The End of Time (Books of Umber #3)

by P. W. ; David Ho Catanese

  “He falls into these moods, and we never know when he’ll come out,” Oates replied.

  Hameron dabbed at a corner of his mouth with the handkerchief. “Always knew there was something nutty about him.”

  Balfour cleared his throat loudly. “You all know why we’re on this journey.”

  “To suffer a brutal, fiery death,” Hameron muttered.

  “That’s enough of that,” Sandar snapped. He stepped so close to Hameron that their noses nearly touched. “You will respect my passengers, and you will say nothing more against Lord Umber, Hameron. It’s a long swim home if you don’t.”

  Balfour twiddled his thumbs and looked sideways at Hameron. “Our mission is to return the eggs and the infant dragon to the land where they belong. Hameron, you were the one who found them. If you’re so concerned for our safety, maybe you could advise us on how to pull this off.”

  Hameron crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. “You ruined my life, all of you. And kidnapped me for this journey, against my will. Why should I help you?”

  “This ship is going to the dragon’s lair, Hameron, with you on it. So you’ll be saving your own skin, too, mind you,” Balfour told him. “And I think you can expect some reward for your help. It was compensation you were after, wasn’t it?”

  Hameron’s jaw worked from side to side. “How much compensation?”

  “That will be up to Umber. Enough to put you back on your feet, though, I imagine.”

  “My weight in gold,” Hameron said.

  “I beg your pardon?” Balfour replied.

  “That’s what I demand. I’ll tell you how to safely return the dragon eggs. But I want my weight in gold in return.”

  “Preposterous,” Balfour began, but he was interrupted by a weak, emotionless voice.

  “He can have it,” Umber muttered.

  “Umber, really,” Balfour whined.

  “I don’t care,” Umber said. His eyes were shut, and he rubbed at one lid with his fingertips. “Anything to get this over with. Just do what he says. And get out of my cabin, all of you.” He stepped out of the chair, never straightening, and flopped onto his bed, facedown.

  Hameron smirked at Balfour. “You heard him, old man. Do what I say. This is my expedition now.” He turned to Sandar. “You have a map of Chastor, I presume? Fetch it for me like a good captain. We should leave dear Umber to marinate in his despair, and gather at the dining table. Suddenly I’m feeling quite hungry.”

  Hap lingered for a moment after the others filed out. “I hope you feel better soon, Lord Umber.”

  Umber never looked up.

  The others were at the table, gathered around the map that Sandar unrolled. Hameron’s lip curled as he looked at it. “This is the best map you’ve got?”

  Sandar glared. “The land is full of dragons. Mapmakers tend to avoid it, like everyone else.”

  “Ugh,” Hameron said. “My chart was better. But I guess this will do.” His fingernail rasped across the parchment and stopped. “Here. See that notch in the coast? It’s like a bite taken from the land. That little crescent is where the dragons have their nests. It’s easy enough to spot if the mists aren’t too thick. There’s a sharp point of rock that juts out of the sea a few hundred yards from the shore. I call it Hameron’s Needle.” Hap looked at Balfour, who watched with his nostrils flared wide.

  Hameron’s finger slid south on the map. “We’ll put ashore here, a few miles away, in a sandy cove that I discovered. Hameron’s Cove. The cliffs along the coast are riddled with crevices and caves, and we can use those to approach unseen. I know the path. But the wind has to be right—it must not carry our scent to the dragons.” He lifted his head and looked at the others. “We can take the eggs ashore and leave them for the dragons to find. But we can’t take the infant.”

  “What?” said Balfour. “Why not?”

  “Are you losing your wits in your old age, Balfour? It’s too risky. The dragon may cry out or reveal our presence some other way. And that will mean death for us.”

  “But we can’t keep her,” Hap cried. “She’s getting big—she’ll be too dangerous!”

  “True,” Hameron said. “You’ll have to dispose of her.”

  “Dispose of her?” cried Sophie.

  Hameron sighed. “If we can’t return her safely, and you can’t keep her, you have no choice, my dear. It will be done humanely, of course. Not like those barbaric Dragon Games. And the creature will make a lovely museum piece once it’s stuffed.”

  Sophie made a sound Hap had never heard from her before: half grunt, half shout, from a closed mouth. She stomped away, down to the hold, where Jewel was caged.

  “Balfour,” Hap pleaded.

  Balfour raised a hand. “Nobody’s killing the dragon, Hameron. Umber has bottles of sleeping potions; we’ll use some on her, and she won’t make a sound.”

  Hameron rocked his head back and puffed air at the ceiling. “You think you have all the answers, don’t you, Balfour?”

  “Hardly,” Balfour replied. “I never said I was unfallible.”

  “The word is infallible.”

  Balfour shrugged. “See?”

  CHAPTER

  4

  Captain Sandar steered the Bounder near the eastern coast of Celador, keeping the rugged shore just visible to starboard. They passed through the channel that separated the mainland from Norr. The sailors kept close watch on that island, in case one of its hostile ships bolted out in pursuit, but Sandar was unconcerned. The Bounder could outsail any rival craft, except for others in Umber’s merchant fleet. They were the sleekest ships the world had known, and it was rumored that Umber had better, faster vessels on the way, even as envious shipbuilders copied his current designs.

  The sky turned gloomy, and clouds obscured the setting sun. As the ship sailed blindly through the night, Hap wondered how Sandar could know which way to steer. He’d seen navigators use instruments of Umber’s invention to plot their courses based on the position of the sun and the stars. But those tools were useless under a canopy of cloud. Sandar, who had taken a liking to Hap from the beginning, was happy to explain.

  “I have charts to tell me the distance between lands. And I have a compass to show me our heading. All I need, then, is to know our speed. Now, Hap, have you seen my crew let that knotted rope slip into the water every so often? That’s how we judge our speed, depending on how many knots pay out in one turn of the glass. Then I mark our progress on the chart. We can be more accurate than you’d imagine this way. I once got through the Straits of Maur in a driving rainstorm with that sort of reckoning.”

  Hameron had said that the coast of Chastor was often enveloped by mist, and his words proved to be true. The next day the Bounder sailed into a thickening vapor. Hap felt moisture collecting on the fine hairs of his arms. It was high noon, according to the ship’s glass, but the light was dim and diffused, and there were no shadows. The ship nudged forward under a single sail, in a gentle breeze that carried them toward the land of the dragons.

  Hameron stood near the prow, leaning over the rail. “You’d better know what you’re doing, Captain Sandar,” he called back. His neck craned forward. “How far from the coast are we?”

  “About a mile,” Sandar replied.

  “About, he tells me,” Hameron muttered. He waved a hand in front of his face, as if he could push the fog away, and cupped his hands beside his eyes, peering forward. A sailor named Hannigan was in the crow’s nest at the top of the foremast, and his urgent cry came down: “Land ahead—a spike of land!”

  “No!” cried Hameron. “That’s my needle! Hameron’s Needle! Sandar, you incompetent fool, you’ve got us too close! Quiet, everyone,” he screamed, though he was the only one making a sound. He rushed back toward the helm with his eyes bulging. Hap saw a narrow, jagged rock, taller than the ship’s masts, resolving in the mist before them.

  “That way!” Hameron hissed, jabbing at the air. “Take us that way!”

  “Starboard
, hard,” Sandar said, and the helmsman spun the ship’s wheel. The fog overhead dimmed for a moment—a flash of darkness that passed swiftly from east to west. Hameron’s head snapped upward, and his mouth sagged open.

  “Did anyone else see that?” said Oates. “Hap, could you see?”

  Hap shook his head. His vision was sharp, even in the dark, but it couldn’t penetrate this fog.

  It happened again: a shadow moving swiftly inside the vapor. Hap thought he heard a sound this time, a great fwoop of air being pushed, like a sheet snapping on a clothesline. Part of the mist billowed into whorls, disturbed from above. Hameron made a dash for the hatch, but Oates grabbed him by the collar. “Where are you going?” Oates asked, as Hameron flailed.

  An orange plume flared within the mist. The thing passed by again, but closer this time, and its form could be seen: long-necked and long-tailed, with diamond wings on either side. It was half the length of the ship.

  “Oh no, no, no, oh no,” whined Hameron, clutching his skull. He turned to Sandar with every tooth showing in a ghastly grimace. “You’ve doomed us all!”

  Sandar’s face had gone pale, and his throat bobbed. He looked at Balfour with watery eyes. “The map,” he said hoarsely. “I know how to sail; the map must be wrong!”

  A terrible sound came from directly above: a loud screech that fell in pitch to a booming roar. All eyes turned up to see a golden serpent drop out of the cloud with its wings spread wide. Hap was sure it would crash onto the deck of the ship, but the sprawling wings flapped once, arresting the descent. The gust of air nearly knocked Hap off his feet. The dragon seized the top of the forward mast with all four of its legs. In the crow’s nest, Hannigan was eye to eye with the creature. He yelped and dropped out of sight in the half-barrel platform.

  The dragon’s claws bit deep into the mast. The wings spread wide and flapped again and again, forcing the ship into a dangerous tilt. Sandar and Balfour wrapped their arms around the helm, and the sailors seized the stays and rails to keep from sliding across the deck. Hap heard things rolling and crashing in the hold below, and he saw Oates with one arm curled around the foremast and the other hand holding a sprawling, squirming Hameron by the collar, saving him from a painful tumble. The dragon turned its jaws toward the sky and unleashed a plume of fire. The wings kept flapping, and the ship was nearly sideways. The sailors wailed and screamed.

  When the Bounder seemed inches from capsizing, the dragon made a chuffing sound and folded its wings. The ship rolled back to horizontal and beyond, and a few men lost their grip and tumbled across the deck into the port-side rail.

  Why did it stop? Hap wondered. The dragon extended its long neck and stared down with smoke drifting from its jaws. As its muscles moved, the metallic scales shimmered. Hap followed the serpent’s gaze and saw Sophie lying on the deck just outside the hatch, with her hand pushing Jewel’s cage in front of her. Jewel raced back and forth within the bars, taking two strides and whipping her slender body around to face the other way.

  The golden dragon climbed halfway down the mast and angled its head, inspecting the cage. It called out again: not the earsplitting roar they’d already heard, but a long, warbling cry.

  Some of the crew stood cautiously as the ship stopped rocking, while the rest stayed low, cowering. Hap saw Hameron tug at the cuff of Oates’s pants. “You’re the fighter, you big oaf—do something!”

  Oates laughed bitterly. “Do what? Get my head bitten off?”

  The dragon stared down, turning its gaze on anyone who moved. All motion stopped, except for the blinking of eyes and heaving of chests.

  Hap looked at Sophie, who had gotten to her knees next to the cage, clutching it with a shaking hand. “Should I open it?” she whispered.

  Hap nodded. “Do it!”

  “I’m scared,” she said.

  Hap craned his neck to watch the dragon and took a slow, sliding step toward Sophie. When the dragon didn’t notice him, he took another, and a third. And then the serpent’s long snout swiveled toward him, and its sapphire eyes narrowed and focused. Terror fused Hap’s feet to the deck, and hot beads of sweat sprang up along his hairline. He looked sideways at Sophie and saw someone appear in the threshold over her shoulder, coming slowly up the stairs from the deck below.

  Umber looked like a man roused from a drunken stupor as he wobbled up the last step, gripping the rail to steady himself. His eyes were slits, and he blinked at the daylight as he stepped onto the top deck. His mouth opened and twisted sideways in a long, loud yawn, which froze wide when he spotted the dragon on the mast. His tongue wagged, and he might have said something if a second dragon had not burst out of the mist.

  It was larger than the first and more coppery in hue. With wings flexed wide it glided to the front of the ship and landed on the prow, gouging the planks and snapping off the bowsprit. The copper beast sang a warbling reply to the golden dragon, and then growled at the cowering people on the Bounder.

  Then the copper dragon did something astonishing. It bent its neck and lowered its head to the deck. Hap saw a man perched on the dragon’s shoulders, in a leather saddle. The man swung his legs to one side, kicking off the loops that secured his feet. The dragon raised its foreleg, offering a place to stand, and lowered the man to the deck. He stepped down and took two strides forward. The dragon’s head hovered over the man’s shoulder, teeth bared.

  The man was dressed head to toe in spotted goat hide: boots, leggings, tunic, and gloves. His forehead and ears were covered by a leather hood with long flaps down the sides. On the parts of his face that Hap could see, and across his bare arms, metallic scales had been painted or tattooed.

  Hap remembered reading in one of Umber’s books about a legendary being. The name sprang to mind: the Dragon Lord.

  The man looked at the cage with Jewel inside. His lips pulled back in a snarl, and he called out in a fierce, strangely accented voice, “Who commands you?”

  All eyes went to Umber, who stood unsteadily, looking bewildered as he gaped at the dragons. He didn’t seem to hear the question.

  “This is my ship,” Sandar said in a quavering voice, from the helm.

  Balfour cleared his throat and stepped forward. “But this is my mission. We are here to return something that belongs to you. Are you . . . are you the Dragon Lord?”

  Hap saw Umber mouth the words: Dragon Lord. His fingers twitched against his lips.

  The Dragon Lord ignored the question. He pointed at Jewel’s cage with a gloved hand. “How did you come to possess that?”

  Balfour glanced at Umber, perhaps hoping that Umber was ready to join the conversation. “It was stolen from you,” Balfour said. “And we took it back so we could return it. But that’s not all. We have also brought back your stolen eggs.”

  The Dragon Lord reached up to cradle the copper dragon’s great jaw in his arm, and he sang softly into its ear. The creature rumbled and snorted, and a puff of smoke shot from each nostril. Hap gulped. He saw Hameron try to edge away, but Oates held him by the sleeve. Hameron’s bottom lip trembled, and his head moved in tiny sideways shakes.

  Balfour’s voice cracked as he called out the side of his mouth. “Perhaps someone could fetch the eggs?”

  “I’ll go,” Hap said. As he ran by, he tugged Sophie’s arm. “Help me,” he said, and he breathed a little easier when she followed him into the lower deck, out of reach of the dragon’s toothy jaws.

  “Stay below,” he told her when they’d made it down the first flight of stairs.

  “I will not,” she replied, and ran ahead of him, down into the hold. But he darted past her, picked up the chest before she arrived, and bounded back up the stairs as fast as his powerful legs would take him. When he arrived on the top deck again, it didn’t seem as if any more words had been exchanged. The Dragon Lord stood like a sculpture with his fists on his hips. Jewel was out of her cage and clung to his shoulder with her tail wrapped tight around his arm. The golden dragon had slithered farther down the ma
st, spiraling around the beam as it descended, until its snout was just over Oates’s head. Hameron ducked behind the bigger man.

  Hap felt Sophie’s hand on his shoulder. “Let’s go,” she whispered, “before we lose our nerve.”

  They passed Umber, who stood with his mouth agape, blinking up at the dragon on the mast. “Are you all right?” Hap asked, but Umber didn’t respond.

  With Sophie gripping the back of his shirt, Hap edged slowly forward until he was two strides from the Dragon Lord. “The eggs are in here, sir,” Hap said, and he lowered the chest to the deck.

  The Dragon Lord’s pale eyes narrowed in the shadow of the hood. “Open it.”

  Balfour cleared his throat. “I have the key.” He came forward with tiny, hesitant steps and opened the lock with a shaky hand. The lid yawned. Inside, the crystalline eggs gleamed. The Dragon Lord stepped up to the box, and the copper dragon slid up beside him with fluid grace. Hap felt its breath on his head, like the heat of a furnace.

  The Dragon Lord kneeled and counted the eggs. He stood with one in each hand. “Ten and six were stolen from us. Here are ten and one.”

  Balfour opened his mouth again, but no words came out. Hap gulped, and his voice squeaked as he answered. “The infant dragon hatched from one. Four were . . . killed in a barbaric game in a distant land. But the men who killed the dragons died themselves, as we rescued the eggs.”

  Hap heard the Dragon Lord’s breath hiss from his nostrils. The copper dragon’s wings ruffled, and it flexed its claws, splintering the wood below. “And the person who stole the eggs,” the Dragon Lord roared, for every person on the ship to hear. “What became of him?”

  Hap looked behind him and saw exactly what he feared. Oates was biting his lip. He looked like he was struggling to keep a violent sneeze from escaping. Over Oates’s shoulder, Hap saw the growing alarm in Hameron’s expression. Hameron knew what was about to happen. Oates was compelled to speak the truth, and when a question was asked, nothing but a muzzle could keep him from answering. He crammed his fist into his mouth, but it popped back out like a cork. “It was this man right here,” his voice boomed out, as tears drizzled from his pained, squinting eyes.