot?” said Alba.

  “You wanna try some? I’ve got some vintage stuff here,” he said, holding up a flask. “It really clears out your passages.”

  “We’re looking for a dragon,” said Dirk, already growing tired of the idiotic creature.

  “There’s one next to you,” giggled Shute, pointing at Alba.

  “We’re looking for a Sky Dragon.”

  “A Sky Dragon. Whoa, dude. I haven’t seen one of those for years.”

  “Come on, Alba.” Dirk was getting annoyed. “Let’s check further along the bank.”

  “There’s no point,” said Shute. “I can tell you, no Sky Dragon has been down this far in a long time.”

  Dirk turned to face him. “How can you be so sure?”

  “I’ll tell you if you have a swig,” he replied, holding out the flask, sniggering.

  “I’m losing my patience,” said Dirk.

  “Come on, I know you’re going to like it,” insisted Shute.

  “All right, just one,” said Dirk, taking the flask and looking warily at the bubbling liquid. He lifted it to his lips and took the tiniest of sips. The pain was immense. Dirk enjoyed a vegetable vindaloo as much as the next dragon, but this was seriously scorching. Dragons needed fairly hardy insides to breathe fire but they didn’t have the same kind of internal insulation as Firedrakes.

  “Yeaahhhhhouch!” Dirk screamed out in agony.

  Shute found this hilarious and fell about laughing. “It’s good, isn’t it?”

  “How can you be sure that no Sky Dragon has been this far down?” said Dirk, his tongue still burning.

  “Because when a dragon plunges into the liquid fire of the Outer Core, the temperature drops. For Sky Dragons doubly so,” said Shute. “My job is to test it. If it’s one degree cooler I alert the authorities.”

  “Why?” asked Dirk.

  “Because it probably means that a dragon has tried to escape the Inner Core. The bigger the dragon, the bigger the temperature drop. You should have tried it when Minertia went down. It was, like, cool, dude. She was one big dragon. The same would happen if a Sky Dragon took a dip.”

  “Minertia was convicted thirty years ago,” said Dirk.

  “Old Shute’s been here for coming up on two hundred years now. Still, I don’t mind. As I say I’ve got to like the stuff,” said Shute, taking another ladleful, pouring it into a flask and taking a swig. After reappearing from the cloud of steam in a fit of giggles, he said, “All I know is that no Sky Dragon has been down here for a long time.”

  “Thanks for your help,” said Dirk.

  “No problem,” said Shute. “Here, take one if you like.” He held up a flask with a top on.

  “No, thanks,” said Dirk, his mouth still burning.

  Alba grabbed the flask and said, “I will take it as a souvenir. Thank you.”

  “Keep up the good work,” said Dirk, turning away.

  “Hey, thanks, dragon,” said Shute. “It’s been a blast talking to you. Good luck finding that Sky Dragon.”

  “I told you he was peculiar in the brain,” said Alba as they left.

  “None of this makes sense,” said Dirk. He was beginning to feel frustrated.

  “If only we knew more about the Sky Dragons,” said Alba.

  Dirk looked at Alba. “Great rats of Grimsby!” he exclaimed. “That’s it.”

  “What is what?” she replied.

  Dirk couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it earlier. Dragonlore. Ivor Klingerflim had written an entire chapter on Sky Dragons. He felt behind his wing but it wasn’t there. He must have left it in his office, which meant one thing.

  He was going back to London.

  Holly slipped behind the security man, through the doorway and pushed herself against the inside wall, turning white and vanishing from view. The security guard pulled the door shut again and walked down the corridor.

  Once he was gone, Holly reappeared and made her way cautiously in the opposite direction. For a moment she doubted the wisdom of her actions. Why was she breaking into a high security lab? The answer came to her in the form of a purr. Something brushed against her leg. Holly looked down to see a tabby cat.

  “Hello,” she said.

  The cat ignored her and continued walking down the corridor.

  Holly followed it, passing a window that looked into a room full of cages with mice, cats and other animals inside. A door on the far side of the room opened and a young woman in a lab coat entered. She carried a plastic container with air holes in the top. Holly blended her head with the window, turning as transparent as the glass. The female lab-worker placed the container on the counter and opened one of the cages. A white mouse walked out of the cage into the container. The woman shut the cage door, picked up the container and left the room.

  Holly continued down the corridor, ever prepared to stop, freeze and blend if necessary.

  The cat passed a stairwell on the left, then stepped through a cat flap in a door on the right. Holly stopped outside the door and looked through a pane of glass into a small room. The cat sat in a basket in the corner. By its side were two bowls, one of milk, another of cat food. The cat must have been very
well fed because it didn’t seem at all interested in either bowl. Willow would have greedily emptied both bowls no matter how much she had already eaten.

  Holly tried the door handle, half expecting it to be locked but, to her surprise, the door opened. She entered the room, bent down and stroked the tabby. The cat made no response. It didn’t purr or tilt its head so she could scratch it behind the ear, like Willow did. Nor did it flinch or move away. In fact it showed no sign of noticing, let alone enjoying the attention.

  Holly examined the metallic collar around the cat’s neck. She twisted it round and saw on the underside the letters G and S in a circle: the Global Sands logo.

  Behind her she heard an electronic whirring, a noise she recognized immediately. The last time she had heard that sound she had been planning an escape from William Scrivener School. She spun around to find a security camera pointing at her. She ran to the door and desperately tried the handle. It was locked. She tried to find a blind spot, where she could vanish, but the camera followed her every move. She couldn’t risk being seen blending. There was nowhere to hide. All she could do was sit and wait to be discovered.

  “This is your fault,” she said to the cat.

  The animal remained perfectly still except for the gentle movement of its breathing.

  When the door opened she looked up at the security guard. She had only seen him from behind before, but now she instantly recognized the black bushy moustache as belonging to Hamish Fraser, the same guard she had encountered while trying to escape from William Scrivener’s.

  “It is you. I wasn’t sure from the picture on the monitor,” he said in his familiar Scottish accent. “What a small world it is. What brings you here, I wonder?”

  Holly thought fast. “I came to find a toilet. I must have gone through the wrong door.”

  “Nice try,” said Hamish, a grin spreading beneath his moustache. “You accidentally stumbled into a maximum-security building looking for the lavvy? You’ll have to do better than that, lassie.”