Dragon Amber

by C. J. Busby

  The dragon gave a great roar and gouts of flame licked around the walls. A deep rumbling sound began to build and answering cries echoed faintly around the chamber.

  “The other dragons!” said the Druid urgently. “They know the amber’s been stolen!”

  He gave a quick glance over his shoulder at the two crow men, still fighting off Jem’s dragon, then sprinted forward, grabbing Dora’s hand.

  “Quickly!” he said. “Smith and Jones are keeping this one busy, for now, but the others won’t take long to get here. We’ve got to get away!”

  Jem and Inanna ran for the entrance they’d come in at, and the Druid and Dora followed. As they passed through the doorway there was a great roar from the dragon behind them, and spouts of flame scorched across the chamber, but Dora could see that Smith and Jones had pinned the dragon down with a binding spell, and they were now two dark shadows streaking impossibly fast towards the Druid and his companions.

  “Closing spell, Dora!” yelled the Druid, as he held his arms out towards Smith and Jones and conjured a storm of magic to slow them down. Dora, breathing hard, mentally reversed the spell that had been carved on the wall and focused all her energy. She rapidly declaimed the words and hoped she hadn’t made a mistake. Smith and Jones were wading forward against the hail of spells from the Druid. They were almost at the entrance when Dora’s magic took hold, and the great stone doors slammed shut.

  Dora breathed a huge sigh of relief – but then she heard Inanna cry out in shock, and she turned to see the Druid stagger. One of the crow men had managed to get a spell through the door just as it closed, and the Druid’s left arm was now hanging uselessly at his side, while a great stain of blood was spreading rapidly across his chest.

  “It’s all right,” he said, clutching on to Jem and grimacing. “I can walk. It looks worse than it is. If I can just lean on you, Jem …”

  Together they stumbled down the long corridor. From behind them there was the sound of rock splitting and the ground was trembling as if there was an earthquake.

  “They’ll be through that door in a few minutes,” said the Druid in a faint voice, his breathing ragged. “We need to hurry!”

  “But where are we going?” said Inanna, panicking as they reached the end of the corridor. “I can hear more dragons – and they sound like they’re everywhere!”

  They stood, hesitating. Inanna was right – they could hear roars from every direction, and crashing sounds, as several huge, maddened dragons pounded through the labyrinth. Worse, from behind them was the sound of a different kind of cry – harsher, more rasping – and the beat of a multitude of wings.

  “Smith and Jones!” cried Dora, her hand to her mouth. “They’ve got the door open. They’ve sent the crows after us!”

  “Crows?” said Inanna, trembling.

  “They’re crow men,” said Dora. “They can conjure hundreds of crows to attack us! Jem – we’ve got to get away!”

  There was panic in her voice as she remembered the last time they’d fought Smith and Jones – the swarm of birds, the jabbing beaks and raking claws.

  “This way!” said Jem. “Quick!”

  He ushered them down the left-hand passage, dragging the Druid with him, and then cursed.

  A large red dragon was crouching in the middle of the passageway, its fierce amber eyes fixed on them, its long tail curling up behind its great glittering body and lashing slowly from side to side.

  “Damn,” said the Druid, in a hoarse voice. He tried to throw a spell at it, but his face was very pale, and the dragon barely seemed to notice as the spell hit. It snorted, and slowly started to move towards them. At the same time, a tall, dark figure emerged from the passage they’d just left, a figure surrounded by a whirling mass of dark birds crying out in harsh voices.

  I’ll have to fight them, thought Dora. The blood seemed to have left every part of her body, and she could barely feel her fingers, but she knew she was the only one who could even try. The Druid was too weak and Inanna too inexperienced. She made a huge effort to stand up straight.

  “Get behind me!” she said to the others urgently, then turned to face Mr Smith – or was it Mr Jones? – and started to gather her magic. But there was a commotion behind her, and muffled shouts, and then she felt her plaits being tugged. She was dragged, half falling, through a door that had just opened in the passage wall. As she stumbled onto her knees, she heard the heavy door slam behind her, and she looked up to see a bulky man with a richly embroidered waistcoat fastening a great iron bar across the door. They were in a small chamber, like a guard room, furnished with weapons and armour.

  “Rahul!” gasped the Druid. “How did you …?”

  The man turned and grinned. “You think we couldn’t escape from those pathetic ropes, my friend? We are Thieves of Ur!”

  A second man, thinner, with a droopy moustache, showed them a small sliver of knife blade that he had concealed in his sleeve. “We would never dream of going anywhere unprepared,” he said, and gave a little bow. “We have been trying to find you.”

  “And now you have,” said the Druid, holding his side and looking even paler. “In the nick of time. But I’m afraid we need to leave – urgently. Those dragons are after us, and so are a couple of rather nasty agents of the dark. Dora – is there any chance you could conjure a portal?”

  As he said this, his legs appeared to crumple under him and he toppled sideways. At the same time there was a thundering crash at the door and the metal bar started to bend. Rahul and his friend snatched up two swords from the armoury and started towards the doorway.

  “Go! Go!” shouted Rahul. “Ishmel and I can deal with these fellows!”

  “Assuredly,” said Ishmel, whirling his sword with an evil grin. “And when you’re gone, we’ll run. No one will care about two lowly thieves. And then we’ll head back to headquarters – to deal with that traitor Nasir!”

  Jem, who had managed to catch the Druid awkwardly as he fell, looked up at Dora, his face white.

  “We’ve got to leave now! Can you do it? Can you get us back to the kingdom?”

  Dora could hear more rumbling around them and taste dust in the air. Jem was right. They needed to get out. But where exactly? All they had with them were objects from Roland Castle – and that was the last place they wanted to arrive.

  “I haven’t got anything I can use,” she cried. “I knew there was something important I forgot! I meant to bring something from my village – so we could go back there! In the rush I forgot. Oh, Jem! What an idiot I am!”

  She slumped down next to the Druid. She felt like banging her head against the stone floor. How could she have forgotten to bring something they could use to return safely?

  “Can we use something to go to Inanna’s rooms?” said Jem. “At least we’ll get away from the labyrinth!”

  Dora shook her head. “You can only open a portal to another world,” she said. “Not a different bit of the same world. It’s too similar.”

  The Druid, who seemed to be on the edge of consciousness, plucked at her sleeve.

  “Roland Castle?” he breathed.

  “No good,” said Jem. “That’s what we came to tell you. Ravenglass has taken the castle.”

  The Druid closed his eyes for a moment, and then opened them. With a wince, he reached into his coat with his good arm and pulled out a small piece of yellow and orange card, slightly stained with blood.

  “Use this,” he whispered to Dora.

  Dubiously, she held up the card. On it were printed the words: Cheap Day Return, London to Basingstoke. She could feel that the card came from Simon and Cat’s world – but she wasn’t at all sure that arriving in the middle of that non-magical world with the injured Druid and a princess of Ur-Akkad was the best of plans.

  As she hesitated, there was a thud and a splitting sound, and a long crack appeared in the wooden door. They had seconds left before either Smith and Jones or the dragon came crashing into the chamber.

&nbs
p; “Dora! Now!” said Jem. “Conjure the portal now!”

  Dora held the card shakily in front of her and said the words of the portal spell. A swirling white mist materialised in front of them. Jem, Inanna and Dora, half dragging, half carrying the Druid, stumbled through the portal into the grey twilight of a London railway station platform.

  PART SIX

  Chapter Seventeen

  Sir Bedwyr was feeling light-headed and blood kept dripping into his eyes from the gash on his forehead, but he needed to keep going. Dora had told him to find Albert Jemmet and he was determined not to let her down. It had been a close thing, escaping Lord Ravenglass’s men, but he knew the castle better than they did, and after he’d disarmed three or four and knocked a couple more out cold, he’d managed to slip out of a small side gate. Unfortunately he hadn’t had time to get properly dressed and he was feeling distinctly chilly as well as rather faint. But at least he was now on the forest road, and he had a horse – a rather sway-backed old nag he’d borrowed from a passing tinker.

  He peered ahead, wondering if the stocky fellow he could see plodding along the track just beyond the old mill was Albert Jemmet. He kicked the nag’s sides, and as she ambled into a trot he winced and called out.

  “Albert! I say, Albert!”

  The man turned, startled.

  “Sir Bedwyr! What in the name of the Great Tree …?”

  “I’ve – I’ve been looking for you,” said Sir Bedwyr faintly. The blood was roaring in his ears and the world around him started to fade alarmingly. “I – er – I don’t feel exactly …” His voice trailed off, and the next thing he knew he appeared to be lying on the ground, staring up at a pair of anxious dark eyes that were peering at him out of a very long hairy face. Sir Bedwyr wondered where on earth he was and why no one had brought him any breakfast.

  The long, hairy face snuffled gently at his ears, and Sir Bedwyr realised it was a horse. Then a hand started to lift him gently, and he heard Albert’s voice.

  “Pesky knight. What in the forest’s name are you doing wandering around the countryside in this kind of state? And in your underwear, too?”

  “Albert …” said Sir Bedwyr in a rather hoarse whisper. “I need to tell you something … It’s important.”

  “It’ll wait,” said Albert firmly, giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder. “First we need to get you to an inn and sort out that head wound. And you look as if you could do with something to eat.”

  Sir Bedwyr allowed himself to drift off, feeling as if a great weight had been taken off his shoulders. Sausages, he thought happily. Grilled mushrooms. Nice hot scrambled eggs. And then he could tell Albert whatever it was he was supposed to pass on … Something about the Druid. Something about … What was it now? His head felt as if a hundred cows were trampling it into a field of shattered glass. The shards were splintering in front of his eyes, gleaming in the last rays of the setting sun, all orange and golden, the colour of … Amber! That was it! The amber.

  Sir Bedwyr hauled himself up and clutched at Albert’s shoulder.

  “The amber,” he choked. “The Druid went to get the amber … But Ravenglass’s men have taken over the castle! They’ll take it from him as soon as he returns!”

  After bandaging his head and dealing with his other minor injuries, Albert Jemmet left Sir Bedwyr in the capable hands of the innkeeper’s wife. He was to rest the night and then follow Albert to the forest in the morning. The innkeeper’s wife was more than happy to tend to the needs of the handsome young knight, and was busy preparing a hearty stew and one of her famous apple pies as Albert set off.

  Even with Sir Bedwyr’s borrowed horse, it took Albert a few hours to reach the edge of the forest. He wasn’t sure, in fact, whether he’d have been quicker walking. The horse was a stubborn old beast with a mind of its own, and Albert was not a good horseman. It was one of the many reasons he’d chosen to be an agent in a world where cars existed and horses were strictly for those who liked that sort of thing. However, after a detour for a leisurely drink at a brook not far from the cart track, the horse finally consented to amble into the forest with Albert still clutching on to its back.

  He didn’t stay on its back for long. Almost as soon as they entered, they got caught in a minor rift between worlds, and the horse was startled out of its few wits by the sight of a gleaming sky-capsule whizzing straight for it. By the time the capsule had winked out of existence, the horse was history and Albert was sitting on his bottom in a very damp patch of nettles.

  He glanced around for his pack, which was lying in a nest of brambles not far away. As he hauled himself to his feet, something that looked like a small blue bird fluttered through the nearby trees and landed on a branch next to his head.

  “Thank goodness!” said the bird, who now looked rather more like a large blue caterpillar. “We need your help!”

  “Caractacus,” said Albert, nodding in greeting. “Good to see you.”

  “Albert,” replied the caterpillar. “Good to see you too and so on and so forth. But really – we have a bit of a crisis on our hands. No time for small talk.”

  Albert brushed himself down and patted his pockets as if to check everything was in one piece. Then he nodded briskly. “Yes. Well, you tell me your crisis and I’ll tell you mine.”

  Caractacus frowned. “Another problem?”

  Albert looked grim. “Ravenglass has attacked and taken Roland Castle. So when – if – the Druid returns with the amber, Ravenglass’s men will have it. What’s worse, young Dora and Jem have apparently gone to the Akkadian Empire to warn him, so now we’ve got those two to worry about rescuing as well. And there’s a fool of a knight on his way to you when he’s recovered from his injuries – name of Sir Bedwyr.”

  “Ah,” said Caractacus. “Good news on all fronts, then.”

  “And your crisis?” said Albert.

  “Simon and Cat,” said Caractacus. “We had them here in the forest – but they’ve gone. The guardians did their best to stop them but it seems Cat used the amber. The trees report that she used it to go to the palace.”

  There was a silence as Albert digested this news. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

  “There’s something wrong here,” he said. “Why would they go to the palace? They know enough about Ravenglass to steer clear of him …”

  Caractacus nodded. “We are concerned that Lukos may have got involved directly.”

  Albert looked up, startled. “Lukos? But could he? Does he have the power?”

  “He can’t use magic, of course. But there are other ways. We wondered if … their father? Gwyn?”

  Albert’s eyes widened and he swore colourfully and solidly for a good two minutes. Caractacus waited patiently for him to run out of further expletives.

  “Indeed,” was all he said when Albert had finished.

  “Right,” said Albert, gathering his breath. “I’ll be after them, then.”

  “If you would, Albert. They know you and trust you,” the blue caterpillar said. “Meanwhile I’ll see what I can find out about what’s going on in the Akkadian Empire … If you manage to find them and bring them to their senses, you’ll need to get them out of the palace with all speed. And watch out – if Ravenglass has the amber already, you could be in trouble.”

  Albert nodded. “Don’t worry, I’ll be careful. And if I find them, I’ll take them home. The house is warded, and besides – their mother’s there. I have a feeling they might need to see her once I’ve got them away from the palace.”

  He picked up his pack and slung it on his shoulders, and then, with a cheery wave at Caractacus, he set off purposefully into the forest.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Cat was finding it hard to get to sleep. She and Simon had been given separate rooms in the north tower of the palace, and a magnificent supper had been laid out for them in the adjoining sitting room. Lord Ravenglass had ordered a steaming hot bath and fresh clothes for them both, and assigned them each a servant to look a
fter them. Or watch over us, thought Cat, and then was surprised at the thought, which seemed to have come unbidden into her mind.

  She was lying in a cosy four-poster bed, with rich velvet curtains drawn back to let in the pale moonlight from her turret window. She felt clean and warm and safe – yet she couldn’t settle down. Something was bothering her, but she couldn’t put her finger on what it was. She glanced over to where her servant – May? Myrtle? – was dozing in a large armchair. Just beyond her was the door to the sitting room, and beyond that was Simon’s bedroom, with another ornately carved four-poster. He’d bounced up and down on it happily and then wrapped himself in the velvet covers, his sword placed carefully with his clothes at the foot of the bed, and waved her a sleepy goodnight. His servant, Ollie, had settled down by the sitting-room fire, polishing Simon’s new boots, but he’d no doubt be snoring now, same as Myrtle.

  Cat lay awake, watching the moonlight slowly move across the wall, wondering what it was that felt wrong. Absentmindedly she put her hand up to her throat to feel for the amber – and then she remembered that it wasn’t there. She’d given it to Lord Ravenglass. But her fingers caught hold of something else, another pendant. It was her silver locket, she realised, and with that thought came another. There was something important about the locket, something she needed to remember, but she couldn’t – it was as if there was a fog in her brain. Cat lay still, holding the locket and straining after a thought that seemed just out of reach … But as she almost caught at the edge of it, there was a crash from the sitting room and she sat bolt upright in shock.

  “W-what? Who’s there?” she called. Myrtle had barely stirred, but a figure in the sitting room approached her door and peered in, bowing apologetically.

  “A hundred pardons, my lady!” Ollie called in a low voice. “It was me. I fell asleep and slipped off the footstool. Knocked the table over. Please … go back to sleep!”

  Cat pushed back the covers and padded out to the door. She was wearing what passed for nightwear in the kingdom but felt more like proper clothes to her – a heavy cotton tunic and warm velvet leggings. She gave him a friendly grin.