Emily Rodda - Dragon's Nest

‘Another dragon!’ Jasmine gasped. ‘Another ruby dragon!’

But Lief was looking down at the Belt of Deltora, at the glowing, scarlet star that the great ruby had become, and was wondering how ever he could have been deceived.

‘No,’ he shouted. ‘Not another ruby dragon. The ruby dragon. The true ruby dragon has risen at last.’

18 - Fight to the Death

Snarling, the monster on the ground rose to defend itself. It clawed the air, and fire spurted from his jaws. But then its enemy was upon it, and in moments the battle was over.

Indeed, it was no battle at all, for the rage-filled beast that had answered Lief’s desperate call had a dragon’s heart, mind and will, and the nightmare copy on the ground did not.

The copy could tear frail humans apart, and its fire could burn their flesh to blackened cinders, but it was no match for the most ancient and mysterious of Deltora’s beasts.

In seconds it was on its back, its throat torn and bleeding, its body heaving as its life drained away.

The ruby dragon raised its head, spread its wings and roared its savage triumph as waves thundered on the rocks and spray flew upward to fall like rain.

It licked its lips, as if tasting the salt. Its great head turned towards the sea.

And as the echo of its roar still growled like thunder in the Mountains, it launched itself into the air and was gone.

Lief, Barda and Jasmine crawled shakily out of hiding. They were drenched, and very cold. Shivering, they turned towards the crashing waves and looked up.

The ruby dragon was a vivid splash of scarlet against the blue sky. Water streamed from its scales. In its mouth was the flashing silver of a wriggling fish. The fish disappeared. The dragon wheeled and dived again.

‘It will be back,’ Barda muttered. He began to move across the stones, towards the place where Lindal fell.

The scarlet beast lay across their path. Its scales had darkened to the colour of dried blood, but all of them could see that it still lived.

As they cautiously approached it, its tiny eyes opened and fixed them with a look of dull hatred.

‘Keep back,’ Jasmine muttered. ‘It would strike at us, even now, if it could.’

The beast hissed, as if with loathing, and suddenly the bulbous folds of its misshapen body began to heave and roll like the waves on the sea, the scales shimmering like dark water.

The companions jumped back, staring in disbelief as the rippling mound of flesh collapsed in on itself and melted away.

Then it had gone, and all that was left lying on the stones was the sprawled, torn body of Rolf the Capricon.

‘Rolf!’ Lief whispered. And, all at once, a long line of things that had puzzled him made perfect sense.

Rolf’s reckless exposure of him to the Granous. The dimming of the ruby when no enemy could be seen. The lightening of his heart as the guards, with Rolf, moved away. The guard troop, taken by surprise despite the night watch. The sparing of the horses. Rolf’s lack of surprise on seeing that Lindal was with them. Rolf’s strength after being in the Nest …

And most of all, the false dragon, ugly as a nightmare in a fevered brain.

Rolf’s pale lips stretched into a malicious smile.

‘You fools!’ he said. ‘How easily I deceived you! A finger was a small price to pay for your trust. The sacrifice of my pride was not.’

His head rolled from side to side. ‘Do you think I did not know how you despised me?’ he hissed. ‘Me!—the one who could have transformed and torn you limb from limb in a moment—if it had not been for that accursed Belt.’

He paused, panting, licking his foam-flecked lips.

‘I knew I had to wait—wait until you reached the home of the Sister, the heart of my power, where even the Belt could not save you. So I watched and stayed my hand, even when the loathsome woman of Broome joined you and I longed to attack.’

His hands twitched, clutching at the air. His hatred was almost visible. It was as if it oozed from the pores of his skin, and hung about him like a poisonous cloud.

‘I had hoped you would all come into the pit, but you cheated me, and did not,’ he rasped. ‘So again I waited, until you were all together once more, for I had sworn a mighty oath that not one of you would escape my wrath, as you escaped it at End Wood Gap.’

He smiled crookedly. ‘Not for a moment did you suspect me,’ he breathed. ‘I was too clever for you.’

‘You do not look so clever now,’ snarled Barda, staring down at him.

Rolf sneered. ‘Your evil beast has been the death of me, but there are others—other servants of the Master—who lie in wait for you. This is your last battle, scum of the land. And it is a battle you will never win.’

‘What did the Shadow Lord promise you, that you would betray your king?’ asked Lief dully.

‘You are not my king, Lief of Del,’ Rolf spat. ‘What did you know of me, before I threw myself in your way in the Os-Mine Hills? What did you know of Rolf, eldest son of the clan Dowyn, heir to the lordship of Capra?’

‘I knew nothing,’ Lief said quietly. ‘But how could I have known, Rolf? You kept yourself secret and apart, even from the people of Broome.’

‘Do not argue with him, Lief,’ murmured Jasmine. ‘Truth does not matter to him. His mind feeds on pride and anger, nothing more.’

‘You cared nothing for me, king,’ Rolf said. ‘But the Master knew me, and knew my worth. The Master’s voice came to me one night at sunset, as I huddled alone in the Mountains, looking down at Capra. The Master understood my greatness. He gave me precious gifts, in return for my service. And much more will follow … so much more …’

His breath was coming in shallow gasps now. His beautiful violet eyes were glazed.

‘I serve the Master,’ he whispered. ‘For the Master, I will protect the Sister of the East. And in return he has made me a great sorcerer. I can do things of which my ancestors never dreamed. I can change shape. I can fly through the air. I can tear and burn my enemies, and hear them scream, as they deserve.’

Barda cursed under his breath. His fists were clenched. But he said nothing aloud, and made no move.

‘When the Master triumphs, I will be the ruler of the East, as is my birthright,’ Rolf rasped. ‘Capra will rise again, and the vile strangers in my land will be dust and ashes beneath my feet.’

Again he smiled. And then his gaze grew fixed, and the restless twitching of his hands stilled. He was dead.

The companions turned away, sickened.

A wave pounded on the rocks. Spray pelted down. Water foamed between the stones.

And in the brief quiet before another wave struck, they all distinctly heard a low groan.

They scrambled towards the sound.

Lindal had rolled into a deep cleft between two rocks. The left side of her face bore the raised scarlet mark of the dragon’s pounding wing. Her clothes were blackened and her left arm was blistered. Her eyes were glazed and blinking. She was drenched to the skin.

But she was alive!

‘Help me out of this accursed hole,’ she slurred, holding up her uninjured arm. ‘Every time a wave breaks, water flows over me like a stream. I am freezing!’

‘Stop complaining,’ shouted Barda, joyfully hauling her upright. ‘The last we saw of you, you were burning like a torch! The wave must have put the fire out.’

Lindal stood swaying and shivering, looking around her blankly. Plainly she could not understand what had happened.

She saw Rolf’s body lying on the stones and frowned in puzzlement. Then she looked up, and her face twisted in alarm.

‘The dragon is returning!’ she shouted. ‘It is coming straight for us!’

And the dragon was coming, indeed—flying back from the sea, its scarlet body wet and gleaming, brilliant against the sky.