by Angie Sage
DomDaniel laughed. It was all so easy.
“Ship ahoy, sire,” a faint voice called down from the crow’s nest. “Ship ahoy!”
DomDaniel cursed.
“Don’t interrupt!” he shrieked above the howl of the wind and Caused the sailor to fall with a scream into the seething waters below.
But DomDaniel’s concentration had been broken. And, as he tried to regain control of the elements for the final Strike, something caught his eye.
A small golden glow was coming out of the dark toward his ship. DomDaniel fumbled for his eyeglass and, raising it to his eye, could hardly believe what he saw.
It was impossible, he told himself, absolutely impossible. The Dragon Boat of Hotep-Ra did not exist. It was nothing more than a legend. DomDaniel blinked the rain out of his eyes and looked again. The wretched boat was heading straight for him. The green glint of the dragon’s eyes shot through the dark and met his one-eyed gaze through the eyeglass. A cold shiver ran through the Necromancer. This, he decided, was the doing of Marcia Overstrand. A Projection of her fevered brain as she schemed against him, deep within his own ship. Had she learned nothing?
DomDaniel turned to his Magogs.
“Dispatch the prisoner,” he snapped. “Now!”
The Magogs flicked their dirty yellow claws open and closed, and a thin sheen of slime appeared over their blind-worm heads, as it always did in moments of excitement. They hissed a question to their Master.
“Anyway you like,” he replied. “I don’t care. Do whatever you want, but just do it. Fast!”
The ghastly pair slithered off, dripping slime as they went, and disappeared belowdecks. They were pleased to get out of the storm, excited by the fun they had in store.
DomDaniel put away his eyeglass. He no longer needed it, for the Dragon Boat was quite near enough for him to easily see. He tapped his foot impatiently, waiting for what he took to be Marcia’s Projection to disappear. However, to DomDaniel’s dismay, it did not disappear. The Dragon Boat drew ever closer and appeared to be fixing him with a particularly nasty stare.
Edgily, the Necromancer started pacing the deck, oblivious to the squall of rain that suddenly poured down on him, and deaf to the noisy flapping of the last few remaining shreds of the sails. There was only one sound that DomDaniel wanted to hear, and that was the sound of Marcia Overstrand’s last scream far below in the hold.
He listened intently. If there was one thing DomDaniel enjoyed, it was hearing the last scream of a human being. Any human being was good, but the last scream of the ex–ExtraOrdinary Wizard was particularly good. He rubbed his hands together, closed his eyes and waited.
Down in the depths of the Vengeance the Dragon Ring of Hotep-Ra was glowing brightly on Marcia’s little finger, and her Magyk had returned enough for her to slip out of her chains. She had stolen away from her comatose guards and was climbing up the ladder out of the hold. As she stepped from the ladder and was about to make her way to the next one, she almost slipped on some yellow slime. Out of the gloom came the Magogs, straight for her, hissing with delight. They edged her into a corner, all the while clattering their excited pointy rows of yellow teeth at her. With a loud snap, they unsheathed their claws and advanced upon Marcia with glee, their little snake’s tongues flicking in and out of their mouths.
Now, thought Marcia, was the time to discover if her Magyk really was returning.
“Congeal and Dry. Solidify!” Marcia muttered, pointing the finger bearing the Dragon Ring at the Magogs.
Like two slugs covered with salt, the Magogs suddenly collapsed and shrank with a hiss. A very nasty crackling sound followed as their slime solidified and dried to a thick yellow crust. In a few moments all that was left of the Things were two withered black and yellow lumps lying at Marcia’s feet, stuck fast to the deck. She stepped over them disdainfully, careful of her shoes, and continued her journey up to the top deck.
Marcia wanted her Amulet back, and she was going to get it.
Up on deck DomDaniel had lost patience with his Magogs. He cursed himself for thinking they would get rid of Marcia quickly. He should have realized. Magogs liked to take their time with their victims, and time was something DomDaniel did not have. He had Marcia’s wretched Projection of the Dragon Boat looming toward him, and it was affecting his Magyk.
And so, as Marcia was about to climb the ladder that led up onto the deck, she heard a loud bellow from above, “A hundred crowns!” bawled DomDaniel. “No, a thousand crowns. A thousand crowns to the man who rids me of Marcia Overstrand! Now!”
Above her Marcia heard the sudden stampede of bare feet as all the sailors on deck made for the hatchway and ladder on which she was standing. Marcia leaped off and hid as best she could in the shadows, as the entire ship’s crew pushed and fought their way down in an effort to be the first to reach the prisoner and claim the prize. From the shadows she watched them go, kicking, fighting and shoving one another out of the way. Then, as the melee disappeared down to the lower decks, she gathered her damp robes around her and climbed the ladder onto the open deck.
The cold wind took her breath away, but after the foul mugginess of the ship’s hold, the fresh stormy air smelled wonderful. Quickly, Marcia hid behind a barrel and waited, considering her next move.
Marcia watched DomDaniel closely. He looked, she was pleased to see, sick. His normally gray features now had a bright green tinge to them, and his bulgy black eyes were staring up at something behind her. Marcia swung around to see what could possibly be turning DomDaniel so green.
It was the Dragon Boat of Hotep-Ra.
High above the Vengeance, with her green eyes flashing and lighting up DomDaniel’s pallid face, the Dragon Boat was flying through the howling wind and the pouring rain. Her huge wings beat slowly and powerfully against the storm, lifting the golden boat and her three petrified crew into the night air, flying them toward Marcia Overstrand, who could not believe what she was seeing.
No one on the Dragon Boat could believe it either. When the Dragon had started to beat her wings against the wind and slowly lift herself out of the water, Nicko had been horrified; if there was one thing Nicko was sure about, it was that boats did not fly. Ever.
“Stoppit!” Nicko yelled in Boy 412’s ear above the creaking of the huge wings, which swept slowly past them, sending leathery gusts of air into their faces. But Boy 412 was excited. He hung on tightly to the tiller, trusting the Dragon Boat to do what she did best.
“Stop what?” Boy 412 yelled back, gazing up at the wings, his eyes glowing and a broad grin on his face.
“It’s you!” yelled Nicko. “I know it is. You’re making her fly. Stop. Stop it now! She’s out of control!”
Boy 412 shook his head. It was nothing to do with him. It was the Dragon Boat. She had decided to fly.
Jenna was holding on to the dragon’s ears with a grip so tight her fingers were white. Far below she could see the waves crashing against the Vengeance, and as the Dragon Boat dipped toward the deck of the Darke ship, Jenna could also see the ghastly green face of DomDaniel staring up at her. Jenna quickly looked away from the Necromancer—his malevolent gaze made her feel chilled to the core and gave her a horrible feeling of despair. She shook her head to get rid of the Darke feeling, but a doubt stayed in her mind. How were they going to find Marcia? She glanced back at Boy 412. He had let go of the tiller and was looking over the side of the Dragon Boat, down toward the Vengeance. Then, as the Dragon Boat dipped and her shadow fell across the Necromancer below, Jenna suddenly knew what Boy 412 was doing. He was getting ready to jump ship. Boy 412 was steeling himself to go aboard the Vengeance and get Marcia.
“Don’t!” Jenna yelled. “Don’t jump! I can see Marcia!”
Marcia had stood up. She was still staring at the Dragon Boat in disbelief. Surely it was just a legend? But, as the dragon swooped down toward Marcia, her dragon eyes flashing a brilliant green and her nostrils sending out great jets of orange fire, Marcia could feel the he
at of the flames and she knew that this was real.
The flames licked around DomDaniel’s sodden robes and sent a pungent smell of burned wool into the air. Singed by the fire, DomDaniel fell back, and for a brief moment a faint ray of hope crossed the Necromancer’s mind—maybe this was all a terrible nightmare. Because on the top of the dragon’s head he could see something that was surely impossible: sitting there was the Queenling.
Jenna dared to let go of one of the dragon’s ears and slipped her hand into her jacket pocket. DomDaniel was still staring at her, and she wanted him to stop—in fact, she was going to make him stop. Jenna’s hand was shaking as she drew the Shield Bug out of her pocket and raised it up in the air. Suddenly, out of her hand flew what DomDaniel took to be a large green wasp. DomDaniel hated wasps. He staggered back as the insect flew toward him with a high-pitched shriek and landed on his shoulder, where it stung him on the neck. Hard.
DomDaniel screamed, and the Shield Bug stabbed at him again. He clapped his hand over the bug and, confused, it curled itself up into a ball and bounced down onto the deck, rolling off into a dark corner. DomDaniel collapsed onto the deck.
Marcia saw her chance and took it. In the light of the fire coming out of the dragon’s flared nostrils, Marcia steeled herself to touch the prostrate Necromancer. With trembling fingers she searched through the folds of his sluglike neck and found what she was looking for. Alther’s shoelace. Feeling extremely sick but even more determined, Marcia pulled at an end of the shoelace, hoping the knot would untie. It didn’t. DomDaniel made a choking sound, and his hands flew up to his neck.
“You’re strangling me,” he gasped, and he too grabbed hold of the shoelace.
Alther’s shoelace had done good service over the years, but it was not up to the task of resisting two powerful Wizards fighting over it. So it did what shoelaces often do. It broke.
The Amulet dropped to the deck, and Marcia swept it up in her grasp. DomDaniel lunged desperately after it, but Marcia was already retying the shoelace around her neck. As the knot was tied, the ExtraOrdinary Wizard belt Appeared around her waist, her robes glistened in the rain with Magyk, and Marcia stood up straight. She surveyed the scene with a triumphant smile—she had reclaimed her rightful place in the world. She was, once again, the ExtraOrdinary Wizard.
Enraged, DomDaniel staggered to his feet, screaming, “Guards, guards!” There was no response. The entire crew was deep in the bowels of the ship on a wild goose chase.
As Marcia prepared a Thunderflash to hurl at the increasingly hysterical DomDaniel, a familiar voice above her said, “Come on, Marcia. Hurry up. Get on here with me.”
The dragon dipped her head down onto the deck, and, for once, Marcia did as she was told.
45
EBB TIDE
The Dragon Boat flew slowly over the flooded marshes, leaving the powerless Vengeance behind. As the storm died away the dragon dipped her wings and, a little out of practice, landed back on the water with a bump and a massive splash.
Jenna and Marcia, who were clinging tightly to the dragon’s neck, were soaked.
Boy 412 and Nicko were knocked off their feet by the landing and sent sprawling across the deck, where they ended up in a tangled heap. They picked themselves up and Maxie shook himself dry. Nicko breathed a sigh of relief. There was no doubt in his mind—boats were not meant to fly.
Soon the clouds drifted away out to sea, and the moon appeared to light their way back home. The Dragon Boat glimmered green and gold in the moonlight, her wings held up to catch the wind as she sailed them home. From a small lighted window far across the water Aunt Zelda watched the scene, a little disheveled from dancing triumphantly around the kitchen and colliding with a pile of saucepans.
The Dragon Boat was reluctant to return to the temple. After her taste of freedom she dreaded the thought of being shut away underground again. She longed to turn around and head out to sea while she still could and sail away across the world with the young Queen, her new Master and the ExtraOrdinary Wizard. But her new Master had other ideas. He was taking her back again, back to her dry, dark prison. The dragon sighed and hung her head. Jenna and Marcia nearly fell off.
“What’s going on up there?” asked Boy 412.
“She’s sad,” said Jenna.
“But you’re free now, Marcia,” said Boy 412.
“Not Marcia. The dragon,” Jenna told him.
“How do you know?” asked Boy 412.
“Because I do. She talks to me. In my head.”
“Oh, yes?” Nicko laughed.
“‘Oh, yes’ to you too. She’s sad because she wants to go to sea. She doesn’t want to go back into the temple. Back to prison, she calls it.”
Marcia knew how the dragon felt.
“Tell her, Jenna,” said Marcia, “that she will go to sea again. But not tonight. Tonight we’d all like to go home.”
The Dragon Boat raised her head high, and this time Marcia did fall off. She slipped down the dragon’s neck and landed with a bump on the deck. But Marcia didn’t care; she didn’t even complain. She just sat gazing up at the stars while the Dragon Boat sailed serenely across the Marram Marshes.
Nicko, who was keeping a lookout, was surprised to see a small and oddly familiar fishing boat in the distance. It was the chicken boat, floating out with the tide. He pointed it out to Boy 412. “Look, I’ve seen that boat before. Must be someone from the Castle fishing down here.”
Boy 412 grinned. “They chose the wrong night to come out, didn’t they?”
By the time they reached the island, the tide was rapidly ebbing and the water covering the marsh was becoming shallow. Nicko took the tiller and guided the Dragon Boat into the course of the submerged Mott, passing the Roman temple as he did so. It was a striking sight. The marble of the temple glowed a luminous white as the moon shone upon it for the first time since Hotep-Ra had buried the Dragon Boat inside. All the earth banks and the wooden roof that he had built had been washed away, leaving the tall pillars standing clear in the brilliant moonlight.
Marcia was astounded.
“I had no idea this was here,” she said. “No idea at all. You’d have thought one of the books in the Pyramid Library might have mentioned it. And as for the Dragon Boat…well, I always thought that was just a legend.”
“Aunt Zelda knew,” said Jenna.
“Aunt Zelda?” asked Marcia. “Why didn’t she say so?”
“It’s her job not to say. She’s the Keeper of the island. The Queens, um, my mother, and my grandmother and great-grandmother and all the ones before them, they had to visit the dragon.”
“Did they?” asked Marcia, amazed, “Why?”
“I don’t know,” said Jenna.
“Well, they never told me, or Alther come to that.”
“Or DomDaniel,” Jenna pointed out.
“No,” said Marcia thoughtfully. “Maybe there are some things it is better for a Wizard not to know.”
They tied the Dragon Boat up to the landing stage, and she settled down into the Mott like a giant swan easing herself onto her nest, slowly lowering her huge wings and folding them neatly along the side of her hull. She dipped her head to allow Jenna to slip down onto the deck, then the dragon gazed around her. It may not be the ocean, she thought, but the wide expanse of the Marram Marshes with its long, low horizon stretching as far as the eye could see was the next best thing. The dragon closed her eyes. The Queen had returned, and she could smell the sea. She was content.
Jenna sat and dangled her legs over the edge of the sleeping Dragon Boat, surveying the scene before her. The cottage looked as peaceful as ever, although maybe it was not quite as neat as when they had left it, due to the fact that the goat had munched its way through much of the roof and was still going strong. Most of the island was now out of the water, although it was covered with a mixture of mud and seaweed. Aunt Zelda, thought Jenna, would not be happy about the state of her garden.
When the water had ebbed from the la
nding stage, Marcia and the crew climbed out of the Dragon Boat and made their way up to the cottage, which was suspiciously quiet and the front door was slightly open. With a sense of foreboding, they peered inside.
Brownies.
Everywhere. The door to the Disenchanted cat tunnel was open and the place was crawling with Brownies. Up the walls, over the floor, stuck on the ceiling, packed tight into the potion cupboard, munching, chewing, tearing, pooing as they went through the cottage like a storm of locusts. At the sight of the humans, ten thousand Brownies started up their high-pitched squeals.
Aunt Zelda was out of the kitchen in a flash.
“What?” she gasped, trying to take it all in but seeing only an unusually disheveled Marcia standing in the middle of a heaving sea of Brownies. Why, thought Aunt Zelda, does Marcia always have to make things so difficult? Why on earth had she brought a load of Brownies back with her?
“Blasted Brownies!” bellowed Aunt Zelda, waving her arms about in an ineffectual way. “Out, out, get out!”
“Allow me, Zelda,” Marcia shouted. “I’ll do a quick Remove for you.”
“No!” yelled Aunt Zelda. “I must do this myself, otherwise they will lose respect for me.”
“Well, I wouldn’t exactly call this respect,” muttered Marcia, lifting her ruined shoes out of the sticky slime and inspecting the soles. She definitely had a hole in them somewhere. She could feel the slime seeping in between her toes.
Suddenly the shrieking stopped, and thousands of little red eyes all stared in terror at the thing a Brownie feared the most. A Boggart.
The Boggart.
With his fur clean and brushed, looking thin and small with the white sash of his bandage still tied around his middle, there was not quite as much Boggart as there had been. But he still had Boggart Breath. And, breathing Boggart Breath as he went, he waded through the Brownies, feeling his strength returning.
