by Amy Cross
“They didn't have a choice,” he says suddenly, interrupting me as he continues to put the jewelry back on Matilda's body. “And they won't be hurting anyone else. Not ever again.”
“Did you -”
I freeze as I realize what he means. Looking toward the horizon, I see that the plume of smoke is gone. I want to ask Duncan if he really killed the bandits, but I suppose that's pretty obvious from the fact that he's so badly injured himself. If I ask, he'll just think more than ever that I'm a silly little girl.
“There are some canisters of oil over there by the end of the caravan,” he says after a moment. “Just low-grade stuff, but it'll do the job. Can you fetch them for me, Milly?”
Without asking him why, I get to my feet and head along the side of the caravan. Sure enough, I quickly find several metal tins, and when I pick them up I feel that they're full of liquid. I carry them back over to Duncan and set them down, and then I step back.
To my surprise, he opens one of the canisters and pours its contents all over Matilda's chest.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
Without answering, he empties the rest of the canisters over Matilda, and then he gets to his feet.
“Stand back,” he says.
“Why?”
“Stand back.”
I take several steps away, and then several more, and after a moment I see the Duncan has taken some matches from his pocket. Realizing what he's about to do, I open my mouth to ask whether he's sure, but I'm too late: I watch in horror as he lights a match and drops it onto Matilda's body, and flames immediately roar across her from head to toe.
I stare at the fire, and I can still just about make out the shape of Matilda's profile as Duncan comes over to join me. Not knowing what to say, I simply stand next to him and continue to watch the fire, although after a few minutes I turn and look up at Duncan's face.
“She was your girlfriend, wasn't she?” I ask.
He pauses, before shaking his head.
“No, Milly. She wasn't.”
“Then -”
“She wasn't my girlfriend,” he says again, interrupting me and then pausing for a moment as light and shadows dance across his face. “She was my sister.”
Chapter Fifteen
“I was going to take you all the way,” Duncan says as we hurry along the dirt road under a darkening late-afternoon sky, “but I can't do that anymore. It's okay, Milly, you're still going to get home. You're just going to have to be a little braver along the way.”
Hurrying to keep up with him, I almost trip on a rock.
“But Duncan, I -”
“In a way, the soul auction has come at a perfect time for you,” he continues. “Usually there'd be bandits all over the place, but for the next few days they'll be exclusively watching the main routes to and from the auction site. That means the far-lands will be basically deserted, so you shouldn't have any trouble provided you follow the route I describe for you. This time in twelve hours, Milly, you'll be safe and sound at home.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, feeling a rush of relief. “But you're going to come all the way with me, aren't you?”
“I can't.”
“You have to! I can't go alone!”
“Of course you can.”
“No! You have to come with -”
“No, Milly!” he shouts, stopping and turning to me with an expression of fury. “Do you seriously think,” he snaps, “that I have time to babysit a scared little child who never grew up? Do you think I'm going to hold your hand the whole way and make everything alright?” Reaching out, he grabs my hand roughly and pulls me closer. “There!” he yells. “Does that make you feel better?”
“You're hurting me!” I whimper, trying but failing to get my hand out of his firm grip.
“Oh, am I?” he hisses, squeezing even tighter. “How about now, Milly? Am I hurting you now? Are you starting to realize that the worlds aren't all friendly and safe once you leave the little bubble of wherever the hell you come from?”
I freeze, waiting for him to realize that he's hurting me.
“Well?” he shouts, shoving me back so hard that I trip and fall, landing hard on my bum.
Staring up at him, I can already feel fresh tears in my eyes.
“You won't have to walk far,” he continues, “and I've already told you that the route should be safe. Beyond that, there's nothing else I can say. Milly, you're going to have to be brave, but I know you can do that. We'll walk on for a few more miles, and then I have to pick up my ride to the soul auction, and you can't come with me. Don't ask why, just accept that circumstances have changed.”
“Can't I wait for you?” I ask.
He shakes his head.
“It's scary here!” I shout. “There are things! I've seen horrible things, everywhere I go!”
“You're just going to have to trust me that -”
“I trusted Matilda!” I yell.
He sighs.
“I'll get killed,” I continue, “or kidnapped again. I wish I could be brave, and that I could grow up, but I can't! I'm just me, and I'm really scared of everything!”
“Well,” he replies, “there's nothing I can do about that.”
He hesitates for a moment, before reaching a hand toward me.
“Come on,” he continues. “Get up. We have to walk. I'm going to set you on the right path, but then I'm going to the soul auction so I can do something I should have done a long time ago. The good news is...”
He hesitates again, and then he reaches down and picks up a small, taped white stone that looks almost like a tooth. For a few seconds, he seems lost in thought.
“The good news,” he says finally, “is that I think I know a way we can speed things up.” He turns to me, and I think maybe there's just the faintest hint of a smile on his lips. “Milly, I think I might be able to drop you must closer to the gate home than I realized. You like fun things, don't you?”
“I'm not sure,” I say cautiously.
“But you're a child,” he continues, “so obviously you like... fun.”
“Not really.”
“Where you live, don't you ever ride a bicycle down a hill and go way too fast, just to feel the wind rushing through your hair?”
“No.”
“You don't?”
“If I go to fast,” I point out, “I might crash. So I go very carefully.”
“Okay,” he continues, “but how about sledding? When it snows, you must go sledding.”
I shake my head.
“Never?” he asks.
“I don't like snow. It gets me wet.”
He sighs. “When you go swimming -”
“If I don't like snow, why would I like going swimming?”
He sighs again. “Okay, Milly, what do you like doing?”
“Reading.”
“And?”
I try to think of something else.
“I read a lot,” I tell him finally. “A lot!”
“And you don't go out and play much?”
“I prefer it when it rains,” I explain, “because then no-one tells me I should be outside playing.”
I wait for him to ask another question, but then I realize my last answer wasn't quite complete.
“And, also,” I add, a little reticently, “I don't have any friends.”
“No kidding.”
“But that's alright,” I continue, “because that's what the books are for.”
“Right.” He sighs yet again, before reaching out and helping me up. “And in those books, Milly, do you ever read tales of derring-do and great adventures and -”
“I read about flowers.”
“What about knights and fantastic legends and -”
“Herbs.”
“You must read something fun, surely.”
“Of course.”
“And what's that?”
“Books about mushrooms. And different types of grass.”
“Oh.”
�
��It's actually very interesting,” I tell him. “Real grass is often quite dirty, so it's better to read about it than to -”
“Okay, you're weird,” he says, starting to lead me along the path. “You're really weird, but that's alright. You don't seem very dangerous.”
“I'm not weird!” I tell him, feeling a little affronted. “Everyone else is weird! I'm the one who's normal!”
“Sure.”
“There's no point going outside and getting dirty,” I continue, “when you just have to get clean again after. So why not stay clean? It just saves time.”
We walk for quite a while, and I take the opportunity to explain to Duncan exactly why people are so silly to go running around in dirty nature. He doesn't really argue with me much, which I suppose means that he knows I'm right, although it would be nice to hear him say as much. After a few hours, I start wondering whether he's still paying attention, and it's clear that he's lost in thought. He also stops every so often and picks up more of the tooth-like rocks, which are starting to worry me a little, although he never really answers when I ask what they are. And then, after a few more hours have passed, he starts asking me more and more about books I might have read, and about things I do and do not believe in.
I tell him that I believe in things that are real, and that I don't believe in things that aren't. This stops him asking for a while, until we reach another ridge and he tells me to stop, and he turns to me with a hint of anticipation in his eyes.
“Over this ridge,” he says cautiously, “is something that -”
Before he can finish, I hear a distant, low growl. Or maybe more of a grumble.
I instinctively take a step back.
I might be wrong, but I think the rocky ground trembled slightly beneath my feet.
“Hang on,” Duncan says, before stepping up to the top of the ridge and peering over into whatever's next. “There she is,” he continues. “I was right. The teeth were from her babies, but they're all grown up now and they've left the breeding site.”
“What breeding site?” I ask, trying very hard to not be scared. “What are you talking about?”
“You said you only believe in things that are real?”
“Obviously. Anything else would be stupid.”
“Do you believe in dragons?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because they're not real.”
He gestures for me to join him.
Although I'm scared, I force myself to clamber up the rocky slope. And then, as I get to the top and open my mouth to ask another question, I see a large crater spread out before us. And as a cool breeze blows warm air against my face, I stare down at a large, lizard-like creature that's sitting calmly in the crater's center.
“Okay, smarty-pants,” Duncan says after a moment. “Now tell me. Do you believe in dragons?”
Chapter Sixteen
“It's not real!” I shout, hanging back as Duncan stumbles down the side of the crater. “Wait! Don't get too close!”
“I thought you said it wasn't real?” he calls back to me.
“Be careful!”
“Come on! Get moving, Milly!”
“It's not real!” I yell.
“Then what are you scared of?”
“I'm not scared!” I call out, despite the growing sense of panic in my chest. “I just -”
And then I fall silent as I see the side of the creature's face, and I see a large, dark red eye with a black slit down the middle, surrounded by scaly yellow-gold skin. There are lots and lots of wrinkles and lines all over the creature's face, which reminds me of all the wrinkles on Aunt Alice, although Aunt Alice is real whereas this thing...
It can't be real.
Dragons only exist in silly books written by silly writers for silly readers.
At the same time...
I can smell this dragon.
I watch as Duncan walks right up to one of the huge wings and reaches out to give the dragon a gentle stroke, and I realize I can actually smell a kind of leathery, fishy smell that's filling the hot air. There are also hints of something that smells a bit like poo, and I suppose dragons do poo. Or rather, they would, if they were real. And sure enough, when I look around, I see several large piles of ashy rocks that seem to have been left near the dragon's rear end.
It's not real, though.
Dragons are not real.
“Milly!” Duncan calls out, waving at me. “Come closer.”
I shake my head.
“The ground beneath your feet is warm because it's the crust of a magma boil,” he continues. “It's perfectly safe, these things almost never burst. Dragons like to rest on them, because they like to get their bellies warmed. They're also a good place to raise young dragons, although this dragon's offspring are now long gone. They always leave the nest shortly after their first teeth begin to fall out. The mother dragon will have spent years looking after them by that point, but once they're gone she has no real function. She'll only ever have one batch of children, so now she gets to rest.”
He hesitates for a moment.
“Don't be scared, Milly,” he adds, waving at me again. “Come and touch a real, live dragon, and then tell me these beauties aren't real.”
I look at the dragon's face again. The air is so warm, there's a slight haze, but I feel a shudder pass through my chest as the dragon's huge eye briefly turns and looks straight at me. Frozen, I'm too scared to know how I should react, but a moment later the eye turns and looks away.
“She's going to get you home,” Duncan explains. “Milly, you can choose to walk all the way, but I can take you on this dragon and you'll be home within a couple of hours. Doesn't that sound good?”
“How's she going to do anything?” I stammer.
“Come and touch her.”
I pause, before realizing that I really don't have any choice. Stepping forward, I force myself to approach the dragon, and finally Duncan takes my trembling hand and places it on the creature's surprisingly cool, scaly skin. At the same time, I realize I can hear a faint, persistent thudding sound, and when I touch the skin I feel a deep, heavy rhythmic thud.
“A dragon's heart beats with great power,” Duncan explains, lowering his voice a little, “even when...”
I wait for him to finish.
“Even when what?” I ask.
“Even when she's at the end of her life,” he continues. “Don't be sad, though. She's lived a good, long life, and it looks like she's raised lots of young dragons who are out there now, flying around. This particular dragon could be anywhere between five and eight hundred years old, and that's a good innings. She's done everything a dragon could want to do, and now she gets to live out the rest of her life.”
“But is...”
I pause for a moment, as I run my hand across her scales.
“Is she in pain?” I ask.
“No.”
“And her children... Will they come back to see her?”
“Some say dragons always return to view their parents' bones,” he replies. “Others say that's just a myth. I personally believe it's true, although I've never seen it happen myself.” He pauses. “Sometimes, I think dragons are far more noble than most other species. Than men, especially.”
Turning, he looks toward the horizon.
“It's getting late, Milly,” he continues. “I'm sorry I don't have time to tell you everything there is to know about these creatures, but I need to get to the soul auction before sundown. I have a job to do now that my sister's gone. First, I'm going to drop you off at the gate that'll take you home, so come on.” He taps the dragon's side. “All aboard!”
“All aboard what?” I ask nervously.
“Use the harder scales that run up from the tail as a kind of staircase,” he says. “Don't worry, I've ridden dragons before. I can establish a mild telepathic bond that'll allow me to nudge her in the right direction. Although she's retired from active duty, she won't mind a quick outing. Think
of it as one last spurt of adventure before she comes back here and resumes her wait for the end.”
“But -”
“It's the only way home, Milly.”
“We can't ride a dragon!” I tell him. “That's madness!”
“You're a bit late to the party, aren't you?” he asks, before reaching down and picking me up. He swings me around before holding me up and pushing me onto the dragon's side. “Don't fall!”
Terrified, I reach out and grab a set of hardened scales that are protruding slightly from the dragon's back. The creature lets out a low groan, and as I adjust myself I realize I can feel – though my hands and knees – the warm, pulsing heartbeat. I turn and look down, but I'm too scared to jump, and then a moment later Duncan clambers up via the tail and makes his way past me, finally stopping between the two large folded wings.
“She's a little grumpy about this,” he explains, “but she's willing to give us a ride. I mean, it's not like she can claim to be busy.”
“I don't want to do this!” I yell, struggling to hold on tight to the ridge of scales. “Duncan, I want to get down right now! I want -”
Suddenly the dragon lurches and shakes, and I scream as I almost slither down the side. I instinctively grab the scale-ridge tighter, but then I realize that I'm much higher off the ground now. Looking down, I see that the dragon has got to its feet, and then I hear a loud flapping, billowing sound. I turn and see that the dragon's two huge wings have begun to unfold, spreading so wide that their tips almost reach the edges of the crater.
Beneath me, the dragon's heart is beating a little faster now.
“You'll be fine,” Duncan says, sitting down and then reaching back, grabbing my arm. “No-one's ever, ever died by falling off a dragon.”
I cry out again as the huge creature takes a couple of lumbering steps forward. The scale-ridge is slightly greasy and slippery, but Duncan is holding me tight.
“Well,” he adds, “I'm sure some people have died, but I've never heard about it. Don't worry, I'll keep you safe up here. Just -”
Before he can finish, the dragon clambers up onto the top of the ridge that runs around the crater. Duncan keeps hold of my arm, although my legs slither around until finally I manage to press them against some of the harder scales. I feel a little more stable now, although I'm still terrified of falling and after a moment I reach up, grabbing Duncan's arm so that even if he lets go of me, I'll have a chance.
