He bobbed up again.
“… to save you!”
He bobbed down again. As his head disappeared under the surface, Eliza realized that the snorting, snuffling, snapping moat-dragons were no longer swarming in the water at her feet. They had all suddenly slipped away.
“Oh no. No! No, no, no. I’m not going back!” said Eliza. But what choice did she really have? They had to save the little giant or they’d never forgive themselves. They’d never be able to forget the sound of his terrified struggle, at least not until they were really old and could no longer remember each other’s names, or what jelly was.
“We’re coming!” they yelled as they dived straight back into the moat, back through the slime, back through thick weeds like witch’s hair, and back toward the moat-dragons, which were now circling around Bonnet as he flailed and struggled in the water.
“Quick!” Eliza shouted. “One. Two. Three…”
The two sisters took two huge gulps of air, and then dived down into the stinking green water. And Lavender, her eyes shut tight, reached out below her, and touched something slimy. And Eliza, plunging downward, accidentally caught hold of the gnarled old leg …
… of a piano …
… tuner.
And they kept swimming down and down … until they grabbed on to Bonnet’s ankles. But a fierce moat-dragon had already grabbed Bonnet by his bonnet.
Eliza and Lavender tugged upward, as the dragon yanked downward.
“GHHHHRR!” went Eliza.
“GHGHHGH!” went Lavender.
“…” went the moat-dragon. (He wasn’t wasting energy making noise. He was concentrating on getting his dinner.)
And he dragged Bonnet and Lavender and Eliza down, and down, and down, as the water got even darker and murkier …
Soon Lavender and Eliza had completely run out of air, and they felt so dizzy that they didn’t even know which way was up. They gave one final tug, just as the dragon gave one final yank, and tore Bonnet’s bonnet off, and Bonnet, Lavender, and Eliza all went shooting up to the surface.
“Gurghhh!” Bonnet burbled, before promptly fainting.
So while the moat-dragon tore Bonnet’s bonnet to shreds—Bonnet had never washed it, so it was extremely greasy and delicious—Eliza and Lavender dragged the unconscious Bonnet to the edge of the moat. When they finally reached the edge, Eliza jumped out, and she helped pull out Bonnet and then Lavender, all of them blinking, and coughing, and spitting out mouthfuls of green moat water. Which, frankly, you shouldn’t really call water, as it was made of weeds, algae, toads, old newspapers, shoes, hair-oil, broken plates, furniture, and various liquids that come out of dragons.
As Eliza pulled a small snail out of her left nostril, Lavender turned to Bonnet.
“Bonnet, you saved me!” Lavender said.
“Um, really?” said Eliza. She was trying to raise an eyebrow, but no one noticed, because she still had weeds all over her face.
“You came to rescue me!” said Lavender again. “You’re my hero!”
“Lavender, can we go now, please?” said Eliza.
But Lavender wasn’t listening. She was gazing happily at Bonnet, and saying things that no one had ever said to him before.
Things like: “You’re so brave!” and “Onomatopoeia.”
“Lavender, we really need to GO. Now,” said Eliza.
“… and you just jumped in and—ooh!” Lavender stopped. “You’ve got a tiny moat-dragon in your hair—look!”
It was true. Clinging to a clump of weeds on Bonnet’s head
was a baby moat-dragon, no bigger than a thumb.
“LAVENDER!” said Eliza.
“What a sweet little moat-dragon!” said Lavender. “He’s so tiny! I could keep him as a pet. What shall I call him? I could call him Moaty. Or Moatred. Or Moatle. Or maybe it’s a she. What do you think, Bonnet?”
Bonnet mumbled something indistinct. He was still reeling from all the nice things that Lavender had said, and he wasn’t capable of together a sentence stringing all at, no, no wasn’t he no.
“LAVENDER,” said Eliza again.
“Or Moataria?” said Lavender.
“LAVENDER!”
“Or Moatvis? Did I say that already?”
“LAVENDER!!!!”
“What?” said Lavender.
As Lavender looked at her sister, she noticed that Eliza was looking very pale, and trembling. And that, oddly enough, Lavender was now standing in a shadow. Which was strange, because it was really quite sunny, and … Lavender turned around. And saw what Eliza was staring at. It was another moat-dragon. It was just like the teeny-tiny moat-dragon in Bonnet’s hair. It was also the size of a thumb. IF THAT THUMB BELONGED TO AN INTERGALACTIC MONSTER WITH UNUSUALLY LARGE THUMBS.
“Ah,” said Bonnet, looking up at the beast that was staring down at them, growling. “I wondered what had happened to Violet.” He cleared his throat. “Hello, Violet. Um. Yes. You’ll probably be wanting … this. S-s-sorry.”
Bonnet stepped forward and, with pale, shaking hands, untangled the baby dragon from his hair before dropping the wriggling creature into the moat. There was a tiny splash, and it swam away and disappeared.
“Sorry, Violet,” Bonnet gulped. “No—harm intended.”
He patted his pockets. “Would you like a piece of cake? Or maybe an egg? No?”
Violet stared down at Bonnet, and Lavender, and Eliza, and growled.
“Well, nice to see you,” said Bonnet.
“I think we should go now,” hissed Eliza.
“Unless there are any princes nearby?” whispered Lavender.
“Lavender. It’s time to go,” said Eliza in a strained voice.
So Bonnet and Eliza and Lavender started to shuffle backward. As they backed slowly away, Violet continued to stare down at them. What was she thinking? Was she thinking: These are just poor innocent humans, and why not say live and let live? Was she deciding whether or not to help them escape by letting them climb up onto her back, and then soaring into the air and flying straight over the forest, back home to Old Tumbledown Farm, where she would leave them safely behind and they would watch her go, with tears in their eyes?
Frankly, no. She was just deciding who to attack first. And the answer that she came up with was: All three of them at the same time.
Chapter Twenty-Two
In which it is revealed that Lavender’s singing has unusual powers.
Violet roared, and sent a huge ball of fire toward them, then swiped at them with her enormous claws, and snapped at them with her enormous teeth.
“RUNNNNNN!” shouted Eliza. All three of them ran headlong toward the forest, but it was no use. With one scoop, Violet picked up Eliza and Lavender up in her claws.
This was definitely not part of the plan. Lavender shut her eyes. She froze like an ice cream. “GRRRRR!” said Eliza. She was pummeling Violet as hard as she could with her fists, as she tried to pry herself out of the moat-dragon’s grasp, but it was impossible.
“Violet!” shouted Bonnet from the ground. “Over here!!” He jumped and waved to get Violet’s attention. He clapped his hands. He did a dance. But Violet was much more interested in the two small girls in her claws.
“I know,” gasped Lavender. “I’ve got it! I’ll charm her with a song!”
“Is that a JOKE?” said Eliza, still kicking and punching and whacking Violet as hard as she could, although her attack seemed to be about as effective as pelting a whale with marshmallows.
“Whatever you do, don’t sing!” Eliza yelled. “It will just make her more angry!”
But Lavender took no notice. A moment later, Mordmont heard the unfortunate sound, and came running outside, astonished to see that the two princesses were still alive.
He lowered the drawbridge, and soon he was nearly at the dragon’s side, staring, amazed, at Violet and at Lavender, who was singing at the top of her voice.
“Ooh, lovely Violet, you’ve got a lovely face,
&n
bsp; You’ve got such pretty fangs, and what a lovely place…”
“Stop!” said Eliza. “STOP!!!” Because the more Lavender sang, the more violently Violet shook them from side to side. And now the moat-dragon’s head began to sway and clouds of purple steam started pouring out of her ears.
“Ooh, lovely Violet, you’ve got a lovely smile,
You’ve got a lovely, very slightly homicidal style.
Ooh, lovely Violet, please please don’t eat us for your tea
’cause I taste worse than brussels sprouts, and she tastes worse than me…”
“Lavender, stop—your singing is making her crazy!” Eliza yelled. “It’s driving her bonkers! It’s sending her over the edge!”
It was true. Dragons have very sensitive hearing. To any human who was listening, Lavender’s song would have sounded incredibly painful. But to any dragon, her song sounded incredibly, incredibly, incredibly, incredibly, incredibly, incredibly, incredibly, incredibly, incredibly painful. All Violet’s children had fled from the castle to get away from the terrible sound. But the noise had affected Violet so badly that she didn’t even try to escape. She just reeled and writhed in pain.
“Ooh, lovely Violet, you’ve got such lovely hair,
You could be on the cover of Dragony Fair.
Ooh, lovely Violet, you’ve got such lovely ears,
And oh, what lovely screams, and oh, what lovely tears…”
“Wait! No—don’t stop!” said Eliza. “Keep going! This could be our chance to escape! Keep singing! Louder! Higher! She can’t cope!”
So Lavender kept singing.
“Ooh, lovely Violet, oh what a lovely smell!
A hint of vintage vomit and some deep-sea snot as well…”
“MORE!” screamed Eliza. “More!”
Violet was flailing around so violently now, it was hard for Lavender to breathe, let alone sing. But still she kept going. As she went up an octave, Violet’s violet-colored eyes turned orange. Her tail crashed and thrashed and thumped on the ground. She started to wail.
“Someone should make a perfume and call it after you:
Eau du Violent Violet, Fragrance de Poo…”
That was it. As Lavender hit a top C, and windows in a nearby century shattered, Violet shut her eyes and keeled over. As she fell to the ground, her claws opened, and Eliza and Lavender went tumbling out onto the grass.
A moment later, they started to run toward the forest, with Bonnet bumbling along behind them. They didn’t stop until they reached the trees, where Gertrude was overjoyed to see them.
And if they were worried about Mordmont chasing them, they needn’t have been. Because when they looked back, they saw him standing beside Violet with a look of amazement on his face. As they watched, Violet lifted up her head, groaned, shook herself, and got to her feet.
Next to her, Mordmont had begun to dance.
“Violet. Violet, Violet, Violet, I have been such a fool!” he roared. “To think it was here all along. Staring me in the face! My fortune! Right here in this moat! Don’t you see?”
It was unclear whether or not Violet did see. But still Mordmont carried on, his mustache quivering with excitement.
“It is quite simple. The princesses escape from the castle, completely riddled with the Black Death … Then you, Violet, pick them up. And what happens to them? Where are the boils? The bumps? The lumps? Gone! GONE! It’s you! You, Violet, are a miracle, a medicinal dragon! With one touch you cured those pestilent princesses! Which means each little dragon in this moat is worth a small fortune! All I have to do is sell them at the market, and there we go—a fortune for me! Who needs princesses?”
And because Mordmont was so wildly excited by the vision of his vast fortune, and his new collection of silver, gold, and platinum trousers, he did not notice the low growls coming from the dragon beside him.
“Now,” he said, bending over the moat, “where are they all? Come my little Violy Violettas! Come to Mordy-Wordy! Come on, come—urgh!”
Mordmont yelped and blinked. It seemed that the moat was rushing away from him. Wait!… No. It was he that was rushing away, up into the air. He craned his neck around, to see that Violet had picked him up by the loop of his dressing gown, and was now dangling him over the moat.
“Violet. Stop that!”
She began to swing him back and forth.
Swish. Swish.
With every swing, Mordmont became paler and paler.
“That’s enough now, Violet. Put me down, there’s a good dragon.”
His gold shoes fell off into the water.
Kasplosh!
“Come on now, Violet! I was joking! Joking! Of course, I would never do anything to harm you or—”
WHOOSPLUSH!
Mordmont never got to finish his sentence, as his dragon dunked him in the moat.
KASPLISH!
She did it again.
Then she took off into the air, flew up over the castle, and dropped him into the moat from a great height.
And, as she flew past the castle, Violet gave it a resounding thump with her tail, which sent the entire building tumbling into the water.
BOOM!
Lavender, Eliza, and Bonnet stood on the edge of the forest and stared, openmouthed, until Bonnet cleared his throat. “Well, bye, then,” he said quietly. “I suppose you’d best be going home.”
“Bye, then,” said Eliza.
“Bye,” said Lavender. “You were so brave, Bonnet,” she added. “Thank you.”
She planted a kiss on Bonnet’s cheek.
“So, where are you going now?” said Lavender.
“Oh, I’ve made a plan,” said Bonnet.
“And what’s your plan?”
“I thought I might just sit under that tree for a bit,” said Bonnet.
“Hmmmn,” said Lavender. She wasn’t sure if that was really such a great plan. “Which tree?”
“That one over there,” said Bonnet.
I could describe it to you, but really there was nothing remarkable about it. It was just your standard tree: branches, a trunk, leaves, that sort of thing.*
“Well,” said Eliza. “Do you want to come with us instead?”
Bonnet hesitated. Of course, he wanted to say “YES PLEASE, I WOULD LOVE TO DO THAT, more than I love sunshine and velvet and cheese and jumping up and down.” But he was a bit shy. So he just said, “Um, yeah, all right.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
In which Grandma Maud is suspicious.
Several hours, thirty-two dandelions, three wrong turnings, one asthma attack, five arguments, fourteen owls, two hundred and thirty-two songs, twenty-eight burst owl eardrums, thirty-one huffs, seventy-four puffs, four calling birds, three French hens, two turtle doves, and countless pained looks on the face of Gertrude later, Eliza, Lavender, Gertrude, and Bonnet arrived back at Old Tumbledown Farm.
“Get away, get away, you horrible little man!” said Grandma Maud, who couldn’t see very well in the dark and thought Bonnet was Old Mr. Nettles, trying to sell her nettles again. But when she realized that her grandchildren had returned, she was overwhelmed. “My grandchildren!” she said. “I don’t suppose you picked up any milk on the way home, did you?”
Then she welcomed Eliza and Lavender with open arms, and welcomed Gertrude with an open bottle of brandy, and welcomed Bonnet with an open look of suspicion and hostility.
“This is Bonnet, Grandma,” said Eliza.
“He’s our friend,” Lavender added. “He’s a giant.”
“Oh, I’m sure he is,” said Grandma Maud, looking Bonnet up and down and not sounding sure at all. Then they all sat by the fire, and Eliza and Lavender told Grandma Maud the whole story.
“Well,” said Grandma Maud when they had reached the end. “I must say, I was sure you had been taken by the Black Death.”
“No,” said Eliza.
“Or the Fatal Hiccups.”
“Nope.”
“Or the Shrinking Lurgy.”
“Nope.”
“Or Spontaneous Combustion.”
“No…”
“Or Unexpectedly Lethal Itchy Leg.”
“No…”
“Or Wandering Teeth.”
“No…”
“Or Inexplicable Brain Melt.”
“No…”
“Or Deadly Yellow Bottom.”
“No…”
“I was so sure it was one of those,” said Grandma Maud, sounding only a little disappointed. “But it wasn’t to be.”
“No,” said Eliza. “We’re fine.”
“For now you are, dear,” she replied, patting Eliza’s head. “For now.”
So everything went back to normal at Old Tumbledown Farm. Gertrude stood in her pen, thinking mysterious thoughts. Eliza cleaned out the pen while Lavender “helped.” Except now Bonnet helped out too, with things that he was good at. Like tripping over, and apologizing.
The following night, Lavender and Eliza were tucked up in bed while Grandma Maud read them a story.
“… And then they all lived happily ever after,” she said soothingly, “until they were completely murdered. Well, goodnight then.”
“Goodnight,” said Lavender and Eliza.
And so Grandma Maud blew out the candle, and shuffled off to bed.
“Night, Lavender,” Eliza said sleepily. “It’s good to be home.” She yawned. Then she curled up, picked a bit of moat weed off her skin, and hugged her knees to her chest.
“My knees!” Eliza said suddenly, sitting straight up in bed.
“What’s that?”
“I’ve got my knees back,” Eliza explained. She was quite happy to have them back. From the feel of them, they were a little bit scuffed, but otherwise they seemed to be in good condition. She thought they’d probably gone back on the correct legs too. Although it was hard to be completely sure.
“Nice to have my own knees,” Eliza said drowsily, and soon she was drifting off to sleep …
… and then drifting back awake again, as she heard her sister whispering:
“Goodnight, Prince Fabian, Goodnight, Prince Arjuna…”
“Lavender. Lavender. LAVENDER!” hissed Eliza.
The Perilous Princess Plot Page 7