The Sky Dragon glanced at the unconscious human crooks before turning her cloud-white eyes back to Vainclaw.
“You lied to me,” she said.
“The Skies must join the Kinghorns,” growled Vainclaw.
“We will not join you. The herd will not materialize,” said Nebula.
Vainclaw Grandin looked up to see that the Sky Dragons were now retreating. His eyes narrowed and the smoke from his nostrils darkened. “If you won’t join us, step aside so we can rid ourselves of this incompetent captain and that interfering detective.”
“You will harm no one.” Nebula spread her wings to block his way.
“I’ve always liked Sky Dragons. Never met one before, mind, but I definitely like you,” babbled Karnataka nervously, edging behind Nebula’s wing. “Good to know you’re on our side.”
“The Skies have no sides,” she said. “We stand with none but our own.”
“But he wants to start a war!” protested Karnataka.
“And you want to stop it,” she replied patiently. “Yes, we do understand. We just don’t care. We have no interest in such matters. Sky Dragons exist simply and simply exist. Gaze up at us if you like but we are beyond your reach. We are the oldest of all creatures and, as long as there is wind, we shall outlive you all.”
Vainclaw growled, black smoke billowing from his nose. “We will see about that.”
Delfina and the Scavenger brothers moved swiftly into attack formation, heads lowered, claws drawn, jaws open. Vainclaw moved slowly but purposefully, keeping watch on Nebula. Karnataka edged back, stepping on Dirk’s tail, causing him to let out a low groan. Alba looked back and forth between the Kinghorns and the Sky Dragon, unsure what to do.
“It is time for you to pick a side as well, sister,” said Delfina. “Join us or betray your kind.”
Alba looked into her sister’s yellow eyes with renewed anger. “You are no sister of mine,” she spat. She moved next to Nebula, quivering with every step. “I am not scared. I will fight.”
“Stand behind me, Sea Dragon,” said Nebula calmly.
“OK,” said Alba. As she took cover behind Nebula’s enormous wing, she stood on Dirk’s paw. He let out another moan. “Very sorry, Mr Dirk,” she said.
“Let’s see what this Sky Dragon has got then,” jeered Leon.
“Yeah, give us your best shot,” goaded Mali.
Nebula opened her mouth and swung her head around, making an awful rasping noise, but no flames came out.
“She’s got no fire!” cackled Mali.
Holly stirred. “What’s going on?” she asked weakly, opening her eyes for a moment.
“I don’t think she’s got any fire,” said Archie.
“It’s toasting time, Sky Dragon,” said Leon.
“You should have joined us when you had the chance,” said Vainclaw.
“Let’s set the Sky on fire!” added Mali.
“Set this guy on fire?” said Leon.
“The Sky not this guy,” said Delfina.
“We have the flames of four dragons,” said Vainclaw. “Nothing – no matter how powerful – can survive that.”
As one, the Kinghorns sent four powerful jets of fire at Nebula. Archie shielded Holly from the heat. He felt as though his back was being cooked but when he looked up, he saw that the flames had been stopped.
The Kinghorns stood, furious and confused, behind a wall of fire twenty metres high.
“Leon, fly over it!” ordered Vainclaw.
Leon shot into the sky but as he tried to get over the firewall, Nebula waved a paw, sending a ball of fire into his chin. The smell of burning dragon flesh filled the air and Leon tumbled back down, still on the same side of the wall.
“Hey, bro, you’ve burned your nose,” laughed Mali.
“You two, go around it,” demanded Vainclaw, pointing at Mali and Delfina.
They took a side each but, this time, Nebula moved both paws, causing giant flames to shoot out in both directions, scorching their wings and sending them back to where they had started.
“Oi, Mali,” said Leon, “you’ve burned your wing.”
“Shut your mouth.”
“You shut yours!”
“Both of you, be quiet.” Vainclaw paced back and forth, inspecting the strange phenomenon. “It’s burning away. Once it has gone, we will take her apart without fire. We will use our teeth and our claws.”
Nebula opened her jaws and breathed more flame into the firewall. It curled round at the edges, encircling and entrapping the Kinghorns.
“Leave,” she said.
“You don’t need to ask me twice.” Mali flew upwards, only to find that the circle of fire became a dome. He crashed down into his brother.
“Not up,” said Nebula. “Down.”
“She is too powerful,” noted Delfina.
“Sorry, boss,” said Leon. “Come on, bro.”
Leon, Mali and Delfina slipped through the doorway that led to the elevator shaft.
“Cowards!” Vainclaw stood upright and stared furiously at Nebula through the flames. He spread his wings, one of which was torn and frayed at the edge. He opened his mouth but Nebula cut him off before he could make a sound.
“Your Dragonsong is no use here. We Skies can direct the wind. We hear what we want to hear.”
Vainclaw growled, frustrated but finally understanding that he was defeated. “When the war comes…” He spoke in a measured tone. “Then we will show no mercy to your kind. Mark my words, when this human world is aflame with our fire, we will torch the Skies as well.”
With these final words, he turned and fled.
With the Kinghorns gone, Nebula blinked and the firewall burned away to nothing. Archie clapped and whooped, then said, “I have seen some cool things today but a bunch of evil dragons imprisoned inside a dome of fire, that takes the biscuit.”
“You are hard to understand, human,” said Nebula. “But I am grateful for the sustenance. I haven’t tasted sugar since the Middle Ages. It’s better than I remember.”
Archie found another jelly bean in his pocket and held it out for Nebula. She nibbled it off his hand.
“Did we win?” uttered a small, pained voice.
Holly was lying against Dirk, her leg mangled, her jeans drenched in fresh blood, agony in her eyes.
“Gather up the ash,” Nebula commanded Archie and Alba, taking in Holly’s injuries. “Stay away from the edge. Humans may still be looking.”
“I hope they do not see Mr Captain Karnataka then,” said Alba.
Archie and Nebula looked up to see the Shade-Hugger flying fast up into the sky, his dark brown back quickly vanishing into the night.
“Never mind him, bring the ash here and cover the wound,” ordered Nebula. She tore Holly’s jeans to expose her bloody and bruised leg.
Archie carried a handful of fine ash over to Holly and sprinkled it on to her leg. She gritted her teeth in pain.
“Sorry, Holly,” he said.
“Now cover the rest of leg,” ordered Nebula.
Archie brought more until the whole leg was covered with ash.
“Stand back.” Nebula opened her mouth and breathed blue flames, which licked over the ash.
Holly cried out in pain again.
“You’re hurting her!” said Archie, trying to pull Nebula away.
“No, she is being made all the better. Look.” Alba pointed to Holly’s leg. The ash turned golden under the blue flame and the spilled blood was drawn back into her leg.
Nebula closed her mouth and the flames vanished. “The bone is fixed,” she said.
The leg still looked bruised and raw but the wound had been sealed. With Archie’s help, Holly tried to stand. Tentatively, she put some weight on to the leg. She looked up in amazement. “It’s better,” she said. “How did you do that?”
“Dragon or human, skin or bone, we all need the same things to survive: water, earth, air and fire. It takes fire to mend a broken bone,” said Nebula.
Holly turned to Archie. “That’s the second time you’ve saved my life.”
“The dragons did all the hard work.” He grinned. Then, eyes widening, he added, “Dragons, Holly. I can’t believe it. I knew you were worth following. I knew it.”
“Now, let’s see about the one who summoned me.” Nebula bent down to inspect Dirk, who still hadn’t moved since swallowing the liquid fire.
“It wasn’t his fault,” said Holly.
“I know,” said Nebula.
“Will he be all right?”
“He needs water. Sea Dragon, hold his mouth open,” said Nebula, then she raised her head to the sky and took a long intake of breath.
Alba lifted Dirk’s head and prised his jaws open. Holly and Archie watched as a strand of vaporized water fell from a cloud above. Nebula caught it, allowing it to run through her paws and trickle into Dirk’s open mouth as pure, cool, fresh water.
“How is she doing that?” asked Archie.
“I think she’s milking a cloud,” replied Holly.
Dirk coughed and spluttered, then his eyes opened and he sat up.
“Dirk, you’re alright!” Holly threw her arms around him.
“Hey, kiddo,” he replied, smiling.
“I’m sorry, Mr Dirk. I am sorry I deceived you,” said Alba, head bowed. “I just wanted to save Delfina but now I know that it is too late for her.”
“I’ve met a fair few deceitful dragons in my time.” Dirk lifted her head with the curve of his claw. “I’m not counting you as one of them. You did what was necessary to protect your sister. Even if you couldn’t protect her from herself.”
“Thank you,” said Alba. “I don’t know how to repay you.”
“The standard method is to actually pay me,” replied Dirk. “But seeing as we’ve just prevented the war to end all wars, let’s call it quits.”
“And what about you and I?” asked Nebula. “Shall we call it quits?”
“I’m sorry,” said Dirk. “I had no choice.”
“No choice but to start a war?”
“No choice but to save a friend.”
“These are complicated times I have materialized into,” she said. “Dragons are divided. Humans are more powerful than ever. Decisions get harder in times like these. I didn’t get your name and I don’t even know the name of this remarkable citadel.”
“The name is Dirk Dilly, dragon detective. And you’re standing in the middle of the city of London. It’s not the largest human city in the world, nor the oldest. It’s definitely not the happiest, but in the opinion of this old fire-breather, it’s the greatest.”
“I am not so keen,” said Alba.
“It’s not for everyone,” admitted Dirk. “Now, take Nebula down to the core. She will need to recover. These crooks will wake up soon and we shouldn’t be here when they do.” Dirk indicated the net where Arthur and Reg lay unconscious. “Holly, Archie, it’s time to say farewell.”
Archie had never been one for long, drawn-out goodbyes. He didn’t see the point when relatives made a big fuss after they had been to stay, but saying goodbye to Alba and Nebula was different. Two real-life dragons, as majestic and magnificent as he could ever have imagined, were looking at him, not just to say goodbye but to thank him for helping them. He could see the tears running down Holly’s face as she hugged Alba. He cried too.
Dirk had taken Archie home first, then delivered Holly to her room. After a long hug, he had lowered his tail, allowing her to climb through her bedroom window. She landed with a thud.
“Holly?” yelled Mr Bigsby.
There were footsteps on the stairs followed by more shouting.
“Where have you been? We’ve been worried sick! What time do you call this? Why are your jeans torn? What a state! You look like you’ve been to war.”
Holly’s response was too quiet for Dirk to hear but he could detect her tone. It was stubborn, determined and strong. It was Holly.
The next day she had phoned. “They’re having steel bars put on the window,” she said.
“Steel’s no problem,” replied Dirk, snapping his jaws together.
“They’ll get really suspicious if you break the bars. No, I’m stuck here for the whole holiday.” Holly tried not to sound too glum. “It was worth it, though. We stopped Vainclaw and we stole the instructions for that volcano weapon from Buchanan.”
“I’m just relieved he doesn’t know about dragons,” said Dirk. “Fighting Kinghorns is one thing but if a human as rich and powerful as Buchanan knew the truth about us, life would get very complicated.”
Once he had hung up, Dirk left the office and went back to work. After all, he still had a case open. He sat on the roof across the road from the small art gallery. The doubled-chinned security guard was fast asleep in front of the screens, snoring, with his hand inside a doughnut box.
While he waited, Dirk went back to his book.
As no one knows for sure whether Sky Dragons really can create firewalls, no one knows how they work. One theory popular among cryptozoologists, however, is that Sky Dragons can separate air particles and, in the instance of the firewall, isolate the oxygen. As pure oxygen is flammable, it only takes a flame to ignite it and for that section of the air to become a burning wall of fire. This would also explain other powers sometimes attributed to Sky Dragons, such as the ability to draw water particles from clouds and to deflect harmful sounds away, such as Dragonsong.
Dirk looked up from the book to find that the row of security cameras had gone fuzzy. He checked the street below and flew to the large window, which he pushed open before climbing into the gallery. This time, he was prepared and held one paw over his nose to stop the trail of smoke from triggering the alarm.
Looking around the room, he spotted a camera neutralizer in the corner of the gallery. On the floor was the painting of the sad-looking lady. It was moving exactly as before but this time it was heading back towards the spot where it had originally hung. The picture was being returned.
Dirk stooped down and lifted up the moving painting. Underneath were six white mice. They had metallic collars around their necks and tiny mechanical devices on their backs. Four of them were equipped with electronic clips that were allowing them to carry the stolen picture. One had a glasscutter. Dirk picked up another and inspected the grappling hook it was carrying. So that’s how they got the picture down from the wall, he thought. The mouse between his paws didn’t struggle. Dirk would have thought them mechanical were it not for the tiny heartbeat he could feel.
He looked more closely at the device on its back and saw, in very small lettering, a G and an S etched in a circle.
Dirk was so stunned to see the Global Sands logo that he forgot to keep his paw over his nose. A thin line of grey smoke escaped from his right nostril and drifted up through the room, into the vent in a small white box on the ceiling, setting off the fire alarm.
“Sweet rats from Sweden! Not again…” He dropped the mouse, scampered across the room and leaped out of the window before the security guard came charging into the gallery.
The next morning Dirk phoned the gallery and asked for Mr Strettingdon-Smythe.
“Ah, Mr Dilly,” said the plumy-voiced curator. “I was just going to call you. You’ll never guess what has happened.”
“One of the stolen paintings has been returned?” he ventured.
“Oh, you did guess,” said Mr Strettingdon-Smythe. “Yes, the Sad-Looking Lady was returned last night. It’s very peculiar. Can you understand it?”
“I’m beginning to get the picture,” said Dirk, inwardly groaning at his own pun. “When you called me you said your boss didn’t want you to contact anyone.”
“That’s right. He said it would be bad for business.”
“And may I ask the name of your boss?” Dirk asked, pouring himself a glass of neat orange squash.
“The gallery is owned by Global Sands. Brant Buchanan himself forbade me from calling anyone.”
Dirk knocked
the orange squash back in one. “My advice to you would be to wait. In time, all the paintings will be returned.”
“But what’s going on?” Mr Strettingdon-Smythe barked.
“It’s safer for you if you don’t know,” said Dirk firmly.
It was clear to him now that Buchanan was using the art gallery as a training ground for his mouse thieves. That’s why he wouldn’t allow the curator to call the police. He was stealing from himself. The metallic collars the mice wore must have enabled him to control them remotely, turning them into unwitting mini criminals. Mice could get in anywhere and with enough of them they could steal anything from a painting to a secret government weapon.
“Have a good day, Mr Strettingdon-Smythe.” Dirk put the phone down and switched on the morning news.
“After days of speculation regarding the strange sightings on top of a London skyscraper last Tuesday, the mystery has finally been solved,” the newsreader was saying. “A spokesperson for Gronkong Shinard PLC, the company that owns the top floor and roof of the building, explained that they had been testing new weather-predicting equipment at the time.”
Dirk sat back and bit open a tin of beans.
“And now back to our main story,” continued the newsreader. “Volcanologists are struggling to explain why three volcanoes, thought to be dormant, have erupted simultaneously and unexpectedly.” Images of flowing lava and ash clouds filled the screen. “In a strange coincidence, all three volcanoes were situated on islands owned by Brant Buchanan, the seventh richest man in the world. Although no one was hurt in the eruptions, the islands have suffered severe damage and the surrounding air space has been deemed a no-fly zone. Mr Buchanan was unavailable for comment.”
In another part of London, in the back of his Bentley, Brant Buchanan was also watching the news report, laughing, clapping his hands together.
“How are the share prices, Weaver?” he asked.
Weaver’s face appeared on the plasma screen. “It looks like it’s worked, sir,” he said. “The insurance payout for the three islands is so big that the share prices for the insurance company are plummeting, meaning you can buy the company at a bargain price.”
Sky High! Page 11
