‘What on earth is a poo-berg?’ Kat said, her face screwed up in disgust.
‘You know, like an iceberg but made of poo,’ Ted said matter-of-factly. ‘All this time we’ve been thinking the poo gets flushed away, but it’s actually been collecting in the drains.’
‘Are you saying there’s a giant dragon poo somewhere under our feet, right now?’ Kat said.
Ted nodded. ‘Not just giant, it’s enormous. Gigantinormous! And it’s getting bigger all the time.’
We all stared down at the floor.
I pictured the carpet rupturing and a massive volcanic eruption with dragon poo raining down on the whole of our village. This was not good. Not good at all.
Kat sighed and Crystal flew down to land next to her. She stared into the little dragon’s eyes. Crystal swept her head from side to side, sending out a gentle breath that frosted Kat’s fringe. The delicate ice patterns made her hair all sparkly. Kat touched her head, looking sad.
‘What if us keeping the dragons has somehow messed up their chances of flying off to where they ought to be?’ she said quietly.
We all looked at each other and then at the dragons around us. I got the feeling this was something that had been playing on Kat’s mind long before today. Could she be right? Had stopping these dragons leaving with the others made it so they wouldn’t now be able to go home?
‘We don’t even know where the dragons go, do we?’ Kat said. ‘So it’s not like we can take them there. And –’ she paused, her voice hardly more than a whisper now – ‘even if they do go – what if it’s like when well-meaning people care for baby animals and then the parents or herd reject them?’
She was looking at me for reassurance, but I couldn’t give her any. I was beginning to realise there was an awful lot we didn’t know about dragons. So how could we hope to look after them properly?
I’d thought I knew everything about Flicker. But I hadn’t even known that he could control the weather. Perhaps Kat was right, perhaps it was time to let the dragons go.
I looked down at Flicker curled in my lap now, his scales flickering turquoise and his little body sending a pulse of warmth right through me.
How could I ever say goodbye to him?
One thing was clear, I had to find out more about the dragons. I had to know that if we were going to let them go, they would be OK.
‘Sometimes I really wish dragons could talk,’ I whispered to Flicker as we lay curled in bed. His eyes twinkled up at me and he let out a low rumble that I felt as a flutter inside my chest.
That night I had an incredibly vivid dream. I’d had this same dream a few times now, and I didn’t like it. It was different from my usual dream of volcanoes and glaciers. In this one I was flying over a forest. And dotted among the trees were clearings with buildings, like a hidden city. And suddenly I realised I was surrounded by dragons, all flying alongside me. Together we dived down towards the city and our flames scorched the land.
I woke up sweating, just when I had been about to swoop over the heads of this one little family, who were looking up at us, their hands raised.
I lay there, heart pounding. Every time I had this dream I couldn’t help thinking about all the people in the city and wondering if the dragons had destroyed everything.
But tonight something else stuck in my mind. The image of the river winding its way through the forest. Suddenly I realised I knew that snaking outline. It was the river from the map I had found.
I switched on my lamp and looked at Flicker, who was shimmering through brilliant shades of red. It wasn’t the first time he had shown me things in my dreams. Maybe he was trying to tell me something again? But what?
I jumped out of bed and scrabbled underneath, pulling out the map. Now, in case you haven’t been following the whole story – which, believe me, you really should, otherwise you’ll know even less about dragons than we do – this map had fallen out of A World of Plants, an encyclopedia that had belonged to Elvi Jónsdóttir, the old woman who’d lived in the house before Nana and Grandad.
Elvi had left quite a lot of stuff behind, most of it piled up in Grandad’s shed. I’d already found boxes of things she’d brought back from her travels around the world. In one of these I’d discovered the tin of ash and her instructions about how much to sprinkle on the dragon-fruit tree to keep it healthy.
It was then I’d realised that she’d been looking after the tree, just like us. What I didn’t know was whether she had ever seen the dragons. I’d always hoped she’d have more to tell me about where the dragon-fruit tree came from. But although the map was beautiful, all drawn within the outline of this dragon’s wings, it hadn’t given me any actual information.
But perhaps I was missing something.
I held it close and peered at it again.
My finger traced the river winding through the rainforest, pausing at the little clearings among the trees. There was no sign of any city here. Not like in my dream. I turned the map over. Nothing. Except some really faint marks, which were probably just stains from where something else had pressed against it. It was a miracle the map had survived as well as it had really – it was obviously ancient.
Flicker fluttered over and jiggled from foot to foot, prodding at the piece of paper in my hand. It was like he could see something I couldn’t.
Then all of a sudden he sneezed. I snatched the map out of the way just as a short fiery burst shot past it.
And then I blinked and shook my head. Just for a second I had seen something. Right there on the map.
‘Hey, do that again, Flicker,’ I whispered.
A ripple shimmered across his body. He stretched his wings and blew a gentle flickering flame. I held the map up in front of it. And I saw it again. The city from my dreams!
It was like turning on a light and suddenly seeing where you are. There were buildings, monuments, houses, a grand square, all there, glowing now within the forest. And with the help of Flicker’s flame I could see more too. Tiny swirly words snaked their way along the dragon’s wings that framed the map. I squinted, trying to make out what they said.
‘La ciudad oculta de los dragones.’
It was hopeless; everything was written in a language I couldn’t read. As I scanned down, one word kept jumping out at me, a word that I did recognise.
Dragones.
The next day I raced across the park to Nana and Grandad’s house. I needed to do some digging – digging that didn’t involve weeds for once.
Usually Nana would spot me a mile away and be waving non-stop till I collapsed in the doorway, panting and clutching my side. But today the house was empty.
With Grandad still in hospital, Nana was spending her days at his bedside. Even though I’d known she might not be at home, it felt strange letting myself in through the side gate and being there without them. It was like someone had taken the batteries out of your favourite toy – it looked the same but it was no fun playing with it.
I kept my eyes turned away from the house and focused on the garden, pretending Nana and Grandad had just popped upstairs to check on Lolli or were sitting together listening to the radio in their comfy chairs.
The door of the shed creaked when I pushed it open and I got the familiar blast of dust and earthy compost that always made me sneeze. I gave Flicker a nervous look; I didn’t want him having a sneezing fit. But he ignored me and flew past, landing on the handle of Grandad’s spade. I didn’t stop him. I was glad of the company.
A World of Plants lay where we’d left it. I flicked through the pages of the old book, hoping something else might be hidden inside, but there was nothing. Grandad had stacked boxes of Elvi’s stuff under the counter and I started pulling them out. Seeing how much was crammed into them, looking through them was going to be a long job. Then, as I dragged the last box out, something weird caught my eye.
On the floor was a metal ring, not plain metal but carved. I reached across to get it and found it fastened to the wooden planks. As
I pulled harder the floorboard beneath it began to lift. I sucked in a breath along with a lungful of dust and spluttered. Was this an actual secret hiding place?
I’d always dreamed of finding secret hiding places and buried treasure. Or tunnels that led to whole other worlds. Maybe I was going to crawl down and find myself somewhere where beetles were in charge, like in that book I’d read. It felt like the world had finally caught up with my imagination. My heart was leaping up as if it wanted to jump out of my mouth and take a look around.
Flicker fluttered past my head and landed by my hand, his nose wiggling into the gap. Whatever was down there, he seemed as keen to find out as I was.
I nearly didn’t find out at all, because a spider the size of an octopus with the muscles of a wrestler marched out towards my hand. It stood there like a warrior guard sent to protect the hidden treasures. I’m not kidding – this spider had attitude. Thankfully it took one look at Flicker and obviously thought better of a fight. It waved a leg in the air and scuttled off.
But let’s face it – you don’t care about warrior spiders, do you? You want to know what was under Grandad’s shed.
So here’s the other thing about having an imagination like mine. As well as taking you to places you might not want to go – like fearing the worst when I heard about Grandad’s accident – it can also lead to a fair bit of disappointment. For a start, it wasn’t a tunnel at all. There was no way I could have crawled through the little gap once the floorboard had been lifted. And it certainly didn’t lead anywhere. It was just a hole.
But not an empty hole. There was a tin box about as big as a large shoebox. The fact that someone had gone to such lengths to hide it stopped my disappointment about the lack of a beetle underworld in its tracks.
Carefully I lifted the box up and shuffled back out from under the counter. I sat with it perched on my lap, running my thumbnail around the lid, trying to unjam it. Finally there was a little squeak as it loosened. I raised the lid and peered inside. The treasure turned out to be a leather notebook and stacks and stacks of papers and photos in neat bundles, some black and white, old and faded, and others in colour, obviously more recent. And as it happened, this was way more valuable than any gold or diamonds.
I knew that as soon as I started looking through the first bundle of photos. Because every picture was of a different dragon. And what’s more, they were all taken here in Grandad’s garden.
A tiny yellow dragon perched on a bamboo cane. A long purple dragon with silver-tipped wings scratching at a pile of newspaper. Two dragons, one scarlet and one gold with twisted horns, curled up together on the leaves of a bush. I stared at them one after another, taking in every little detail. Until I paused at one picture of a midnight-blue dragon sitting on an open hand. The hand was wrinkled, with gold rings on three of the fingers, and there were fine blue markings in a pattern around the wrist, like a tattoo. And when I looked at it closer I saw that what I was looking at was a dragon’s tail.
Flicker’s scales shone gold like he had lit up inside, and if I’d had scales I’d have been shining just as brilliantly. I grinned. It suddenly seemed pretty clear that Elvi had absolutely known about the dragons!
Before I could look through another bundle, a shadow passed across the little window of the shed. I heard footsteps and something being dragged across the ground. With my heart still in my mouth from finding the box and its contents, at this point it basically jumped right out and legged it out of the shed, leaving me a total quivering wreck. I peered through the window and I bet you already know who I saw. Yup! Grim. Grandad was stuck in hospital and here was Grim snooping round his garden, getting up to who knows what.
I jumped up and stomped outside, banging open the shed door as I went. To say Grim looked a bit startled is like saying a T-rex is a bit fierce. He nearly leaped off the ground.
When he came back down to earth, he let out a huff and then nodded at me. Then he carried on pushing Grandad’s wheelbarrow.
‘Those bean plants need to come out,’ he said over his shoulder.
Hello? I’d just caught him trespassing and all he could offer was beans?
I gave him my best threatening glare, complete with laser stabbing eyes, but since he wasn’t looking my way any more it didn’t do a lot of good. I hurried after him.
‘My grandad’s not here,’ I managed to say.
‘Nope,’ he answered.
‘He’s in hospital,’ I added, hoping to make him feel guilty for stamping round his garden.
‘He is,’ he said. He let the wheelbarrow drop and turned to face me.
‘I thought it best I give a hand while he’s not about,’ he said. ‘So he don’t worry about things going to ruin.’
Hang on a minute – was Grim saying he was here to help? He’d spent enough time scowling over the fence at us that I couldn’t quite believe he had it in him.
‘I can look after things,’ I said fiercely. ‘Grandad knows I will. And he’ll be back soon anyway. Mum said he’s doing really well,’ I added.
‘Oh aye,’ said Grim. ‘I’m sure you’re right. Though now there’s his heart to think about, I don’t think he’ll be lugging this here wheelbarrow round for a bit.’
His heart? No one had said anything to me about that.
He’d had a funny turn with his heart a few years ago – I’d always worried that running round after me had brought it on. I’d been poorly when I was little and Nana and Grandad had looked after me quite a lot. But Grandad had always insisted it was more likely that my funny heart had just made his heart laugh so much it had turned it funny too, and not to worry about it.
‘What do you mean?’ I blurted. ‘There’s nothing wrong with his heart. It’s just his hip they’ve got to fix. That’s all.’
For a second Grim looked uncomfortable. He coughed, which anyone knows is just a really rubbish way of buying some time while you think of what to say.
I could feel myself getting crosser by the second. Here he was acting like he knew more than me about Grandad.
Grim bent down and pulled a few weeds out and chucked them in the barrow.
‘Like you say, he’ll be back. Just thought I’d lend a hand in the meantime.’
Grim being helpful and nice went against everything I’d ever thought about him. My brain whirred, trying to process this new information, and then simply clunked to a stop. Nope – Grim being nice didn’t compute.
But then a thought sneaked in somewhere at the back of my mind – it sat there muttering away like the most annoying kid in class. And if I strained really hard I thought I could hear it saying, ‘Excuse me, but haven’t you been wrong about Grim in the past?’
You see, we’d thought he’d been cheating his way to victory in the flower-and-vegetable competition. I’d been all set to accuse him of using chemicals and killing the dragon-fruit tree when in fact it had been Liam’s dragon super-sizing his onions. All Grim had done was play music to his vegetables, thinking that was the secret of his success.
Still, I couldn’t get my head round this new neighbourly Grim. It was like a Dalek suddenly offering you a cup of tea. And if you’ve got any sense, if you come across one of those, the best thing to do is make a hasty escape – which is exactly what I did.
Later on I sat with the others, squashed in the den with the dragons perched on branches around us. The box of photos lay on the ground.
They were staring at me and I could hear the clanking of their brain cogs working through everything I’d just told them.
‘So she did know about the dragons?’ Kat said smiling. ‘I’m glad. It means she wasn’t on her own after all.’
I nodded. We’d all felt a bit sad for Elvi after hearing that when she’d died there had been no one to sort through her belongings. ‘No, I reckon she had plenty of company. There are ten dragons in these pictures at least.’
Ted held up another photo, ready to read out snippets of what Elvi had written on the back. She’d studied the dragons
in meticulous detail, recording how big they were, what they ate, how they interacted with each other, where they chose to hide out, how fast they were, how long they stayed. It went on and on. The old woman was getting a big thumbs up from Ted, with his love of facts.
Next to him, Kai held the map up, turning it over in his hands. ‘And this city just appeared when Flicker blew on it?’ he asked, still not able to believe it.
‘Well, not on it. If he’d done that it’d be a pile of ash. I was holding it up just in front of the flame.’
‘And you saw it?’ Kai went on. ‘You saw the city?’
I nodded, unable to keep the grin off my face. ‘It was right there. La Ciudad Oculta de los Dragones – the Hidden Dragon City.’
I’d looked it up. There was nothing more about the place itself, but it’d been easy enough to get a translation by typing the words into my computer.
‘So you think she went looking for this Hidden City?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘That’s why I want to take a closer look at these.’
I pointed to the photos, the bundles of papers and the notebook that Kat was now leafing through. ‘I’m hoping all this might tell us something.’
‘This looks like a diary,’ Kat said, squinting at the tiny scrawl, ‘but her writing’s even smaller than mine. That’s one way to keep it private, I guess.’
‘Let me have a look,’ Kai said. ‘Her handwriting can’t be worse than yours and I’m used to deciphering that.’
Kat looked about to object but then shrugged and handed it over.
I reached down and picked up one of the bundles of photos. These all seemed to be of the same trip – to a dense rainforest.
I held a wad of them and flicked through. It reminded me of one of those cartoons you can make, where the pictures blur into a moving image. Seeing them rush past almost felt like I was watching a movie of Elvi’s journey.
The Boy Who Flew with Dragons Page 4