When Guinevere asked whether anyone knew what a griffin sounded like, Professor Ellams let out an impressive shriek. He added, however, that he was relying solely on very old texts that described the voice of a griffin as a cross between a lion’s roar, the call of an eagle, and the hiss of a snake about to attack. Later, Ben couldn’t resist the temptation of mixing all those sounds into one blood-curdling cry on his computer. When he played it back, dozens of fabulous beings assembled outside the house in alarm. He still had a playlist of the voices of fabulous beings stored on his phone – to scare them, to entice them, and just for fun. The best of his collection was the attacking roar of three different dragons, and the soft hiss that they uttered as they prepared to breathe fire. But the battery of his phone probably wouldn’t last for long in the Indonesian jungle.
Twigleg had calculated that the Pegasus eggs would be too small for the foals in ten days’ time. Ten days! Ben wished it wasn’t such a long way to Indonesia. And suppose they didn’t even find the griffins? It was an idea that kept occurring to him, however much he tried to fend it off.
He was just helping Hothbrodd and Vita with the final preparations for the journey when Barnabas asked him to come to the library. He had an expression on his face that Ben usually saw there only when Barnabas was giving him a Christmas or birthday present.
‘I have a job for you to do, my dear boy,’ he said. ‘You can say no, of course, but I think you’d enjoy it. Vita has pointed out to me that there are no stories or other accounts of meetings between dragons and Pegasi. It’s perfectly possible that the paths of those two fabulous beings have never crossed. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if they did meet in MÍMAMEIĐR for the first time? Even though sad reasons have brought both Firedrake and Ànemos here. Vita and I agree that only someone very special can introduce them to each other, and no one could be better than a dragon rider. What do you think? Would you take on the job?’
Ben was speechless. ‘Of… of course,’ he finally stammered. ‘If… if you really think I’m the right one to do it. But—’
‘You’re certainly right for it,’ Barnabas interrupted him. ‘Not even Sorrel would dispute it. I’d bet all the mushrooms in MÍMAMEIĐR on that. Right, then, I’ll go and discuss the exact route with Hothbrodd and Lola.’
CHAPTER NINE
An End and a New Beginning
O Wind,
If Winter comes,
can Spring be far behind?
Percy Bysshe Shelley, ‘Ode to the West Wind’
Faced with two fabulous figures who, between them, have accumulated the wisdom of life for over two thousand years, how do you introduce them to each other when you are only fourteen yourself ? Ben was by no means as certain as Barnabas that he was the right person to do it. But how could he have said no? The meeting of Firedrake and Ànemos would certainly be unforgettable. On the other hand… wouldn’t it be more polite just to introduce them to one another and then leave them alone? And would Firedrake really want a human being around when he met a creature who, like him, had inspired fairy tales and legends, even if that human being was his dragon rider?
None of those questions seemed important when Ben reached Slatebeard’s cave. From the way Firedrake looked, he could tell at once that something had happened. The cavern was empty, except for a swarm of lights drifting like pollen, one by one, towards the mouth of the cave.
‘He could be rather grouchy, that’s for sure!’ Sorrel was sitting near the cave mouth herself. She looked very small and lost. ‘How can he simply have gone away? I had such good arguments with him!’ Ben heard her suppress a sob. ‘A few new stars in the sky. Oh, terrific. As if there weren’t enough of them already! Can you argue with stars? Or touch them? Can you smell them? Hear them?’
She sobbed again. The tears had left dark tracks down her furry face. Ben went over to her and stroked her head.
‘Don’t you dare go and die before me!’ Sorrel snapped at Firedrake. ‘Do you hear? And the same goes for you, dragon rider! And even for that mildew-fungus of a homunculus!’
‘I was just about to ask you all to make me the same promise,’ said Firedrake, although of course he knew that dragons and brownies usually lived a good deal longer than humans. Ben found that a very comforting thought, although Firedrake certainly didn’t see things the same way.
Ben followed the last lights out of the cave, and watched until they dissolved in the rays of the sun. No, it was not a bad way of saying goodbye to this life, and he was glad that he had come to know Slatebeard so well over these last two years. The old dragon had told him many things about the valley in Scotland where Firedrake grew up. He had known Firedrake’s parents, and had rescued him from an eagle when he was still very young. Slatebeard could remember the days when knights went hunting dragons. He had fought some of those knights himself. Ben had often asked Twigleg to write down the stories that Slatebeard told him about his adventures. The homunculus had filled many notebooks with those tales, and Barnabas had had them typed and bound in silvery linen covers by a bookbinder, so that Slatebeard’s memories would not disappear with him to where they could still be read only in the stars.
Firedrake went over to Ben, and he too looked up at the sky.
‘I can tell Ànemos that you’d rather meet him some other day,’ said Ben.
But Firedrake shook his head.
‘No, this is a good day. Something old leaves, something new comes. Slatebeard would have liked that. And I can’t wait to meet the Pegasus.’
Ben looked back to the cave. Sorrel had not followed them out into the fresh air.
‘I think she still needs a little more time,’ said Firedrake. ‘She loved Slatebeard very much, and not just because she had such good arguments with him. She’ll probably be off soon in search of a few tasty mushrooms.’
Ben couldn’t help smiling. Yes, that was exactly what Sorrel would do.
‘I wish there were some way of driving my own grief away so quickly,’ said Firedrake as they set off together down the path to the stables.
Dragon and Pegasus – the meadows surrounding them seemed a very ordinary place for the meeting of two such extraordinary creatures, but when Ben said so, Firedrake only snorted with amusement.
‘You soon get tired of what’s extraordinary, dragon rider. It’s often the most ordinary things that bring great happiness, and I’m sure the Pegasus will value the peaceful meadows of MÍMAMEIĐR as much as I do.’
Ànemos was already waiting for them.
He stood motionless as a statue in the wild grass, with the wind blowing through his mane. Only his distended nostrils showed that he was not as calm as he made out.
Firedrake stopped when they were still ten human paces apart. The Pegasus was very much smaller than the dragon, and Firedrake lay down in the grass to compensate for the difference in size. Ànemos expressed his thanks for that gesture by going closer. Size doesn’t really count, as the two of them impressively proved. In their presence, the world seemed very young and very old at the same time, and each seemed to complement the magic of the other.
‘Welcome to MÍMAMEIĐR,’ said Firedrake. ‘To the only place in the world where you and I do not have to hide. I am very sorry that such a sad reason has brought you here, yet I am glad that you have come just now! Until today there was an old dragon keeping watch over this place, but he has left us, and I can’t take his place because I am needed at the other end of the earth. For the time, therefore, there is no guardian in MÍMAMEIĐR who has our strength and can provide the protection that it deserves.’
The Pegasus bowed his head. ‘I am not sure that I still have that power, firebird,’ he said. ‘Too much is sapping my strength.’
‘I know about your sorrow, and the game of hide and seek that this world makes us all play also steals strength from you and me,’ replied Firedrake. ‘But as you will see, this place can give you back much of it, even if it cannot heal your heart. Enjoy the freedom of not having to hide! And of being surroun
ded by creatures that humans still meet only in stories. Act as MÍMAMEIĐR’s guardian for a while. Its inhabitants deserve our help, and I shall be able to fly away with my mind at rest!’
Ànemos glanced back at the stable where the orphaned nest stood. Firedrake followed his glance.
‘I know it’s no comfort,’ he said, ‘but pain often makes us stronger. And you are surrounded by friends, even if we hesitate to see humans in that light. The Greenblooms saved me and my kind when there was hardly any hope left. Wait and see: they’d risk their own lives to preserve the lives of your children!’
The Pegasus looked doubtfully at the dragon. ‘Tell me how they helped you.’
‘It’s a long story,’ said Firedrake.
‘All the better,’ replied the Pegasus.
Ben stole away as Firedrake began his tale – even though he would have liked to hear it and be reminded of their adventures together. But there was something else he had to do. And with luck, it too would be a story worth telling some day.
CHAPTER TEN
Griffins Love Gold
Gold is a treasure, and he who possesses it does all he wishes to
in this world, and succeeds in helping souls into Paradise.
Christopher Columbus
It is often very small things that make our greatest dreams grow. Barnabas Greenbloom’s dream of meeting a Pegasus some day began on his eighth birthday, with a present from an aunt he didn’t like: a sticker album entitled Pictures From Greek Mythology. He had soon spent all his pocket money on the little bags with the stickers to be collected, and had been disappointed every time the pictures turned out to show gods or heroes. The monsters had interested him much more: Scylla and Charybdis, the Cyclops, Medusa – he had stared at them for hours on end. But his greatest treasure was Pegasus. At night he had dreamed of sitting between the horse’s wings and flying away to the stars.
The winged horse born from the blood of a beheaded Medusa… Barnabas had now met several Medusas. They had considerably nicer natures than their reputation suggested. Of course! How could a really horrible monster have given birth to something as wonderful as the Pegasus? He and Vita had met descendants of Scylla and great-grandchildren of Charybdis (all of whom did live up to their fearsome reputation). They had at least discovered a very well-preserved Cyclops skeleton in a Cretan cave. But they had spent twenty years searching in vain for proof of the existence of the Pegasus. They had both been almost sure that the winged horses who flew through Barnabas’s childhood dreams had disappeared from this world as irrevocably as dodos and sabre-toothed tigers, or the unicorns whose existence in the past was suggested now only by a shaggy species of wild horse in Mongolia that had the maimed base of a spiral horn on its forehead. But then, in the mountains of Greece, they had finally found themselves on the trail that Barnabas had been hoping to discover for so many years: hoof prints that shone like silver, and beside them a few feathers, some white and some copper-coloured. When they finally stood face to face with the Pegasi, Barnabas had stared so ecstatically that to this day he was surprised Ànemos hadn’t given a mighty kick to remove his own existence from this world.
After that, they had sent Lola Greytail to Greece regularly, to make sure that all was well, and when one day the rat brought back the photo of eggs in the nest he and Vita hadn’t been able to sleep for nights. Many of the inhabitants of MÍMAMEIĐR had laid bets on whether one of the foals would be a blue Pegasus, the legendary kind that could apparently fly to the moon. But now… now none of them minded what colour the foals would be, so long as they just hatched safely! Barnabas would have given one of his hands to be sure of that, ten years of his life, all he possessed… but instead, for the foals’ sake, he had to go in search of the only fabulous creature that he really had never wanted to encounter.
Barnabas Greenbloom was a peace-loving man. Even as a child, he had hated people who trod on beetles or threw stones at stray dogs. Nothing made him angrier than those humans who tormented other beings for fun or out of boredom – although by now he knew that the reason for their cruelty was often only fear of everything strange. And maybe Barnabas Greenbloom was so easy-going because he had always been very fearless and full of curiosity about all that was new to him. But what Barnabas did know about griffins made him suspect that, for all his curiosity, he would not like them in the least. They were the most warlike of fabulous beings, creatures who took cruelty for a virtue and sympathy for weakness, who lived for everything he abhorred: war, fighting, the subjugation of weaker beings…
Before setting out, he read every story about griffins that Twigleg had found in the library, hoping to find something that would make him like them better. By his own standards, however, even those described as good and noble were callous murderers. As for their obsession with gold and treasures – he had nothing but profound contempt for that! A voice inside him whispered: these winged monsters are never going to give you a feather, Barnabas; you’re an incorrigible dreamer. But he had made Ànemos a promise. And he did want to see those foals flying over the fields of MÍMAMEIĐR…
When Hothbrodd announced that everything was ready for take-off, Barnabas once again went over to the stable where two geese were warming the nest they had built for the Pegasus eggs. Ànemos was standing in the doorway, as usual. It was as if he couldn’t bear to look at the orphaned eggs.
‘I hear that Firedrake has asked you to protect MÍMAMEIĐR while we’re away,’ said Barnabas. ‘I’m grateful to you. Guinevere and Vita will do all they can to keep your children alive until we get back, and I give you my word of honour, we’ll save them!’
By way of answer, Ànemos touched foreheads with Barnabas. ‘If you succeed, Greenbloom, I will call one of the foals after you,’ he said.
‘Oh no, you won’t!’ Barnabas retorted. ‘It’s a strange name for a human, and certainly not suitable for a Pegasus!’
Then he went to say goodbye to Vita and Guinevere. And to Firedrake, Sorrel and Ben, all three of whom he would soon be seeing again in India.
Hothbrodd’s aircraft had a nose like a dragon’s, and had a cabin with seats in it behind the cockpit. Twigleg was already waiting in the cabin when Barnabas came on board. The plane spread its wings as silently as a bird when Hothbrodd started it, and the engine that took it up to the sky, which was still dark, whispered no louder than the wind. But Hothbrodd’s co-pilot was Lola Greytail, so the two of them were already arguing only a few minutes after take-off. About the music to keep them awake during the long flight, about the right height for the plane, about Hothbrodd’s habit of chewing wild garlic, and Lola’s inability to sit still. The pair of them enjoyed these arguments, and Barnabas and Twigleg were so used to them that, in spite of the raised voices from the cockpit, they were soon fast asleep. After all, no one knew how often they would get a chance to sleep on this expedition.
It was almost four thousand kilometres from MÍMAMEIĐR to southern Anatolia. But Hothbrodd’s plane was very fast as well as quiet, and the sun was just rising behind rocks as yellow as sand when they reached the first stop on their journey.
The runway on which Hothbrodd landed (far from skilfully, in Lola’s opinion) seemed as deserted as if time and humanity had forgotten it centuries ago. The woman who made sure that uninvited visitors had exactly that impression was waiting beside the abandoned runway in a dusty jeep. Bağdagül Ender and Barnabas had known each other since they were both five years old when, bored to death by the conversation of their parents, who were friends, they had gone off to watch horned salamanders together. Bağdagül had grown up in southern Anatolia, and had now made a fine reputation for herself in protecting the endangered animal species of her native land. Asian lions, rare bats – Bağdagül spoke up for them all. She was a founding member of FREEFAB, and not far from the runway, in the caves carved out in the sides of the surrounding mountains by a long-forgotten civilisation, she ran a conservation refuge similar to MÍMAMEIĐR.
Most people would probably have
taken the dog beside Bağdagül for just an albino with an unusual coat pattern, but Barnabas knew that it was one of the very rare cloud-dogs she had saved from extinction.
As he walked towards Bağdagül, Barnabas could tell from her face that she didn’t think much of his mission. But before she could say so with her usual forcefulness, he held a box out to her. Sounds of scraping and whispering came from it.
‘Figlings,’ explained Barnabas. ‘Vita found them on a shelf in the supermarket. We’ve kept them at MÍMAMEIĐR for a while, but Norway is simply too cold for them. Can you find room for them somewhere?’
Bağdagül peered under the lid of the box, and took it from Barnabas with a smile.
‘Of course,’ she said. ‘Although most of our caves have too many inmates now. I’ll soon have to ask your stone-dwarves to carve a few more in the rocks.’
She put the box on the passenger seat, and handed Barnabas the black casket inlaid with intarsia work that was standing on the back seat. ‘I’ve brought what you asked me for. But I don’t have to tell you what I think of this quest! I hear that Inua has warned you at length about the beings you’re thinking of approaching. Are you sure there really isn’t any other solution?’
‘Yes, I am. Although Inua can imitate the attacking cry of a griffin most impressively,’ replied Barnabas. ‘We simply have no time, and the sun-feather is our only hope. Or do you have a better idea?’
Bağdagül stroked back her hair. It was grey now, but in her eyes Barnabas still saw the girl who had gone looking for salamanders with him. The only difference was that she was older and wiser these days, and knew more about the world.
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