Let Sleeping Dragons Lie

by Garth Nix

  ‘Easy to get us all killed too, foolish sword,’ said Hundred, tapping her chin with one gloved finger. ‘Before we formulate any kind of plan, we must obtain information. On nearing Kyles Frost, we will send Tip ahead to scout for us. What he sees from the air will greatly aid us in our passage.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Odo. ‘I thought we’d send him back to Winterset with a message for the prince, so he knows we’re coming.’

  He’d be safer there too, Odo thought to himself.

  ‘Later, perhaps, but not now.’ Hundred dismissed that suggestion. ‘He is more use to us here. At this pace we will be close enough to put him to work by midnight or thereabouts tomorrow. Tip must be ready by then. The winds blow powerful and cold over the pass at all times.’

  ‘How did the prince put the message in Tip and make him talk in the first place?’ asked Eleanor. ‘Perhaps we could do the same to another bat, or an owl or something.’

  ‘It is a great skill,’ said Egda. ‘His father, Prince Aart of Gelflund, had the knack of it, and clearly he taught young Kendryk. I do not have that skill, and neither does Hundred. The only gift old soldiers like us have is experience.’

  ‘And plenty of it,’ said Hundred, mounting in one smooth motion. ‘Time passes. We must make a good distance yet before dawn, if we are to meet this new deadline. I see craft-fires and bilewolves in my waking dreams.’

  They mounted and rode off, trading potholes and low-hanging branches for the larger concerns waiting ahead.

  Tip stayed at Odo’s throat for the rest of the journey, blinking up at him with tiny black eyes and snuggling into the scarf for warmth. Odo quickly became accustomed to his presence and on occasion completely forgot he was there, particularly as the road wound like a snake around hills and along increasingly steep-sided valleys, requiring him to take more care with Wiggy’s footing. They had long bypassed the town of Trumness, where Reeve Gorbold’s pigeon had died, and were now entering the foothills of the Offersittan. The mountains themselves loomed like vast, black storm clouds directly before them.

  Eleanor strained through the darkness to catch sight of the sentinels of the pass that led between Twisletoth and Tindit, vast stony fangs she had read about in accounts of the deeds of mighty knights. They were so high, it was said, that snow never melted at their summits, and ice trickling down their sides carried strange relics frozen many centuries ago.

  Imagine, she thought, what it would be like to skate those ice rivers from the summit all the way down to the bottom. She was a good skater, having learned the two times in her life that the river had frozen over. What a thrill that would be!

  Glancing behind him, Odo saw by moonlight that Eleanor was grinning, and wondered what new thought was running through her mind. There was always something. At least she was happy.

  The strange sensation of a tiny bat burrowing into his throat and a series of small squeaks distracted him.

  ‘What’s that, Tip?’

  ‘o! w! l! s!’

  ‘Owls?’

  ‘h! u! n! t! i! n! g! i! h! e! a! r! t! h! e! m!’

  ‘Where? I can’t see them.’

  ‘f! a! r!’

  Tip burrowed even tighter into Odo’s chest, as though trying to make himself invisible.

  ‘Tip hears owls,’ Odo told the others, and Hundred immediately reined in her horse so he could tell her what he knew.

  ‘Owls hunt bats,’ Eleanor said.

  ‘And when directed by a craft-fire,’ Hundred said, ‘they might hunt people too. There are pale owls in the mountains, as big as large dogs. Quickly, head for that stand of trees.’

  They galloped under cover and tied the horses to the trunks, giving them an early feed to keep them quiet. Dawn wasn’t far away; Eleanor could see it in the sky even with the mountains cloaking the eastern horizon. She stared westward, where she imagined any pursuit might originate, and within moments her attention was rewarded.

  Two huge white birds, flapping in tandem, came into view. They flew high above the road, carefully following its tight-wound twists, heads turning from left to right to scan every inch. There was no doubt what they hunted. Or who.

  ‘Quiet now.’ Hundred’s instruction was barely a whisper of air.

  Odo and Eleanor crowded into each other under the stand of trees, listening as flapping wings came closer, passed overhead, then went on up the road. Eleanor didn’t realise how tightly she had been holding Runnel, or even that she had drawn her sword at all, until the owls had flown by them.

  ‘Two more breaths, to be sure,’ Hundred instructed.

  Odo counted three, then dared move again.

  ‘Will they come back?’ he asked.

  ‘Not in full daylight,’ Egda said. ‘Our pursuer might use other birds, I suppose, but they do not know for certain that we are on this road, or we would have been assaulted in force. But we must be wary of any animals acting in concert or behaving strangely. Still, for now I think we will be safe to emerge from cover.’

  ‘Tip has proved his worth most handsomely,’ added Hundred. ‘Would that I had such sharp hearing!’

  Odo tickled the bat between his enormous ears and Tip chittered ordinary bat noises in response.

  ‘Dawn is upon us,’ Hundred said. ‘Let us make camp here. Build no fire, knightlings. Even with Tip, we will take no chances.’

  The day passed slowly, the coldness of the air becoming apparent to all in their turns to sit watch. The sun, when it finally appeared over the crest of the mountains ahead, was weak and watery. A belly of cold provisions hardly helped.

  Odo sat thinking with Tip curled up at his throat, sleeping as bats do naturally during daylight hours. Before turning in, he had listened to Egda and Hundred once again conversing with their fallen friends, and again found reason for disquiet. Honouring the dead was one thing; keeping grief and sorrow alive was quite another.

  All through his watch, the last before waking the others to resume their journey, he pondered a plan to lay the past to rest. Once he had it, the question was only whether he had the courage to put it into effect.

  ‘What weighs on your mind, Sir Odo?’ asked Biter when he faltered in the middle of some quiet practice on the edge of the campsite. ‘Your strokes are heavy and your eye is off by a good yard. Were that tree a bilewolf, you would be torn asunder!’

  ‘I wish I was more like Hundred,’ Odo said. ‘She doesn’t have any doubts. I keep telling myself that I’m a real knight. That I, uh, eat adversity for an afternoon snack. But all I can think about is how things could go wrong, even when I know what I need to do.’

  ‘I am sure many things have gone wrong for my knights in my past, although in truth I can’t remember what they might have been,’ said Biter, slipping out of Odo’s hand and coming around to face him, emerald flashing in the dappled light. ‘Knowing what one must do is the hardest lesson for some knights to learn. Though it is generally better to do something than nothing.’

  ‘For once my brother has wisdom,’ said Runnel, darting from Eleanor’s side to join them. ‘What is it you know you must do, Sir Odo? Perhaps we can help you find the means.’

  He told them, which was a trial in itself, but they did not think him foolish or rash. It seemed mad to him to try to tell a former king what to do, but they did not think so.

  For the rest of his watch they formulated a plan, and when it was time for Hundred and Egda to wake, they put it into effect.

  ‘My liege, the sun is setting.’ Odo woke Egda first, knowing what had happened to Eleanor the previous day when she’d woken Hundred.

  ‘Thank you, good knight.’ Egda sat and threw off his bedroll in one motion. He might already have been awake, for all Odo could tell. There was no way to know behind the blindfold whether his eyes were closed or open. ‘Today we ride in earnest.’

  ‘What is this?’ asked Hundred, who had definitely been asleep a moment ago. She was on her feet, staring at the fruits of Odo’s labour on the edge of the camp.

  ‘I mean
no disrespect,’ he said, nudging Eleanor’s bedroll with his toe, not entirely sure which way up she was lying under it. No part of her was visible. ‘But there is something we must leave behind us. That is … I believe we ought to … if you agree, my liege …’

  He executed a clumsy bow, hoping he wasn’t making a grave mistake and overstepping himself.

  ‘Speak, Sir Odo,’ said Egda.

  ‘You were good to us in Lenburh,’ he went on. ‘We were grieving for Sir Halfdan as well as Bordan, Halthor and Alia. You took charge and helped us put him to rest. That was a kindness we all needed. Now I think … that is, if you don’t mind me saying … it’s nothing to do with ghosts or the like, honest …’

  ‘What the big stampcrab here is trying to tell you is that he’d like to do for you what you did for us,’ said Eleanor, struggling to her feet and quickly grasping the line of Odo’s reasoning. ‘You’ve lost many people. Good people, and friends. You’ve been lamenting their loss in the wilderness for a long time. Maybe it’s time to set down that task, now you’re coming back into the world. There’s no good in dragging the dead around when they haven’t asked you to. They don’t take kindly to it, or so the stories go.’

  Odo looked gratefully at his oldest friend, who always had words when he did not, even when she was only half-awake. He wondered if her father had told her something similar when her mother had died. ‘I thought we might … lessen your sadness. Not forget your friends, but let them rest.’

  The former king didn’t respond. He looked older than ever, and his expression was impossible to read.

  Odo glanced at Hundred, who inclined her head in the tiniest of nods.

  ‘The lad has built a grave, sire,’ she told Egda in a soft voice. ‘There are twigs and berries – an old Karnickan ritual, I believe. A stick for the body, a seed for the soul? To put grief to rest and let the happy memories thrive?’

  ‘That’s right,’ Odo said.

  ‘How did you— ?’ A crack in Egda’s voice prompted him to stop and clear his throat. ‘Of course. The good swords have been continuing their education of our young knights while our backs are turned.’

  Odo swallowed. ‘Are you angry, sire?’

  ‘Not at you, and not for any of this. You are right. I must shed my present load in order that my shoulders can adopt another. You are my guide, Sir Odo. I place myself in your hands.’

  He held out his own hands and Odo took them gently, with utmost respect and kindness, and led the former king to the long trench he had dug, where they both knelt. The trench was a foot across, a foot deep, and four feet long. Biter and Runnel stood at one end with their sharp points in the soft earth. Two piles of twigs and berries lay next to the trench. Foraging for them while keeping a careful eye on the camp had taken Odo his entire watch.

  ‘Take a twig in one hand and a berry in the other,’ he said, guiding Egda. ‘Say a name. Then Hundred will take the twig and Eleanor will take the berry. They’ll put them in the hole, one by one. When we’re done, I’ll cover them all up and you can say a few words if you’d like to.’

  Egda nodded. Drawing a deep breath, he did as Odo instructed, clutching a twig and berry, one in each hand.

  ‘Beremus,’ Egda said.

  Eleanor and Hundred reached to take the berry and twig from his fingers. He resisted for an instant, then let go. Hundred snapped the twig and placed the pieces in the hole. Eleanor pressed the berry into the exposed soil, where it might release its seeds and grow.

  ‘Beremus,’ they repeated, and Odo and the swords said the name too.

  ‘Peg.’ Another twig, another berry.

  ‘Peg.’

  ‘Sir Sutton.’

  ‘Sir Sutton.’

  So it went until the two piles had dwindled almost to nothing, and Odo began to wonder if he had gathered enough. How many close friends was it possible to lose in one lifetime? How had Egda borne so much grief for so long?

  Finally, with just three twigs left, Egda raised shaking hands to the golden blindfold and slid it up and over his head, revealing red-rimmed, milky eyes. Tears trickled down his cheeks and gathered in the furrows at the corners of his mouth.

  ‘I am done,’ he said.

  Odo used his big hands like shovels to fill in the hole, and Eleanor and Hundred helped him pat it down, making a miniature barrow. Then they knelt back and waited in silence. It mattered to none of them that night had fallen and a strenuous journey awaited. Tip watched them with sombre eyes, sensing that this was human business that he didn’t need to understand and was best to stay out of.

  ‘When I was king,’ Egda finally said, ‘I was surrounded by many who called me friend. I soon learned to recognise, and hold in the highest regard, those whose friendship was true. They are more rare and more precious than jewels. In the wilderness, I held their memories tightly, feeling that I was poorer for losing them than the entire wealth of the kingdom. Now I see that I was doubly a fool: a fool once for thinking a blind man cannot still be king, and a fool twice for thinking a man who has been rich in friends and lost them can never regain that wealth. Today, I am made fivefold richer, for now I have Hundred, and Sir Odo and Biter, and Sir Eleanor and Runnel. I thank you, friends, from a heart that beats stronger already.’

  They inclined their heads, Odo blushing furiously. He had expected Egda to talk about Beremus and the others, not about him.

  ‘It was all Sir Odo’s idea,’ Eleanor said. She didn’t dare blink, for fear of releasing a tear from the fullness of her eyes. She was thinking of her mother and imagining how proud she’d be to know that a king had said such fine things to them. She also promised that she’d bury a twig and a berry for her and Sir Halfdan when she returned to Lenburh. It was a lovely thing to do.

  ‘You do each other credit,’ said Egda, replacing the blindfold and rising resolutely to his feet. ‘And I have no doubt that you will return the honour at first opportunity, Sir Eleanor. Now, we must ride like the winds of Gelegestreon to reach the approach to Kyles Frost before sunrise. Spare no horses and give no quarter! Are you with me, knights?’

  Odo and Eleanor leaped to their feet and swept up their swords.

  ‘Yes, sire!’

  Hundred made a show of rising more slowly. ‘Let’s at least save some of the horses in the event we need them again. And perhaps we should pack up the camp first, before rushing off into the night? I for one would miss my bedroll.’

  Egda, a grave man who Eleanor and Odo had hardly ever seen smile before, amazed them both by roaring with laughter.

  ‘The mighty Hundred, dragging her heels to enter the fray? Thought I’d never see the day!’

  Pack up the camp they did, eating nuts and stale bread as they went, but when they mounted and set off, Egda riding close at Hundred’s heels, it was all Eleanor and Odo could do to keep up.

  It grew colder and colder, until Eleanor and Odo shrugged into the cloaks packed in Lenburh but never needed previously, and the steel of their swords grew icy to the touch. The horses’ breath steamed as they strained up the ever-rising slope, while the foliage around them grew gnarly and stunted as if here even plants hunkered down against the chill.

  The moon was behind them when they passed under a sleeping hamlet that grew out of a cliff wall like some strange forest fungus. Few candles flickered around tightly sealed shutters, but still the party of four, ten horses, two swords, and one bat slowed their pace to a stealthier trot and kept their faces carefully obscured.

  No one halted them. Glancing over her shoulder at the hamlet receding into the night, Eleanor saw no sign that anything living had observed their passing.

  The memory of the pale owls kept pace with her, however. She felt the gaze of their invisible master in the space between her shoulder blades like a physical pressure. It never slipped any of their minds that they were being hunted.

  One hour before dawn, they pulled off the road into a sheltered alcove, a hollowed-out cave with just enough room for all of them.

  ‘B
efore we proceed much further along this road,’ Hundred told them, ‘we must determine what we face. It is time to send Tip on his mission.’

  The little bat stirred eagerly at the sound of his name. Odo held out his arm, and Tip walked along it until he could see all four of them equally well. The willingness of his expression touched Odo’s heart. He had no doubt their new friend would do anything they asked – but what if there was an archer ahead, the equal of the one that had killed Reeve Gorbold’s pigeon over Trumness? What if a flock of ensorcelled owls tore him into tiny pieces?

  Odo stilled his fears as Hundred gave the bat his instructions in the plainest possible terms. Tip was to fly along the road up to the pass, counting guards as he went. He was to note any archers and unusual animal behaviours as well. Then he was to fly back to them as quickly as possible. If he was seen aloft after dawn, their craft-fire-lighting pursuer might follow him to where Egda and the others awaited his return.

  ‘y! e! s! y! e! s! y! e! s!’

  The little bat nodded, which was a strange gesture to see upside down, then opened his wings and flew off, chirruping happily as he went. Odo hoped he would take the opportunity to eat some insects along the way. Hundred had said that the winds blowing over the pass were strong. He would need all his strength to survive them.

  ‘Don’t fret,’ said Eleanor, patting his shoulder. ‘Tip must have flown through the pass once already – on the way here, remember?’

  ‘Oh, yes, of course.’ That did make Odo feel better.

  He rubbed down Wiggy and swapped his saddle over to his second mount, the dun Salu. Hundred inspected his work with the horses, as she often did, and Eleanor’s too. There was still much for them to learn about caring for the beasts. Until they had squires, they would have to look after their horses themselves, if they ever had horses of their own. That was assuming they survived the bitter chill in the air …

  Winter in Lenburh wasn’t half as cold as they felt they were that night, and Eleanor was for once grateful for the chores Hundred gave them. Even sheltered from the light predawn snow that settled on the valley road, and even with the body warmth of the horses around them, she was soon shivering. Seeing this, Odo loaned her a spare woollen hat that went over her own, and came down almost over her eyes. It helped, but she was too cold to stay still. The chores kept her moving, and moving kept her warm.