by N. E. Bode
“We met up with Ippy and Drusser along the way,” Ringet said. “Ippy had heard a message too. She helped us onto the back of some delivery trucks, in past the Goggles. It was my idea to play statues,” he added proudly.
“We don’t have much time now,” Ippy said. She was already on a branch, climbing down. “Someone’s waiting for us.”
“I’ve got to save Sister Mary Many Pockets,” Oyster said. “She’s going to be fed to the Vultures.” He couldn’t bear to call them “Blood-Beaked.”
“Oh, dear,” Ringet said, staring up at the sky. “Oh, help me, help me, help me.”
“I know someone who will help with your Sister Mary Many Pockets,” Ippy said.
“Who’s this?” Hopps said suspiciously.
“Yes, who, Ippy?” Drusser asked.
They were all on the tree now, using the branches as a ladder to the ground. The underbrush was dense and the trees were knit together with vines. Oyster could hear birds and distant hissing and other noises he didn’t recognize. It made him nervous.
“Eshma Weegrit,” Ippy said.
“Eshma Weegrit?” Ringet whispered in a reverent tone. “I’ve wanted to meet her all my life.”
“Who’s Eshma Weegrit?” Oyster asked.
“Don’t get your hopes up, Ringet,” Hopps said, inspecting his gash. “She can’t still be alive.”
“She is still alive,” Ippy said.
“Then why hasn’t she helped the Cause? With her powers, she could do wonders for us.” Hopps sounded bitter.
“She’s a guru,” Ippy said.
“And gurus don’t have to help the Cause?” Hopps shot back.
“The Eshma Weegrit?” Drusser asked. “Are you sure?”
“Are there a lot of Eshma Weegrits?” Ippy asked. She took out a large knife and started to cut through the underbrush, making a trail.
“Who’s Eshma Weegrit?” Oyster asked again, following her.
“She can cure your arm, Hopps,” Ringet said. “And, well, she can cure my locked leg, too. She can! I’ve always heard it said.” Oyster wanted to believe this was true. He thought of the boy at the Dragon Palace with the leg braces. Could Eshma Weegrit cure him, too? But this thought filled Oyster’s chest with the tight sadness of being homesick. Without the Slippery Map, Oyster wondered if he’d ever see the boy again.
“We’re not meeting up with Eshma Weegrit. She doesn’t exist,” Hopps said. “We’re just going to try to make it through the valley alive, and if we do, we’ll be lucky.”
“She does so!” Ippy said.
Oyster was frustrated, tired of being ignored. If someone was going to help Sister Mary Many Pockets, then he wanted to know something about her. “Who is Eshma Weegrit?” he shouted.
“Never mind that just now,” Drusser said. “First we’ve got to get out of this forest.”
“Who’s stopping us?” Oyster asked.
“Not who, what,” Drusser said.
CHAPTER 18
INFESTATIONS, ATTACKS BY AIR, AND ANCIENT FIRE-BREATHERS
Ringet started reading the highlighted passages from a worn paperback, How to Handle Lawless Beasts. Oyster assumed it was one of the outlawed books he kept in his oversized soup cans.
“‘Chapter One, Infestations,’” Ringet blurted quickly. “‘Flying Three-Horned Rhinoceros-Ants, Jelly Roaches, Killer One-Eyed Slugs.’”
“Jelly Roaches might taste good spread on a mushroom, but they’re poisonous,” Ippy said, chopping vines. “Your tongue will swell up.”
Oyster kept an eye on the ground. Jelly Roaches seemed like something that would crawl slowly and appear without you knowing it.
“It gets worse!” Ringet said.
“Please stop,” Hopps said. He was holding his arm close to his side.
“‘Chapter Two,’” Ringet went on, “‘Attacks by Air: Treehogs, Blue Bats, Dart-Spitting Winged Snakes.’”
“I was once struck in the head by a Dart Spitter,” Drusser said. “I couldn’t think straight for a week.”
Oyster’s eyes searched in every direction: above for Blue Bats, below for Killer One-Eyed Slugs. “Dragons?” Oyster asked. He didn’t like Dragons. “Are they in there?”
“A whole chapter on Dragons alone. ‘Ancient Fire-Breathers.’” Ringet started flipping to the chapter.
“Put the book away,” Hopps growled. “It’s too late. Don’t you see that?”
Ringet shoved the book in his pocket and ran to Hopps at the end of the line. He grabbed his good arm and helped prop up Hopps with his shoulder. “It’s my fault you’re hurt, Hopps. The least I can do is be prepared so it doesn’t happen again!” Ringet looked up and pointed. “Treehog!”
Oyster stared at the spot. He was relieved to see that it was just a lump on the side of a tree, and he was about to say so; but the lump twisted and a snout and two beady eyes emerged. Oyster picked up his pace and got closer to Ippy. Drusser was beside her now, helping cut the trail. They both stopped so abruptly that Oyster rammed into them.
“What is it?” Hopps and Ringet asked.
“Charred clearing,” Drusser said.
“And smoked turtle shells, finely picked,” Ippy added.
Oyster was on his feet, looking over her shoulder at a pile of fifty shells on the ground.
They sat on a parched spot of bare ground ringed by fried trees. “What does it mean?” he asked.
“Dragon Perths,” Hopps said. “My family comes from Dragon Perths way back.”
“Dragon Perths?” Ringet said, pulling out his book again.
“They won’t be in your book! They’re not beasts,” Hopps said defensively.
“They work with the Dragons,” Ippy explained. “The Dragon cooked the turtles and the Dragon Perths picked them clean, sharing with the Dragon.”
“It’s a delicate friendship, though,” Drusser said. “Sometimes a Dragon Perth gets swallowed up.”
Ippy reached down and touched the shells. “Still warm,” she said. “They could be anywhere.”
“Maybe the Dragon Perths can help!” Ringet said. “I mean, if they’re your kind, Hopps, maybe they’d be on our side.”
“Or feed us to the Dragon,” Hopps said.
Everyone was looking around, turning in slow circles.
Oyster stared at a shrub with yellow berries. One of the berries winked and a pale eye exposed itself. “There!” Oyster said.
“Get down!” Hopps yelled.
They all dived to the ground.
Oyster found himself squeezed in next to Ippy. “This isn’t good,” he said.
“You’ll be okay, Oyster,” she said, looking up at him. “You’re tough.”
“You think so?” he asked.
Ippy nodded.
Oyster couldn’t help but smile—even though they were in a bad spot. Ippy thought he was tough! Imagine that! Things swished past overhead. He wanted to know what they were, so he took a quick look and then wished he hadn’t. Balls covered in long needles.
“Spike Balls,” Drusser said. “They’ll knock you out. Stay low.”
Oyster saw a Spike Ball land in the smoky clearing. It unfurled. Four legs appeared. A porcupine, Oyster thought, except that it had long, gapped front teeth and wore an unpleasant sneer.
“This is bad,” Ringet said with his eyes closed tight.
“We’re targets now,” Ippy said. “If we stay crouched, it’s just a matter of time before the animals start to hunt us down.”
Oyster knew that Ippy was right. He thought of the Snapping Dirt Clams that burrowed up from underground.
The Blue Bats were the first to start hovering overhead. Shortly after that, Oyster spotted the blunt head of a snake. Don’t fly! Oyster said to himself. Please don’t fly. He scooted down as best as he could into a ball, like the porcupines. But then he saw the Jelly Roaches. A small, shiny line of them moving toward his shoes.
“We’ve got to make this stop,” Ippy said.
“Or we’re doomed,” Drusser added.
“Doomed!” Ringet said, grabbing Hopps.
Leatherbelly sat on Oyster’s feet and started to shake. The snake in the tree had spread its hinged wings wide. It was gliding toward them, its dart-spitting mouth wide open. Oyster tucked his head low again, and whispered, from his heart, to Sister Mary Many Pockets. Will we find each other again? Will we? He could hear a small Yes in his heart, and then the Yes grew louder and louder until it was a pounding Yes that shook the ground through his shoes.
Or perhaps it wasn’t the Yes that was shaking the ground.
The Spike Balls stopped flying. The Blue Bats flitted off. The flying, Dart-Spitting Snake turned its wings and disappeared into the trees. Even the Jelly Roaches reversed their line toward Oyster’s shoes. The pounding grew louder, and Oyster remembered….
“Dragon,” he said.
They all nodded, except Ringet, who started to read, “‘An ancient breed, the Dragon is most closely tied to—’”
“Stop it, Ringet! Stop! It’s not going to help us now!”
From his spot in the bushes, Oyster could see the Dragon’s large, curled nails; its giant, red-scaled haunches. Its red-crowned head reared up.
“Red?” Ippy said.
“Red?” Drusser added. “Never seen anything like it!”
“I have,” said Oyster. It was much like the red dragon painted on the Dragon Palace at home. “My old world and this World—it’s a translation,” he explained.
Hopps was preparing his bow. “Doesn’t matter. Either way, we’re in trouble here.”
“No,” Drusser said. “An arrow will only make it angrier.”
“It’ll distract it enough for you all to run,” Hopps said.
“But what about you?” Ringet asked.
“No,” Ippy said. “It’s too risky.”
“We have to stick together,” Oyster said.
Hopps didn’t listen. He stood up, took aim, and shot. The arrow lodged itself in the Dragon’s meaty shoulder, setting the mighty beast off balance for a moment. But there was no time to run. The Dragon quickly righted itself and bounded for Hopps. Hopps turned to run, but the Dragon clawed his back in one swipe.
“Hopps!” Ringet cried.
Hopps fell to the ground. The back of his Orwise Suspar and Sons Refinery uniform was clawed through, but he wasn’t bleeding. He played dead while the Dragon leaned over the others. The Dragon cocked its crowned head and glared down at them with one glassy eye on the side of its horned face.
And then Ringet stood up. He put his hands on his bony hips. He drew in an enormous breath and he screamed. This scream was nothing like the one he’d let loose when the Goggle ate his hat. This scream was loud and long and piercing.
The Dragon stumbled backward, staggered until it lost its balance completely. It fell to its haunches and then collapsed in a heap. Its eyes closed. Its heavy breaths stopped.
“Ringet!” Oyster said, breathless. His own heart was still pounding in his chest.
Ippy said, “You killed a Dragon!”
Ringet was dazed. He dropped his hands off his hips and stood there, quite still and wide-eyed. His voice was just a chirp. “I did?”
Hopps stood up. “You did, Ringet.”
Leatherbelly yipped triumphantly.
“Ippy’s never killed a Dragon that quick,” Drusser said.
Ippy tightened her eyes and glared at Drusser.
“What? It’s true,” Drusser said.
“It felt good,” Ringet said. “To, you know, rise up like that!”
Hopps had his back to Ringet. He was dusting off his shirt.
“The Dragon clawed off some of the letters on the back of your uniform,” Ippy said. “You’re lucky to be alive. It was that close!”
“Really?” Hopps said.
Ringet picked up his paperback, stuffed it in his pocket. He looked at Hopps’s back. “It felt good to rise up,” he said again. And then his cheeks went red. His finger flew into the air. He turned around, pacing. He looked fevered. “I’ve got something,” he said.
Hopps looked at him. “What is it, Ringet? You look strange. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you like this.”
“I’ve got to go back to Boneland,” Ringet said. “I know how to make the Perths rise up.”
“It’s not possible,” Ippy said. “They don’t have it in them.”
Drusser shook his head. “Doggers, yes. Perths, no. They can’t rise up.”
“I will convince them,” Ringet said.
“How?” Oyster asked.
“I can’t explain it now. No time. They just need unity. That’s all,” Ringet said.
Hopps looked at Ringet with a steady eye. “Ringet,” he said. “You’ve changed.”
“I think I have!” Ringet said.
“But Ringet,” Hopps said, “what if we do meet up with Eshma Weegrit. You won’t be here to have your lock leg cured.”
“I thought you didn’t believe she was alive,” Ippy said.
“Well, stranger things have happened,” Hopps said, pointing to the Dragon.
“It doesn’t matter about my leg,” Ringet said. “There are more important things now.”
Hopps turned to Drusser. “Can you lead Ringet back through the tunnels to Boneland? He needs a guide.”
“I can,” Drusser said. “Of course.”
“We’ve got to go right now,” Ringet said. “Will you be okay?” he asked Hopps.
Hopps grabbed his arm. “Sure,” he said. “I’ll be fine if this Eshma Weegrit shows up.”
“She will,” Ippy said.
“She will,” Ringet agreed.
Hopps nodded.
Ringet limped down the trail with Drusser at his side. They both stopped and looked back.
Drusser gave a quick salute.
Ringet put his finger to the side of his nose.
Oyster, Ippy, and Hopps all saluted back and tapped their noses. Leatherbelly tossed back his head and gave a quick bark.
“Be careful,” Hopps called out.
Ringet and Drusser started back down the path and then both dipped out of sight.
CHAPTER 19
ESHMA WEEGRIT’S CURES
Oyster, Hopps, Ippy, and Leatherbelly didn’t stand for long in the charred clearing in front of the pile of turtle shells surrounded by the fried trees with the dead Dragon laid out before them. From the other side of the dead Dragon, with a snapping of twigs and a shuffling of footsteps, an old woman with a tuft of white cloudy hair appeared. Her hair seemed to follow behind her in a breathy fluff. When she stopped, it caught up and sat airily atop her head.
She patted the red-scaly back haunch of the Dragon and said, “Nice color work. Your doing, no doubt, Oyster?”
Oyster shrugged. “I guess so. Who are—”
“My, my, he was a big eater. Wasn’t he, Ippy?”
“Eshma Weegrit!” Ippy announced proudly.
“In the flesh!” Eshma said. “Or, well now, I’m more spirit than flesh these days, it seems. I’m on my way out. But I’m still here.”
“This is Hopps,” Ippy said. “And Oyster and Leatherbelly.”
Hopps was flustered. He didn’t like to be wrong. “I—I, well, so nice to m-m…I’ve heard things. Nice things. It’s…” He stalled out and shrugged.
“I know, I know. Understood. Hello, Hopps, dear man full of doubt, and the boy, of course. We’ve been waiting! And the small, paunchy beast. Nice to see you all.”
Oyster was surprised that Eshma had been waiting for him! He thought it was the other way around. He was surprised to hear Leatherbelly described as paunchy. Oyster looked at the dachshund and noticed that Leatherbelly’s stomach was indeed only a paunch. With all of the running around to survive, his belly had shrunk and no longer dragged on the ground.
“Um, excuse me. There’s something quite urgent,” Oyster said. “Sister Mary Many Pockets, she came for me, and she’s in danger, and—”
“Oh, Oyster, do you doubt the woman of many pockets?” E
shma asked. “The Blood-Beaked Vultures didn’t eat her. No, no. They were no match for her.”
“Is she alive? Is she okay?” Oyster asked.
“Oh, yes. You see, she flapped and squawked. Her black cloth rose around her. She puffed her cheeks until her own face was a darker red than their own beaks. And they were afraid. They were very afraid. The vultures thought that she was an even larger, more terrifying bird. They flew away. She’s actually a step ahead of you all. She’s nearing Dark Mouth’s Torch. But perhaps if we hurry, you all will be able to catch up.”
“How do you know all of this?” Oyster asked.
“I have ways of seeing. Don’t you know that she’s a woman of great strength?”
“I guess I do,” Oyster said. He’d never thought of her like that before. She was always a woman of great fears—that’s why he was never allowed beyond the nunnery gate. But he wasn’t as afraid as he’d been either. Maybe they were both changing.
Eshma said, “Ippy, come over here and lay your hands on this Dragon’s sunken chest. We’ve got to bring him back.”
“To life?” Hopps blurted.
“I can’t have the Dragon Perths angry. They don’t like to lose a Dragon. But he’ll be a sweetie when he revives. I’ll make sure his spirits are high. Ippy, can you do this for me?”
“Are you sure? Me?” Ippy asked.
“Yes, yes,” Eshma said. “Do you recall the mantra?”
Ippy nodded, but for the first time, she seemed scared to Oyster, and he realized that Eshma and Ippy knew each other well. Was Ippy learning to be a guru? “You can do it, Ippy,” Oyster said. He was sure that Ippy could do most anything.
She looked at Oyster. “You think so?”
He nodded.
“I’d do it myself,” Eshma said, “but I need to attend to Mr. Hopps, the man who has doubted me.”
Hopps tried to correct her. “I’ve really come around. I mean, I believe in you plenty. I mean…”
While Ippy stared intently at the Dragon, Eshma ignored Hopps’s blathering and pulled a blue vial from her pocket. “Here we are. This will sting just a bit,” she said to Hopps. She uncorked the vile. Oyster sidled over for a closer look. Eshma poured some of the liquid on Hopps’s gash.
