He had definitely seen a flash of gray and black. The pad began to quiver, and his pulse quickened. This was crazy. There couldn't be anything in the pad. He hadn't touched it even once.
Slowly, as if something might leap out and bite him, he opened it. What he saw was exactly what he hoped he wouldn't see. It was another picture of Emily being carried away by the demon creatures, again drawn in his distinctive style, again with his signature at the bottom.
No.
Not again.
With trembling hands, he flipped through the pages. The pad was filled with other drawings, all of them but the last of Emily and the demon creatures. First, they were flying over the trees, Emerald Lake in the background. But then the landscape changed; there was a horizon of sloping hills he didn't recognize, as well as strange, trees with long trunks and puffy leaves. In some of the pictures, two moons hung in the sky. The trees were replaced by snowy hills, and then finally a forbidding castle appeared out of the fog. In the following pages, the castle grew closer; it appeared to be made of shiny silver metal, and the center portion, surrounded by dozens of towers, looked like a skull.
On the last page, he was looking over the backs of the demon creatures, close up at the castle now, and he saw that one of the eye sockets of the skull was actually a balcony. Waiting there on that balcony, forming a tiny pupil in the eye of the skull, was a tall, thin figure in a black cloak.
Jason tossed the pad under his bed. No more drawing. If he didn't see another drawing pad for the rest of his life, he'd be just fine.
He wrote Aunt Carina a note, explaining that he couldn't take it around here anymore, and that he'd call her when he found his new home. After slipping on his black jean jacket and his backpack, he took one last look around the room, then decided it was now or never. The old wooden window took a bit of doing to open, but it wasn't long before he had climbed outside and the wet grass was soaking through his tennis shoes. The light from the framed window formed four yellow squares on the grass. The rest of the yard was smothered by darkness.
As eased the window closed, somebody spoke.
"Hello, Jason Rosewood."
He fell against the wooden siding. When he spun around, he saw only the glimmerings from the neighbors' windows and the vague outlines of the forest behind the house.
"Brad?" he said.
The wind, which had been blowing lightly, died. He saw the tiniest streaks of rain in the light from the window. He was beginning to wonder if he had imagined the voice when a pair of yellow eyes appeared only a few feet away. He thought they belonged to a cat until the creature stepped into the light.
It was about the size of a cat, and it had two arms and two legs, but that's where the similarities ended. It walked on its hind legs like a human, but unlike a human, it had wings—feathered white wings tucked close to its body. Its head was mouse-like, with large black eyes, a long snout tipped with a pink nose, and white whiskers that bent nearly to the grass. Except for the green tunic that looked like it had been woven from thin vines, its body was covered with fuzzy tan fur. It also had three fingers on each hand and three toes on each foot. The ears were tiny triangles with pink in the center.
"What—what are you?" Jason said.
The creature blinked. "I am a Little Feather and I am from a world called Rymadoon," it said, its voice high and squeaky. "My name is Naja." After a pause, he added in somewhat more tremulous tone, "I am here to tell you that your sister Emily is alive . . . and . . . and she's dying."
Chapter 3
The little creature blinked up at him with its glowing yellow eyes. The darkness pressed in on Jason from all sides; around them, there was only the sound of the breeze whispering through the forest. Ever since the day of Emily's birthday party, he had dreamed of discovering she was still alive, but he had certainly never imagined finding out this way. A policeman at the door, a call from a stranger, a television report—he had imagined all of those ways, but not once did he think a strange, furry creature with wings would be the one to break the news.
"She's what?" Jason said.
Naja covered himself with his wings. They formed a white cocoon around his body, and he looked out through the gap, his bright eyes wide and fearful. "Please don't hurt me, Jason Rosewood," he said. "Please, I mean you no harm."
Jason was still trying to make sense of what the creature had said. His sister Emily was in another world? And dying? It was too crazy to be true. Across the street, he heard a neighbor's sliding back door close, and he dropped to a crouch. The wet blades of grass brushed against the hem of his pants. The night had cooled since he had been inside, and goose bumps formed on his arms.
"Did Dad send you?" he whispered. "You're a robot, aren't you?"
Naja slowly emerged from his protective bubble of his wings. "I don't know what this 'robot' is," he said. "And I'm afraid I've never met your father. But . . . But I have met your sister. And if you come with me now, you can save her."
Jason shook his head. "You're saying you're really from another world?"
"Rymadoon," Naja said.
"Right. Rymadoon. And that's where my sister is?"
"Yes, yes," Naja said quickly. "Rymadoon is a very big world — very big! I am actually from Nogero, a southern land. Emily is a prisoner of Dago the Dreaded, who rules there. Oh, he's an evil, evil man! She's locked in his dungeon, and nobody survives there for long—it sucks the life right out of you. She might not even last a few weeks if you don't save her. But there's no time to explain everything! The portal is closing."
"Portal?"
"Yes! The gateway between my world and yours. But we must go now!"
Jason held up a hand. Everything was happening too fast. "Wait a minute. I need to know—"
"Now, now!" Naja cried, his whiskers vibrating.
"Shh!" Jason said. "Keep your voice down."
Naja's wings once again closed in around his body. "Very sorry, Jason Rosewood."
"And why do you keep calling me that? It's just Jason."
"Sorry. Yes. Very sorry. Just Jason."
"And will you stop hiding behind your wings? I'm not going to hurt you."
Slowly, as if he feared a trick, Naja stretched out his wings. He sniffed the air a few times with his little nose, then continued. "Yes, Just Jason. I'm sorry. I won't do it again, Just Jason."
Jason sighed. "Not 'Just Jason.' Jason."
"Jason. Yes."
Jason knew one way to tell if this was one of Dad's robots. "Open your mouth," he said.
"What?"
"Just do it."
After a pause, Naja opened his mouth. The inside of the creature's mouth was dark and shadowy, but Jason did catch a glimpse of a gray gums and a pink tongue. No way Dad could have created that. The inside of the Dad's robot's mouths were blocky, metallic, and usually full of wires.
"You're real," Jason said.
"Yes, Jason. So are you."
"I mean, you're not a robot."
"No. Are you?"
"Of course not. And that means my sister really is in another world? Really is in danger?"
Naja nodded. "And unless we go now, we may not be able to save her. We really must hurry!"
"Were you the one that threw the rocks down at the beach?"
"Yes. I feared those Tall Ones were going to do you harm. Please, Jason. We can talk later."
Jason still had lots of questions, but if what Naja said was true, he was willing to wait for the answers until later. No way was he messing up his chance to find Emily. "Where's the portal?"
"Not far from here," Naja said, pointing. "On an island in the middle of a lake."
When Jason realized Naja was pointing vaguely in the direction of Emerald Lake, his heart beat faster. "Did it have a single house on it? A really big one, almost a mansion?"
Naja nodded. "Yes, yes!"
"That's our island. The portal's there?"
"In a cave, yes. Can you fly?"
"I wish."
"Wishing
will not make it so," Naja said. He twitched his whiskers. "A pity. Can you drive one of those wheeled metal beasts?"
"No," Jason said. And even if he could, he didn't have the keys to Aunt Carina's car. "We'll take my bike. It's the fastest way."
He was glad he parked his bike in the covered parking area, not in the shed in the back where Aunt Carina told him to store it so it wouldn't get stolen. In the darkness of the parking area, he eased up the kickstand with his hand, then wheeled out the yellow ten-speed into the pool of light from one of the street lamps. After walking through the cool night air it to the end of the block, he hopped on and started to pedal.
Naja took three running steps and jumped in the air. His wings buzzed almost as fast as a hummingbird's and he landed on Jason's shoulder. Despite his size, Naja felt no heavier than Lenore, and his toes dug into Jason's shoulders in much the same way as Lenore's claws.
"May I ride here, Jason?" Naja asked, his whiskers tickling Jason's neck. "We Little Feathers do not walk well, I'm afraid, and I have done much flying lately."
"That's fine," Jason said, though he didn't particularly like Naja's musky odor. "Tell me more about Emily. Why does this . . . Dago, was that his name?"
"Yes, Dago." He felt Naja shudder.
"Well, what does he want with Emily? She's just a little girl."
The bike's tires swished over the damp street. Most of the houses were quiet, though a poodle yipped at him through the large bay window of one house, and Jason heard piano music coming from another. He reached the main road, and headed down the hill toward the highway, picking up speed, guiding his way by the visible cones of light from the streetlamps. Cool wind blew his hair out of his eyes and chilled his ears. The night felt much colder when he was moving.
"I can't say for certain," Naja said finally. "We Little Feathers get very confused with all the things you Tall Ones talk about. But . . . but I did hear him talking to Emily. He called her a Weaver, and I know what that is. That's someone who can Weave the magic. He said she was just coming into her powers."
Jason had reached the bottom of the hill, but he would have braked at this news anyway. His tires squealed. The shimmering wet highway was quiet, not a car on it. Far down the road, in the opposite way he'd be going, the pizza joint had a dozen cars parked out front, but otherwise all the other shops that lined this stretch of the highway were dark, the streetlamps spaced every hundred yards or so showing their parking lots to be empty. He craned his head to look at Naja. "Are you saying my sister is a magician?" he asked.
"Well, not in Nogero," Naja said. "In Nogero, a magician is someone who does things that look like magic. A Weaver is someone who really can do magic. There aren't many real Weavers left in Nogero anymore."
Jason shook his head. "My sister. Unbelievable. Why her?"
"I don't know. But according to Dago, you are a Weaver, too."
Jason was lifting his right foot to put it back on the pedal, and Naja's words caused him to miss the pedal altogether. He lost his balance and fell to the right, catching himself in time so he didn't go all the way down. The movement did, however, throw Naja off his shoulder. The little creature yelped and fluttered its wings, but not fast enough to stop himself from landing with a uuuumph on the ground.
"Me?" Jason said.
Whimpering and massaging his arms, Naja climbed back to his feet. "Yes," he said, blinking up at Jason with his glowing eyes. "That was what he said."
"But why? I can't do any magic."
"Not your world, no. Your powers probably wouldn't work here. I wish I could tell you more. I . . . I really don't know how he knows you have this power—that's just what I heard him tell Emily. He told her he wanted her to help him get you, but she wouldn't do it. That's why he threw her in his dungeon. But now she's sick, and if we don't get there soon, I fear she might die. It is an awful place, full of a dark magic that wastes away your body. No Weavers can work their own magic there—none but Dago. It's the way he wanted it. Please, we must be going! I will tell you all I can on the way."
Naja climbed back on his shoulder, then they crossed the road and headed south along the bike path. Ahead, the sky looked like a sloppily painted canvas, full of streaks of black and dark blue. Now and then a car passed, and a wall of air threatened to push him off the road.
"So those black . . . demon things . . . work for him?" Jason asked. It was hard to talk now that he was pedaling so hard.
"The Shadowbreathers," Naja said. "They are his most loyal servants—awful things!"
"Why didn't . . . they just . . . take me?"
"I do not know. I'm sorry! I wish I was smarter so I could tell you more."
Jason thought about how the one at the window called him creator. He had replayed that moment many times in his mind, but he still couldn't make any sense of it. "Why does . . . he want us?"
"I suppose," Naja began, "I suppose it's because he wants your help with the war. He has been trying to control Nogero for many years, and he still hasn't won."
"Who's he fighting?"
"Other Tall Ones. They're . . . well, it's all very hard to explain! Please don't be angry with me, Jason. We Little Feathers get very confused with all the ways of the Tall Ones."
Jason didn't want to push Naja too hard. The little creature already sounded frazzled. They rode in silence along the slick road, staying close as possible to the shoulder. They had already gone beyond the main part of the city, and they passed through long stretches of darkness. Only the occasional electric motel or restaurant sign—in between areas filled with nothing but pine trees, ivy, and scotchbroom—kept him from steering into a ditch. The air smelled of wet, growing things and fertile earth.
Fifteen minutes later, he reached the wooden sign indicating the way to Emerald Lake, and he turned left on a narrower, darker road. He knew this way by heart, though, and as they streaked downhill through the little lake cottages he only had to guide the bike in the right direction. It also allowed him to finally catch his breath. He just hoped Dad still had the extra rowboat tied up on the dock on this side.
"Oh, I do hope we are not too late," Naja said.
"I'm going as fast as I can, okay?" Jason said sharply. "Maybe if you'd gotten here sooner it wouldn't be a problem. It's been, like, a month."
"Yes, I know," Naja said. "I'm very, very sorry for that. Emily did not arrive right away, and then it took me a long time to travel from Dago's castle to the portal."
"And that's another thing," Jason said. "Why were you at the castle? And why did you come?"
"I want to help."
"Yeah, right. There's gotta be something in it for you."
Naja fell silent. Jason didn't mean to sound so harsh, but he was having a hard time controlling his anger. It was Dago. Jason hardly knew a thing about him, but he hated him like he had hated no one before in his life, not even Brad. If Jason really could use magic—he still had a hard time believing it—Dago was going to be very sorry he had ever taken Emily.
"Well, it's true that I need your help, too," Naja said.
"I knew it," Jason said.
"But I really do want to help you! You see, we Little Feathers are Dago's servants. My parents are there right now, but my mother is locked in the dungeon. Dago put her there because she could not do the work. Oh, he is so cruel! If she stays there long, she will surely die. She is old and weak."
"I see," Jason said. "So you want me to help free her?"
"Yes! Yes, I can't do it on my own. But perhaps you could help."
They had reached the bottom of the hill, and after a short bend in the road, he saw the lake, black and still. They passed the Emerald Lake Bait and Tackle shop, which was dark, whizzed close to the tiny lighted windows of the motor homes in the trailer park, and headed for the dock. He caught the familiar smell of lake water. Like a lot of the other locals, his father rented a sloop, and that's where he kept his motorboat and rowboat most of the time. There were dozens of boats there, all of them dark. A single st
reet lamp in the center of the docks shined on the graying wooden planks. Slowing, Jason road right over the grass, through the open gate, and onto the dock. His tires bumped over the uneven boards. He heard the gentle lapping of water against the grassy shore.
When he arrived at his father's sloop, he saw that both the motorboat and the rowboat were gone. Feeling sullen, he hopped off the bike and put down the kickstand. Naja leapt from his shoulder and fluttered to the dock.
"Is something wrong?" Naja asked, yellow eyes wide.
Over at the next spot, where a sailboat was tied, an aluminum canoe had been placed next to it on the dock and turned upside down. "Well, we'll just have to borrow this one."
He flipped it over as quietly as he could, then eased it into the water just beyond the sailboat. Every thump and splash made him cringe. When the door to one of the trailers just up the way banged open, Jason froze. He heard a group of boisterous men pile out of the trailer, joking and laughing. Jason waited until he heard a car engine start, and waited some more until he heard the engine fading up the hill. He was about to tell Naja to jump into the canoe when he noticed something important was missing.
"Oh, no," he said.
"What?" Naja said.
"There's no oars! They've probably locked them in their sailboat. We won't be able to move it." He partially rose, glancing around the dock. "Maybe somebody else—"
"I can do it," Naja said.
"What?"
"I can push us. With my wings."
Jason looked at him skeptically. With those tiny, feeble wings, Naja hardly looked big enough to push a piece of driftwood. "Are you sure?"
Naja's yellow eyes appeared to brighten. "Yes, yes! It will be tiring, but I can do it."
Jason lowered himself into the canoe, the boat rocking left and right beneath him. The metal rail felt cool, and his wooden seat was slightly damp. He felt stupid climbing into a canoe without an oar, but he had no more sat down when he heard a loud buzzing, like a giant bumblebee. He turned and saw Naja crouched at the aft, his wings a blur.
The ship drifted away from the dock, then turned toward the middle of the lake. They definitely wouldn't win any races, but they were probably moving faster than Jason could have rowed them. Impressed, he said, "How long can you keep that up?"
The Dragon of the Dolomites Page 5
