Dragon Rider

Dragon Rider Page 12

“Well, how do you like it?” Sorrel called to Ben when they had been flying for some time. “Do you feel sick?”

“Sick?” Ben looked down to where roads wound through the darkness like gleaming snail trails. “It’s wonderful! It’s — oh, I can’t describe it!”

“Personally I always feel sick to start with,” said Sorrel. “The only thing that helps is eating. Take a look in my backpack and hand me a mushroom, will you? One of the little black ones.”

Ben did as she asked. Then he looked down again. The wind was roaring in his ears.

“Wonderful!” said Sorrel, smacking her lips. “A following wind. This way we’ll be in the mountains before daybreak. Firedrake!”

The dragon turned his head to her.

“Time to turn east!” Sorrel called. “Eastward, ho!”

“What, already?” Ben looked over her shoulder. Sorrel had the rat’s map on her lap and was tracing the golden line with her finger.

“But we haven’t reached the right place yet!” cried Ben. “We can’t have.”

Putting his hand in his jacket pocket, he brought out a little compass. His flashlight, his penknife, and his compass were his chief treasures. “We have to go farther south first, Sorrel!” he called. “It’s too soon to change course.”

“No, it’s not.” The brownie patted her stomach happily and leaned back against the spines of Firedrake’s crest. “Here, see for yourself, cleverclogs.”

She handed Ben the map. It fluttered so much in the wind that he could hardly hold it. Anxiously he scrutinized the lines the rat had drawn. “We really do have to go farther south!” he called. “If we turn east now we’ll end up in that patch of yellow!”

“So?” Sorrel closed her eyes. “Good thing if we do. That’s where Gilbert said we should stop and rest.”

“No, he didn’t!” cried Ben. “You mean gray. It’s in the gray parts he told us to rest. He warned us against yellow. Look.” Ben switched on his flashlight and shone it on the words at the bottom of the map. “Gilbert wrote it down here. Yellow = danger, bad luck”

Sorrel swung around crossly. “I knew it all along!” she spat. “You humans always think you know best. Honestly, you’ll be the end of me! We’re flying in exactly the right direction. My nose tells me so. Understand?”

Ben could feel Firedrake slowing down.

“What’s the matter?” the dragon called back to them. “What are you arguing about?”

“Oh, nothing,” muttered Ben, folding up the map and putting it in Sorrel’s backpack. Then he peered anxiously out into the night.

Day dawned very slowly, and in the gray twilight Ben saw mountains for the first time in his life. Their dark shapes emerged through the morning mist, with their rocky summits outlined against the sky. The sun made its way between the peaks, dispelling the twilight and painting the gray rock in a thousand bright hues. Firedrake sank lower, circled among the steep slopes in search of a landing site, and then headed for a small patch of green that lay just below the tree line, surrounded by stunted firs. The dragon glided toward it like a huge bird, beat his wings powerfully once or twice until he was almost stationary in the air, and then came down gently among the trees.

Their legs stiff, Ben and Sorrel climbed off Firedrake’s back and looked around. A mountain towered high into the sky above them. The dragon yawned and looked around for a sheltered place among the rocks, while his riders made their way cautiously to the rim of the plateau.

The sight of cows looking no bigger than beetles on the green slopes below made Ben feel quite dizzy, and he quickly took a step backward.

“What’s the matter?” asked Sorrel sarcastically, venturing so close to the edge of the chasm that her furry toes were over empty space. “Don’t you like mountains?”

“I’ll get used to them,” replied Ben. “You’ve had to get used to flying, right?” He turned to look back at Firedrake, who had found a good place and was coiled up in the shadow of a projecting rock, muzzle on his paws, tail tucked around him.

“Flying is terribly tiring for dragons,” Sorrel whispered to Ben. “If they don’t sleep it off they get melancholy. So melancholy you can’t do a thing with them. And if it rains as well,” she added, rolling her eyes, “oh, my word! But luckily,” she decided, looking up at the sky, “luckily it doesn’t look at all like rain. Or do you want to argue about that, too?”

Ben shook his head and looked around.

“The way you gape at everything I guess you’ve never been in the mountains before, have you?” asked Sorrel.

“I once went tobogganing downhill on a trash can lid,” said Ben, “but it was no higher than that tree over there.” He sat on his backpack in the grass, which was wet with dew. He felt extremely small among the tall peaks — as small as an insect — but all the same he could hardly stare his fill at all the rounded and craggy summits rising against the horizon. On one peak far, far away Ben saw the ruins of a castle. It towered black into the morning sky, and although it seemed not much bigger than a matchbox it still looked menacing.

“Look.” Ben nudged Sorrel. “See that castle over there?”

The brownie yawned. “Where? Oh, that.” She yawned again. “What about it? There are lots of those where Firedrake and I come from. Old human dwellings. You ought to know about them.” Opening her backpack, she stuffed some of the leaves she had picked under the bridge into her mouth. “There we are!” She threw her pack down on the short grass. “One of us can have a snooze now while the other keeps watch. Shall we toss for it?”

“No, that’s okay.” Ben shook his head. “You lie down. I couldn’t sleep at the moment, anyway.”

“Whatever you say.” Sorrel marched over to the place where Firedrake was sleeping. “But don’t go falling off anything, will you?” she called back over her shoulder. Then she curled up beside the dragon, and the next moment, she, too, was asleep.

Ben took a spoon and a can of ravioli out of his backpack, opened the can with his penknife, and sat down with it on the grass at a safe distance from the precipice. As he ate the cold pasta he looked around him, remembering that he was on watch. He glanced at the castle. There were tiny specks circling in the clear sky above it. Ben couldn’t help thinking of the ravens Gilbert Graytail had mentioned. Oh, come off it, he thought. I’ll be seeing ghosts next.

The sun rose higher and higher, driving the mist out of the valleys and making Ben feel drowsy, so he rose to his feet and walked up and down for a while. When Sorrel began snoring loudly he went over to her, looked in her backpack, and found Gilbert Graytail’s map.

He opened it carefully and took the compass out of his pocket. Then he pulled one of the dangling ribbons and had a closer look at the mountains where they must have landed. Next he anxiously examined the entries made by the rat. “Oh, wow!” he murmured. “I thought so! We’ve landed in one of those nasty yellow patches. We’re too far east. I don’t like this at all.”

Suddenly there was a rustling sound behind him.

Ben raised his head. There. There it was again. Perfectly clear. He turned around. Firedrake and Sorrel were still asleep; only the tip of the dragon’s tail twitched in his dreams. Ben looked around, feeling uneasy. Were there snakes in these mountains? Snakes were about the only thing he was really frightened of. Oh, come on, he thought, probably just a rabbit. He folded the map, returned it to Sorrel’s backpack, and —