The Wyverns' Treasure

by R. L. LaFevers

  "Why is he so grumpy?" Nate asked.

  "It's a sad story, really. I'm afraid his mate disappeared more than a year ago. As best we can tell, she fell in love with a passing zeppelin and followed it out of sight."

  "I thought you said wyverns mate for life?"

  "They do. That's why this was so distressing for all concerned. Nudd searched high and low, but with no luck. When he returned, his old heart was broken. He's been waiting to die ever since. He will not show any mercy with an intruder."

  "Seems to me likes that man deserves his fate," Greasle said.

  "Normally I would agree with you," Aunt Phil said. This surprised the gremlin so much, she nearly fell off Nate's shoulder. He had to put his hand up to steady her.

  "However, if a human invades the wyverns' inner sanctum, the wyverns have the right to demand their life as a penalty."

  Greasle harrumphed. "They'd attack us for certain if they saw how nasty that man tastes."

  Not to mention, Nate would never get to ask Obediah about his parents.

  Chapter Fifteen

  AUNT PHIL CONSULTED THE CAVE MAP twice more before she finally put it away.

  "How will we know which way Obediah went?" Nate asked.

  "We won't. My goal is to park ourselves in front of the treasury and snag him when he shows up."

  They walked along in silence, twisting and turning their way deeper into the mountain. Nate lost all track of time and direction. Just when he was certain they'd reached the very center of the earth itself, an enormous roar blasted through the caves.

  "Looks like Obediah's found Old Nudd," Aunt Phil said grimly. "Come on!" She broke into a run.

  Nate followed, holding Greasle in place so she wouldn't bounce off his shoulder. Aunt Phil stopped abruptly in front of a downward-sloping tunnel. A very pale golden glow shone at the bottom.

  "Here we are," she said. "Now listen carefully." She fumbled with the front of her shirt and pulled something out. "Here is The Book of Beasts. I want you to have it for safekeeping. If anything happens to me, you'll have everything you need to be the next beastologist."

  "No!" Nate said, horrified. "Nothing is going to happen to you!"

  "It probably won't, but just in case. Remember, we have a responsibility to the animals we care for. Now, here's my watch. If I'm not out in half an hour, leave. Get out. Do not try to rescue me. This isn't like Arabia, where you could bargain for my safety. Wyverns are very sly and clever when they want to be and you'll only be walking into a

  trap." She put her hands on Nate's shoulders. "Take care, my boy." She gave him a quick kiss on the forehead, then disappeared down into the cave tunnel.

  No, he wanted to shout. Come back! But he couldn't. It was her duty—his duty now, too—to take care of these beasts. He slumped down onto the cave floor to wait, his eyes glued to the watch. One minute went by. Two. Sick with worry, he found he couldn't sit still. He got to his feet and began pacing.

  "Could you stop that? You're making me dizzy," Greasle complained.

  Nate ignored her, so she hopped off his shoulder and waited on the floor. He could hear sounds coming from down below. Loud rumbles and snorts and the faint sound of voices, but he couldn't make out the words. He checked the watch again. Shook it. Only ten minutes had passed. He strained to make out what the voices were saying. He even put the trumpet to his ear, trying to make out the wyvern's words. But they were too garbled from this distance.

  It was truly the longest half hour of his life.

  The minute hand inched

  past the thirty-minute mark. Come back come back come back, he wished, with all his might. Willed it to be so.

  But no one came.

  He stared down the long empty tunnel, hoping against hope he'd see Aunt Phil striding toward him.

  "Come on." Greasle tugged at his knee. "We's got to gets out of here, like she said."

  "I can't just leave her," Nate groaned.

  "Sure you can," Greasle said. "She told you to."

  "You don't understand. She's the only one left." The only one who cared about him. The only one who could help him learn what had happened to his parents. Even more, he'd come to care very deeply about her. Thoughts and fears scrambled around in his head in a vicious tangle. Finally, he made a decision. "I'm going in," he said.

  "No!" squeaked Greasle.

  "Yes. But if you want to wait here, you can."

  "All alone? With them juvies roaming around? I don't think so," she snorted, then hopped up onto his shoulder and climbed into his pack. "Wake me when it's over."

  "Will do." Nate squared his shoulders, lifted his trembling chin, and headed for the treasury.

  Chapter Sixteen

  JUST INSIDE THE CAVE OPENING, the narrow tunnel wound downward until it opened up into a huge cavern, nearly as big as the main one. In the warm, glowing light coming off the treasure, Nate saw Obediah and Aunt Phil backed up against the far wall, trapped by a long, lashing tail.

  "Nate! No!" Aunt Phil yelled.

  The enormous wyvern whipped his head around, his red roiling gaze nailing Nate in place.

  Old Nudd's head was huge. Possibly bigger than Nate himself. The scales on his scarred face were crusty with age.

  The wyvern roared, a loud rumble of sound that pounded against Nate's ears. He quickly shoved his ear trumpet in place.

  "—or should I say offering?" the wyvern was saying. "For any that wander into this realm are surely an offering to me." The wyvern chortled, the most horrid and unnerving sound Nate had ever heard.

  "He's not an offering!" Aunt Phil yelled, her voice frantic. "He's just a child. You can't harm a child!"

  "No?" Nudd asked. "Does it say that sssomewhere in your precious Covenant? That our rules apply to everyone, except for children?"

  "No, but it should." Aunt Phil looked at Nate helplessly. "Besides, he's the next beastologist, and there are always exceptions for beastologists." Nate gulped. His plan, which hadn't been very good to start with, now seemed especially puny. "I-I brought you some treasure," he said. "T-to trade for my aunt." Nate held up the cherished Fludd compass that Aunt Phil had given him just a short time ago and his

  pocketknife. He hated to part with them, but they were the only shiny things he owned.

  The wyvern roared, sending a billow of smoke in Nate's direction and covering him in ash. "Don't need more treasurrrre..."

  The wyvern had a point, Nate thought, studying the pile of treasure Old Nudd sat on. He probably didn't need any more. But even with all the treasure and the warmth it threw off, the cavern seemed huge and empty to Nate. And then he had an idea. A great, big, wonderful idea.

  He cleared his throat. "I have a greater treasure you might like, but I have to go get it."

  "Why should I let you go and risssk losing my prize?" Old Nudd grumbled.

  "Because the treasure I will bring you will last a whole lifetime."

  The dragon snorted again, sending another little puff of smoke Nate's way. But there was a spark of curiosity in his eyes. Nate was sure of it. "Are you offering me a riddle?" Nudd asked.

  "Yes," Nate said. "I am. What treasure shines brighter than gold and lasts a lifetime?"

  Old Nudd narrowed his eyes and showed the first sign of true interest. Nate waited, holding his breath.

  "Hmm..." Nudd grumbled, sounding less angry. "Very well. For the sssake of this riddle I cannot answer, I will let you fetch thisss treasure. But hurry." He lifted one of his claws and inspected the point. "I am afraid I grow hungry."

  Chapter Seventeen

  NATE TORE OUT OF THE CAVE, panic nipping at his heels. Would it work? He could only hope.

  His feet pounded along the hard rock floor, his head lantern bobbing and weaving as the tunnel climbed up and up and finally leveled off. He paused and closed his eyes, trying to retrace the steps in his mind. They'd turned left, left, right, and then left. Which meant he had to go right, right, left, then right. Hoping he'd remembered correctly, he took off at a run
. Relieved when he reached the main cavern, he paused long enough to check for juvies, but there were none in sight. He quickly headed for the hatchery, then slowly approached the sole remaining egg.

  There were more cracks now, dozens of them covering the surface. The trick would be to get the egg back to the treasury before it hatched. Nate needed the dragonling to imprint on Old Nudd, not him.

  It was too big to fit into his pack. And too heavy for him to carry. If he rolled it, the shell would crack open for sure. He swung his pack off his shoulders and put it on the ground. As he was untying his bedroll, Greasle poked her head out. "Did that weirdvern eat that old lady yet?"

  "No," Nate said.

  Seeing no one else about, the a gremlin crawled all the way out of the pack. "Whatcha doin'?"

  "I'm trying to figure out a way to get this egg to the treasury. I think this bedroll will work like a sling, and I can drag it back." It would take a long time, and he'd have to be careful about bumps along the way, but it might work. It was the only thing he could think of. Using great care, he placed the cracking egg in the middle of the bedroll.

  "Why'd you want to do that?"

  "I'm hoping Old Nudd will be so happy for some company that he'll let Aunt Phil and Obediah go free." When the egg was centered, Nate wrapped the corners of the bedroll up around it and gave a gentle tug. It seemed to work.

  Greasle shook her head. "He seemed awful grouchy to me. What makes you think he wants any company?"

  Nate hoisted the ends of the bedroll over his shoulder and glared at Greasle. "If you're not going to help, then get back in the pack."

  In the end, Greasle scampered along in front of him as he began making the slow, careful journey back to the treasury. Every bump in the ground, every pile of rocks, threatened to crack the egg wide open. But he was very careful, always moving slowly to ease his burden over the bumpy parts. Greasle made herself useful by calling out a warning when there were large rocks or bumps up ahead.

  Nate's arms were shaking and he was covered in sweat by the time he finally reached the treasury. Feeling nervous and uncertain, Nate dragged the egg the last few feet until it sat right in front of Nudd.

  The old wyvern roared, the force of his voice setting the treasure underneath him to rattling. Nate got his ear trumpet in place in time to hear Nudd ask, "What do I want with an old dud of an egg?" He roared again and lashed his tail, narrowly missing Aunt Phil and Obediah.

  "But it's not a dud," Nate said in a small voice. "Look."

  Old Nudd lowered his head and nudged the egg with one long claw.

  Nate held his breath, afraid to be so close to the wyvern, yet more afraid to move away.

  "How do I know you didn't crack it on the way here?"

  "Why would I lie to a wyvern?" Nate asked. "Besides, if you listen carefully, you can hear something moving inside."

  Old Nudd turned his head, bringing his long narrow snout and sharp teeth even closer to Nate as he put his ear right next to the egg and listened. At that very same moment, a small claw burst through the shell and poked Old Nudd in the cheek. He snorted a billow of smoke and jerked back, blinking in surprise.

  Sensing freedom now, the hatchling began wriggling in earnest. An entire leg kicked through, then a snout. A spiny wing poked out of the top and then finally, with a loud crack, the egg shattered. The pieces fell onto the cave floor, all except for one that balanced precariously on the hatchling's head, like a hat.

  As the baby wyvern opened its eyes, Nate flung himself to the ground, terrified it would imprint on him instead of Old Nudd.

  Nate peered up through his fingers. The baby was still wet from all the egg goo that covered its skin, and its wings were flattened to its back. It looked slightly befuddled, then turned to Old Nudd and brightened. "Grok?"

  Old Nudd sniffed. "She's rather puny," he said, not fooling anyone.

  Aunt Phil stepped away from the wall and stood next to Nate.

  "All infants are," she pointed out.

  Old Nudd rolled his eyes and sighed, sending a massive plume of smoke toward the baby. "I suppose you expect me to clean it up."

  The baby wyvern meeped. She tried to take a step toward Nudd, but her legs got tangled up in the pieces of shell and she ended up in a heap on the floor.

  Nudd sighed and hooked one long talon under the baby's wings and lifted her to her feet. Nate felt like cheering.

  The thing was, as angry and scary as Old Nudd was, Nate had sensed an overwhelming misery and loneliness in him. Nate recognized it because it was exactly how he felt when he woke up in the middle of the night and remembered that his parents and Miss Lumpton were gone. Suddenly, fiercely, Nate had wanted to fix it. He had wanted to find a way to not just get Aunt Phil free, but to take away Old Nudd's loneliness. And he'd remembered the egg.

  The baby was back on her feet now and Nudd gingerly picked off the last remaining bit of shell. The infant meeped again, then grokked. Old Nudd's face softened and a low, rumbling growl emerged from his chest. It took Nate a full minute to realize he was purring.

  Then Nudd's long tongue flicked out and began cleaning the egg slime from the baby's skin. The baby squirmed in pleasure and meeped again, this time scooting forward to rub against Nudd's leg. "She is a very handsome hatchling, is she not?" the old wyvern said.

  "Beautiful," Nate agreed, hiding his smile. "What will you name her?"

  Old Nudd considered. "I will call her Belli, because she shines so brightly." Then he turned to Nate. "You were right. This treasure is more valuable than any gold and will lassst a lifetime. You have earned freedom for all of you."

  Belli grokked, and Nudd turned his attention back to the dragonling.

  "Well done, Nate!" Nate glanced up to find Aunt Phil beaming at him. She looked happy enough to reach out and lick him, just like Old Nudd had done. Nate took a step back, just in case. "Thanks," he said, pleased.

  They watched Nudd and Belli for a few more moments. Deep inside, Nate felt a glowing satisfaction, and something else, too. A longing. He glanced over at Aunt Phil, whose face was still beaming.

  "Aunt Phil," he began.

  "Yes, Nate?" She reached up and hastily wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.

  "Would now be a good time to talk about me keeping Greasle as a pet?"

  Aunt Phil's eyes widened in surprise. She looked from the two wyverns back to Greasle, then snorted. But it was with laughter, not temper. "You picked your moment well, there's no question."

  "See, the thing is," Nate rushed to explain before she could say no, "you said that all these beasts were thought of as pests, back when there were so many of them. So maybe that could happen to gremlins, too. Maybe they're pests now, but they might not be forever?"

  Aunt Phil's gaze sharpened as she put her hands on her hips. "Hoist by my own petard, eh?"

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "It means, I've been nicked by my own sword, my boy. Excellent argument."

  Now it was Nate's turn to beam. He exchanged a hopeful glance with Greasle.

  "However, this is a complicated request and we don't have much time to discuss it right now."

  Nate's shoulders slumped, and he opened his mouth to argue, something he'd never dared to do before.

  Aunt Phil held up a finger. "I'm not saying no, Nate. And I will admit, your gremlin has turned out to be more helpful than I ever could have imagined."

  On his shoulder, Greasle swelled up with pride, just like a toad.

  "All I'm saying is that time is running out on our deadline. We've still got to collect that wretch Obediah so we can tell Urien we've taken care of the problem. We've only got—" She glanced down at her watch. "Right. Could I have my watch back, please?"

  "Oh, sure." Nate scrambled to unbuckle the strap and handed the watch to her.

  She squinted at the time. "About an hour to spare," she said as she buckled it on. "Remind me we'll need to get you one of these."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "Now, where was I?"<
br />
  "We were to bring Obediah back to Urien."

  "Right!" Aunt Phil turned to the wall where Obediah had been crouching in terror.

  But the wall was empty.

  Nate whipped his head around, but the other side of the cave was empty as well. "Where'd he go?"

  "He's gone!" Aunt Phil said. "Along with my pack!"

  Old Nudd rumbled something. Nate and Aunt Phil put their ear trumpets in place, and Aunt Phil said, "Could you repeat that, please?"

  "The slippery one left while Belli was hatching."

  "We must go after him, then. Thank you, Nudd, for all your help. I hope you and little Belli enjoy each other's company."

  The old wyvern turned his craggy head and looked directly at Nate. Old Nudd's eyes stilled, and Nate sucked in a breath. The old wyvern was letting him see into his soul. Showing him the contentment and gratitude he felt.

  "You're welcome," Nate whispered.

  Chapter Eighteen

  AS THEY WOUND THEIR WAY up the tunnel that led from the treasury, Aunt Phil began talking to herself. "There are at least four different tunnels that man could have taken. How on earth will we find him?"

  "He went this a-ways," Greasle said, pointing to the main tunnel.

  "How do you know?" Aunt Phil asked.

  The little gremlin shrugged. "I can smells him."

  "Well." Aunt Phil was momentarily speechless. "That's a helpful skill. Although you could have mentioned it earlier," she said dryly.

  They quickened their pace, knowing there was a chance of finding him sooner rather than later. When the tunnel reached the main cavern, Aunt Phil held a finger to her lips. Nate nodded, then they peeked around the corner.

  Obediah dangled from a rope halfway up the sheer cliff face. He swung Aunt Phil's pick into the rock and used it to hitch himself higher.