Billy heard something like a contained tornado. He looked back at the dragon. It was inhaling. And Billy knew that this was not a good sign of things to come. This dragon didn’t shoot flame out of its maw, but lightning. Last time he had almost been fried by the thing, and it was only the quick action of Mrs. Russet that had kept him from becoming a meal for the great beast.
Billy looked around for somewhere to go; for somewhere to hide. He was in a cave, but it was a vast, empty space. There were no rocks to hide behind, no crevices in which to hide.
A silence as loud as any sound that Billy had ever heard suddenly cloaked the cave. Billy knew what that meant. The dragon had finished inhaling, and was about to strike.
Billy stared at the thing, hoping that something, anything would happen. But he couldn’t tell what that thing might be. The dragon puckered its lips, and then… and then….
Nothing.
The dragon swallowed suddenly, as though gulping back the electric attack that it had been about to discharge. And then it opened its mouth and spoke.
“You’re here for the secret, eh?” said the monster. Its voice was thick and gravelly. It sounded like the thing probably ate rocks for breakfast.
“Yes,” Billy squeaked, sounding to himself like a mouse caught in a trap.
“I thought it might be you when I saw you before. A dragon never forgets,” it said. “What’s your name?”
“Billy.”
The dragon looked like it was considering this, then nodded. “That’s an acceptable name,” it said. Billy wondered for a moment what an unacceptable name might have been, but decided against asking. He wasn’t getting eaten or blasted with lightning at the moment, and he thought it best not to rock that particular boat. “I’m Serba, for now at least, though I used to have another name,” the thing continued. It licked its lips – or the scales around its mouth – with a thick, black tongue that was forked at the end. It stared at Billy as though waiting for him to say something. “Well?” it said.
“Well what?” Billy finally managed.
“What’s next?”
“I… I don’t know what you mean.”
The dragon looked a bit amused by that. “You don’t remember?”
“No,” said Billy.
“Interesting. You haven’t come into your own, I see.”
“What do you mean?” said Billy. He wondered if this dragon might possess some knowledge of what Billy’s role in this world of the Powers was to be. There were prophecies about him, but he didn’t understand them. And though he had managed somehow to come through the various dangers and traps that he had encountered in his time here, it had been one close call after another, so if someone – even a dragon – could offer him some insight into just what he was supposed to be doing, he would welcome it.
The dragon’s brow knotted together again. “I’m quite sure I don’t know what I mean,” it finally said. A long string of saliva dripped from its mouth, falling to the rocky ground below with a hiss and a sizzle.
“You don’t know what you mean?”
“Who really does?” said Serba. “A dragon never forgets, it is said. But it also remembers precious little of what it knows.”
Billy shook his head, confused. Was this thing going to eat him, or just spout strange ramblings in a voice that was so deep Billy could feel it in his bones as much as hear it with his ears? He was suddenly reminded of another encounter with a fantastical creature – the mermaid, Blue. Like the dragon, she seemed to speak as much in riddles as in straightforward sentences. And like the dragon, Billy always had the feeling with her that he was walking on the edge of some unseen cliff, and to stray off course would mean certain death.
“Well,” he finally stammered. “I guess, uh, since I’m here for the secret, if you could just tell me what it is, then I’ll just, um, be on my way.”
The dragon stared at Billy, then a strange sound came from somewhere deep within the thing’s chest. It took Billy a long moment to realize what the sound was: Serba was laughing.
“You want the secret?” it finally said with a chuckle, and Billy was dismayed to see sparks shooting out of the blue dragon’s nostrils. Somehow, the laugh was not at all friendly. It was the laugh of a hunter about to kill its prey.
“Yes, please,” said Billy.
“But you bring me none of the signs, you show me none of the symbols of safe passage. So you may not be the Seeker, after all.” Serba leaned its head down, craning its serpentine neck into a tight coil until the dragon’s huge mouth was only a foot or so away from Billy’s head. Billy closed his eyes in spite of himself, though he cracked them back open only a moment later. If he was going to be eaten, he realized that he preferred to see it coming.
The dragon inhaled a puff of air. “You smell like the Seeker,” it said. And then its forked tongue flickered out, so fast that Billy almost didn’t see it. He felt it though, a flickering touch on his cheek. It came with a burning sensation that seared him, and Billy almost reached up to feel his face. Something told him not to, though, and he managed to keep his hands at his sides. Probably a good idea, he thought. He was fairly certain that “don’t make sudden moves around insane dragons” was a good adage to live by.
Serba smacked its lips together loudly. “You taste like the Seeker,” it finally said. Then it turned its head so that one large eye stared closely at Billy. “You bear the Seeker’s scabbard.” Serba drew even closer, and ran his gaze up and down Billy’s frame. “And I certainly see the resemblance.”
“To what?” Billy asked. What could he possibly resemble?
But Serba seemed lost in its own thoughts, at least for the moment. “Still, there are those who would trick me, who would come to steal my treasure. So how to tell? How to tell?” The thing looked confused for a moment, and Billy’s heart sank. He had a feeling that confused dragons were probably not the best thing to be around. Not that he could think of what kind of dragon would be the best thing to be around. Maybe a dragon made of ice cream, that shot sprinkles out of its mouth?
“I know!” said the dragon. “I’ll ask you a riddle.”
“A riddle?” asked Billy.
“Yes, a riddle. One similar to the ones that you used to ask me.”
Billy blinked. What was the dragon talking about? It was acting like it knew Billy somehow, but Billy had never seen it before, other than the one time with Mrs. Russet. And there certainly hadn’t been any kind of question-and-answer period in that particular interaction: just a lot of screaming followed by a rapid exit.
Serba lowered its head even further, bringing its bony lower jaw down to rest on the rock ground at Billy’s feet. The dragon’s head alone was as tall as Billy’s chest, and Billy was keenly aware of the huge teeth that jutted angrily out from between the reptile’s lips.
“So, here is my riddle: how would you like me to kill you?”
CHAPTER THE FIFTH
In Which Billy Tells the Future, and finds Confusion…
“What?” Billy shouted.
“I will give you the chance to choose your fate,” said Serba. “Tell a lie, and I will eat you. Speak a truth, and I shall burn you with my breath.” The dragon chuckled as though it had said something terribly funny. Then all traces of a smile left its face. “Now choose,” it said gruffly.
Billy’s mind suddenly felt as though it had been injected with hot lead. He felt slow and stupid. Serba had said that they had had a conversation like this before. But what was the thing talking about? Billy was fairly sure he would have remembered matching wits with a monster able to eat him in a single small bite.
And what was this about a riddle? The dragon wasn’t asking him a riddle, it was just telling Billy he had two alternative ways to die. But neither of them sounded very nice, and it was certain that neither of them would gain him access to the secret he had come here seeking.
“Tick tock,” intoned the dragon. It chuckled, and again small spats of lightning shot from its nose, as well as a fe
w static shocks from its mouth. Billy actually felt the small hairs on the back of his neck standing up because of the increased electricity in the air. “I’ll give you ten seconds. If you don’t answer the riddle before then, I’ll just squish you.”
The lead in Billy’s head was replaced by liquid nitrogen. He shivered. He couldn’t think. “That wasn’t even a riddle!” he said desperately.
“Five seconds,” was Serba’s only reply.
Billy tried to think, tried to think. Nothing was coming to him!
“Three,” said Serba.
Billy racked his brain. What would he say? If he lied, the dragon would eat him. That sounded awful. But telling the truth and getting fried with lightning breath sounded pretty rotten, too.
“Two,” intoned the dragon.
Billy couldn’t figure it out. This wasn’t a riddle at all, it was just a trap.
“One,” said Serba. It lifted a huge, taloned foot high over Billy’s head, and Billy knew that his fate was sealed.
The foot started to fall.
“I will be eaten!” Billy blurted, the words flying out of his mouth without conscious thought. As soon as he said them, he regretted it. Being squished by a dragon’s foot was horrific, but he was pretty sure it would beat being bitten to pieces or burnt by electricity.
He closed his eyes, waiting for the end.
And again he heard a noise. Deep, thrumming. It pounded through Billy’s body like waves through a storm-tossed ocean. The dragon was laughing once more.
“Well answered, Seeker,” it said. “Well spoken, well done.”
“What?” Billy was confused. More than confused, he was reeling.
“So you don’t know?” said the dragon. “You have forgotten everything.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Billy said, feeling a bit petulant. People kept talking over his head, and then thought it was funny when he was confused. He didn’t think it was funny, though.
“If you told a lie, I was going to eat you,” said Serba. “If you told the truth, I was going to shatter you with my breath.” The beast paused, then smiled. With what looked like four hundred teeth in its grin, a sight that did not make Billy feel any more at ease. “But what you chose to say could be neither lie nor truth.”
Billy didn’t understand. How could something be neither true nor false? Then he realized what the dragon meant. Billy had said, “I will be eaten.” If that was a true statement, then the dragon had to fry him. But then it wouldn’t be a true statement, it would be a lie. So Serba would have to eat him. But that would make the statement true again, which would keep Serba from eating him after all. So he would have to fry Billy with his breath for telling the truth. But then it wouldn’t be true, and on and on….
“It is one eternal round of paradox,” said the dragon, as though hearing Billy’s thoughts.
The dragon brought its clawed hand to its mouth, and bit down suddenly. Billy gasped as dark blood dripped from Serba’s mouth. Then the beast spat something out, something that clattered to Billy’s feet.
It was a claw. Sharp and dangerous, even when no longer attached to its owner.
“Pick it up,” said Serba.
Billy did. And as he did, a strange sensation ran through his hand. It felt tingly and warm, as though he was sitting close – but not uncomfortably close – to a lit fireplace. He looked at the dragon’s claw, and was shocked to see it appear to writhe and move in his hand. Its outline shifted like putty, seeming to droop for a moment, and then it hardened once again. This time, however, it no longer looked like a claw. In the place of the dragon’s talon, Billy now held a glistening dagger as long as his forearm. The blade was a deep red, and slightly opaque, almost see-through.
“What’s it made of?” Billy asked, speaking almost to himself
“A fire ruby,” said Serba. Then, without warning, he spat at Billy. A sharp-edged lance of electricity arced out, shearing through the air and blasting into Billy’s chest, where it… did absolutely nothing.
Billy looked at the dragon in disbelief. “As long as you hold the Dagger of Flame,” said the beast, “you cannot be harmed by Fire in any of its forms.” The dragon smiled at Billy, and then its gaze grew suddenly sad. “I do remember, sometimes,” it finally said. “I remember what I’ve lost. What I’ve given up to become everything and nothing, forever and for never.” The beast held up its injured claw to Billy, laying a long, scaly finger on his shoulder. “I remember you, my friend.” The beast sniffed. “Is the end so close?” It again wheeled its head so that one huge eye was staring at Billy. “Have you come to destroy us?”
Billy was dumbfounded. He didn’t know what to say, or how to react to that sudden barrage of strange questions. “I don’t know,” he finally answered.
Serba nodded as though Billy had just said something profoundly wise. “So it must be,” he agreed.
Then Serba waved a claw over Billy’s head. Billy flinched at the sudden movement, closing his eyes for an instant. And when he opened them, the dragon was gone. So was the cave.
Billy was back. Back in the hall of the Fire Lords. He was, in fact, standing in front of Solus in exactly the same position he had been in before being transported to Serba’s cave.
Solus spotted Billy instantly. “You returned?” said the man, his eyes deeply shocked. “But how did you –” Then the Fire Prince’s eyes caught sight of the glimmering dagger that Billy held, and Billy saw desire, jealousy, even rage flash in the man’s gaze. “The Dagger of Flame!” he shouted, and reached to grab the blade from Billy.
There was a flash of light, and Solus pulled back his hand with a shout, his fingers curled in a tight knot of pain. The Fire Prince looked over his shoulder, where Fulgora was sitting on her throne, her hand outstretched and a ring of fire playing like an angry halo around her head.
“Don’t touch him!” shouted Fulgora, rage written large on her features.
“Would you simply let him take the weapon from us?” snarled Solus, turning once more to Billy. He pushed his hands together as though compressing a balloon, then turned his palms toward Billy.
Everything seemed to ripple around Billy, a cocoon of slow-time enveloping him so that he was able to see more of what was happening than he should have been able to do in that split second. A wave of flame washed out of Solus’ hands, hissing toward Billy like an angry snake. At the same moment, Fulgora and the remaining four princes and princesses of the Underworld of Flame rose from their thrones. As one, they cast shining lashes of fire at Solus, which caught at his arms and legs.
But Billy was moving, too. He slashed with the Dagger of Flame, literally cleaving the fire spell that Solus had cast in two. The fire sputtered and died, and the Solus was then prevented from moving further by the burning ropes that held him down.
Billy continued the slicing motion with the dagger, whipping the bright razor through the air in a tight figure eight pattern that ended with the keen edge of the blade against Solus’ exposed throat. The move was precise; skilled. Billy was surprised inside himself. His mother didn’t even let him peel carrots, he was so clumsy. But here he was moving like a professional fencer.
“Tell me now, I pray thee, why I should not smite thee down,” hissed Billy.
Solus’ eyes widened, as did the eyes of the rest of the Fire Lords, and Billy himself was more than a little surprised at his choice of words. But instead of feeling like he was imitating some terrible pirate movie, the words felt somehow right in his mouth. Like he had been functioning with an unknown speech impediment all his life, and was only now speaking clearly.
Billy’s hand clenched of its own accord, pressing the Dagger of Flame against Solus’ throat so hard that a trickle of blood appeared at the edge of the blade.
“Billy,” said Mrs. Russet, alarm clear in her voice. Billy turned to look at his teacher, but did not remove the knife edge from Solus’ throat. “Don’t!” she shouted.
Billy did something he never thought he wo
uld have had the strength to do. Not if he took steroids every day and lived to be a muscle-bound man of a hundred years old.
He turned his back on Mrs. Russet.
A part of him – the part that was still aware of his proper place in the universe as a meek and lowly high school freshman – cringed at the fact that he was probably going to suffer detention for the rest of his natural life as a consequence of his open defiance of Teacherly Authority. But the rest of him was strangely detached from the likelihood of this fact.
He stared at Solus, and something in his eyes must have frightened the man, for the anger and jealousy in his gaze melted out of his eyes, replaced by a very obvious terror.
“My… lord,” whispered the Fire Prince.
“Kneel,” spat Billy. Solus fell to his knees, bound by the lashes of fire, but bound still more by Billy’s commanding gaze. Billy removed the dagger from Solus’ throat. But Solus remained kneeling, and remained visibly terrified. “If thou riseth against me again,” said Billy, his voice deeper and more powerful than he could ever remember it being, “I will not be so merciful. It would be well for thee to remember this.”
Solus shook his head, trembling a bit as he did so.
“Billy,” said Mrs. Russet gently, stepping forward slowly. Then she repeated the word, but this time, she said it questioningly, as though she was no longer sure that it was, indeed, her student she was addressing: “Billy?”
Billy blinked. He looked down at the blood red dagger in his hand. For a moment, he could not remember what the thing was, or how he had come to possess it. He swayed on his feet, and the room spun about him like he was in the middle of some giant’s top.
“Billy!” shouted Vester, who was standing only a step behind Mrs. Russet.
Billy craned his head to look at his friend. “Vester?” he said, his voice sounding tiny and unreal, as though he were hearing himself through a closed door. He stumbled, and then fell, his legs suddenly bereft of strength.
Billy: Seeker of Powers (The Billy Saga) Page 6