The Journey to Dragon Island

by Claire Fayers

  “They’re bombarding us,” said Tom. A yellow streak landed on his glasses. “I’ve seen seagulls do this to drive off enemies. I wonder if teradons are related to seagulls.”

  Brine didn’t really care either way. She tore Boswell from Stella’s legs and ran for the hatch to belowdecks, the howling dragon in her arms. More disgusting-smelling streaks landed around her. An extra-large patch had half a dead rat in it. At least, Brine thought it was a rat; she didn’t really stop to look.

  “Raise the anchor!” shouted Ewan. “They’re probably just protecting their territory. We’ll let them think we’re running away, and … and, someone, get me a towel.”

  The Onion began to move. Ewan scrubbed dinosaur droppings off his arms. Boswell stopped howling and started clawing at Brine, trying to get free. Brine pulled him back. “You can’t fight them, you silly dragon.”

  Boswell turned his head and blew hot air into her face. Brine let him go in surprise and, instead of falling, he spread his wings and glided, landing out of reach.

  Tom laughed with amazement. “He’s trying to fly!”

  A teradon screamed down out of the sky at them. Brine yelled and ducked, but Boswell began flapping his wings and rose unsteadily off the deck to meet it.

  Brine’s heart leaped into her throat. The teradon was twenty times the size of Boswell. As the teradon wheeled aside, Boswell flapped backward, his wings beating unevenly. Then, gaining his balance, he took off in pursuit. The sky darkened with wings then lit with bright flashes of dragon fire.

  The teradons retreated—all of them. Brine gazed into the sky, her mouth open in amazement, until another yellow blob landed nearby, and she snapped it shut. A few more streaks spattered down. Teradons shouted overhead, their cries growing more distant, and their cries were echoed by a half roar, half meow that sounded so furious, nobody on board the ship dared laugh.

  Boswell circled the ship twice, then landed back in the middle of the deck and folded his wings.

  Everyone stumbled back onto the deck, trying to skirt the smelly patches.

  “They all just fled,” said Stella, incredulous. “Teradons aren’t afraid of anything. And Boswell’s only a baby.”

  Tom scratched his head with a pen. “Once, on Barnard’s Reach, we had a really bad winter, and a pair of storm eagle chicks took shelter on the cliffs. The other birds had never seen a storm eagle before, and yet every bird flew up in a panic. It was like something inside them knew what an eagle was, and knew to stay away.”

  “You’re saying that dinosaurs instinctively recognize dragons and run away from them?” asked Brine.

  Tom’s pen was tangled in his hair. “Do you have any better ideas?” he asked, tugging at his head.

  “Not really.”

  Peter held a hand out to Boswell, and the dragon trotted to him. “If dinosaurs recognize dragons, it must be that at some point in the past, dinosaurs have seen dragons.” His face flushed with excitement.

  “So there might have been dragons here once,” said Brine cautiously. This island had already disappointed her. She didn’t want Peter disappointed, too.

  “Why is my ship covered in yellow?” asked Cassie, limping out onto the deck.

  Brine gave a silent cheer to see her. Bill Lightning started explaining how they were attacked by monstrous flying beasts the size of the ship and Boswell had fought them all off.

  “He deserves extra supper tonight,” said Brine. “I’ll go and see what Trudi’s got. Are you coming?” She included Stella in the invitation, and the girl nodded eagerly. Peter, though, shook his head.

  “I’m going to keep watch, just in case those things come back.”

  He wanted to be on his own again, he meant. Brine wished he didn’t, but trying to persuade him out of it would only make him grumpy.

  CHAPTER 15

  DRAGON ISLAND SUPPER

  3 sandvines, chopped (watch out for the thorns)

  1 strange brown mammal with a long nose

  2 handfuls of various colored mushrooms

  Many handfuls of assorted green leaves, plants, and vines, all guaranteed nonpoisonous. Probably.

  Boil together. The flavors were strange, especially the seaweed, but nobody has died yet—so it’s probably safe.

  (from COOKING UP A STORME—THE RECIPES OF A GOURMET PIRATE)

  Peter waited until Brine and Tom were in the galley and fussing over Boswell before he crept down the length of the ship to the darkest space at the back and squeezed in between the crates.

  It wasn’t long before Marfak West appeared.

  “Hiding again?” asked the ghost.

  Peter gave him a blank stare. “You know I’m not. I’m having a break. I think I deserve one after everything that’s happened. We heard the story about Orion and Marfak, by the way. Why did you name yourself after a dead volcano?”

  The ghost studied his fingernails. “The volcano isn’t dead; it’s dormant. One day it will erupt, and then the whole island will pay for not taking the threat seriously.”

  Peter understood. If there was one thing Marfak West hated, it was people not taking him seriously. “What was your name before you changed it to Marfak West?” he asked curiously.

  The ghost flickered irritably. “That’s completely irrelevant.”

  Peter grinned. “Why? Was it something really stupid, like Fish-Face or Slimehead?”

  “For your information,” said the ghost, drawing himself up, “it was Borage.”

  Peter struggled to keep a straight face. “Borage? Seriously?”

  “It’s an herb—with purple flowers, apparently. My mother liked gardening and purple. If I’d been a girl, I would have been called Lavender. And if you breathe a word of this to anyone, that will be the last time you ever breathe.”

  Borage the Evil Magician didn’t sound half as impressive as Marfak West. Peter grinned again, still trying to get his mind around the idea of Marfak West having a mother. He must have had one, of course, but people like Marfak West and Cassie seemed to appear in the world fully formed, and it felt odd to think of them growing up. “Not a word,” Peter promised. He actually quite liked the idea of sharing a secret with the magician. “How about doing something for me in return? How do we get into the flying castle? Is there a spellshape for it?”

  Marfak West shrugged. “I expect so. But it’s been a long time since I’ve used it, and my memory isn’t what it used to be. I might be able to remember it—if you do something for me.”

  “What’s that?” asked Peter.

  “Kill Cassie O’Pia.”

  Peter almost choked on his laughter. “Not a chance.”

  “Then enjoy your balloon trip,” said the ghost, and he faded away into the air.

  * * *

  Peter squeezed out between the crates and made his way through the ship. He could hear Brine, Tom, and Stella talking in the galley.

  “But what’s it for?” Stella asked.

  “Well, he’s furry,” Brine said, “which is nice when the weather is cold. His whiskers are tickly. And he caught a rat once—or so Cassie said. He prefers fish.”

  Peter crept on past. All the hammocks were occupied, so he climbed back up to the deck.

  How had Marfak West known about the balloon? Had he been spying on them? Peter shuddered. Shaking his head, he climbed out onto the deck. Rob and Bill were sitting in a circle of pirates, trying to outdo each other with stories about sinksand and teradons.

  “With claws as long as your arm,” said Bill. “And teeth so sharp, they can bite the air in two.”

  Then Peter saw Cassie. She was sitting at the edge of the deck, gazing down at the sea. She didn’t turn around when Peter approached, though she must have heard his footsteps.

  “How’s the leg?” asked Peter.

  “I won’t have to replace it with a wooden one just yet.” She flashed him a smile. “Are you sure you can’t magic us up to the castle? There must be a spellshape.”

  Yes, and he’d have to kill her to g
et it. “I don’t know,” said Peter. His stomach felt like he’d swallowed a bag of snakes, all of them writhing poisonously inside him. He clutched the starshell piece in his pocket so tightly, the edge bit into his hand. “Tom thinks the balloon will work, and he knows about these things. And I can use magic if anything goes wrong. Probably.”

  “You want us to fly to a magic castle using a large bag of hot air. What could possibly go wrong?” Cassie moved over for him to sit down, and went back to staring at the sea.

  He only had himself to blame, Peter thought, sitting next to her. If he’d spent the past months experimenting with magic instead of hiding from it, he might be able to work out the spellshape for himself—or do it without a spellshape. He knew he could, after all—Marfak West had taught him that.

  Cassie looked up, meeting Peter’s gaze. “Do you want to know a secret?”

  “What?”

  “I’m afraid of heights.”

  Peter shook his head and laughed. Cassie wasn’t afraid of anything.

  “It’s true,” she said. She twisted the emerald around her neck. “Did Brine ever tell you how I ran away from home after my brother put me up as a prize in a fight?”

  According to most of the stories, it was Cassie’s father and he’d lost her in a game of cards. Brine had never said anything to Peter about it. He shook his head.

  “Well, anyway, the story isn’t quite true,” said Cassie. “It’s not a complete lie, either—dig deep enough, and you’ll find a scrap of truth in any story. The truth is, my brother was a bully. He enjoyed scaring me. One of his favorite games was to hold me out of the upstairs window. Sometimes he’d drop me. We had thick bushes underneath, so I was never badly hurt, but it used to terrify me. No one ever stopped him or punished him for it because he was a boy and the oldest. I was supposed to put up with it.”

  Her hands dropped to her lap. “One day I stopped putting up with it. I still don’t know why. I think I’d just had enough of being frightened of him. So, as he tried to push me out of the window, I jammed my feet on either side on the wall and then grabbed hold of him and beat him half to death. I kicked him so hard, I broke a couple of toes, but it was completely worth it.”

  Peter gazed at her, openmouthed. He’d only ever known Cassie the pirate captain. He’d never thought of her being a child, being afraid and fighting back anyway.

  “You can stop looking at me like that,” said Cassie irritably.

  “Like what?”

  “Like I’m some sort of hero.” She brushed her hand across her eyes. “I fought him because I was terrified of him. I didn’t stop even when he was unconscious. In the end, I came to my senses and found I was holding him by the ears and banging his head into the wall, over and over. That finally made me stop. And then what do you think I did?”

  Peter didn’t know what to say. He shrugged, imagining various possibilities, none of them good.

  “Nothing,” said Cassie. “I was terrified all over again—scared of what my brother would do when he woke, what my parents would do when they found out. So I ran away. I stowed away on a boat and then talked the captain into letting me stay. I spent a couple of years moving from ship to ship until I ended up on the Onion.” She lifted the emerald around her neck. “This belonged to my mother—the only thing she had that was worth anything. I stole it when I ran away. I meant it to be a reminder of home, but it didn’t turn out that way. It’s a warning of who I can be if I’m not careful—a coward, lashing out in fear.”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” said Peter.

  “Wasn’t it? I beat him senseless and I enjoyed it. For all I know, I killed him that day—I’ve never been back to find out. That’s how brave I am.”

  Peter swallowed the lump in his throat. He’d always been jealous of Brine, he thought, her closeness with Cassie, the way Cassie told her things she never told anyone else. He got the feeling this was something she’d never even shared with Brine, and Peter knew he would never tell Brine about it.

  Cassie went back to staring at the sea.

  “Marfak West made me turn the Mother Keeper of Barnard’s Reach into a worm,” said Peter.

  “I know. I saw her afterward. That wasn’t you—Marfak West was using you.”

  “Yes, but…” He paused and swallowed. “But, looking back on it, I sort of enjoyed it. Being able to do something like that. And I’d tried to warn her that Marfak West was back and Barnard’s Reach was in danger, but she just kept going on about the rules and it was really annoying. I think that’s why I couldn’t turn her back afterward: because some part of me thought she deserved to be a worm.”

  He’d never told anyone this, not even Brine, certainly not Tom, whose mother was the new Mother Keeper of the library island. Peter had never even allowed himself to think about it in any detail. Saying the words out loud made him feel like something nasty was coming out of him. He felt a bit ill, but also better in some strange way, as if the snakes were still there in his stomach but were all settling down to sleep.

  Cassie gave a ghost of a smile. “You are not Marfak West.”

  “How do you know?” asked Peter. “Marfak West used to be a normal person, and then magic corrupted him. What if the same thing happens to me? What if I turn evil and you have to kill me?”

  Cassie stood up and offered him her hand. “You have something Marfak West never did: We’ll knock you over the head long before you become so evil that we have to kill you.”

  “Thanks,” Peter said. He took Cassie’s hand and got up. The clouds shifted, and for a moment he could see the constellation of Orion shining bright above them. A victorious dragon, he thought, or a mariner, showing the way to all ships on the eight oceans.

  “Is there really no other way to the castle?” asked Cassie.

  “Not that I know of.”

  She nodded. “And if I don’t rescue Stella’s brother, none of you will ever speak to me again.”

  “Oh, we’ll speak to you,” said Peter. “Though maybe not for a while.” He flashed her a smile. “This isn’t only about Stella’s brother, though. There are three magicians in the castle, and if anyone knows what happened to the dragons here, they will. It might be another dead end, but we have to try.”

  Cassie laughed.

  “What?” asked Peter.

  “Nothing. I was just thinking how you hardly ever get dead ends at sea.” She grasped his shoulder. “You’re right: We should try. Let’s get some sleep now, and tomorrow we’ll go and face our fears.”

  CHAPTER 16

  She fought dinosaurs on mysterious shores,

  To all fear she’s completely immune.

  Like Orion, she flew, rising into the blue,

  And conquered a castle by balloon.

  (from THE BALLAD OF CASSIE O’PIA, Verse 222, Author Unknown)

  It felt like ages until Cassie came out on deck the next morning. Brine spent the time pacing.

  “Can’t you sit down?” Peter asked her.

  She paused, but anytime she stood still, it felt like her insides were being eaten by fire ants. She didn’t know how Peter could stay so calm. Tom and Stella, too. They were all sitting, the remains of breakfast spread around them as if this were any ordinary day.

  “Don’t you want to rescue Stella’s brother?” asked Brine.

  Peter waved a frog kebab at her. “Of course. But…”

  The only “but” that Brine could think of was that they’d had to leave Boswell locked in the galley because they couldn’t risk him flying after them. Although if Cassie didn’t hurry up, it wouldn’t make any difference, because Boswell was going to claw his way right through the door.

  Finally, Cassie appeared, wearing a plain dark shirt and trousers with a cutlass on one hip and a long dagger on the other. She didn’t look like someone trying to make an impression today; she looked like she meant business. She strode across deck with no hint of a limp.

  “So,” she said, “who wants to get in a basket under a bag of air and fly to
a magic castle to rescue the son of a stranger?”

  Brine laughed weakly, but she was the only one.

  This was a crazy, guaranteed-to-get-them-all-probably-killed plan—in other words, the sort of thing Cassie liked best, but Cassie had the look of someone who was about to walk the plank, and she wasn’t the only one. Ewan Hughes’s face was grim, and Trudi chewed her hair nervously. Tom darted away and came back clutching large, empty sacks. Peter gripped his box of starshell pieces in both hands, his face a seasick green.

  Cassie clapped her hands. “Right. I’m going in the balloon, of course. Ewan, Rob, Bill, Trudi, and Peter, too. And Stella will have to fly the thing. She’ll take us to the castle and then we’ll defeat the magicians and make them tell Peter the spellshape for getting back to the ground. Brine and Tom, you’re in charge here. If anything goes wrong, Stella will need your help.”

  Brine and Tom shouted together.

  Cassie sighed heavily. “I know you want to come, but it’s too dangerous. We wouldn’t take Peter, either, but we need his magic. No offense, Tom, but what are you going to do in a fight—write people to death?”

  Tom shoved his hands into his pockets. “It’s just as dangerous staying here. What if those teradons attack us again? Besides, you haven’t heard my plan.”

  Brine turned to stare at him. “You have a plan?”

  Tom took off his glasses and cleaned them on the edge of his sack. “You’re not the only one with plans, you know. We’re flying a balloon to a castle full of evil magicians. I think they might notice. We can’t just sneak in and rescue people—we need a distraction. A better distraction than waving your cutlasses about,” he added quickly as Ewan grinned.

  “Waving cutlasses about is the definition of a distraction,” replied Ewan.

  “If you want to get killed or captured very quickly, yes. But if you’d like to try something that might actually work, I have an idea. The castle is full of magic, right? It’s the only way it can possibly stay up. And we know what happened to the sea-spiders when they ate a load of magic-filled ship.”