Let Sleeping Dragons Lie

by Garth Nix

  As the giant moved towards them, two familiar voices cried out from the bracken.

  ‘Sir Odo!’

  ‘Sir Eleanor! We are here for you!’

  Their hearts leaped as the swords rocketed towards them.

  Barely had the familiar pommels met their hands when their assailant gestured and tiny darts hissed out of the trees, striking them each in the throat. Odo felt a sting of pain, followed by a rushing, clouding sensation as darkness swept over him once more. The last thing he saw as he dropped to the ground was six more hooded figures stepping out of the trees, and Biter sweeping up to meet them.

  Eleanor’s second awakening in as many hours took much longer than the first, arriving in fits and starts like Pickles the cat approaching a stranger. She didn’t even realise she was awake until she caught herself wondering if the smothering moths had just been a terrible dream … and Egda’s near-death experience … followed by the giant figure approaching them from the heart of the forest …

  None of it had been a dream. It was all real.

  Eleanor came to full wakefulness with a sudden jerk, sitting bolt upright and flinging what felt like a blanket from her legs. She was lying on a rush bed in a long, stone room lit only by a fire at one end. By that flickering light she made out a high, vaulted ceiling, tapestries of dragons in flight down the walls, and three sleeping figures lying on beds next to hers: Odo, Hundred and Egda, all three snoring heavily.

  She let out a sigh of partial relief. They were alive, somehow. But where were they? And what was going to happen to them next?

  Her eyes adjusted further to the firelight and made out a sword stand in front of the fire. In it were two swords, conversing in low tones.

  ‘Runnel!’

  The topmost sword leaped from its rest on the stand and rushed to her. ‘Sir Eleanor! You have awoken at last.’

  ‘Yes, but I don’t know … anything. What’s going on? Where were you when we needed you?’

  ‘That is either a very short or a very long story, depending on how you tell it.’ Runnel balanced on her tip and leaned close, so her ruby touched Eleanor on the arm. ‘My brother and I , we thought you were safe in the forest at the bottom of the Ghyll. We did not know about the moths, otherwise we would never have left you.’

  ‘But then that man in the woods …’ Eleanor rubbed her neck, where a numb, upraised patch marked the spot where the dart had struck her. ‘He attacked us.’

  ‘There is much we did not know.’

  A door opened and closed, and a hooded figure stepped into the room. Eleanor stood and raised Runnel before her.

  ‘Stop there. Come not one step closer!’

  The figure raised its hands straight up into the air. ‘I’m Adelind,’ it squeaked in the high-pitched voice of a startled girl around Eleanor’s age, ‘third apprentice to Master Knucius. I mean you no harm.’

  Now that Eleanor studied the figure more closely, she could see that it was much shorter and more slender than the one she had seen in the woods. And when the girl called Adelind hesitantly tugged back her hood, revealing a thick mane of golden curls, messily tied back in a knot, she knew for certain that they were very different people. Adelind had a long, pointy nose and sprightly blue eyes, and though she had small spark scars on her face, there were far fewer than on the huge fellow in the forest.

  ‘Where are we?’ Eleanor asked her.

  ‘C-Clynan Smithy. Your swords came to us for aid.’

  ‘And so you attacked us?’

  ‘We only did as our charter demands. None but those who serve the forge – the true smith and apprentices – may know its location. Not even knights. We are honestly and terribly sorry to have frightened you.’

  ‘I … I wasn’t frightened,’ said Eleanor. ‘I was just confused.’

  ‘Understandably so. All will be explained, I promise. Can I put my hands down now?’

  ‘Yes, of course. Sorry.’

  ‘Are you feeling well? Your sleep was long and very deep. Can you stand?’

  Eleanor tested her legs, as yet unwilling to let go of Runnel. Her knees held.

  ‘Good,’ Adelind said. ‘Would you care to eat with us? We are about to have our evening meal.’

  ‘I’ll wait for the others, if it’s all the same to you.’ She still didn’t entirely trust the situation and wasn’t about to leave her friends alone for a second.

  ‘They will wake soon. The fire in your veins roused you first, as Master Knucius predicted.’

  Eleanor checked on Odo, then Egda, then Hundred. They all seemed to be sleeping soundly. On the floor next to Egda’s bed lay his staff and the small blade he used to cut up his meals, the only weapons he carried. Surrounding Hundred’s bed …

  Eleanor blinked, doubting her eyes.

  All about Hundred’s bed was a sea of silvery metal. Fixed blades, folding blades, blades that could be concealed in a collar, cuff, hem or epaulette, or in the heels and toes and sides of boots. Knives for stabbing, sawing, slashing and throwing. Needles, spikes, barbs, prickets – every deadly shape imaginable was present in unimaginable number.

  ‘Ninety-nine,’ said Adelind, catching the direction of Eleanor’s gaze.

  ‘What?’

  ‘That’s how many weapons your friend was carrying. We have never seen such armament on a single person – all fashioned from the finest steel too. She is truly a bodyguard fit for a king.’

  Eleanor studied Adelind closely and was relieved to find nervousness and restless excitement, but no sign of ill intent. Still, it unnerved her to understand how exposed they were.

  ‘You know who we are?’

  ‘We told them,’ said Runnel. ‘We had to, in order to obtain their help.’

  ‘You mean they wouldn’t have helped us anyway?’ asked Odo from behind them. ‘They would have just left us there, maybe dying, because we weren’t important enough?’

  Odo rose to his feet and Biter swept into his waiting hand. He had woken a moment ago, and pretended to snore while taking stock of his surroundings. It didn’t sound like Eleanor was in any danger, but it paid to be cautious. Who knew what sort of callous band they had fallen in with?

  Literally fallen, he thought, remembering all too clearly the headlong plunge down the Ghyll. They had been lucky to survive twice that day already. He wasn’t going to risk their fortune turning now.

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Adelind, putting her hands up again. ‘You do not understand.’

  ‘So explain,’ said Hundred, also rising to her feet. She held her sword in one hand. ‘We are listening.’

  Adelind took a step back with another squeak.

  ‘We mean only good, not harm!’ she said.

  ‘If that is so,’ said Egda with quiet authority, ‘then you have nothing to fear from us.’

  Adelind took in the four companions and their weapons with one nervously assessing glance, then lowered her hands.

  ‘Perhaps … yes, it’s almost certainly best that Master Knucius talk to you now. This way.’

  Turning quickly, she led them towards the door, which opened before her and guided them deeper into the smithy. Master Knucius was the giant they had seen in the forest. He was no less impressive sitting at the end of a broad wooden table lined with steaming dishes. When Adelind brought the smithy’s guests to him, he stood and indicated that they should sit in the empty positions around the table. There were five out of eleven. The rest were filled with men and women ranging from Adelind’s age to around forty winters.

  ‘These are my apprentices,’ said Master Knucius in a voice like ancient trees falling. ‘Snorri, Theudhar, Vragi, Childa and Jorunn. Adelind you have already met. Welcome to Clynan Smithy, the last remaining true smithy in the Groanwood.’

  He bowed, and both Odo and Eleanor felt compelled to bow in return. Though these were the people who had shot them with darts and carried them to places unknown, there was something about the giant man that demanded deference. Hundred bowed too, although not so deeply. Only Egda
remained upright, though he did bend his head.

  ‘Please, sit,’ Knucius implored them. ‘Eat. You must be very hungry after your ordeal.’

  That was true. Odo’s stomach rumbled at the scent of fresh bread, roasted meat, and numerous fragrant herbs. He glanced at Eleanor, who nodded tightly. Unless Hundred or Egda said otherwise, there was no obvious reason to be sceptical – of the food, at least. They would all be eating it.

  Adelind poured ale. Knucius returned to his seat when Egda was in his. Odo felt the bright eyes of the apprentices watching him closely, and sensed a thousand questions waiting to be put to them.

  ‘Why are you being so nice to us now?’ he asked, getting in first. ‘After putting us to sleep with poison darts?’

  ‘The smithy is secret,’ said the oldest apprentice, the man named Vragi. ‘No one can know where it is.’

  That accorded with what Adelind had said, but it wasn’t the end of the issue. ‘Couldn’t you have told us about it? Maybe you could have just blindfolded those of us who can see.’

  ‘There wasn’t time,’ said the apprentice called Childa. ‘Guards were descending along the road at an unprecedented pace. Any hesitation would have been disastrous for all of us.’

  Hundred nodded as though she had expected this answer. ‘You covered your tracks well, I presume.’

  ‘Very well indeed,’ said Adelind with a grin.

  ‘And how did you convince the guards that they found what they sought?’

  ‘Four fresh pig carcasses,’ said Knucius in his bedrock-steady tones, ‘mangled beyond recognition. What the ruse did not require, we eat tonight.’

  He gestured at the bowls of meat. Odo identified trotters, ears, tails, and other parts of a pig that could not be mistaken for human no matter how ‘mangled’ they were.

  His stomach turned. Suddenly he wasn’t hungry. The apprentices, however, seemed delighted by the unexpected feast.

  ‘Are you really Egda the Old Dragon?’ asked Snorri, the youngest male, as he scooped a couple of choice cuts onto his plate.

  ‘I was.’ Egda sniffed. ‘Now I am just Egda.’

  ‘Sir Egda,’ Hundred firmly corrected him.

  ‘And you’re on your way to Winterset to thwart Regent Odelyn’s plans to oust Prince Kendryk and finish getting rid of the knights and stewards?’

  ‘You are well informed of the kingdom’s affairs,’ Egda observed drily. ‘Would that I’d had your knowledge sooner.’

  ‘We send patrols all about us, to keep the smithy secret, and so learn the news from intercepted wanderers and the like,’ said Knucius. ‘Also, the farmsteads from whom we source provisions have all had Instruments imposed on them, with their greatly increased tithes, taxes and tolls. They suffer, as all will suffer if Odelyn secures her grip upon the realm. Please, Jorunn, pass our guests the greens.’

  Eleanor took the bowl.

  ‘What’s a true smithy?’ she asked. ‘And why is it so secret?’

  The six apprentices went to answer at once and were silenced by a raised hand from their master.

  ‘That is a harder question to answer than you realise,’ he said. ‘Much of the world’s knowledge is dangerous and should not be shared widely. On the other hand, knowledge that is hidden is in constant danger of being lost. I am charged with preserving a pact that has existed for many centuries, ensuring that certain techniques do not fall into the wrong hands. One of my apprentices will carry on the tradition when I am gone. Thus Clynan Smithy has endured the ages, and will endure ages to come.’

  Odo glanced at Eleanor. She raised an eyebrow. The smith’s reference to a pact had not gone unnoticed.

  Knucius continued. ‘Suffice it to say that your faithful swords sensed the presence of Clynan Smithy in your time of need, and came immediately to us. They could have guided you here, through the Groanwood, but you were incapacitated. Once we learned who you were, we rushed to your aid.’

  That brought Odo back to his earlier concern. ‘And if we had not been knights and an Old Dragon and his bodyguard? Would you have left us there to die?’

  ‘We would never have known you were there. Only your swords – magical swords that only knights can wield – could have found this place, and except in direst need we do not stray beyond our doorstep. This, in part, is how we have remained undiscovered for so long.’

  Eleanor supposed that made a kind of sense, although it troubled her if she pondered it too deeply. Had no one ever stumbled across the smithy by accident and told others of their discovery? How could something be so well hidden that it absolutely never could be found? Perhaps it was underground, or invisible …

  ‘I think I met you once,’ Hundred told Knucius around a cheekful of gristle. ‘In Aern, after the great revolt. You were blacksmith to the king’s guard.’

  ‘For a time, yes, I was. You have a good memory. That was many years ago.’ His deep-set eyes twinkled with fond recollections. ‘Your name was different then.’

  ‘I never put much store in names.’

  ‘No, I see that now.’

  Biter was buzzing at Odo’s back, as though he wanted to ask something.

  ‘Yes, Biter, go ahead.’

  ‘Excuse me, Master Smith, but you have healed my knight and our liege. We will be forever grateful.’

  ‘I am honoured to be of service.’ Knucius inclined his head. ‘Would that I could do more, but my duty lies here, not in the world beyond.’

  ‘Perhaps there is something else you could do … for me … if it is not too much to ask.’

  ‘I know the boon you seek,’ said Knucius, and suddenly Odo did too.

  Biter’s nick, the sword’s one tiny imperfection – no one knew what had caused it, and the smiths at Anfyltarn had been unable to repair it. Perhaps a true smith possessed the skill to make Biter whole.

  ‘Only two things can harm an enchanted sword,’ Knucius said. ‘A dragon’s tooth or another enchanted sword. Do you remember which caused your nick?’

  ‘No,’ said Biter forlornly. ‘But I have long suspected that I was once a dragonslayer. I f only I knew!’

  ‘Does the nick itself plague you?’ Knucius asked. ‘Or is it the mere thought of imperfection that causes you pain?’

  It was a question that Biter did not immediately answer.

  ‘Both, or so I believe,’ supplied Runnel. ‘My brother is undoubtedly vain, but he also suffers from ignorance. This might be connected to the nick, or to the centuries he spent at the bottom of a river—’

  ‘Eels.’ Biter shuddered. ‘Would that I could forget them.’

  ‘I believe he would be a happier sword,’ Runnel concluded, ‘if he could remember.’

  ‘Would it please you for me to grant this boon?’ Knucius asked Runnel. ‘Would it ease your burden?’

  ‘I am no longer the Sorrowful Sword, Master Smith,’ she told him. ‘My curse is lifted. I serve Sir Eleanor, who I know will one day be a great knight, and my liege, but I do also care for my brother’s well-being. We are siblings of the true smithy in Eathrylden. We are bound forever.’

  ‘Nobly said,’ the smith told her. ‘Very well. I will inspect the wound this evening, after our meal, and repair it if I can. This will bring me a rare opportunity to teach my apprentices more of the art of such blades.’ Heads bobbed eagerly around the table. ‘I would say one thing, however, in caution. Sometimes we forget things for a reason, humans and swords alike. Dragons too, although they would never admit it.’

  ‘The mighty Quenwulf charged us with learning more of our true natures,’ Biter said.

  ‘Did she? Well, she has her reasons, I suppose.’

  He spoke with such familiarity that Eleanor asked, ‘Do you know her?’

  ‘Distantly,’ he replied with a faint smile. ‘I owe my livelihood to a boon from her father.’

  On that subject, he would say no more. They passed the rest of the meal in conversation about smother-moths, barrow bats, gore yaks, bilewolves, and many other strange creatures awaiting the
young knights in the wider world. If even half of the ones she hadn’t met yet were real, Eleanor decided, the world was a very exciting – and dangerous – place indeed.

  ‘Wait here until I come back,’ Adelind told them upon returning them to their room. ‘All except Biter. If you will come with me, good sword.’

  ‘Can’t we watch?’ asked Odo.

  ‘No, the master said so,’ she said with calm finality. She seemed to have overcome her earlier nervousness. Odo wondered how often she saw strangers. Possibly rarely. ‘The secrets of the smithy can only be known to those sworn into its service.’

  That was a blow to Eleanor’s curiosity, but not entirely unexpected. When Adelind and Biter were gone, she restlessly paced the room, tapping the four walls with the toes of her boots.

  ‘What is it with this place?’ she wondered for the hundredth time. ‘Have you noticed that there are no windows? Just lots of musty dragon tapestries.’

  Odo nodded. ‘I haven’t seen any doors either. Not to the outside.’

  ‘Plenty of chimneys, though. I guess that’s to let out any smoke from the forge.’

  ‘You guess correctly,’ said Egda. ‘I have been in one such smithy before. I was very young. My mother, the king, sent me to learn something of this secret tradition, just as I learned a little about many other secrets in the kingdom. That is one of the principal duties of a ruler: to know one’s kingdom more thoroughly than anyone else.’

  ‘Which makes me wonder how young Kendryk has ended up where he has,’ Hundred said. ‘He was trained, wasn’t he?’

  ‘As well as any heir.’ Egda looked glum. ‘We either missed something, or the regent had her own secrets that she kept from us.’

  ‘My coin is on the latter.’

  Hundred began putting her many blades back into their pockets, while Eleanor watched in fascination.

  Odo lay back on his bed, listening to the fire crackle. He wondered what was happening to Biter. Knucius would have to soften his steel in a furnace in order to repair the nick. He hoped they wouldn’t have to melt him down completely and reforge him. Surely then he would be an entirely different sword, and it would take a long time.