We Sled With Dragons

by C. Alexander London

  “What’s it?”

  “The golden crunch! That’s what the squirrel said to me!”

  The dragon stepped toward them, placing a wary foot on the icy bridge. The twins stepped backward. The dragon moved closer. Its mouth opened to reveal hundreds of needle-sharp teeth covered in hot drool and a tiny trace of cheese puff dust.

  “I thought the squirrel called you a know-it-all!”

  “It did,” said Celia. “But it also said I’m good as gold.”

  “Yeah,” said Oliver. “Dragons love gold. Mom said that when she was being all mushy about Dad!”

  “Looks like one of Mom’s plans worked after all.” Celia pulled their mother’s golden ring out of her pocket. It shined in her palm.

  The dragon eyes widened. So did Oliver’s. The giant lizard and the boy stared at the ring, mouths agape. Celia bent back her arm and tossed the ring over the bridge. It arced through the air faster than the lizard’s tongue could catch it and slid across the ice even farther than the cheese puff bag.

  The dragon screeched and flapped its mighty wings, diving after the gold. It landed with a crash onto the surface of the moat, smashing its claws over the ring. It tilted its head back and roared in triumph.

  Then the air echoed with a loud crack. The surface of the moat crunched. Little lines spread out beneath the dragon like a spiderweb.

  The moat shattered and the dragon plunged down into the frozen water below. It flapped its wings too late. Ice coated them almost instantly and the weight of the ice on its wings pulled the great beast down. The dragon vanished in the blackness.

  “Guess the dragon didn’t know the rule,” said Oliver. “The ice always breaks.”

  “We did it!” Celia jumped for joy. “It’s gone.”

  Oliver, resting his hands on his knees, looked back at his sister and let out a long groan. “Why’d you have to go and say that?”

  “What?” Celia shrugged. She pointed at the dark hole in the ice. “He fell in. We won.”

  “Celia!” Oliver shook his head. “You never say ‘we won’ after the monster falls into darkness . . . that’s rule number one!”

  “Oh . . . right,” said Celia.

  “Yep,” said Oliver. He took a step backward. “He’ll be back right about . . .” Oliver took another step backward. “Now!”

  Sure enough, the dragon’s head broke from the ice with a earth-shaking cry. Its head and claws slashed about through the air. Ice and snow flew in all directions. The twins dove flat against the bridge as the dragon thrashed in anguish. Its eyes met theirs and grew wide, a terrible hunger aimed toward them.

  The dragon’s tongue shot out in their direction. Celia dove over her brother, covering him with her whole body and covering her head with her hands.

  There was a splash and then silence.

  “Are we alive?” Oliver muttered from beneath his sister.

  She waited, listened. Nothing.

  “I think so,” she whispered.

  “Then can you get off me, please?”

  “Sure.” Celia rolled off her brother and slumped back on the bridge. They looked over the broken moat together. The water was still, the jagged edges of ice glistened. The dragon was gone. And so was the bag of cheese puffs.

  “Told you so,” said Oliver.

  “Don’t be a know-it-all,” said Celia, helping her brother stand and holding his hand as they stumbled out of Atlantis back toward the World Tree.

  Celia knew what they had to do now to save their parents.

  “If there is a Lost Library hidden down here,” said Oliver. “Then you have to ask that talking squirrel where to find it so we can save Mom and Dad.”

  It didn’t sound any less crazy when her brother said it out loud.

  35

  WE CHECK OUT A BOOK

  THE SOUNDS OF groaning ice, shifting and stirring, echoed around them as they crept along the canyon. Powdery snow fell from the upper walls and sparkled down through the rainbows above and covered them with a fine, wet dust. They followed the rainbows all the way back to the great glimmering tree. Oliver stopped dead in his tracks. Celia bumped into him from behind.

  “Oof,” she grunted.

  “Not oof,” said Oliver. “Odd.”

  “Good to see you again,” said the enigmatic one-eyed mailman. Odd was crouched on the ground, feeding cheese puffs to the buck-toothed white squirrel. He stood and brushed the long hair back from his face, studying the twins through his good eye. “You two look a mess,” he said. “I guess you met old Nidhogg.”

  “You knew there’d be a dragon!” Celia shouted.

  “Like, a real, giant, lizard-faced, needle-toothed, gold-loving dragon!” Oliver added.

  “And you left us here alone anyway!” Celia marched right up to look him directly in the face, although, given his height, she was actually looking directly into his chest.

  Odd shrugged. “There’s a prophecy. I knew you’d be fine. And someone needed to take care of that dragon. I never could.”

  “You aren’t a mailman, are you?” said Celia.

  Odd shrugged.

  “Are you . . .” Celia looked around and dropped her voice to a whisper, even though there was no one but her brother and a sarcastic squirrel to hear her. “Odin, the All-Father?”

  “I have many names,” said Odd.

  “Maybe he’s Santa Claus!” said Oliver.

  “He didn’t say he was Santa Claus,” said Celia.

  “He didn’t say he wasn’t!” said Oliver.

  “He said he has many names,” said Celia. “They could be, like, Charlie or Milo or Snotface McGee. Why’d you jump right to Santa Claus?”

  “You brought it up,” said Oliver.

  “I brought up Odin, the Norse god of war,” said Celia.

  “Well, I think he could be Santa Claus too.”

  “There’s no such thing!”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Nuh-uh.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Nuh-uh.”

  “Uh-huh!”

  “Why would Santa Claus want us to battle dragons?” said Celia. “He’s a Norse god.”

  “He’s Santa Claus.”

  “If he were Santa Claus, he’d have presents.” Celia crossed her arms in triumph.

  Oliver wrinkled his brow. His sister had a point.

  “Oh, but I do have presents.” Odd laughed. The twins turned back to look at him. Oliver smiled. Celia scowled. “Doubt is a good thing, children,” Odd added. “Doubt leads to questions. And questions are the first step on any journey.”

  The twins rolled their eyes in unison.

  “Enigmatic much?” Oliver scoffed.

  “If you could be more obvious, we’d really appreciate it,” Celia told Odd. “A dragon just chased us through Atlantis, so we’re not in the best mood. We need to find the Lost Library to save our parents. If you can’t help us do that, it doesn’t really matter if you’re the Norse god Odin, Father Christmas, or the tooth fairy.”

  “Well, there is no such thing as the tooth fairy,” Oliver muttered under his breath. Celia elbowed him in the side.

  “Oh, I like your brother,” the squirrel chuckled.

  “Quiet or I’ll turn you into a scarf!” Celia snapped at it and the squirrel bolted up the tree, peering nervously around the trunk.

  Odd cocked his head at Celia, puzzled.

  “She’s just yelling at the squirrel in her head,” Oliver explained.

  “Ah yes.” Odd nodded. “He likes to pick on ones who think they’re clever. He’s a pest, but an amusing one.”

  “See!” said Celia. “I’m not crazy. He does talk.”

  “So you think you’re clever?” said Oliver.

  “I am clever,” said Celia. She was glad to have it confirmed, even if it was by a mystica
l talking squirrel living under the ice at the North Pole.

  “You just think you are,” said Oliver. “If you were that clever, we’d have found the Lost Library by now.”

  “But you have,” said Odd. “That’s my present to you. I needed someone to defeat that pesky dragon. Now that you have, I’d be happy to show you the place you seek. It’s right below you.” He pointed to the hole in the ice where the tree trunk grew. “Just climb down.”

  “Down?” said Oliver. “Isn’t it just, like, the ocean down there?”

  “Oh no,” said Odd. “You really do have to see for yourself.”

  Oliver and Celia looked at each other and looked back at the tree. Celia nodded and Oliver stepped forward. He was nervous, but he didn’t mind going first. He was about to see the place his mother had dreamed of for all this time. He just wished she were here to see it with him.

  He wrapped himself around the trunk of the tree, like he was hugging it, and started to shimmy down the narrow space between its golden bark and the hard ice.

  “Are you coming with us?” Celia asked the mysterious bearded man.

  “I would never miss a chance to go to the library.” Odd smiled.

  Celia hugged the tree and shimmied down after her brother. She didn’t have to go far before the hole opened up and she was sliding down the trunk into another great room of ice. Its walls were round, but there were no shelves. There was only a pedestal in the center of the room, and on it, a single big book, covered in a fine dust of snow. The curved ice reflected the book over and over and in all directions, so it looked like there were endless rooms with endless copies of the book sitting on pedestals in the center.

  “This isn’t a library,” said Oliver. “It’s just one book.”

  He went over to it and saw that there was a heavy golden seal on the cover in the shape of the Mnemones’ key. He was about to open the massive book when Celia grabbed him.

  “Careful!” she said. “Isn’t it one of your rules that this will be booby-trapped?”

  Oliver nodded. In movies, the mysterious thing on a pedestal was always booby-trapped. He guessed if he lifted it up poison darts would shoot out or the floor would collapse or there’d be some kind of curse.

  “Well,” said Odd, dropping into the room. “What do you think?”

  “We think it’s booby-trapped,” said Celia.

  “It’s not booby-trapped,” said Odd. “You’ve seen too many movies.” He strolled over to the book and flipped it open. “Take a look. This is the Codex.”

  “What’s a codex?” said Oliver.

  “It means book,” said Celia. “A codex and a book are the same if you look.”

  Odd raised his eyebrow. “Wally Worm’s Word World?”

  Celia nodded.

  “Why not just say book then?” Oliver grunted.

  Odd didn’t answer him, just urged them to step up to the giant tome, which was yet another word for book, but no one really uses it, except when they don’t want to say the word book over and over again.

  The twins stepped forward and saw that the writing on the pages was just squiggles and lines in all directions, a jumble in black and gold and silver.

  “What language is that?” Oliver wondered.

  “Do you know the Sumerian myth of Enmerkar and the Lord of Aratta?” Odd asked them.

  The twins stared back blankly.

  “The tales of the Scythian king Fénius Farsaid?”

  Again, the twins stared blankly at him.

  “The Tower of Babel?”

  “I know that one,” said Celia. “The story that ancient people all spoke one language and they built a tower up to heaven, but the tower was destroyed and they were punished by having their languages broken apart so they couldn’t understand each other.”

  “That’s right,” said Odd. “Many cultures have these stories of an original language, spoken by all in a time before time.”

  “He’s talking like a fortune cookie again,” whispered Oliver.

  “Your brother’s not the sharpest sword in the Viking horde, is he?” The squirrel was back, scurrying around at Celia’s feet, laughing. “I’ve seen walruses with a quicker wit than he’s got.”

  Celia tried to step on its tail. “Don’t talk about my brother that way!”

  “Did he just insult me?” Oliver wondered.

  “Uh-huh,” said Celia. “But it’s not true. You’ve got more wit than a walrus.”

  “I sure do!” said Oliver, tired of being called dumb. He tried to step on the squirrel’s tail too. Odd watched them chase the little creature around the room a moment before he clapped his hands once. It echoed like thunder. The squirrel froze and looked back at Odd, wide eyed.

  “Enough,” said Odd. “If you do not choose to keep quiet, I will silence you myself.”

  “Me?” said Oliver.

  “Me?” said Celia.

  “The squirrel,” said Odd.

  The little squirrel ducked its head and scampered off again.

  “You two mustn’t take it so personally,” Odd told them. “In all our lives there comes a time when the gossip of squirrels will trouble us, and we must do our best to ignore it.”

  “I don’t think most people have to listen to the gossip of squirrels,” said Celia.

  “I dunno,” said Oliver. “Sixth grade’s kind of like that.”

  “True,” Celia said.

  “Where were we?” wondered Odd.

  “Tower of Babel,” said Celia.

  “Ah yes,” said Odd. “The Ur language. The mythic language from which all others spring.”

  “Yeah, sure,” said Celia.

  “This is that language,” said Odd, pointing at the squiggles and lines in the book. “This codex contains the root of all books. It can be read front to back, back to front, side to side, or on a diagonal. It can be read upside down or every other word, or in any pattern you can imagine. Or in no pattern at all. Because its possibilities are endless, so are the books it contains.”

  “Huh?” said Oliver.

  “It’s an infinite book,” said Odd. “It is a book that contains all books, depending on how you read it. Every truth and its opposite are in this book. It literally contains all books that have been written, will be written, or could ever be written.”

  “Huh?” Oliver repeated.

  “The myths of ancient Babylon, the tales of Homer, every romance novel,” said Odd. “They’re all in here, depending on how you read it. There’s total gibberish and great literature.”

  “Or even a guide to raising Atlantis?” suggested Oliver.

  “Exactly that,” said Odd. “Instructions to melt the ice around us and bring the great city back to rule over a flooded world. That’s in here. So is a guide to stamp collecting. Anything you can think of is in this book. This is what your old explorer found and hid in this place. You see, your mother’s theories were wrong. The Library of Alexandria really was lost. It was destroyed just as history tells us it was, but everything that was in it is in this book, created long before the time of Alexander, long before history was even recorded. This book is the infinite memory of humanity, every story, every dream, every idea that is possible, and every idea that is impossible. The answer to any question at all is right here in front of you.”

  “So it’s like our universal remote control?” said Oliver. “Works anywhere and can access anything, if you know what all the buttons do.”

  Odd wrinkled his one visible eyebrow. He had no idea what Oliver was talking about.

  “Does anyone know how to read this book?” asked Celia.

  Odd shook his head. “Not a living soul.”

  “Just like our remote,” muttered Oliver.

  “Hold on a second!” Celia stomped her foot. “We’ve been searching the world all this time, getting thrown out of
airplanes and fighting monsters and grave robbers and evil billionaires just to find a book that no one knows how to read?”

  Odd nodded.

  “That is so unfair!” she groaned.

  “No,” a voice behind her sneered. “This is so unfair.”

  The twins turned to see Sir Edmund with three of his henchman standing by the trunk of the tree, pointing guns in their direction. “You’ll give me that book now, I think.”

  He nodded for one of his henchman to take it from Odd. The henchman grunted under the book’s weight. He lugged it back over to Sir Edmund and held it while the little man flipped through the pages, studying the symbols.

  “You have no idea what you’re doing,” said Odd.

  “Oh, I think I do,” said Sir Edmund. “I’m taking the most priceless artifact in the world from two silly children and a strange old mailman who has gone very far off his route.”

  “He’s no mailman,” said Oliver, defiant.

  “Shh,” Celia hushed her brother. She didn’t want to lose the element of surprise. Surely the mystical old man had a trick up his sleeve. He was the deus in their deus ex machina after all.

  “Well, whoever he is,” said Sir Edmund, “I hope you’ll enjoy each other’s company. Because I’ve rigged the canyon walls with dynamite. It should detonate in . . .” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and pressed a button. “Fifteen minutes. You’ll be sealed in here for eternity. Sorry, kids. You won’t be seeing the season finale of Celebrity Fashion Crimes.”

  “I don’t like that show anyway!” Oliver shouted as Sir Edmund’s henchmen hooked him to a harness and hoisted him back up the tree trunk. Then they attached the heavy book to a rope and started heaving it up, moving as fast as they could.

  Soon Odd, Oliver, and Celia were alone in the empty room.

  “Why didn’t you stop him?” Celia whirled around on Odd. “I thought you were a mystical god or shaman or something!”

  “I don’t need to stop him,” said Odd.

  “Yeah,” said Celia. “I think you do.”

  “Did you notice the cover of the book?” said Odd.

  “Yeah, it had the Mnemones’ symbol on it,” said Oliver. “So?”

  “It’s gold,” said Odd.