Dragon Gold

by Shoo Rayner

* * *

  ‘Is that it?’ said Harri’s mum. ‘I thought there’d be gift shops and a visitor centre. This is like the middle of nowhere!’

  She parked the van in a lay-by at the base of Dinas Emrys. You wouldn’t call it a mountain or anything. In the middle of Snowdonia, surrounded by real mountains, it was just a little bump in the landscape.

  ‘Can we have our sandwiches up there?’ Harri asked.

  His mum pulled a face. ‘It’s a bit of a hike.’

  ‘Oh Mum! We’ve done nothing over half-term. Ple-e-e-ease?’

  It was a hard climb to the top, mostly because there wasn’t really a footpath.

  ‘You’d think there’d be signposts all over the place if it’s meant to be so famous,’ Harri’s mum complained.

  The website they’d found said to ask the National Trust for permission to climb up. Harri’s mum had phoned the number and explained that Harri was doing a project at school and wanted to take photographs.

  After a steep climb, a sheep track led them out onto the craggy summit. It was a perfect place for a fortress. Invaders could only attack from the bottom of the valley. You’d see them coming for miles.

  Everywhere the trees were turning bare and leaves covered the ground. The waters of Llyn Dinas sparkled below them in the late autumn sun.

  ‘And you say that Merlin lived here?’ Harri’s mum poured tea from a Thermos flask.

  ‘Mum! You don’t know anything,’ Harri scolded. ‘You run a shop called Merlin’s Cave and you know nothing about him!’

  ‘The shop was already called that when I took it over,’ she replied. ‘I mean, I know he was a magician and there was King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, but I thought that was all fairy tales.’

  ‘No, he was real, and he was here.’ Harri began telling his mother the rest of the story of the Red Dragon of Wales. He’d learned all about it over half-term from the books he’d borrowed.

  ‘It’s real history, nothing to do with King Arthur. That's fairy stories,’ he explained. ‘King Vortigern built a fortress right here at Dinas Emrys, except that every night while they were building it, the hillside shook and in the morning all the walls had fallen down. Well, King Vortigern didn’t know what to do, so he called up his council of wise men and Druids.

  ‘The Druids had a vision and told him to seek out a fatherless boy and sacrifice him and sprinkle his blood all over the hill.’

  ‘Eew!’ his mother complained. ‘I’m eating my sandwiches!’

  Harri ignored her. ‘Messengers were sent out to find such a boy and they eventually returned with Merlin, except he was called Emrys in those days.’

  ‘“Wait a minute!” Emrys cried, as they were just about to cut his throat. “Killing me isn’t going to solve anything.” He led them to a place where he ordered them to dig, and told them that they would find a cave with a pool of water underneath.

  ‘Well, Emrys, or Merlin, knew what he was talking about, because he’d been born a wizard. And, sure enough, when they dug down, they found the cave and there, in the pool of water, they found a stone coffer.’

  ‘You really know about this stuff, don’t you?’ his mother smiled.

  ‘Yup!’ Harri went on with the story. ‘And in the stone coffer, wrapped in silk, were the red and white dragons that King Lludd had captured and imprisoned there. They had been disturbed by all the building work, and every night they roared in anger till the castle foundations crumbled.

  ‘Now they were free, the dragons woke up and rose into the air, where they started fighting again. The white dragon was powerful, but the heart of the red dragon was stronger. It fought harder and longer until, at last, it overpowered the white dragon and killed it, once and for all.

  ‘Merlin told King Vortigern that the red dragon stood for the Ancient Britons, who are now the Welsh, and the white dragon was the invading Saxons. King Vortigern built his castle somewhere else and Merlin got to live here at Dinas Emrys. That’s what Dinas Emrys means – Emrys’ or Merlin’s city or fortress. They say he buried his gold here and that one day a golden-haired boy will come to claim the treasure!’

  Harri’s mum smiled and ran her hand through Harri’s golden curls. ‘And I suppose you think that you’re the boy who’s going to find the treasure, do you?’

  ‘Well … you never know.’ Harri looked hopeful. ‘We might just sort of … come across it!’

  ‘Your dad had golden hair, just like you,’ his mum said, wistfully.

  ‘And just like Merlin, I’m a fatherless child,’ Harri sighed.

  His mother stood up quickly. ‘Come on, time to go. You’re back to school tomorrow and I haven’t ironed your uniform yet.’

  * * *

  Down in the valley below, an old lady in a long green velvet cloak was searching for mushrooms and toadstools. Her cloak was the colour of the moss that covered the rocks and fallen trees. Anyone looking would hardly notice her. She was almost invisible.

  She saw the van parked in the lay-by and smiled as she read the name on the side.

  A robin stood defiantly on a rock – his own tiny Dinas Emrys – and chirruped his fierce call. The old lady winked at him. ‘Emrys has returned,’ she said.

  Chapter Five

  Harri woke with a start. Dylan was growling and pawing at the airing-cupboard door.

  It was cold in the mornings now, so Harri put his dressing gown on and went to see what was the matter.

  ‘What’s up, Dyl?’ Harri whispered, trying to calm the cat.

  Bathed in the orange glow of the street light across the road, the landing was eerily quiet. Then Harri heard the noise. Dylan laid his ears flat against his head and growled. Something very small was scratching and tapping inside the cupboard!

  Harri felt a wave of ice course through his veins. It wasn’t fear exactly, more like he felt he was in the presence of something supernatural … a ghost?

  Then he remembered the egg. For the first couple of days, Harri had checked the egg regularly but, as nothing seemed to be happening, he’d almost forgotten about it.

  Slowly he opened the airing cupboard door. He moved the hand towel back.

  The egg was moving! Cracks radiated from a tiny hole in the shell. Something inside the egg was making the hole and the cracks were getting bigger by the second. Harri remembered watching chicks hatch under warm lamps when he was in year two. It was just the same.

  The egg shook and quivered as the thing inside tap-tap-tapped, struggling to set itself free. Dylan growled again.

  ‘Quiet, Dyl!’ Harri hushed. He picked up the towel nest and carried it carefully to his bedroom where he laid it on the bed. Shooing Dylan out, he closed the door securely behind him.

  With a final heave and a tiny crack, the egg split in two.

  Harri gasped and held his breath. The alarm clock said 6:05 am. He must be still asleep and dreaming. He’d had dreams like that before, where he thought he was awake but he wasn’t, he was only dreaming he was awake. He closed his eyes and wished that this was real and not a dream.

  When he opened them again, nothing had changed. On his bed, in the middle of the nest he’d made from the hand towel, a perfect, tiny, bright-red dragon stretched its minute wings, shook its head and sneezed.

  It was the cutest, sweetest, most magical, most… Harri couldn’t think of any words to describe how he felt at that moment or what he thought about the adorable creature that was sitting on his bed.

  He slowly reached his hand across and ran his finger down the creature’s minute, ribbed chest. It instinctively grabbed hold of him and wrapped its tail around his finger.

  Harri could feel the little claws on his skin. They weren’t sharp, they tickled if anything. He held the dragon up close to his face and gazed in wonder at the perfection of the tiny creature.

  It blinked as it got used to the sight of its brand new world, stretching and writhing its body, now it was free and no longer squashed up inside an egg.

  In the distance, Harri hear
d his mother’s alarm clock. ‘What?!’ Harri’s clock now said 7:00 am. He’d been staring at this incredible little thing for an hour! Quick! What was he going to do? He couldn’t let Mum see it.

  On the way home from Dinas Emrys, they’d stopped off at the big clothes store on the edge of town and bought Harri new shoes. Harri grabbed the box and punched holes in the lid with a pencil. He laid the nest inside and put the … what was he going to call it?

  ‘Tân!’ The name just fell out of his mouth. ‘Tân!’ he whispered again, as he carefully placed the little creature in the box and closed the lid. ‘The Welsh word for fire … perfect!’

  He put the box under his bed, and placed his old shoes on top, just in case Tân was strong enough to open the lid and escape. He paused as he opened his bedroom door. I hope he doesn’t breathe fire! he thought.

  * * *

  School was a nightmare. All he could think about was getting back home and seeing Tân again. He felt tired and muzzy from waking up early. His head felt groggy and all the other kids were making too much noise. He really didn’t care what his friends had been doing over half-term.

  ‘Blah, blah, blah…’ Mr Davies was droning on, pointing to videos of his ancient Welsh and Saxon friends on the whiteboard. Harri tried asking a question, but his hand was so heavy he couldn’t lift it.

  ‘Are you all right, Harri?’ Mr Davies’ blurry face loomed over him. ‘You look very pale.’

  Mr Davies put his hand on Harri’s forehead. Harri shivered.

  ‘I’m so-o-o-o cold!’ he groaned.

  ‘My goodness, Harri.’ Mr Davies sounded worried. ‘You’re burning up! You’re running a temperature. I think you need to go home.’

  * * *

  If anyone had been watching, or if they had cared or noticed, they would have seen an old lady in a long green velvet cloak bustling down the street towards Merlin’s Cave. They might have noticed the concerned look on her face – grey eyebrows furrowed with worry. They might have wondered at her straw basket, overflowing with dried flowers and plants.

  And they might have noticed the old, leather-bound book that she clutched tightly under her arm.

  But no one was looking, so nobody noticed.

  * * *

  Harri was confused. One minute he was sitting in Mrs Yates’ office and the next he was in his bed at home. He had no idea how he got there.

  It felt like he’d been dreaming for days. Dreaming about dragons. Big ones, small ones, red, white, every colour you can imagine, swirling around his head – fighting, clawing, gnashing, slashing, tearing each other to pieces. And in amongst them all, a tiny baby dragon being tossed in all directions, as a multitude of scaly, dragon wings churned the air into a turbulent whirlwind. He heard his mother call his name, over and over, and another woman’s voice – an older woman’s voice. He knew that voice from somewhere. The voices argued for a while, then both were close, talking quietly nearby. He was so thirsty. He drank something. Tea? What was that? He’d never tasted anything like it before. Ugh! Sleep… All he wanted to do was sleep … forever…

  * * *

  ‘There you are!’ the old lady smiled. She sat beside Harri’s bed and held his hand. Where was he? He looked around the room. Everything was in its place. Game posters, wardrobe, dressing gown and backpack on the back of the door. Dylan was curled up on the windowsill. Everything seemed a little smaller, somehow.

  ‘What happened?’ Harri felt he was saying a line from a really bad movie. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Dragon fever,’ the old lady said, as if that explained everything.

  ‘Dragon fever? What?’ It all came flooding back to him. Harri scrambled to check under the bed. The shoebox had gone! ‘Whooah!’ His head spun around. He felt giddy and sick.

  ‘It’s all right,’ the old lady soothed, helping him back into bed. ‘Your dragon is safe and sound, downstairs. He was getting hungry. Have you given him a name?’

  Harri dredged through his memories of the last few days. His head cleared slowly. ‘Tân,’ he said, with a weak smile.

  ‘An excellent choice!’ The old lady’s eyes really twinkled.

  ‘What does he eat?’ Harri asked, ‘I didn’t know what to give him so I put some bread and ham in his box.’

  ‘He seems to like worms best,’ the old lady chuckled. ‘The wrigglier the better. Your mother and I have been digging them up in the yard for the last couple of days.’

  ‘Why? How long have I been asleep?’

  ‘Over two days. Lucky I got to you in time. Dragon fever can be quite serious!’

  * * *

  ‘Yes! That’s the one for me!’ Ryan’s dad cheered, pressing the buy-now button. ‘The Tornado 3000 ultra-light power fan. I can use the same lithium battery supply to power the radio control system. This baby is going to fly like a dream.’

  There was no lounging around watching daytime TV while there was a plane to be designed and built. The walls of his garage workshop were covered with plans and drawings of how he was going to build his J-20 Mighty Dragon Stealth Fighter Aircraft. Ryan’s dad spent every spare moment reading about wing design and streamlining.

  It was a good thing Ryan’s mum earned a fortune at her IT business. Some of the model plane parts he was ordering on the internet were quite expensive. Every day the post man arrived with parcels of balsa wood and radio control equipment. He’d built planes when he was a kid, so he’d stop and chat to see how this project was coming together.

  ‘Of course, it’s not for me,’ Ryan’s dad explained. ‘I’m doing it all for Ryan.’

  * * *

  The postman often had parcels for Merlin’s Cave. The box he delivered had Tony’s Model Airplane Supplies printed on the side. ‘I’m sure I delivered this box a couple of days ago.’ He sounded a little confused.

  ‘That was quick.’ Harri’s mum signed the postman’s little book, locked the shop door and put the back in five minutes card in the window.

  ‘Look what I got on eBay!’ she said mysteriously.

  Harri and the old lady were in the lounge feeding worms to Tân. Harri’s mum ripped open the box and pulled out a signed boxed-set of The Happy Witch and a bag full of Happy Witch goodies.

  ‘That’s Ryan’s!’ Harri said, surprised. ‘Mrs Spelltravers told him not to sell it.’

  ‘Well, he did and now it’s yours. The Happy Witch really does look like you, Imelda,’ she giggled, opening one of the books and looking at the pictures. They were friends now – but their friendship had had a rocky start.

  Well, what would you do if a crazy old lady turned up at your front door claiming your son might be in danger of catching a rare disease called Dragon Fever? You would think she was crazy, right? You’d probably slam the door in her face and tell her where to go. You might even think of calling the police and getting an anti-social order out against her … she was probably deranged!

  But then, what would you do if you were at your sick son’s bedside, waiting for the antibiotics that the doctor had given him to have an effect?

  What would you do if you heard a strange scratching from under the bed and found a shoe-box and opened the lid to discover a tiny, baby dragon curled up in a nest made out of your best hand towel?

  When the old lady had returned, Harri’s mum invited her in and let her explain the whole story.

  ‘Oh, he’s adorable!’ the old lady chuckled.

  ‘After I’d given Harri the egg,’ she explained, ‘I got a little worried. I thought I’d better do some checking. I knew I’d read something about dragons and how they can be infectious when they are newborn. I’ve been out picking all the ingredients to make Harri well again ever since.’

  There was something about her that Harri’s mum trusted. After years of selling magical gifts and trinkets, she’d learned to recognise the real thing. She helped the old lady boil up her flowers, leaves and mushrooms into a gloopy tea and spooned it into Harri’s mouth when it had cooled down.

  Within an
hour the fever broke and Harri began to sleep peacefully.

  The two women became friends. They read about dragons in Imelda’s ancient book to know what to feed it. Harri’s mum squealed as she collected worms from the flower bed in the back yard.

  ‘Eugh!’ She jiggled in her seat, as Imelda fed the worms, one by one, to the tiny but ravenous beast. ‘What are we going to do about it? We can’t keep it. I mean … a dragon! This is the twenty-first century. There are probably laws against keeping dragons. They must be an endangered species. We might get sent to jail for keeping an illegal pet! What if the RSPCA found out we had a dragon?!’

  ‘Look, the thing is, see…’ Imelda pointed to a paragraph in her old book. ‘It says here, “He who fuffers ye fever from a Newborn Dragon and furvives shall be ye mafter of ye dragon for all time.”’

  Harri’s mum pursed her lips. ‘And what does that mean?’

  ‘It means,’ said Imelda, ‘that Harri and this little dragon are joined together. Their destinies are entwined.’

  * * *

  ‘Come on Ryan, everything’s ready and the park will be empty. Everyone will be full of Christmas pudding and falling asleep in front of the telly.’ It was time for the maiden flight of the J-20 Mighty Dragon.

  The model was a masterpiece. They drove the hundred and fifty metres to the park and quickly turned the courtyard outside the Plas into a runway.

  Ryan clicked the switches in the order he’d been taught and stood back. The plane was magnificent – matt black with red stars on the wings. The Tornado 3000 ultra-light power fan came to life. The model shook and slowly began to move forward. In no time it was rocketing across the tarmac. Ryan’s dad pulled back one of the levers on his remote control unit and the plane took off!

  ‘One – two – three – four –’ Ryan counted out loud. ‘Five – six –’

  The Tornado 3000 ultra-light power fan cut out. Ryan and his dad held their breath. The J-20 Mighty Dragon tipped its nose and in perfect silence, but with perfect grace, smashed into a tree, crumpling the nose and seriously damaging one of the wings.