Dragonfell

by Sarah Prineas

  A dragon hoard is the thing that the dragon must have. Each dragon hoards a different thing. Such as:

  mouses

  clear pieces of glass for looking through

  also mirrors

  teacups with blue flowers

  tinkly bells

  books

  spiders

  pocket watches

  sea glass

  silver spoons

  mittens and other knitted things

  drawings of pretty flowers

  “Do you see what this list means, Rafi?” she asks, looking up at me. “There are a lot more dragons out there. I mean, he can’t have found them all, can he?”

  I hope not. “Does it say anything about people who are dragon-touched?” I ask.

  “Not yet,” she answers, turning a page. “But the handwriting is very difficult to decipher.” She smiles. “Or claw-writing, I should say, since a dragon wrote this.” She moves the candle nearer to see better. It’s almost burned to a stub. “There is a bit in here about lairs, too.”

  Peering closer, she turns another page, and with her elbow, knocks the candle over.

  It drops to the ground and goes out.

  I see her blinking in the sudden darkness.

  “Ohhhh,” she whispers. “That was very, very stupid.”

  “What?” I ask.

  She turns her face toward me, but I know it’s too dark for her to see me.

  “Rafi, I used our last match to light the candle.”

  “So?” I ask.

  “Without a match to fire the engine, we won’t be able to start the vaporwagon in the morning. Rafi, we’re stuck!”

  Chapter 26

  Neither of us sleeps much during the night. Maud’s probably imagining Gringolet and her hunters coming up the road, maybe with reinforcements. Maybe even Mister Flitch himself is coming.

  I’m lying awake thinking about coal-powered, steam-driven engines.

  I get up just as the sky is turning pink, and gray light sifts into our campsite. Maud sits up, yawning and rubbing her eyes.

  The goats are clustered near the vaporwagon, grazing, and . . . instead of four, there are six of them! One of them is much skinnier than she was before—during the night, fat Fluffy gave birth to two little kids. One is black and the other is white, and they have blunt baby-goat faces and tiny hooves.

  “Oh!” says Maud, going to crouch and hold a hand out to the two kids. “Oh, Rafi, look! They’re so, so cute!” The white one wobbles closer. “He’s so little!”

  I bend to look more closely. “Yes, she is.”

  “And her adorable sister.” She leans to peer around Fluffy’s flank where the other kid is hiding.

  “Her brother,” I tell her.

  Maud beams. “Well then, we’ll name the white one, the girl, Cloud. And the black one . . .”

  I crouch down to have a better look at him, then nod. “He’ll be Coal.”

  Coal and Cloud wobble over to Fluffy, who stands; the babies duck their heads under her belly and start nursing at her udder. Their tails waggle happily as they drink.

  While they nurse, I milk Poppy and give Maud the first cup, then get some more. The warm goat milk is delicious, but it makes me miss my da, and I blink away a wave of missing the Dragonfell.

  Maud stands with hands on hips, looking in dismay at the two big bags full of food and her winter gear. “This is going to be a lot to carry. And the baby goats won’t be able to walk far.” She glares at the vaporwagon. “I can’t believe I let the flame go out.”

  “Well,” I say slowly. “I have an idea about that.”

  “Rafi, Gringolet can’t be that far behind us,” she reminds me. “And Mister Flitch has threatened your village. We have to hurry.”

  “Certain sure we do,” I respond. “But just let me think about this for a bit.”

  With a shrug, she sits down, opens the dragon book, and starts to read.

  And I go to inspect the vaporwagon.

  It’s a big, gleaming beast of a machine, but . . .

  . . . as I look it over, it starts to make sense to me.

  Front wheels, for steering. Directly ahead of the driver’s seat is the firebox, and over that is the boiler, full of water. When it’s burning, the coal fire heats the water, making steam. I climb into the driver’s seat to have a better look. Yes, there is a gleaming brass pipe leading from the boiler, and down. The dashboard’s gauges and knobs and flywheels—I can see how each of them work. There’s a little glass tube half full of water—it shows that the boiler still has plenty of water in it. A pull on a knob sends extra grease into all the moving parts of the engine. I open the blower valve so the fire will get plenty of air. A quick glance at the bin behind the seat shows that we have lots of coal left. I grab the shovel and load up the firebox.

  Now for a spark. I kneel by the firebox door and peer in. The shiny black coal is mounded on a grate in the bottom of it. I reach in with my hand and rearrange the coal so it’ll burn well.

  And Maud pokes her nose in. “What’re you doing, Rafi? The fire’s out and we don’t have any matches. There’s no way to start it.”

  I turn to give her a long look.

  She stares.

  I know what she sees in my eyes.

  “Oh my,” she gasps. “Yes, I see. Go. Do it.”

  I have a spark inside me. It has flared up before, when I’ve been angry, or when I’ve been protecting somebody or something that I love. Maybe I can use it now.

  I concentrate. Shadows close in around me. Deep in my chest, right next to my heart, I feel the click, and then the flare as my spark bursts into flame.

  “Eep!” Maud says, and disappears.

  I focus on the coal in the firebox. Coal is rock; it shouldn’t be easy to light, but the spark in me speaks to it. There’s a white-hot flash, and a moment later the firebox is pulsing with orange and yellow flame, the air wavery with heat. I withdraw my hand, close the firebox door, and get to my feet.

  “It’s all right, Maud,” I call.

  Her face appears again at the side of the vaporwagon. Her eyes are shining. “Oh, Rafi! Well done!”

  I grin at her. Anybody else would be running away from somebody like me, but not Maud, who thinks I’m normal.

  “Come on, goats!” she calls, and hands me an overstuffed bag. We get them loaded up, including Fluffy with her babies, along with our supplies, and drive the vaporwagon back onto the road.

  We drive for most of the morning without seeing anyone. The hills get closer, and so does the mountain where the glass dragon is. I’m taking a turn at the tiller, while Maud tries to read from the dragon book.

  As we drive along, I can’t stop thinking about how the vaporwagon works. Maybe the spark in me calls to the heat and power in the engine. Steam expanding, driving the pistons, turning the wheels. All its parts fit together so perfectly.

  It makes me wonder about the huge machines we saw in Mister Flitch’s workroom, the ones covered with canvas. One of them was pulsing with heat and power. I don’t think they were vaporwagons, and they weren’t factory machinery . . .

  “Rafi!” Maud’s shout interrupts me.

  I blink and glance over at her.

  She’s frowning. “Stop for a moment,” she shouts over the loud clatter-rattle of the engine.

  I pull back the throttle, set the damper on the firebox, and the vaporwagon comes to a stop with a quiet chuff-chuff-chuff.

  “Look.” She points. “Is there something on the road ahead of us?”

  To her eyes it must be just a blur. But I can see, as the road curves, heading into the hills, that there’s a big vaporwagon puffing black smoke. I squint, and bring it into focus. Driving it is a familiar, ashy-gray figure gleaming with pins.

  “Gringolet,” I say grimly.

  “Oh no.” Maud clenches her fists. “She must have gotten ahead of us during the night.”

  I climb up to stand on the bench. From here, shading my eyes, I can see more. Riding in the
back of Gringolet’s vaporwagon are a lot of men, really tough-looking ones, wearing leather suits that look like they might be fireproof. After that comes another pair of vaporwagons pulling three carts hitched together, carts that are carrying something huge covered with canvas cloth. I recognize it. It’s one of the giant machines from Mister Flitch’s workroom.

  I turn and drop back onto the bench beside Maud. My thoughts are whirring like a steam engine’s gears.

  That machine. They’re bringing it up the mountain, to the Ur-Lair. Mister Flitch built it. Is it a weapon for fighting dragons?

  If it is, there’s something missing.

  If the machine is steam-driven and coal-powered, then where is the coal to make it go?

  And this is just one of the mysterious machines that we saw in Mister Flitch’s workroom.

  Where is the other one?

  Chapter 27

  Gringolet’s convoy is moving fast. As I watch, the heavy vehicles turn off the main road and onto a rougher dirt road that leads toward the Ur-Lair mountain.

  Maud pulls our bags from under the seat and flings them to the ground. “Hurry up,” she chides.

  I’m staring at the Ur-Lair again. Halfway up the mountain is a tree line, and above that are steep slopes that are gray-ash covered here and there with patches of snow.

  Maud pulls at my arm, and I blink and look at her. “Did you hear me, Rafi? I said that if we hurry, we can beat Gringolet to the mountain.” She points. “The road curves, but we can go straight there.”

  Yes. Straight there. I close the damper and feel the fire inside our vaporwagon flicker out. A last bit of smoke and steam leak from the engine.

  I leap to the ground, joining Maud and the goats.

  The goats. The mountain is no place for them.

  Actually, it’s a perfect place for goats, but not a mountain that might be inhabited by a big, hungry dragon. I point at Gruff, the big billy. “Stay here,” I order. Then I grab both of the bags from Maud and set off, heading into the forest of thick, snow-dusted pine trees that covers the lower hills. At first it’s not too steep, but it’s not long before the footpath we’re on heads straight up, one switchback after another. I can hear Maud panting as she tries to keep up, but I can’t slow down.

  “Ra—” she gasps, “fi!”

  “What!” I ask.

  We get to a switchback, and I make the turn and keep climbing up, but Maud pauses, then leans over with her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath. “You might,” she pants, “not have noticed, but . . .” She straightens and shakes her head. “It’s gotten dark.”

  I look around. It is dark. Night. A glow off to the east shows that the moon is not far from rising.

  “I’m not sure I have much hiking left in me,” Maud says wearily.

  I want to keep going. I could keep going. But I’m not leaving Maud behind. “All right,” I say, and my voice sounds rough. “We can stop. Gringolet won’t be able to drive the vaporwagons over that road in the dark. She’ll have to stop for the night, too.”

  We hike a little farther, to the ragged line where the pine trees give way to the ashy slope. Maud stands there with her hands on her hips, looking up at the dark cone shape that is the Ur-Lair mountain.

  “Maud,” I ask her, dropping the bags to the ground. “Do you know what those big machines were, the ones we saw in Mister Flitch’s workroom?”

  “No idea,” she answers. “He’s always tinkering with the factory machines, I know that much. He’s almost as interested in them as he is in dragons.”

  “Gringolet is bringing one of them to the Ur-Lair,” I tell her. “It was loaded on carts pulled by the other vaporwagons. Don’t you think it could be some kind of weapon?”

  Maud blinks. “Yes, it very well could be,” she says soberly.

  Quietly we set up camp and eat the rest of the food. It isn’t long before Maud yawns. “G’night, Rafi,” she murmurs, lies down, and falls asleep as soon as her eyes close.

  I can’t sleep. The spark inside me is burning too hot, making me twitchier than I’ve ever felt before, making my skin feel like it doesn’t quite fit me right. I get to my feet and pace around the little clearing we’re in. I pause to pull a blanket out of a bag and tuck it around Maud, and then keep pacing. The air is chilly and crisp. After a while, the moon comes up, edging over the points of the pine trees.

  I turn to look at the mountain. Maud and I are camped at the very edge of the tree line, with thick forests of pines below us. Above us, steep, snow-covered slopes glimmer in the moonlight.

  As I stand there I have a strange thought. In a way, Mister Flitch hoards dragons. Maybe he’s obsessed with them, just like Maud is, but in a twisted way. I remember how Flitch looked at me, when he saw the spark deep in my eyes. He looked greedy. Even then he wanted my spark. But when he took Gringolet’s spark from her, he didn’t keep it for himself. What did he do with it?

  Standing there in the velvety darkness, I gaze up toward the Ur-Lair. From where I’m standing it looks like somebody took a giant knife and used it to slice off the very top of the mountain, leaving a ragged edge like the wall around a castle. I can see a fainter line, which is the road leading up to it. That’s the way that Gringolet will go, with the huge machine. To beat it up there, Maud and I will have to start climbing as soon as the sun rises. For now, the moon is riding high, spilling silvery light over the slopes of the mountain.

  As I watch, two shapes appear at the very edge of the mountaintop and launch themselves into the air. They drop and then glide, only dark shadows, and then I catch a glimpse of moonlight on scales, silver at the edge of a sweep of wings, the gleam of a fiery eye.

  Dragons.

  Trembling all over, I watch them fly. Seeing them makes me feel brimful of excitement and fright and a strange kind of exultation. They are dragons! They are so mighty, and so glorious, they make me want to leap into the sky and fly with them, wingtip to wingtip.

  They fly silently, part of the night. They circle above the road, and I know they’re spying out Gringolet and her men and the canvas-covered shape that is the mystery machine. Their circle widens, and they pass overhead, huge, silent, dark shapes, gliding, and then one of them beats its wings, and a rush of wind buffets the pines. For a moment they are silhouetted against the snowy slopes, and then they fly up and over the lip of the mountain and are gone.

  For the rest of the night, I pace around our campsite, waiting for morning.

  At last, the sky turns pearly, and the snowy sides of the mountain turn pink, and I’m about to wake Maud up when I see something at the rim of the lopped-off mountaintop. Dragon. It perches there for a second, tiny in the distance, and then launches itself into the air. It sweeps along the slopes, kicking up whirls of ash and snow behind it, plunging down, and down, and then it looms closer, getting bigger and bigger, and with a heart-thumping gasp, I realize that it’s coming straight toward me.

  Chapter 28

  The dragon lands next to our campsite with a ground-shaking thump and a swirl of dry ash that settles around it like silver-glinting dust.

  Behind me I hear a rustle, Maud sitting up, and then a high-pitched meep! as she catches sight of the dragon.

  I step forward to meet it.

  The dragon is twice the size of the Coaldowns dragon, and it looms over me. Its scales are a deep indigo shading to glittering black on its legs; its wings are a lighter purple, poised half open over its back as if it’s ready to take off again. Its spiky crest runs like a row of knives from the top of its head to the tip of its barbed tail; its eyes are black, with a spark deep within. It smells of ice and cold stone and the thin mountain air, but it pulses with heat, melting the snow around it.

  I stare up at it, my heart pounding, but before I can say anything, it lunges toward me, opening its wings with a clap, launching itself from the ground at the same time, and snatches me up.

  “Rafi!” Maud screams, and then I can’t hear anything more because the wind is ripping pa
st my ears. The dragon swoops low over the forest. Its claw clutches my chest, and my legs are dangling; one of my shoes falls off, and I watch it tumble down, disappearing into the pine trees. Then the dragon banks, and pumps its wings, and the wind thunders by again as it climbs past the slopes. I catch a glimpse of the mountaintop, and we’re over its rim, and I see the Ur-Lair laid out below me.

  The whole top of the mountain is hollowed out, like a bowl made of rock. Or a nest. And it’s full of dragons.

  What are they doing here? A dragon hates to leave its lair—I know that. But then I realize. Mister Flitch has destroyed their lairs, driving them out. They are hiding here. I have enough time to see a huge, pink-tinged dragon in the center of the nest, and around it are dragons that are the same purple as the one carrying me, and other dragons that are big and small, and lots of different colors, and there’s a wide pool of water with more dragons in it, and then the dragon carrying me folds its wings, and my stomach drops as we plummet downward.

  The stone floor gets closer and closer, and the dragon banks, and drops me. I fall a few feet, and the dragon pulls up with a whoosh and a whirl of dust, and settles nearby.

  I get to my feet, one shoe on, and one sock, and look around. The high, curving walls of the Ur-Lair tower above me. Overhead is the circle of the sky, still pink with dawn. My breath is fizzing in my lungs, and I feel my spark fully aflame in my chest.

  I am surrounded by dragons. They are all crowding closer, craning their heads to see me. I stand still and let them come.

  There’s the purple-black dragon who brought me here, shaking out its wings and folding them neatly on its back. Next to it is a smaller dragon with faded white scales, a slim body, four claws, and a gray-tinged mane that floats in tendrils around its head. Another dull red dragon the size of a horse has wings, forelegs, and a snakelike tail. A deep green dragon slithers from the pool and crawls over the stone floor, dripping with water; it has fins instead of wings, and no teeth. Farther away I see two other water dragons peering at me from their pool, and a red-crested, dark brown dragon who is curled around a hoard of silver spoons, and a bigger pale blue dragon with two heads that look like they’re arguing with each other as it lurches closer.