by Chris Ward
Lawrence—five train carriages that had reanimated into a rough lizard-shape, with huge, metal hind- and forefeet that propelled him over rough terrain his manic spinning train wheels couldn’t handle—was, for all intents and purposes, Edgar Caspian’s pet. Six months earlier, Lawrence had taken Benjamin, Miranda, and Wilhelm to the High Mountains, where they had found the Dark Man’s waiting army, and with Lawrence’s help, they had gotten back to the school in time to warn the teachers. In the process, Lawrence had nearly lost his life, and after a bruising encounter with a cruise-shark, ended up more of a lizard-train than a snake-train, but Edgar and the power of reanimation had brought him back.
A door in Lawrence’s head/locomotive opened, and Edgar Caspian leaned out.
‘Airship sprang a leak,’ he called to Ms. Ito, who glowered like a fire in the dark. ‘All aboard. We haven’t got all day, have we?’
‘If the damned thing makes me nauseous, I’ll be opening up your suitcase as a sick bag, Caspian!’ Ms. Ito snapped.
As they climbed on, Benjamin looked at Miranda, nostalgia for their last adventure flooding back, and he saw her sit down near the back of the first carriage, Cuttlefur beside her. Benjamin stared in horror at the free seat beside him, then peered up as a shadow fell across his lap.
‘Is this seat free?’ muttered Snout. Benjamin frowned as the unofficially most-boring-boy-in-the-school stood awkwardly in front of him.
‘Um, well….’
‘Of course it is,’ snapped Ms. Ito, her leg cast swinging around to connect with Snout’s behind, knocking him into the seat. ‘Belt up, boys. We’re not travelling in the luxury I was anticipating.’
‘I really like the beige colour of these seats,’ Snout droned as Lawrence growled and lumbered forward. Benjamin gave Snout a polite acknowledgement, then hurried to fasten his own seatbelt. Around him, the other pupils whooped and cheered as Lawrence dropped over the cliff-face edge, dramatically pausing vertically downward, then spun his back end around and bounded back up again.
‘Caspian, you’re rooming with the kids for this!’ Ms. Ito barked from the back, but her voice was almost drowned out by a collective cheer.
Lawrence, at times rolling like a train and at others running like a lizard, twisted and wound inland toward the Great Junk River, then turned north. Benjamin glanced back. Ms. Ito had pulled on an eye mask, clutching the back of the seat in front. Other pupils had ignored the call to wear their seat belts and now hung off the luggage rails overhead, while Dusty Eaves, one hand gripping his stomach, shouted for order.
The hills rose and fell, a carpet of green mixed with patches of scrub and woodland. The river remained to their left, occasionally visible in the distance when they crested a hilltop. The farther north they went, the more the land became undulated, as if the world was getting squeezed up by some distant obstruction.
By the time he turned back toward the coast, Lawrence had slowed down a little. Some of the pupils were sleeping, others had taken to playing trumps or I-Spy. Snout was muttering something about the possible nutritional value of breakfast when Edgar stood up at the front and turned round.
‘Well, everyone, we have arrived! I hope you had a pleasant journey, but it’s almost time to get off. Welcome to the Bay of Paper Dragons!’
Part II
The Bay of Paper Dragons
20
Breeding Pond
‘I can’t see any dragons,’ one of the second-years moaned. ‘In fact, I can’t even see the sea yet.’
‘Be quiet, fool boy,’ Ms. Ito snapped. ‘A case can be made for turning some of you into fish food. We’re overpopulated already; few of you would be missed.’
Benjamin climbed stiffly out and shook the aches from his joints. Lawrence, despite his origins as an Italian express train, had enjoyed a more theme-park-style of a journey. Though Professor Eaves had somehow managed to sleep through most of it, Ms. Ito, whose face was practically green, had suffered worst of all. Benjamin glimpsed her stumping to the nearest bushes, followed by a noise like someone emptying out a pot of soggy mashed potatoes onto a concrete floor.
Lawrence had stopped at the top of a narrow, forested valley, and Benjamin hadn’t prepared himself for how the landscape might have changed this far north of the school. Instead of the bare headlands, with their couch grass and wind-hassled patches of gorse, the land sloped down to a triangle of sea occasionally visible through the trees. Craggy outcrops of granite poked up out of the foliage, all dark greens and browns.
‘Right, everyone, this way,’ Professor Eaves said, waving his arms to herd the children toward him. A few had already wandered off, and he sent a couple of the second-year prefects to go look for them.
‘We have to walk from here,’ he said. ‘The Bay of Paper Dragons is about a mile farther on. Stay close, please. While we’ve been assured there’s nothing of danger in these woods, it’s better to be safe than sorry.’
‘We’d hate to lose one of you so soon,’ Ms. Ito grumbled, stumping out of the bushes to stand beside him. ‘Hurry up. In pairs, please. The path is pretty narrow, and in a couple of places there are small streams running alongside. Endeavour to stay out of them, please.’
Benjamin found himself walking beside Snout again. Miranda strode up ahead, practically glued to Cuttlefur, his blue head bobbing along like part of the sky had fallen to play among them.
‘Do you think they prune it with clippers or just hack it back?’ Snout said, pointing at the path’s cut-away foliage.
Benjamin suppressed a sigh. ‘I have no idea,’ he said.
Twenty minutes later, they came around a corner to find themselves face to face with a building that sat in amongst the trees back from the beach and announced itself, on a signboard, as the Paper Dragon Bay Guesthouse. Benjamin blinked. Over the last few days, he had built the building up in his mind to be one of a number of things. In the absence of any photographs, he had been left to conjure up an image for himself, piece by piece, like a made-up jigsaw puzzle. One view had the Paper Dragon Bay Guesthouse as a dull, stone building like part of the school, a relic from a more populous period of Endinfinium’s history, while another image was of a wooden shack similar to their dormitory, a tumbledown near-ruin ready to slide into the water and be devoured.
What he hadn’t expected, though, was something out of a dated carnival—a lavishly designed explosion of faded colours: flames of red and yellow and purple racing up the side of a building so ornate with alcoves and balconies, it was impossible to be sure where the walls began and the balconies ended. It rose out of the ground like an oriental flower that had sprouted in a sudden rush, bursting up through a pallet of paints, stretching in a series of colourful viewing platforms, overhanging balconies, and protruding galleries for the sky.
‘That looks architecturally unsafe,’ Snout muttered beside him.
Benjamin gave the other boy a grim smile and quickened his pace, headed toward Ms. Ito and Professor Eaves, who led the line meandering along a cobbled path of colourful ovals of stone that arced back and forth around collapsing walled flowerbeds with faded wooden labels indicating what the original seedlings in each might once have been.
‘Looks like old Barnacle has let the place go,’ Professor Eaves muttered. ‘I remember when we came here all those years ago. You could see the water through the trees.’
‘I told Loane to send someone up to check,’ Ms. Ito replied. ‘Fool sent a couple of cleaners and one of his idiot secretaries. We vote him down next time, Eaves.’
‘You’d rather look after them?’ Professor Eaves said.
One side of Ms. Ito’s face lifted unnaturally far as she glanced at him, which Benjamin guessed was a rare expression of amusement. ‘All right, vote him in again,’ she said.
‘It looks even less safe than I remember,’ Eaves said a few steps farther on. ‘I mean, the wing that collapsed has been rebuilt, but the rest of it looks about to go.’
‘We can hardly make them camp in the bus,’ Ms.
Ito said, presumably referring to Lawrence. ‘Not much of a school trip, is it? A bit of danger never hurt anyone, Eaves. And if it does’—she gave him that half-face smile again—‘they’ll just come back. Not like we can escape them, is it? Damned brats come back one way or another, don’t they?’
‘I’m not worried about it killing them,’ Professor Eaves said. ‘I’m worried about it falling down and trapping us in there with them. Gubbledon said some of their rooms stink in the morning when he goes to wake them up for breakfast. No windows open … all that cabbage for dinner … you want to get stuck in a dump like this with that for several days?’
‘Perhaps we should camp in the bus.’ The absence of Ms. Ito’s creepy smile meant she was serious.
‘And leave Caspian in charge of the kids? I don’t think so.’
Ms. Ito sighed. ‘Another of Loane’s stupid ideas. Perhaps we should vote him down after all?’
‘I will if you will.’
As they continued to gossip and grouse about the other teachers, Benjamin slipped back a few places. The Paper Dragon Bay Guesthouse, which had seemed quite close at first, appeared to recede up the valley as they followed the winding path. It had to be far bigger than it looked from a distance, and some of the other kids were now huffing and complaining as they dragged their suitcases over the lumpy stones. The main topic of conversation was the lack of any visible dragons, with the lack of any visible bay hot on its tail. Only as the trail steepened did Benjamin notice the stuffy heat. Just this morning, they had been standing on a blustery clifftop with jackets to ward off the chill. Now, pupils were slowly stripping off their coats and sweaters as the temperature rose with each step.
And then they stepped out from the foliage to find themselves on a stone causeway leading straight out across an open area of deep green water to a rock buttress. There, it dipped under shadow before jagging back into the trees for a final climb up to the guesthouse.
‘Wow!’
‘Look at that!’
‘Oh, my!’
‘Dragons!’
Benjamin looked to where several pupils pointed. The stone causeway encircled a wide pond fed by a stream that trickled over rocks and out from the forest. In the very centre of the swimming-pool-sized pond swam a group of strange creatures, ducking and diving in and out of the water.
They were elongated like serpents, yet segmented, and bright red with wide, square faces and snapping jaws beneath yellow-and-black eyes. Strange, shimmering wings protruded from their sides, shining gold-and-silver.
Most Benjamin could see were about twice the length of a man, but each was surrounded by a couple of dozen miniature ones that followed the larger ones everywhere like ducklings.
‘The breeding pond,’ Ms. Ito said, turning around to address the pupils. Then she grunted and stumped on, as if that had been enough explanation, Professor Eaves following at her side.
Benjamin and several others stopped to look at the creatures, which swam with languid grace, though their bodies had an unusual flexibility as though constantly stretching and retracting.
Then, to a series of gasps from the pupils, one emerged and came to rest on top of a wide, floating lily leaf. The leaf was the size of a coffee table, and the dragon first curled around the outside to steady it, then made a space in its body for its young to jump up and nestle in the middle.
‘It’s really made out of paper!’ someone shouted.
Benjamin gasped. It really was. As the sun caught its body, the dragon’s colours began to lighten, as if it were drying out. Nestled in its protective coil, several of its young had already turned a colour that made their ephemeral little bodies nearly invisible against the forest’s backdrop.
The paper dragon opened its mouth, then clacked its wooden teeth together. Its head bobbed and weaved, as though nodding a greeting to the watching pupils. Only when Ms. Ito barked for everyone to hurry up was its hold over them broken.
As they crossed over the causeway and back into the forest, Benjamin glanced back to catch one last glimpse of the paper dragon, its colours now so faded, it was like an old T-shirt that had been left out in the sun.
‘Carnival dragons from China,’ someone said a couple of places in front of him. ‘My dad brought one back from a business trip once. They were like hand puppets. You put your hand inside and you snap its mouth together. Bit smaller than that one, though.’
‘I thought we were going to see real dragons!’ shouted one of the second-years, a fat kid called Adam, who was always complaining about the size of the lunch portions even though the cleaners would, with as much enthusiasm as a mindless, reanimated corpse could muster, gladly refill your bowl upon request. ‘That’s not a dragon. It’s a stupid kids toy.’
Without Adam noticing, Ms. Ito had stumped back down the line to stand behind him. As he started to clap at the creature curled up on the lily, she swung her leg cast and knocked him face-first into the water.
Adam went under, screaming and flailing in water far deeper than Benjamin realised, and the paper dragon uncurled and dived in, its brood following.
Like a homing missile, it powered through the water toward its prey, its upper lip above the surface, water splashing off its wooden teeth as its long, colourful tail swished back and forth.
‘Someone grab him!’ one of the second-years cried at the exact moment Ms. Ito shouted, ‘Let him learn the error of his fool ways.’
The paper dragon closed in fast, and Adam couldn’t get a grip on the causeway’s edge because the stones were as smooth as glass. Benjamin felt strangely excited about the impending bloodbath, when the pupils suddenly separated as Cuttlefur came pushing through.
‘Here, take my hand!’ he shouted, lying flat-down on the causeway and stretching out both arms toward the floundering second-year.
The dragon was just feet away when Adam surfaced like a dying whale and spewed a geyser of slimy green water over the nearest huddle of excited pupils. They squealed in disgust and stumbled back as Adam found Cuttlefur’s hands, and the blue-haired boy jerked him up out of the water with surprising strength just as the paper dragon’s wooden jaws snapped down where Adam’s head had been. As the fat boy lay wet and gasping on the glistening stones, the dragon did one aggressive circle, teeth clacking, then retreated back to the lily pad with its brood in pursuit.
‘Th … th … thank you!’ Adam gasped, picking bits of green slime off of his soaked school uniform. ‘I thought I was lunch!’
Cuttlefur looked up at Ms. Ito, and the rest of the pupils fell silent as his eyes narrowed. No one ever glared at Ms. Ito. Benjamin had heard legends of ten thousand cleans just for back-talking her in class.
‘You tried to murder Adam,’ Cuttlefur said. ‘That’s not a very good way to behave, is it?’
Ms. Ito met his gaze, nostrils flaring. ‘Watch your tongue. I’ve taken them out for less.’
‘You can’t murder the pupils.’
‘One day, if you live long enough, you’ll learn that not all lessons are taught in a classroom, boy.’
And before Cuttlefur could reply, she turned and stumped off toward Professor Eaves, muttering, ‘It’s got wooden teeth, for the sake of the two suns. Are all of our pupils utter cowards?’
Adam tried to pull Cuttlefur into a hug, but Cuttlefur stepped back out of range, holding up his hands in protest that ‘thanks’ was enough. Behind him, Miranda touched him tenderly on the shoulder, while other pupils gazed at him as though a god now walked among them. Benjamin, who had drifted back to where Snout and his bumbling inanities were waiting, wondered what Wilhelm might have thought about all of this.
Before he could start to pine for his absent friend, though, a booming voice echoed down the path.
‘Welcome! Welcome, one and all! Welcome to the Paper Dragon Bay Guesthouse!’
21
Barnacle
The man was so big, he made Fat Adam look svelte. Encased in a white flannel one-piece partially hidden by a dirty, brown apron that
hung right to his knees, he wobbled from side to side as he walked, nearly dropping over one or other of the causeway’s edges with each step. Only a casual familiarity with his surroundings protected him from a coating of the same green slime that had soaked Fat Adam.
Up ahead, the teachers—Ms. Ito looking slightly sheepish after her attempted murder—had paused by a section of neatly mown grass adorned with several wooden picnic tables.
‘Glad you made it at last,’ the fat man said. He attempted to engage Ms. Ito in an embrace, but when she twisted away from his grip, he instead zeroed in on Professor Eaves. Caught between the fat man and the resolutely immovable Ms. Ito, Professor Eaves had no choice but to grimace as the newcomer appeared to fairly absorb him into his body, encircling him with arms as thick and as soft as a beanbag.
‘Barnacle,’ Eaves said, managing to survive with only a partial hug. ‘You’ve … grown since we last met.’
‘Yes, yes, outwards and upwards,’ Barnacle said, and as he stood still, Benjamin figured out what gave Barnacle his name. Out of the sides of his face grew warts which, on closer inspection, turned out to be small barnacle shells. He scratched at them with one fat hand, making most of the girls cringe.
‘He should put some cream on those,’ Snout said.
‘A late lunch has been prepared,’ Barnacle said. ‘You can leave your luggage in the entrance lobby. I’ll have the cleaners take it up to your rooms.’
Then he began the ponderous effort of turning around. While Ms. Ito and Professor Eaves waited patiently, the pupils queued up behind them. Fat Adam was still complaining about his head-to-foot coating of slime, while Miranda shot daggers at a couple of second-year girls giving excessive attention to Cuttlefur’s blue hair.
With Barnacle in the lead, everyone continued up the slope to the guesthouse, which was set back into the hillside and surrounded above and below by a thick tropical forest, with a cleared area at the front where vehicles could park. The car park was currently empty, but a road angled behind the huge, gaudy guesthouse and out of sight into the forest.