Let Sleeping Dragons Lie

by Garth Nix

  FROM A CRUEL AND DREADFUL FATE,

  SAVE US NOW—

  Out of the palace came the sound of bells ringing, glass smashing, and stone blocks shifting in their ancient seats. Heads turned to look as a cloud of colour burst from every window and crack, rising up into the sky. There it swirled and stirred, a mix of reds, oranges and golds, painted gloriously in the light of the rising sun. For a moment it looked as though it might disperse, but then it steadied and took shape.

  A dragon … in the exact shape of the prince’s mural.

  Kendryk smiled to see it. All these weeks of labour had not been for naught!

  His creation’s ethereal wings flapped once, twice, driving the magically animated paint towards the top of Old Dragon Stone. Everyone seeing it quailed, thinking the magical beast might open its giant jaws and eat them, or wrest them up into the sky in its claws.

  Even Odo and Eleanor, who had just a month ago braved the stare of the mighty Quenwulf, felt their jaws open in amazement and fear.

  Odelyn paused, staring herself, a look of horror on her face as it seemed she was to be thwarted at the last moment by the grandson she had considered a fool and a dragon she had believed to be mythical.

  But this dragon was flying too low. The broad wings flapped almost carelessly a third and final time. Then, with a soundless crash that somehow made the stone quiver faintly underfoot, it struck the vertical cliff face and became a mural once more … a portrait of a dragon big enough for all the city to see.

  All was silent again.

  A moment later, Odelyn released a short, barking, sarcastic laugh.

  ‘Thank you, Grandson. A … a noble display,’ said the regent. ‘Truly fit for a king.’

  Kendryk did not reply. He stood there calmly, as if he was still waiting for something else to happen.

  Odelyn began to lower the crown onto her own head, beaming a triumphant smile.

  A smile that suddenly faltered as the stone shook beneath them, far more powerfully than it had the first time.

  The regent stumbled and missed her head. Quickly, she raised the crown to try again.

  Old Dragon Stone rocked a third time, even more strongly, as though struck by an impossible blow.

  The regent staggered. Everyone did. It was as though the world moved beneath their feet.

  ‘What’s happening?’ Eleanor gasped.

  Odo shook his head.

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe something to do with that … ghost dragon or whatever it was …’

  ‘Look at the prince!’ she pointed.

  Kendryk had exploded out of his patient pose. He was turning circles in place, dancing a jig that took him nowhere. His robe flapped around him as he clapped his hands in delight.

  ‘What have you done?’ the regent shouted, crown momentarily forgotten. ‘What have you done!’

  ‘Called for help,’ the prince replied. ‘And it worked!’

  Odelyn roared with anger and lifted the crown again, but before she could settle it on her head, Old Dragon Stone kicked like an egg with an impatient chick. A crack opened up between the regent and her grandson, and both staggered back from a jet of potent heat that issued from it. Pale blue flames leaped high into the air. There came a roar like the Foss in full flow.

  ‘Who summons me?’ The voice was so deep and forceful just the sound of it opened more fiery cracks in Old Dragon Stone. ‘Who disturbs my slumber?’

  ‘It is I, oh Aldewrath!’ cried Kendryk delightedly, even though the hem of his robe was on fire. He stamped it out. ‘It takes a dragon to summon a dragon – and you are the original Old Dragon. Awaken and repel the usurper!’

  The crack at Kendryk’s feet broadened, gaping many yards wide. He fell back with one arm upraised to protect his eyes. The regent stood gaping as the snout and chin of a giant, red-scaled creature rose up out of the crack and sniffed the air.

  ‘It is a dragon!’ Eleanor cried.

  ‘Not just any dragon,’ said Hundred with awe in her voice. ‘That’s Aldewrath himself!’

  ‘I thought … I thought he was a myth,’ whimpered a nearby Instrument, who had dropped her sword in shock.

  ‘Apparently not,’ said Odo. ‘Your prince just summoned him.’

  The Instrument turned tail and fled, taking with her those few who remained standing.

  Aldewrath’s giant nostrils opened again, sucking in mighty lungfuls of air, staggering everyone but usefully starving several fires of oxygen, so they went out. The entire top of Old Dragon Stone was covered in cracks now, and all of them radiated heat in waves.

  ‘None of you smell true,’ Aldewrath declared, his vast head rising on a long, sinuous neck so one golden eye could take in Kendryk and the other his grandmother. ‘What has become of the kingdom?’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with the kingdom,’ objected Odelyn, drawing herself up and once again raising the crown. She did not lack courage. ‘The only thing it lacks is a king – me!’

  Aldewrath narrowed his lips, and his sinuous, forked tongue whisked across and wrenched the crown from her hands and tumbled it across the top of the Stone. Egda’s head turned to follow the metallic ringing sound it made. A quick thrust with his staff stopped it from rolling off the edge and falling to the earth far below.

  ‘Only descendants of the First King may hold the throne,’ roared Aldewrath. ‘That is the pact I made with her, long ago. I can be roused to protect the kingdom, but only by one of the First King’s descendants. I carefully check when they follow the ritual during their coronation. In return, I am allowed to sleep in peace, without fear of disturbance from wandering knights and the like. As I am being disturbed now. Who must I punish for breaking the pact?’

  Kendryk went down on his knees before the great dragon, but quickly sprang up again, because the stone was too hot.

  ‘To punish the person responsible, you would have to travel back in time,’ he said, ‘and I fear that might be beyond even you, great Aldewrath! King Brandar the Wise lived and died three hundred years ago. He lied about being an illegitimate son of the previous king, and won a war to prove it. When he came up here to be crowned, you, great Aldewrath, didn’t object, because you were even more deeply asleep than usual. King Brandar was a powerful sorcerer who tricked his way onto the throne and made certain you never woke up to reject his claim – and then he convinced everyone you were just a myth!’

  ‘A myth? For three hundred years? That is powerful sorcery indeed. And treachery. But it does explain your unexpected scent.’

  ‘What nonsense,’ the regent scoffed. ‘Don’t listen to him, Aldewrath. He’s a madman. He’s concocted this story merely to put himself on the throne—’

  ‘Don’t you understand, Grandmother?’ Kendryk said. ‘I’m no madman – but if you can’t rule, neither can I. None of our line can. We’re all pretenders – even Great-Uncle Egda!’

  Eleanor glanced at the former king, who held the crown reverently in his left hand, perhaps remembering when he had once worn it. His face was ashen.

  ‘Not … king?’ he said.

  ‘You were crowned,’ Hundred reminded him firmly. ‘You ruled. What does a bit of blood matter?’

  ‘Ask the dragon!’ he snapped. ‘Maybe the First King’s courage would not have failed, as mine did.’

  ‘I have no opinion under the pact I made,’ said Aldewrath. ‘If I have slept three hundred years and missed the end of my old friend’s line, I see no reason to stay awake now.’

  The giant head began to sink back into the rift.

  ‘You can’t go back to sleep,’ said Kendryk, aghast. ‘You have to put someone on the throne!’

  ‘I can’t? I have to?’ the dragon roared, eyes widening in outrage. Thin lips pulled back from teeth like long knives, and Aldewrath opened his mighty jaws wider, as though considering snapping Kendryk up. ‘The pact has ended. I care not how you decide now. Let it be the person who first wears the crown, for all it matters to me!’

  With that, Aldewrath retre
ated into Old Dragon Stone, which shook and complained in response. Flames and smoke spurted out of the cracks.

  All eyes turned to the crown held limply in Egda’s hand.

  ‘Give it to me, brother,’ said Odelyn, advancing with a murderous look.

  Eleanor and Odo closed ranks in front of Egda. Hundred moved to intercept Odelyn, and was confronted by Lord Deor. For a moment, there was a stalemate, with Kendryk standing helplessly to one side.

  ‘This isn’t what I planned,’ he despaired. ‘Aldewrath was supposed to honour the pact and choose a new monarch. Surely there’s someone left in Tofte with the royal blood!’

  ‘What does it matter?’ his grandmother snapped at him. ‘Blood is no substitute for ambition.’

  ‘And ambition is no substitute for ability,’ Hundred retorted. ‘You are sending your Instruments out into the kingdom knowing nothing about the people or the lands they are to be stewards of.’

  ‘What’s there to know? My subjects are the ones who need to understand that things are different now. The old ways are gone. No one believes in them anyway.’

  ‘That’s not true!’ Eleanor declared. ‘I believe in them. I’ve spent my whole life dreaming of being a knight, and now that I am one, you’re not taking that from me!’

  ‘See?’ said Odo. ‘You know nothing about Tofte. You’ve never visited the villages and smithies like Kendryk has, and Egda before him. You’ve lived your life in the palace, dreaming of sitting in a fancy chair and believing that made you king. It doesn’t. You have to earn it.’

  ‘I have earned it.’ Odelyn lunged forward, pointing at Egda. Odo and Eleanor crossed swords to prevent her coming any closer. ‘I stood in his shadow and watched him grow weak and cowardly. What kind of king just gives up?’

  ‘She’s right,’ said Egda. ‘I was not a good king.’

  ‘My liege,’ said Hundred. ‘Don’t listen to her—’

  ‘But Odelyn would be a worse king still.’ Egda raised the crown over a seething crack next to him. ‘I should drop this right now and let it melt!’

  ‘No!’ cried Kendryk and Odelyn at the same time. Lord Deor lunged, knocking Hundred back into Egda – whose fingers snapped open accidentally, letting the crown go.

  The impact knocked the crown away from the crack. With a penetrating chime, it struck the stone and bounced across the top of Old Dragon Stone, rolling at a rapid speed.

  Everyone moved at once: Odelyn and Kendryk for the crown, Hundred to save Egda, who was teetering on the edge of the crack, Eleanor to protect Kendryk, and Odo to block Lord Deor. Only Odo wasn’t the only one choosing his direction. Biter was pulling him too, hoping for a chance to even the score against Falconstone, the Butcher Blade of Winterset.

  ‘Out of my way, boy,’ Lord Deor growled. He was bleeding from a wound in his side, but it didn’t seem to slow him.

  ‘Sir Odo will not be spoken to that way,’ Biter responded, ready to fight.

  But Odo reined him in, thinking fast. He didn’t fancy his chances against an experienced knight and his equally vicious sword, although he would fight to protect Egda. He was about the same size as Lord Deor.

  ‘It’s in your best interest to stay back, good knight,’ Odo said, watching the Falconstone closely for any sudden lunges. ‘You and I, we’re just following orders. In a moment this’ll all be sorted out, without bloodshed, and we can go back to being on the same side, like we were before.’

  ‘I’m not a knight, and I’m not on your side,’ Lord Deor said, his brows darkening. ‘I’m the Chief Regulator!’

  With that, he struck, the Falconstone’s black tip slashing horizontally through the air. Biter and Odo moved as one to defend themselves with the Fourth Certain Block. Metal rang against metal, and then again as Odo struck in return. He was used to fighting Eleanor, who was faster than him. Lord Deor was faster still – and Odo was very conscious of the fact that the Regulator was only the second person he had ever fought armed with a magical sword. Ædroth, sword of the false knight Sir Saskia, had been perfectly ordinary, and still she had beaten him.

  That, however, was a long time ago and far away. Then, he had fought for his honour. Now, he was fighting for the entire country – and for his life.

  Ninth Deadly Strike, he told himself, drawing Biter back for another series of blows and adjusting the weight of his dragon-scale shield. Chief Regulator or not, Lord Deor was just another knight, and knights could be beaten.

  Eleanor saw Odo fighting Lord Deor but had no time to feel more than a flash of concern. At least she had weakened him for Odo.

  Her outstretched fingertips had just touched the rolling crown when a strong hand gripped her trailing leg, and she fell over, almost landing face-first. Eleanor cursed and lashed out as Odelyn ran by, but succeeded only in tearing off a handful of purple robe. Using a word that she’d never thought to utter in the presence of royalty, she looked around for Kendryk. He was too far away.

  Odelyn had caught up with the crown. In a moment she would scoop it up and declare herself king. They had all heard the dragon’s decree. Putting the crown on her head really would make her king.

  A black shape descended from the sky. Tip caught the rolling crown with both feet and furiously flapped his webbed wings. Eleanor cheered, but her relief was short-lived. The crown was too heavy for the little bat, and Odelyn too speedy. The regent got one hand on the circlet, sending Tip tumbling away and ripping it free.

  With a cry of triumph, she raised it high.

  Scrambling to her feet, Eleanor drew back her sword-arm and launched Runnel in a wild, desperate throw.

  The sword flew true, darting with a whistle between Odelyn’s upraised hands, and caught the crown against Runnel’s cross-guard.

  ‘Cursed thing!’ Odelyn snatched at the sword and almost lost her fingers for the effort. Runnel swooped around her, intending to bring the crown to Eleanor.

  ‘No, to Prince Kendryk!’ she cried.

  Runnel changed course, and Kendryk raised his hands and ran backwards to catch the crown as it dropped down from on high. At the last moment, a fallen Instrument who had been feigning unconsciousness rose up onto hands and knees behind the prince and tripped him. The crown landed in front of her, and she snatched it up in both hands.

  ‘To me!’ cried Odelyn, opening her arms. ‘Throw truly and I’ll reward you with a hundred gold nobles.’

  ‘Only a hundred gold nobles?’ the Instrument said with a sneer. ‘I heard what that dragon said. Anyone who wears this thing can be king – so why not me?’

  ‘Why not you? Because crown or not, I’ll have you hung, drawn and quartered, you treacherous cur, that’s why!’

  Odelyn bared her teeth and began to run.

  Startled, the Instrument turned and fled, the crown dangling in her left hand.

  Odo blocked another powerful blow from Lord Deor. The Falconstone’s keen blade skidded down Biter’s blunter edge, stopping at the cross-guard with the force of a punch. Gasping for air, Odo pushed with his shield and forced Lord Deor onto his back foot. That was the most ground he could gain, but surely the older man’s strength would have to ebb soon. Blood still flowed freely down his side, and his smile was looking forced. What Odo couldn’t win by skill alone, he might yet take with superior endurance.

  Distraction came from an unexpected quarter. ‘Leave this one to me,’ cried Hundred, kicking Lord Deor in the knee and breaking the stalemate. ‘Go after the crown. You have longer legs!’

  Odo shook sweat from his eyes and looked around. Egda stood alone but out of harm’s way, for the moment. Eleanor, Kendryk, Odelyn and Tip were chasing an Instrument who was running for the Long Stair, dodging and weaving around smoking cracks as she went. Her current path took her not far from him, and in her hand was the crown!

  Lowering his head and roaring like a bull, he ran, wishing for Eleanor’s speed. But intimidation might do, and the sight of him had the desired effect.

  The Instrument squeaked and changed direction,
regretting ever getting involved.

  ‘Here!’ she said, throwing the crown at him. ‘You have it!’

  He hadn’t expected her to go that far, and he flubbed the catch with his shield arm, flicking the crown up into the air and twisting in midstep to turn and try again. Instead, his left toe caught on a lip of stone, and he fell, spread-eagled. The crown came down, striking him on the head – where it stayed.

  ‘Odo?’ cried Eleanor.

  Shakily, he sat up.

  Everyone was looking at him.

  Everything was suddenly quiet.

  He raised his hands. Yes, the crown was definitely on his head, which, according to the dragon, made him …

  King of Tofte.

  All eyes were on Odo. King Odo, thought Eleanor in amazement. She couldn’t believe it. Who could have guessed when they found Biter in the mud that his journey would lead him here?

  Jealousy, this time, was the furthest thing from her mind. She felt only pride for her friend, who she thought would make a very good king indeed.

  Lord Deor was the first to recover from the shock. He launched a surprise attack against Hundred, and she blocked too late. Her curved sword spun far out of her reach.

  Empty-handed, she stood facing him, apparently helpless. He laughed, gloating, and drew back his sword to strike her down.

  She launched herself under the blade, which swung harmlessly overhead. Using her weight in exactly the right way, she tipped him off balance, forcing him back one step, two steps …

  Lord Deor took no third step. With a cry, he fell into a fiery crack and disappeared. There came a sound like giant jaws crunching, and he was gone.

  Out of the crack shot a black streak.

  ‘The Falconstone!’ cried Biter, instinctively going to follow.

  But as the Butcher Blade of Winterset rocketed off into the distance, heading south and west away from the sun, Biter stayed his flight. His knight needed him. The king needed him. Perhaps to slay the dragon, if it chose to stir again.