by C. Greenwood
“Try it,” he said now, offering the conch to me. I took the large spiraled shell and held it to my ear. All I heard was the familiar rushing sound of the ocean, a roar like the wind and waves in a high storm.
“What do you hear?” the mapmaker asked.
“Only the air whistling through the shell,” I said. “It sounds like water.”
“That’s what most people hear from a shell,” he said. “But close your eyes and listen harder.”
I did as he bid, focusing on the roar of the imaginary ocean that seemed to be captured inside the shell. If I strained my ears, it was as if I could hear the screeches of sea birds over the sound of the waves. There was also the distant peeling of a bell. The sounds summoned before my eyes the sight of turquoise waters beneath a blue sky, the surface of the ocean glittering brilliantly beneath a golden sun. It was a familiar sight, as was the mental image of white gulls wheeling in the sky and lounging down after fish. The only thing that didn’t seem to belong there was a floating wooden construction with a bell affixed to it. This was where the repeated dinging sounds came from.
“There’s a bell on a wooden platform floating atop the water,” I told the mapmaker. “I’ve never seen one of those before.”
“It’s a warning buoy,” he told me. “There must be a landing place for ships nearby. The bell is to warn off the larger boats so they don’t crash into the docks on a foggy day or a dark night. And the fact that you’ve never seen one of those buoys before shows that it’s not a memory you’re having but an actual glimpse of another place. The shell is showing you what your eyes have never seen.”
“What does that mean?” I asked, confused.
“It means that you, my young friend, have the gift. The shells speak to you as they speak to me. It means you could be a mapmaker one day, as I am.”
I was skeptical. “But I don’t know anything about maps. I could never do what you do.”
“Not yet,” he agreed. “But you could learn. You’re off to a good start already. You know the best materials with the strongest magical properties. Unlike me, you even have the strong young body and the diving skills to acquire the materials for yourself. Everything else, experience with the sketching, knowledge of how to dry, powder and blend the materials, these things will come to you in time if you want it badly enough.”
My heart beat faster at what he was saying, but I tried not to get too excited. Although respected by our people, the mapmaker was known as an eccentric man full of fanciful tales and mystery. Then again, why should he say I had the gift if I didn’t?
I looked at the green stoppered bottles spread out on the table, at the rolled-up parchments that I knew contained multicolored, rare fish scales, and at the tiny vials filled with the purplish ink of octopuses. Eagerness filled me as I imagined these things becoming the tools of my trade, as I envisioned myself creating beautiful living maps, like those the mapmaker put together—maps with scenes that moved and seemed almost to breathe.
“Will you teach me?” I asked seriously.
I had never thought of becoming a mapmaker before, but suddenly it felt like the most important thing in the world that I be one now. I didn’t want to be only a diver all my life. I didn’t even want to grow up to be a fisherman like most of the men in the cove. I wanted to be something special, mysterious, and unique for my rare skill.
“Of course you must be taught, my boy,” the mapmaker agreed. “You must watch me, continue to bring me the things I need, and I will reveal to you their magical properties.”
“I have no magic of my own,” I pointed out wistfully.
He waved away the concern. “Never mind that,” he said. “The magical ingredients like this conch shell recognize you, and they will do the real work for you. All you have to do is be guided by them.”
“Will we begin right away?” I asked, impatient to begin my informal apprenticeship.
“Not yet,” he said, glancing away from me. “There is something I must do first.” He was looking down at the unfinished map laid out before him, the new project he had barely begun.
“This is a very special map,” he explained. “It will take all my focus for the next little while.”
“What will you do if the young man and the blue-haired girl are killed by the pirates so they can never return to claim the finished map?” I asked.
The white-haired man adjusted the spectacles so that they sat higher on his nose, as he took up his quill pen once more. “Something tells me they will be back,” he said vaguely. “Even if they do not return, what I have begun I have no choice but to finish. The inspiration is in my head now. The place, that mountain of magic rocks, calls to me, demanding to be mapped. When you have been a mapmaker as long as I have, you will learn that some maps must be created for their own sake.”
I could see he would be distracted if I lingered to watch over his shoulder. When he was working on his maps, he went off to another place in his head and seemed to become unaware of the passage of time. I had seen him in that trancelike state many times before and knew he didn’t like to be pulled out of it.
So I left him to his work, after putting the things I had brought him from the sea onto the edge of his desk. He would pay me for them later I knew.
Meanwhile, my father would want me back at the cove soon. By the time I returned, half the day would already be behind me. Late afternoon and evening were good times for fishing, and my help would be needed then.
I descended the rickety steps leading away from the mapmaker’s little shack atop the bank. Down on the water, I poled my raft through the murky swamp until I reached the shore. From there, I repeated my trek through the trees and marshland, heading toward the beach and the skull-shaped cove.
I followed a different route than the one I had taken on the way here. Still, it was a path I had taken many times before.
That was why I noticed when something was wrong. As I walked beneath the curtains of moss drooping down from the boughs of the twisted trees lining my way, I realized the birds in the trees here had fallen silent. The small animals that would usually be scurrying up tree trunks and swinging through the overhead branches were nowhere to be seen. There was an eerie stillness, as if some predator lurked in the area, frightening away all the wildlife.
I stopped short and listened. All I heard was the sighing of the breeze, the creak and rustle of limbs swaying in the wind. But something made the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. I scanned the surrounding scenery, alert for signs of danger. I carried a sharp knife in my belt, which I mostly used for cutting seaweed or gutting fish. But it would also be useful if I encountered any of the sharp-toothed meat eaters that lurked in the marshlands. I fingered the knife now even though nothing moved amid the greenery.
Then I saw a massive smudge in the soft earth in front of me. It was like the footprint of a great animal, only much larger than any animal I had ever seen. At the tip of the imprint were deep gouges, marking where the creature’s sharp claws had pressed into the mud. Whatever kind of beast had made this mark, it was heavy enough to press its feet down deep.
Even as I backed slowly away from the mark in the ground, I noticed another like it not far away. And then another. There was a whole trail of them, disappearing into the bushes.
I should have turned around and hurried back the way I came. But even as afraid as I was, curiosity also stirred within me. What kind of creature could make such massive footprints? I decided to find out.
Cautiously I followed the prints leading away through the shrubs while keeping a careful eye on my surroundings. All I wanted was a look, I promised myself. Then I would hurry away toward the safety of home.
I pushed through the stand of bushes and stopped short at the edge of the clearing beyond. The sight that met my eyes pushed all fear from my mind. I could only stand staring in amazement.
A little stream of dirty water ran along the edge of the clearing, and next to it stood a monster of legend, a massive beast the l
ikes of which I knew only from stories. It was a large scaly creature, with broad wings and sharp horns spiraling from the top of its head. On its feet, wicked claws gleamed like curved daggers. Its teeth looked more powerful even than those of the massive water lizards that swam in the swamps. Although a monster like this had never before been seen on these shores, I knew at once the name of what I was looking at. Dragon. It was a name as old as songs, as old as tales. But never in my life had I imagined such beings could still exist in the world.
The color of this dragon was greenish at the moment, as it seemed to reflect the surrounding trees. But I could imagine those shiny scales changing colors in different lighting. Maybe the beast was even like some kinds of jungle snakes, able to change its color to blend into its surroundings.
As impressive as the rest of the monster was, I was most captivated by its fiery eyes. They glinted with a combination of wildness and awareness that would never be found in any other animal.
The dragon had been drinking from the stream. But as soon as I entered the clearing, its long neck swung around, those glittering eyes fixing at once on me.
As if in a trance, I stood frozen, so overpowered by awe that even the sense that I was in imminent danger couldn’t free me to move.
The dragon’s jaws, still dripping with water from the stream, opened wider, making the rows of jagged teeth more visible than ever. Slowly, as if stalking prey, it moved toward me.
But the beast had not gone three steps when it stopped suddenly and let out a pained scream. The shrill sound shook the earth and sent a stab of terror jolting through me.
But it wasn’t me the dragon was screaming at. It was in some kind of trouble. Forgetting me, the animal swung around toward the stream again. There, just dragging itself up out of the water, was the largest swamp lizard I had ever seen. Fully as big as a man, the lizard had emerged from the murky water to sink the row of deadly teeth lining its long snout into the tail of the dragon.
Blood flowed from the wound. Obviously unaccustomed to finding himself prey, the dragon attempted to pull away, his strength and weight drawing the swamp lizard farther out of the water. But the lizard was heavy, its jaws powerful enough that its kind had often been known to bite through the leg of a grown man. It used that power now to chomp down on the fleshy tail of the dragon.
The dragon gave another cry of pain, a strange sound that was half angry roar, half confused scream.
I don’t know why it affected me the way it did. A moment ago, I had been in danger of being devoured by the dragon. Now suddenly I felt a fierce urge to protect it. Using my belt knife would force me to get closer than I wanted. So instead, I took up a sharp stick lying on the muddy ground and ran at the swamp lizard. With a loud shout, I stabbed at the lizard’s underbelly, which wasn’t as heavily armored as its scaly back.
The lizard released the dragon’s tail and whipped around to snap at me, its long jaws and white teeth flashing terrifyingly close. The beast caught hold of my stick and bit it in two. With only the jagged stub of the stick left in my hand, I realized my danger and began backing away.
But the lizard was angry now and it charged at me. Most swamp lizards could move with surprising swiftness when they wanted to, and this one was no different. As I scurried backward across the clearing, unable to take my eyes from the green lizard, it rushed after me.
Just as those sharp teeth were almost near enough to reach me, the dragon intervened. I watched, stunned, as the mighty winged creature leaped toward the lizard and snatched it up in its massive jaws. The swamp lizard was too big to bite in half, but the dragon shook his head from side to side, then released the beast, letting it fly through the air. It landed far away and didn’t move anymore.
I stared at the dragon, fear mingled with gratitude. Had the magnificent animal only been acting out of revenge for the lizard’s attack? Or had he really been moving to save me, maybe because I had defended him first?
Confusion made me keep my distance. I watched as the dragon turned and made his way lazily over to its fallen prey. It began tearing the lizard to pieces and devouring the scraps. The sight made my stomach turn. Now would be a good time to run away while the great beast was distracted by his meal.
But something made me linger. Surely the dragon wouldn’t eat me so soon after rescuing me from the lizard. I crept closer, approaching the dragon from behind. It watched me from out of the corner of its eye as I stretched out a hand to touch its spiked tail. The beast didn’t react to my touch but only continued eating. Its hide felt surprisingly sleek, its scales as smooth as those of a fish. They glittered in the dappled light filtering through the treetops.
“You’re beautiful, aren’t you?” I said softly to the beast. “A magnificent sight, as well as a mighty hunter.”
Maybe I imagined it, but it seemed to me the creature appreciated my flattery. Or at least he didn’t seem in any hurry to turn on me as he had the lizard.
All the same, I had a feeling he wouldn’t remain so calm if I came any closer. For now, I contented myself with standing just near enough to touch his tail while he continued his feast.
I shoved aside all thoughts of returning to the cove to go out fishing with my father. Right now I had another goal: befriend the dragon.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I woke to find myself back in my own body again. The boy was gone, as was the dragon and the marshland that had surrounded them.
I blinked up at the rocky roof overhead. Usually when I awoke from my brief glimpses into other people’s lives, I felt unsettled. But this time I was calm. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen between the dragon and the boy. For his sake, I hoped the boy would tread carefully. Skybreaker could be vicious toward strangers, and it wouldn’t take much provocation for him to tear the child to pieces.
But at least I now knew where the dragon was and what he was up to. After our forced departure on board the pirate’s ship, I had feared what would become of Skybreaker.
I was also comforted to know the mapmaker was hard at work on the map I had commissioned. Although I had no idea how I would ever get back to him, it was a relief to know the work was underway. Now all I had to do was figure out how to return to those shores. And before I could do that, I needed to know more about the place where Basil and I had landed.
I sat upright, careful to avoid hitting my head on the overhanging stone. Curled up against my back, Basil snored on. His hat covered his face, probably to keep off the drips of rain that had found their way into our shelter during the storm.
But the rain had passed now. As I peered out at the stretch of beach in front of us, I found that the wind had died down and the clouds were dissipating. Pools of fresh water still stood in hollows in the sand and in the crevices of the surrounding rocks. But the air seemed warmer, now that there was no longer a sharp gale cutting through my clothing. My hair and clothes were still slightly soggy. But considering how lucky I was to have survived the previous night, I was in no condition to complain.
Crawling out of the little cave, I looked up and down the beach. Blue waves crashed onto the pale sand. I felt a rush of relief at finding there was nothing on the horizon but endless sea. I had half feared I would glimpse the threatening shape of the Sea-Vulture sailing toward us. But there was no boat, none but the flimsy dinghy that had carried us here. It lay a little way down the shore where we had left it pulled high enough to be out of the reach of the foamy waves.
I looked inland. Here there were tall trees and boulders and, in the distance, craggy bluffs poking up above the treetops. I was fairly sure this was an island, encircled on all sides by the sea. But I couldn’t be positive until I had walked its perimeter. Strange that I should find myself stranded yet again on a lonely isle, much like the one I had landed on after the sinking of Corthium. Only this time there was no Skybreaker to carry me away to civilization.
Then again, for all I knew this place might be inhabited. I wouldn’t know until I searched. And before I could do
that, there was one thing I needed to take care of. I went to the pile of boulders where Basil and I had taken shelter. I searched around until I found what I was looking for: a big rock a little larger than my fist. Then I placed my magic hand atop a big flat stone and smashed the rock down on the metal bracelet at my wrist. Sparks flew.
Over and over I bashed the stone like a hammer into the bracelet. It was no good. This nathamite metal was impressively sturdy. It wouldn’t be removed by any means, I suspected, but the key I had no access to. The key that remained with Captain Ulysses aboard the Sea-Vulture.
Frustrated, I tossed the rock aside. It seemed I was stuck with the shackle for the foreseeable future. And while I wore it, my magic was all but useless. My hand continued to glow like a reddish-purple torch. And my ability to enter the consciousness of others through dreams seemed unaffected. But I couldn’t create the force shield that had protected me before.
I hadn’t had the power long and had hardly known how to use it. Yet I felt strangely helpless now it was gone.
It didn’t help that my spear had been left behind when the pirates took us prisoner. All I had left was the clothing I wore, the little pouch at my belt, containing the ancient minute glass and other small items, and the food supplies I had found beneath the seat of the dinghy. It made for a pitiful collection of belongings.
More than anything else, I felt the lack of a weapon. If an enemy were to attack me in this moment, I would be defenseless. It was an unnerving thought. I wouldn’t feel safe again until I fashioned myself a new weapon.
“What’s making all that noise?”
Basil’s irritable voice broke into my thoughts. I must have woken him when I was trying to break the shackle off my wrist. He was crawling out of the stone shelter now, dusting the sand off his clothes.
“What were you smashing around out here?” he demanded, squinting as if he found the daylight too bright, even though it was an overcast morning.
“I was trying to get this bracelet off,” I said, thrusting out my arm to show the shackle was still clasped around my wrist.