by T.A. Barron
Turning my second sight across the channel, I noticed a line of dark hills, as rugged as a row of jagged teeth, on the horizon. The Lost Lands. Well I remembered the words Cairpré had used to describe that territory. Uncharted and unexplored. With a deadly dragon sleeping somewhere in those hills, I didn’t wonder why. Instinctively, I reached for the hilt of my sword.
Minutes later, Shim stepped out of the channel, his hairy feet slapping on the shore. He set us down on a wide bank of flat rock. No flowers, nor even grasses, sprouted here. Even the glowing light of approaching sunset brought no softer hues to the land. Only a shiny, black ash coated the rocks, stretching to the hillsides far inland. The air reeked of charcoal, like an abandoned fire pit.
I realized that this entire coastline, and everything that once grew on it, must have been scorched by powerful flames. Even the rocks themselves looked cracked and buckled, seared by repeated blasts of extreme heat. Then, scanning the rugged hills, I found the source: a thin curl of smoke rising from a hollow not far inland.
“That’s where we’re going,” I declared.
Shim bent his worried face so low that his chin almost touched the top of my staff. “Is you certainly? Nobody goes to visit a dragon on purposely.”
“I do.”
“You is foolishly! You know that?”
“I know that. Too well, believe me.”
The giant’s moist eyes blinked. “Then good luck. I misses you. And you, too, sweetly Rhia. I hopes to makes another crossing with you one daily.”
Bumbelwy’s bells jangled as he wagged his head. “With the dragon’s lair just over there, we probably don’t have another day.”
With that, Shim straightened his back. He gazed down on us for another moment, then turned and strode straight into the channel. The setting sun, streaking the western sky with lavender and pink, outlined his massive shoulders and head. High above, a pale crescent moon lifted into the sky.
28: ELIMINATING
Rather than try to approach the lair of the dragon at night, I decided to wait until dawn. While the others slept fitfully on the blackened rocks, I sat awake, thinking. For the sixth lesson, the lesson of Eliminating, could mean only one thing.
I must slay the dragon.
My stomach knotted at the very thought. How could one boy, even a boy armed with a magical sword, possibly accomplish such a thing? Dragons, as I knew from my mother’s stories, were incredibly powerful, astonishingly quick, and supremely clever. I recalled the night when, her face aglow from the fire in our earthen hut, she had described one dragon who destroyed a dozen giants with a single swipe of his tail, then roasted them for supper with his fiery breath.
How, then, was I to succeed? Unlike the wizard Tuatha, I knew none of the magic that might help. I knew only that, asleep or not, a dragon would be terrifying to approach, and nearly impossible to eliminate.
As the first rays of sunlight touched the charred shoreline, spreading like fire across the waves, I reluctantly stood. My hands felt cold, as did my heart. I pulled one of Shim’s apples from the pocket of my tunic and took a bite. Crisp and flavorful though it was, I hardly tasted it. When nothing but the core remained, I tossed it aside.
Rhia sat up. “You didn’t sleep at all, did you?”
I merely gazed at the jagged line of hills, now brushed with pink. “No. And I don’t have even a hint of a plan to show for it. If you have any sense, stay here. If I survive, I’ll come back for you.”
She shook her head, so vigorously that some of the leaves enmeshed in her brown curls tumbled to the ground. “I thought we discussed that already. Back at the Lake of the Face.”
“But this time the risks are too great. Rhia, you’ve been warning me ever since the Dark Hills that I could get lost. Well, the truth is there is more than one way to be lost. And that’s how I feel right now.” I blew a long, slow breath. “Don’t you see? Only a wizard, a true wizard, can defeat a dragon! I don’t know what it takes to be a wizard, really—strength, or skill, or spirit. Cairpré said it’s all that and more. All I know is that whatever it takes, I don’t have it.”
Rhia’s face pinched. “I don’t believe it. And neither does your mother.”
“For all your instincts, this time you’re wrong.” I glanced at Bumbelwy, huddled under his thick cloak. “Should I give him the same choice as I gave you?”
The lanky jester suddenly rolled over. “I’m coming, if that’s what you mean.” He stretched his long arms. “If ever you needed my wit and good humor, it’s now, on the day of your certain death.”
With an expression as somber as one of Bumbelwy’s own, I turned toward the hills. From one of the wedgelike hollows between them rose a dark column of smoke. It twisted skyward, marring the sunrise. I took a step toward it. Then another. And another. At each step, the base of my staff clicked on the rocks like a door snapping shut.
Across the scorched land I marched, with Rhia by my side and Bumbelwy not far behind. Knowing that stealth was essential, we tried to tread as softly as foxes. No one spoke. I rested my staff on my shoulder to keep it from striking the rocks. The jester even clamped his hands over his hat to muffle his bells. As we drew nearer to the smoking hollow, my feeling of foreboding deepened. While the dragon might wait for Fincayra’s darkest day to wake, my own darkest day had certainly arrived.
A low, roaring sound reached us across the blackened flats. Deep as the bass strings of a titanic harp. Regular as breathing. It was, I knew, the sound of the dragon snoring. It swelled steadily as we approached.
The air grew hot, uncomfortably hot, as the rocks lifted into the charred hills. Pace by pace, keeping quiet, we drew nearer to the column of smoke. Here the rocks had not just been seared by flames, but also pounded and trampled by enormous weight. Boulders had been crushed. Gulleys had been flattened. All living things had been destroyed. Eliminated.
Hardly daring to breathe, we crossed a pile of crushed stone. Suddenly Bumbelwy slipped and fell. Rocks skittered down the pile, smacking into the rubble at the bottom. That sound, however, was obscured by the clamorous banging of his bells. They rang out, echoing among the hills like a clap of thunder.
I glared at him, whispering, “Take off that cursed hat, you club-footed fool! You’ll wake the dragon before we even get there!”
He scowled. Reluctantly, he pulled off his three-cornered hat and stuffed it under his cloak.
I led the way into the steep-walled hollow, wiping my brow from the heat. Even through my boots, the soles of my feet burned. The sweltering air rippled like water, vibrating with the snoring sound. Everything reeked of charcoal. With every step I took, the walls of rock drew closer together, submerging me in darkness.
Suddenly I halted. There, partly shrouded by shadows, lay the dragon. He was even larger than I had feared, as huge as a hillside himself. Coiled like a great serpent, his green and orange body, covered with armored scales, could have almost filled the Lake of the Face. His head, smoke pouring from the nostrils, lay across his left foreleg. Beneath his nose ran a row of scales, so blackened from smoke that they resembled a huge moustache. Every inhale revealed his rows of sharp-edged teeth; every exhale flexed his powerful shoulder muscles and shook the vast wings folded against his back. Claws, as sharp as the sword on my belt but ten times as long, glistened in the early morning light. Midway down one claw, like an oversized ring, sat a skull large enough to have belonged to Shim.
Beneath his scaled belly, treasures gleamed and sparkled. Crowns and necklaces, swords and shields, trumpets and flutes—all crafted of gold or silver, all studded with jewels. Rubies, amethysts, jades, emeralds, sapphires, and huge pearls lay strewn everywhere. Never in my life had I imagined that such a vast hoard existed. Yet I felt no desire whatsoever to comb through it, for scattered throughout were skulls of all sizes and shapes, some gleaming white, others scorched by fire.
I crept deeper into the hollow, with Rhia and Bumbelwy just behind. We cringed as one at the slow, roaring rhythm of the drago
n’s breathing. His enormous eyes were closed, though not completely, revealing slits of smoldering yellow. I couldn’t shake the feeling that this beast was as much awake as asleep.
At that instant, the dragon’s jaws opened a crack. A thin tongue of flame shot out, scorching the black rocks and some stray skulls. Bumbelwy jumped backward, dropping his bell-draped hat out of his cloak. It hit the rocks at his feet with a jarring clang.
The dragon suddenly snorted and shifted his gargantuan bulk. His eyelids quivered, opening a sliver more. Bumbelwy gasped in fright. His legs wobbled. Seeing that he looked about to faint, Rhia grabbed his arm.
Then, with gruesome slowness, the dragon raised the claw wearing the giant skull. Like someone about to eat a rare delicacy, he brought it to his nostrils, savoring its aroma. His eyelids trembled, but did not open, as he released a searing blast of flames. At last, the roasting completed, the dragon’s purple lips grasped the skull and tore it from the claw. A loud crunching echoed in the hollow, the sound of enormous teeth reducing the morsel to splinters. With an immense puff of smoke, the dragon resumed snoring.
The three of us shuddered in unison. Glancing grimly at Rhia, I handed her my staff. At the same time, I lay my right hand on the silver hilt of my sword. Slowly, ever so slowly, I drew it from the scabbard. As it emerged, the blade rang faintly, like a distant chime. The sleeping dragon suddenly growled, releasing a puff of thick smoke from his nostrils. His pointed ears pricked forward, listening to the ringing sound. Meanwhile, his dream seemed to alter. He growled viciously, bared his teeth, and slashed at the air with his claws.
I stood as rigid as a statue. My arm began to ache from holding the heavy sword above my head, but I dared not lower it for fear it would make another sound. After several minutes, the dragon seemed to relax a little. The growling subsided, and the claws fell still.
Cautiously, I crept forward on the rocks, taking one small step at a time. The dragon towered over me, each of his scales as big as my entire body. Perspiration stung my eyes. If I have only one blow, where to strike? Those armored scales covered his chest, legs, back, tail, and even his orange ears. Perhaps, if I ran the sword through one of the closed eyes, that might do it.
Closer and closer I edged. The smoky air made me want to cough, but I did all I could to resist. My hand squeezed the hilt.
All at once, the tail lashed out like a monstrous whip. I had no time even to move, let alone to run. As the tail exploded to its full length, one of the barbs at the end coiled tightly around my chest, squeezing the air out of my lungs. In the same instant, the other barb wound around my arm holding the sword, preventing me from moving it at all.
I was totally helpless.
Rhia released a muffled shriek. I felt the dragon tense again, squeezing me all the harder. Yet the yellow slits of his eyes opened no wider. He seemed to be still asleep, or half asleep. And, judging from the curl of his lips, he seemed to be about to enjoy a thoroughly realistic dream about swallowing a boy with a sword.
At the edge of my second sight, I watched Rhia fall to her knees. Bumbelwy knelt awkwardly beside her. His head hung low on his paunchy chins. Then, unaccountably, he started to sing. It was, I soon realized, a funeral dirge, sung in low, moaning tones. As much as I squirmed in the dragon’s grip, I squirmed still more at his words:
A dragon savors all he eats
But values best the living treats
Who squirm and squeal before they die,
The filling of a dragon’s pie.
O dragon, ‘tis my friend you eat!
Alas, how sweet the dragon’s meat.
The dragon loves the crunch of bones
And all the dying cries and groans
Of people gone without a trace,
Into deep digestive space.
O dragon, ‘tis my friend you eat!
Alas, how sweet the dragon’s meat.
My friend, in dragon’s mouth interred,
Was even robbed his final word.
For down he went into that hole,
His parting sentence swallowed whole.
O dragon, ‘tis my friend you eat!
Alas, how sweet the dragon’s meat.
Even before Bumbelwy had finished, the dragon’s jaws opened. I watched, aghast, as the rows of jagged teeth, charred by flames, revealed themselves. With all my strength, I struggled to escape. But the tail only squeezed harder. The jaws, meanwhile, opened wider.
Suddenly, out of the depths behind the open jaws came a gruff, hoarse sound that could be only one thing. A laugh. A deep, belching, hearty laugh. A billowing cloud of smoke came as well, blackening the air. The laugh continued, rolling right down the dragon’s serpentine form, shaking first his head, then his neck, then his gigantic belly, then finally his tail. Before long, the entire beast quaked in raucous laughter, swaying on his hoard of treasures.
The tail released me. I dropped to the ground, breathless, dazed, but alive. Quickly, I crawled through the black cloud, dragging my sword. A moment later, Rhia ran to my side and helped me to my feet.
Coughing from the smoke, we stumbled out of the hollow. Behind us, the dragon’s coarse laughter began to grow quieter. In a matter of seconds, his roaring snores had returned. I glanced back to see the thin slits of his eyes shining in the shadows. When at last we were well away from the dragon’s lair, we collapsed on a bench of black rock. Rhia threw her arms around my neck. So different from the embrace of the dragon!
I squeezed her in return. Then I turned to Bumbelwy. In a hoarse voice I declared, “You did it, you know. You made the dragon laugh.”
Bumbelwy’s head dropped. “I know. A terrible, terrible thing. I am humiliated. Devastated.”
“What do you mean?” I shook him by the shoulders. “You saved me!”
“Terrible,” repeated the dour jester. “Just terrible. Once again I botched the delivery! I was singing one of my saddest, most sorrowful hymns. One that should break anyone’s heart.” He bit his lip. “But what did it do instead? Tickled him. Entertained him. When I try to amuse, I sadden, and when I try to grieve, I amuse! Oh, I’m a failure. A miserable failure.”
He sighed morosely. “And to make matters worse, I’ve lost my hat. My jester’s hat! So on top of not sounding like a jester, now I don’t even look like one.”
Rhia and I traded amused glances. Then, without further delay, I pulled off one of my boots.
Bumbelwy watched me gloomily. “Injure your foot, did you?”
“No. I have a promise to keep.”
With that, I sunk my teeth into the leather tongue of the boot. I ripped a section loose and chewed vigorously. No amount of chewing could soften the leather, though it did fill my mouth with the flavors of dirt, grass, and perspiration. With great difficulty, I swallowed.
Bumbelwy suddenly caught his breath. He straightened his back slightly. His downturned chins lifted a notch. He was not smiling, nor even grinning. But, at least for a moment, he was no longer frowning.
As I began to take another bite, he laid his hand on my back. “Hold there. One bite is enough. You may need that boot for another purpose.” An odd, muffled sound, almost like a smothered giggle, erupted from his throat. “I really did make him laugh, didn’t I?”
“Indeed you did.”
The frowns returned. “I doubt I could do it again, though. Just a fluke.”
Slipping on my boot, I shook my head. “It was no fluke. You could do it again.”
Thrusting out his chest, Bumbelwy stood before me. “Then when you go back into that smoking oven to try to slay that beast, I will go with you.”
“As will I,” declared Rhia.
I looked at their loyal faces for a moment, then slid my sword back into the scabbard. “You won’t have to.” I leaned closer on the scorched rock. “You see, I’m not going to slay the dragon.”
Both of them stared at me. Raising the staff, Rhia asked, “You have to do it, don’t you? How else can you learn the first lesson of Eliminating?”
I reached for the gnarled shaft of hemlock, spinning it slowly in my hand. “I think, perhaps, I already have.”
“What?”
Fingering the staff’s knotty top, I glanced toward the shadowed lair. “Something happened to me when the dragon laughed.”
“Right,” agreed Bumbelwy. “You broke free of his tail.”
“No, I mean something else. Did you hear how full and hearty that laugh was? It made me feel that, well, as vicious and bloodthirsty as the dragon is, he couldn’t be completely evil. Or else . . . he couldn’t laugh like that.”
Bumbelwy looked at me as if I had lost my mind. “I’ll wager that dragon has laughed every time he has destroyed a village.”
I nodded. “Perhaps so. But something about his laugh gave me the feeling that, somehow, he isn’t so completely different from you and me. That he has some worth. Even if we don’t comprehend it.”
Rhia almost smiled.
Bumbelwy, though, furrowed his brow. “I don’t understand what this has to do with Eliminating.”
Lifting my right hand, smudged with charcoal, I touched the lids of my sightless eyes. “You see these eyes? Useless. Scarred forever, like my cheeks. And do you know why? Because I tried to destroy another boy’s life! I don’t know whether or not he survived, but I doubt it. I tried to eliminate him.”
His brow wrinkled still more. “I still don’t understand.”
“The point is this. Eliminating is sometimes necessary. But it comes only at a price. It may be to your body. Or to your soul. But the price is always there. Because every living thing is precious somehow.”
The shaft of my staff sizzled with a blast of blue light. Where bare wood had been before, there was now the image of a dragon’s tail.
“The sixth Song is done!” exclaimed Rhia. “Now you have only one left, the Song of Seeing.”
Tapping the top of the staff, I examined the dragon’s tail, etched not far from the glowing star within a circle. Shifting my gaze to the lifeless stretch of coastline, as blackened and burned as the inside of a fire pit, I viewed the deep blue channel and the distant peaks of Varigal beyond. “There may be only one Song left, but there are only a few days left, too.”