Emily Rodda - Isle of the Dead

So this had been the fate of the upstart, the one who had dared to try to foil the plan of the Four Sisters. This had been the punishment of Doran the Dragonlover. Enslaved by the Shadow Lord’s sorcery, he had been condemned to centuries of half-life as the guardian of the very evil he had tried to destroy.

The grey eyes moved to meet his. The lips opened. And again came the faint, rasping voice.

‘You—wear the Belt of Deltora. You—are the king.’

‘Yes,’ Lief said. ‘I am Lief, son of Endon and Sharn, heir of Adin.’ It was hard to speak. The power of the Sister of the West was beating him down. But his heart was aching with pity and rage equally as he gazed into those suffering eyes, and he made himself go on. ‘And you are Doran the Dragonlover, beloved by the tribes of the underworld, saviour of the dragons of Deltora. The one whose map led me here.’

Doran’s eyes flickered. A tiny spark seemed to leap within them.

‘The Four Sisters…’ he whispered.

‘Only two remain,’ Lief said. ‘The Sisters of the West and of the South.’

‘The Sister of the West is within me,’ rasped Doran. ‘Kill me and destroy it, as I could not.’

‘No!’ groaned Veritas. ‘No, Dragonfriend!’

The grey eyes warmed. The dry lips curved into a smile.

‘This is not life, but living death, my friend,’ Doran said gently. ‘To me, true death would be the greatest gift. Would you deny me?’

The dragon bowed its head.

‘I will die knowing that my life was not in vain,’ Doran murmured. ‘I will die knowing that the Enemy may be at last defeated. And I will die in happiness knowing that you live, Veritas. You and your kind…’

His voice trailed away. His faded eyes grew puzzled. ‘But… I was forgetting,’ he said. ‘This is the land of the diamond. Where is—?’

‘That dragon is dead,’ Veritas said stolidly.

Shadows of grief crossed Doran’s ancient face. ‘And so, despite all, her tribe has ended,’ he said. ‘I would give much that it was not so.’

Lief could not bear it. He forced his hand to his pocket and lifted out the baby dragon. It seemed to him larger and heavier than it had before.

The baby made a small, complaining sound, but did not wake as Lief held it where Doran could see it.

The amethyst dragon moved uneasily.

But Doran’s face was transformed. Relief and love lit his eyes as he gazed at the small, glittering creature in Lief’s hands.

‘Make haste, Veritas, I beg you,’ he said suddenly. ‘Give me your gift… in this moment…’

The dragon of the amethyst bent forward.

‘Farewell, Doran,’ it said softly. ‘I will see you again, in the place above the clouds. There we will be young, and we will fly together once more.’

‘Veritas, my true friend, we will,’ said the man.

The dragon moved closer, bending its neck till its head masked the figure on the throne. It paused for a moment, then drew a deep, shuddering breath.

And when it moved back, Doran’s face was peaceful, like a face that was sleeping, and the gossamer threads around his mouth no longer stirred.

‘What—?’ Lief heard Jasmine choke.

‘He is gone,’ whispered the dragon. ‘I took his breath, as he wished.’

Freed at last from its bondage, the ancient body on the throne began to crumble. A few coins, a silver flask and a strange, many-coloured stone rolled to the ground as Doran’s garments, hair, flesh and bones fell to dust. But the horror that had been concealed within him remained.

There on the carved rock, revealed at last, was a rippling, jelly-like thing, creamy white and veined with pink and grey.

Malice streamed from its shapeless form, and its song was poison, hatred, doom and despair.

The Sister of the West.

19 – Vows

The dragon roared, and in that thunderous sound was all the rage, grief and hatred of its aching heart. Fire gushed from its snarling jaws, and the soft thing on the rock throne writhed and shrank as violet flame engulfed it.

Pressed hard against the dragon’s leg, the diamond baby sheltered in the crook of his arm, Lief gripped the amethyst. In a daze of heat and fear, he felt the ancient power of the gem flow through him, pouring strength into the beast.

Again Veritas roared, and again, till the throne was a bath of purple fire. The shapeless thing in the fire darkened and smoked. The veins netting its surface swelled. The low ringing sound faltered, and rose to an ear-splitting screech.

Lief screwed his eyes shut and pressed his burning face against the dragon’s scales.

Then abruptly, the screeching stopped. The dragon, too, fell silent. The cavern seemed to echo with a silence that was somehow more terrible than sound.

Lief felt the beast draw a deep breath. Then he heard a long, low hissing and felt a blast of white heat so intense that he fell to his knees.

There was a sharp crack. Lief opened his eyes as the hissing sound dwindled and died.

The throne had split in two. And where the Sister of the West had been there was only a dull grey stain on the rock.

‘So that is done,’ Veritas said soberly. ‘Lief, gather Dragonfriend’s possessions. They must not remain here. And nor must we. Now that the evil has gone, the beast outside will claim its den once more.’

Lief staggered up. The baby dragon in the crook of his arm stretched and yawned.

The flat, purple eyes blinked.

‘You will never know Dragonfriend, small dragon of the diamond,’ Veritas said. ‘But your life made his last breath joyful, and so I will tell you, in times to come.’

In less than a minute, the dragon was bursting from the cave with Lief, Barda and Jasmine clinging to its neck. The baby dragon had been crammed back into Lief’s pocket. Filli was invisible beneath Jasmine’s collar. But Kree flew below the dragon’s wings, his golden eyes fixed to the ground, ready to attack.

There was no need. The beast of the Isle had retreated from the peak during the battle with the Sister of the West and was only now sliding back onto the ledge before the cave.

It roared as they escaped, but could not reach them in time to harm them. The last they saw of it, it was disappearing into the cavern, the den of its ancestors and part of its domain again at last. It had forgotten them already.

‘You were right, Lief,’ Jasmine shouted against the rushing of the wind as they soared over the scarlet island and on across the channel. ‘The beast was not Ava. Ava is there—outside her shop! But what is she doing?’

Lief looked past Jasmine’s shoulder. In the distance he could see Ava’s feathered cloak flapping in the wind as she hurried towards the back of the shop building. Ava was carrying a large bag over one arm, and dragging three packs behind her.

‘The wretch!’ roared Barda. ‘She has sensed we escaped the Isle! She is fleeing, and taking our packs with her! She has a good boat hidden in the shed behind the house, you may depend upon it. See? The door is standing open!’

Lief could not answer. He had just seen something that Barda had not. Directly in front of them, anchored just beyond the tip of the point, was The Lady Luck.

Lief felt something deep within him tremble. At the same moment he realised with dread that the dragon was losing height. It was panting with exhaustion.

‘Just a little further, Veritas!’ he urged.

‘I—will—try,’ the dragon gasped. But even as it spoke, it sank lower.

The ragged shape of the ship grew larger. Lief shut his eyes and held his breath as they passed over it.

He felt the dragon drop further. He felt spray on his face. Then there was a hard jolt.