Emily Rodda - Isle of the Dead

It had died in the hollow where it lay, without a fight.

His throat aching, Lief fell to his knees beside it and gently touched one bare, curved rib. He knew that he had at last found the diamond dragon.

‘The fleshbanes ate it while it slept,’ he muttered. ‘They stripped it to its bones.’

‘But why would it have risked sleeping here?’ exclaimed Barda. ‘This island was part of its territory. Surely it knew—’

‘Perhaps there were few blood lilies on the island then,’ Jasmine said soberly. ‘Perhaps they grew only around the margins—just enough to keep intruders away. The dragon did not count on their spreading so vastly over the centuries.’

‘No doubt it did not think its sleep would last so long,’ said Lief.

He was filled with a terrible sadness. His heart ached to think of the mighty beast sinking into enchanted dreams at the bidding of the man it called Dragonfriend, not knowing that it would never wake.

But he knew that he had no time for grief. The dragon was dead. It could not help them to destroy the Sister of the West. He bowed his head and put his hands to the amethyst on the Belt of Deltora.

Veritas! he thought fiercely. Veritas, I need you! Come to me if you hear me. Come to me if you can!

He felt the amethyst warm feebly beneath his fingers.

‘What is that sound?’ Jasmine hissed suddenly.

Lief glanced over his shoulder at her, very startled. Jasmine was frowning, bending forward. Filli was clinging to her collar, his eyes wide, his grey fur standing on end. Kree was standing rigidly on her shoulder, his head on one side. Plainly whatever Jasmine could hear, they could hear too.

‘What sort of sound?’ Barda put his hand on his sword.

‘A ticking,’ Jasmine breathed. ‘There.’

She pointed to the huge, scorched skull. Cautiously she moved closer and bent to listen again. Then she kneeled and began scraping away earth and ash from beneath the tip of the mighty lower jaw. Kree squawked uneasily.

‘Jasmine, take care!’ Barda exclaimed.

But Jasmine did not even look up. By the time Lief and Barda reached her she had made a sizeable hole in the soft earth.

And now all of them could hear the ticking, tapping sound.

‘It is under the tip of the jaw,’ Jasmine breathed, as her companions peered into the hole. ‘Between the bones of the forelegs. Almost as if—’

And at that moment her eyes widened. Her fingers had touched something.

Lief watched, holding his breath, as slowly she brushed the remaining earth away. And there, clasped between the long white bones of the dragon’s forelegs, protected beneath the jaw, was something smooth, pale and glittering.

It was a giant egg. And within it, something was tapping.

Carefully Jasmine eased the egg out of its hiding place. Earth and ash showered from its shining surface as she lifted it into the sunlight and wordlessly held it out to Lief.

Lief took the egg in his hands. The tapping sound stopped abruptly. For a moment there was silence. Then there was a sharp crack, and the smooth surface split from end to end.

A sharp snout forced its way through the opening. Small clawed feet scrabbled violently. The egg shell separated into halves and fell to the ground. And there, squirming in Lief’s hands, was a tiny, perfect, glittering dragon, blinking in the sunlight.

17 – The Isle of the Dead

As the companions stared at the tiny beast in awe, Filli edged down Jasmine’s arm, his eyes wide with curiosity. The baby dragon snapped its jaws, and Filli hastily retreated. The dragon yawned and stretched its wings. Then it made a harsh, barking sound and snapped its jaws again.

‘It wants food,’ said Jasmine, and began feeling in her pockets.

‘I cannot believe this!’ exploded Barda, finding his voice at last. ‘How could an egg remain fresh for centuries?’

‘Why not? What do we know of dragon eggs?’ Lief murmured, staring at the little creature in fascination. ‘Plainly the shell was too thick and hard for the fleshbanes to crack. And the Belt roused the baby to hatch, as it would have roused its mother, had she lived. It is wonderful!’

‘That is all very well,’ Barda said. ‘But what are we to do with it now? We cannot stay here. The fleshbanes are driven away for now, but they will be back.’

The dragon barked again, baring its tiny fangs, and hastily Lief flattened his hands a little, to keep his fingers out of harm’s way.

Jasmine had found some strips of dried fish and was soaking them in water from her flask.

‘Put it in the pocket of your coat, Lief,’ she said briskly. ‘It will be comfortable there, near the Belt.’

She lifted the flap that covered one of Lief’s deep coat pockets and tipped the mess of softened fish inside.

Cautiously Lief lowered his hands until the dragon was beside the pocket, which Jasmine was holding invitingly open. The baby dragon raised its head. Its tiny forked tongue flickered in and out. It barked excitedly, then abruptly slithered into the pocket head first. The next moment they heard greedy chewing sounds.

‘Good,’ Jasmine said with satisfaction. ‘Now we should go.’

‘Indeed?’ snapped Barda. ‘With a dragon in Lief’s pocket? What do you think it will do when all the fish is gone?’

Jasmine shrugged. ‘I imagine it will go to sleep,’ she said.

They skirted the diamond dragon’s sad skeleton and, with Jasmine in the lead throwing fire beads to clear the way, began to move slowly forward.

The sound of the sea grew louder. The brightness of the Isle of the Dead began to fill the horizon. And at last they stepped out from among the lilies onto the narrow band of flat rock that formed the island’s rim.

The archway rose in front of them, craggy and dark. Wind whistled around it. Wild water raged beneath it, churned to thick white foam. The thought of using it as a bridge was terrifying.

‘Once the two islands were one, no doubt,’ Barda said. ‘The sea divided them—wearing the softer rock away till only the archway spanned the gap. Perhaps one day it, too, will fall.’

‘Not today, I hope,’ Lief said grimly.

He was not prepared for this. In his heart, he had always believed that a dragon would carry him and his companions to the Isle of the Dead.

But the dragon of the diamond was no more. In its place was a baby far too small to carry anyone. And there was no sign of the dragon of the amethyst. Veritas was still too weak to fly, it seemed.

‘Lief! We must move from here,’ Barda said urgently.

Lief glanced behind him. Fleshbanes had begun to creep down from the lilies on either side of the burned path. Already they were seething in a great semi-circle at the edge of the rock where the companions stood.

Hastily he began to climb, with Barda and Jasmine close behind him. He heard the roar of flame as Jasmine threw more fire beads down after them.

The arch began to curve over the sea. Lief flattened himself against the rock and crawled on his belly, trying not to think of the wind tearing at him, the sea roaring below.

He did not dare look up, even when he realised that he must have reached the highest point of the arch. But still he was aware of the blinding glare of the island ahead.

And evil, he thought. Evil and malice.

He could feel it, burning into his skin.

He began to move downward, picking his way along, determined not to slip. And slowly he became aware of a sound mingling with the roaring of the sea—a low ringing sound, growing louder and louder, boring into his ears and his mind.

The song of the Sister of the West.

Sweat broke out on Lief’s brow. His knees felt weak. But he forced himself to move on, to move towards the glaring light, towards the terrible sound.