Mrs. Fickletint was buried from sight in Oonie’s pocket, but Oonie and Zeb screamed because the eel’s tail was wrapped around them, tight as a noose. And though they kicked and screamed and Zeb tried to wriggle his hand into his pocket to grab the Unopenable Purse, the ogre eel held them fast. So there was nothing they could do when it slithered round the back of the palace and flung them down into a large stone pit.
Stretching out into the shadows, it was lined with seaweed and slime. Zeb grabbed Oonie’s hand and made a wild attempt to pull himself up the seaweed, but the eel was already closing the mesh of stone bars down over the top of the pit.
“A dungeon,” Zeb panted. “We’re trapped in a dungeon!”
The eel used its tail to turn a large key in the padlock. Then, to Zeb’s horror, the eel lifted this key up and dropped it into its mouth. Its gills flickered as it swallowed the crew’s escape route whole, then it slithered away toward the tower that held the merglimmers.
“Where’s—where’s Snaggle?” Oonie asked as Mrs. Fickletint tiptoed out of her pocket. “Where did he go?”
Zeb rounded on her. “He’s gone, Oonie! Don’t you understand? He was never on our side! He was just bringing us here so that the ogre eel could hold us prisoner until Morg came back with the Ember Scroll to claim the Stargold Wings!”
Oonie shook her head. “But—”
Zeb clambered up the seaweed and gripped the bars. He shook them again and again, but they wouldn’t budge, so he slid back down into the slime and yanked out the Unopenable Purse instead. Heart hammering, he pulled on the zipper. But still the purse remained stubbornly shut. Zeb thought of the Stargold Wings suddenly, and he lifted them out of the pouch in the hope that they might work some magic to free them from the pit. But the wings neither moved nor glowed; whatever magic they still possessed they didn’t share. Then the weight of Snaggle’s betrayal hit home. Zeb had wept under the Memory Trees for the Crackledawn dragon. He had summoned him with the very first sunrise. He had trusted him. And look where that trust had got them.
“I made a mistake,” Zeb muttered, stuffing the Stargold Wings back into the pouch. “You can never trust anyone, because no matter what happens, they always let you down.”
Mrs. Fickletint hopped onto Zeb’s leg. “Don’t stop trusting just yet, Zeb. Now more than ever we need to pull together and—”
But Zeb was done with pulling together. He was hurt—ragingly hurt—because the Crackledawn dragon had made him feel safe for a while, and hopeful, too. But none of that mattered anymore.
He pushed the chameleon off his leg, and she tumbled into the seaweed. “The world is as ugly as I thought it was, and I do not need you telling me otherwise, Mrs. Fickletint.” The anger rose inside Zeb. “If you hadn’t decided to make us all a crew, none of this would’ve happened! I could’ve given the Stargold Wings a bit more time, then maybe they’d have yanked me off your wretched boat to find the Ember Scroll alone! But no no no, you had to get in there first and start banging on about trust!” He threw up his hands as his rage spilled out. “How on earth did I let myself get taken in by a silly little reptile?”
Mrs. Fickletint’s face fell.
Oonie felt around for the chameleon and lifted her up into her lap, then she turned a furious face in Zeb’s direction. “If you speak to Mrs. Fickletint like that again, I’ll punch your lights out. And as for you speeding off to find the Ember Scroll alone…” Oonie snorted. “You wouldn’t have lasted two minutes!”
“Says you?” Zeb snapped. “The captain who gets her crew trapped by a rotten dragon?”
Oonie’s nostrils flared. “You were the one who summoned a rotten dragon! Maybe if I’d given it a shot, we’d have got a decent one!”
“Steady on, you two,” Mrs. Fickletint warned.
Zeb ignored her. “I’d like to see you summon a dragon, Oonie! You’re too scared to do anything without Mrs. Fickletint’s help!”
Oonie made to swing a punch in Zeb’s direction, but Mrs. Fickletint flew up into the air and wrapped herself around Oonie’s fist. “Save the fighting for the ogre eel!”
But Oonie’s temper was unraveling fast now. “At least I’ve got Mrs. Fickletint, Zeb. Who’ve you got, hmm? Not a single person cares about you here or back in the Faraway! You’re a nobody, and we should never have let you into our crew, because now the voyage is over and the Unmapped Kingdoms and the Faraway are doomed!” She threw her head back. “I wish I’d never met you!”
The chameleon dropped to the ground, then she looked from Oonie to Zeb and shook her little head sadly.
Zeb was breathing fast, but there were tears in his eyes too. Because it was one thing assuming nobody in the world cared about him; it was another to hear that fear spoken aloud by someone else. He had started to believe in the trust trial as he helped Oonie through the forest on Rickety Gramps, after she’d held his hand under Trampletusk’s ears, and when they whooped together on Snaggle’s back. But here they were, back to square one.
What did that mean for Fox Petty-Squabble and her world-crossing promise? Oonie had just said it—he was a nobody. He slammed a fist into the seaweed. His great escape was scuppered for good all because he’d started trusting other people. He waited for the Outburst to come, but he realized he was beyond that now.
“I’m done with saving the world,” he muttered. “The trust trial is well and truly over.”
Chapter 21
Zeb sank back against the pit. Oonie huffed, then did the same. And they sat like that, angry and quiet, for a while.
Mrs. Fickletint, however, gathered herself up. “You two ought to be ashamed of yourselves.” She put her paws on her hips. “Carrying on like that when we have a world to save and just one more night until the full moon rises!”
Zeb and Oonie continued to sulk in silence.
Mrs. Fickletint looked at Oonie. “One day, you will understand what it means to be a captain.” She turned to Zeb. “And one day you will learn some manners. Until then, both of you need to listen in close because Morg could swoop by any time—and Mrs. Fickletint has got a backup plan.”
Zeb pretended not to listen, and Oonie plucked idly at a piece of seaweed.
The chameleon went on nonetheless. “I stayed hidden in Oonie’s pocket when the ogre eel grabbed us. Partly out of fear, I admit, but partly because I was thinking seventeen steps ahead, as women often do.” She paused. “I’m small, so I can slip through these bars easily—more than easily, actually, because I’ve lost at least half a pound this week due to chronic stress. And I can change color, too. So, I can use my size to get out of this dungeon and my camouflage to sneak past the ogre eel—then I can creep inside the tower holding the merglimmers—”
Oonie raised her head then. “—and if you speak with the merglimmers, maybe you can free them, and they can tell us what they know about the cave that has never been found.…” A smile hovered over her lips. She was meant to be moping, but Mrs. Fickletint’s plan was too good to ignore.
Zeb considered the chameleon’s idea. It wasn’t totally terrible, but he was far too hurt to start hoping in a future all over again. “What if the ogre eel sees you?” he asked glumly. “What if Morg arrives before you manage to speak with the merglimmers?”
“That, dear Zeb, would be most unfortunate indeed. But what ifs can go two ways.” Mrs. Fickletint drew herself up as tall as she could go, which wasn’t very tall at all. “What if the ogre eel doesn’t see me and I reach the tower? What if Morg doesn’t come back and the merglimmers tell me where the cave is? What if we find the Ember Scroll and save the world?”
“What if it’s not a world worth saving?” Zeb muttered.
Mrs. Fickletint rolled her eyes. “It’s getting rather exhausting dealing with such low levels of enthusiasm, Zeb. If you can’t say anything positive at all, please bury yourself in the seaweed and let Oonie and me get on with things.”
Zeb watched as Oonie took a deep breath, as if pushing all thoughts of the fight to one side
for a moment. Then she gave Mrs. Fickletint a little kiss before feeling her way up the seaweed and setting the chameleon down by the bars.
“Good luck,” Oonie whispered. “You’re the bravest chameleon I know.”
Mrs. Fickletint eyed the ogre eel skulking behind the tower in the distance. Then she squeezed herself between the bars, changed her scales to the color of sand, and raced off toward the merglimmers.
Zeb sat in the pit, brooding, while Oonie waited, crouched in the seaweed by the bars. For a while Zeb said nothing, then curiosity got the better of him, and he clambered up the side of the pit to look out beside Oonie.
It was hard to spot Mrs. Fickletint at first. But when Zeb screwed up his eyes and really looked, he could just make out a sand-colored shape scuttling over the ocean floor toward the tower of merglimmers. Then Mrs. Fickletint stopped suddenly and looked back toward the palace.
“Uh-oh,” Zeb mumbled.
Oonie flinched. “What’s happened?”
“She’s not moving,” Zeb found himself saying, even though he’d been thinking, just moments before, that he would make a pact with himself never to speak to Oonie ever again. “Mrs. Fickletint’s stopped right out in the open, even though the ogre eel is still lounging around behind the tower. Why doesn’t she press on while she’s got the chance?”
Then Zeb gasped. Because now Mrs. Fickletint’s camouflage was fading and she was materializing, in all her purple glory. And before Oonie could ask for an update, Mrs. Fickletint’s cross little voice shouted: “COME AND GET ME, YOU GREAT BIG BULLY!”
A look of horror washed over Zeb’s and Oonie’s faces.
“What on earth is she doing?!” Zeb spluttered. “This wasn’t part of her backup plan!”
The ogre eel shot out from behind the tower and went straight for Mrs. Fickletint, who screamed and began running for her life back toward the dungeon.
Oonie seized the bars. “What’s going on, Zeb?”
Zeb was so glued to the ogre eel charging after Mrs. Fickletint that he didn’t see the large, scaled shape dart out from the side of the palace and race toward the tower. Seconds later, though, there was an almighty crash.
“The tower full of merglimmers!” Zeb cried. “It’s—it’s falling down!”
He watched, openmouthed, as thousands of stones crumbled to the ground. There were cheers next, and a wild hiss from the ogre eel as it spun back round toward the tower to try and contain the merglimmers. But hundreds of armored mermen and merwomen were now swarming around it. And then—Zeb’s heart skipped a beat—bursting out of the rubble came something huge and scaled. Something Zeb had thought was long gone…
“IT’S—IT’S SNAGGLE!” he yelled, clutching Oonie’s arm, all thoughts of anger suddenly forgotten. “HE’S COME BACK! And—and”—Zeb watched as the Crackledawn dragon swooped down and flicked the little chameleon onto his back—“he’s rescuing Mrs. Fickletint!”
Snaggle sped on toward the dungeon with Mrs. Fickletint on his back.
“Never underestimate the backup plan!” the chameleon yelled as merglimmer after merglimmer set upon the eel, and it fell, with a ground-juddering thump one last time, onto the sand.
Snaggle screeched to a halt outside the pit, and Mrs. Fickletint slid off his back and rushed into Oonie’s arms.
“Oh, Mrs. Fickletint!” Oonie laughed. “You’re a wonder!”
“There I was, nipping over the sand like a demon,” the chameleon panted, “when I glanced back and saw Snaggle hiding in the shadows of the palace. I could tell from the way he was crouching there, all ready to pounce, that he was waiting for a chance to free the merglimmers. But he couldn’t have done that with us on his back, because even a Crackledawn dragon can’t fight an ogre, protect a crew, and bring down a stone tower all at the same time!”
Snaggle looked away then, embarrassed by the attention. But his ears were pricked, and every now and again he glanced back at the crew as if he understood that he was a part of something now, even though he was a dragon, and dragons usually kept to themselves.
Mrs. Fickletint chattered on. “I thought fast when I saw Snaggle hiding, and I put my life on the line! And while I was being incredibly heroic, and the ogre eel was getting incredibly cross, Snaggle swam full tilt at the tower!”
Zeb stared from Mrs. Fickletint to the dragon in disbelief. But before he could try and make sense of things, Snaggle bent his head down to the bars in front of Zeb. He watched the boy carefully, twisting his head this way and that. Wrinkling his nose, he poked his snout through the bars and let it rest against Zeb’s cheek. For a few seconds, Zeb stayed absolutely still, and then something surged inside him and before he could stop himself, he stretched his hands through the bars and wrapped them around the dragon’s neck.
“I—I thought you’d left us,” Zeb whispered. “I thought you weren’t coming back.”
The dragon purred—a sound that rumbled deep inside Zeb’s ear. Then he blew a string of bubbles from his nostrils, as if to suggest the very idea of him not returning was ridiculous. He was wild to the core, this dragon, but there was a warmth about him too, a kindness buried behind the teeth and talons.
Zeb held on to him with eyes pressed shut. “You’re sticking around, aren’t you?”
Snaggle dipped his head, and as Zeb drew back from the Crackledawn dragon and looked into his amber eyes, he realized that he had been wrong to give up on trust. He thought of the Unopenable Purse in his pocket and a faith in Fox flickered into life again. And for the first time since meeting Morg, he allowed himself to imagine what his life in the Faraway might look like if they went back there together. He didn’t know how Fox would find him, or what their future might look like, but he knew now that he had to keep on hoping. There was no going back this time. If Crackledawn’s creatures were working together to save their world and his, he needed to stay in this fight too. He needed to bring a phoenix back to the Unmapped Kingdoms.
Zeb placed his palm on the dragon’s snout. “Thank you for coming back, Snaggle.”
He turned to look at Oonie. There were things he wanted to say. But Oonie was trying to speak too.
“I’m sorry, Zeb,” she said quietly. “I never should’ve said those things about you. You’re not a nobody. You’re—you’re…”
Her words trailed off, but Mrs. Fickletint urged her on.
Oonie swallowed. “… You’re my friend.”
Zeb felt so happy in that moment, he thought his heart might burst. “I was wrong about something, too,” he said. “I told you that you were too scared to do anything without Mrs. Fickletint’s help. But you just rebuilt a crew. All on your own.” Zeb smiled. “And that’s not bad, captain.”
Oonie was smiling, too, now. And then they were laughing together, just like they had done when they first rode on Snaggle. But it was the hug that Zeb knew he would remember most that day. He and Oonie holding on to each other so tightly, not even an ogre eel could pry them apart.
“Oh, we’re a crew again!” the chameleon cried, squashed merrily in between Oonie and Zeb. “I am so deeply proud of both of you! It is such a weight off my mind knowing you don’t want to throttle each other anymore!”
As they drew apart, laughing, even Snaggle’s teeth bunched into a smile. Then they watched as a single merglimmer broke away from the throng behind, who were building the fallen tower back up again, and swam up close to the pit. On the top half, she wore armor: a sparkling breastplate and a silver helmet over her long, blue hair. But her tail was covered in mirrored scales, and she might have looked serene had she not been rummaging frantically through her handbag.
“Where have the spare dungeon keys got to?” she muttered, drawing out a hairbrush, a pack of tissues, and four leather-bound books. “So, that’s where The Complete Works of Monotonous Snore is. Honestly,” she tutted, giving her handbag a short, sharp shake, “this guzzlebag has a lot to answer for.…”
She looked down through the bars at Zeb, Oonie, and Mrs. Fickletint. “I’
m Perpetual Faff, by the way. The gatekeeper here at Steepledoor. And I am so sorry about the shoddy welcome. No one at the Final Curtain to greet you after you successfully passed through the barrier enchantment, then an altercation with an ogre eel who stormed the palace last night and locked everyone up!” She looked at Zeb a little closer and her eyes widened. “A boy from the Faraway. Now, that is interesting.…” This was followed by more rummaging in the guzzlebag until, thoroughly flustered now, Perpetual Faff drew out a pocket mirror and a pair of reading glasses. “Oh, where are the spare set of keys?!”
Mrs. Fickletint laid a paw on her arm. “Breathe, dear. I had a bottomless handbag once, and it was very nearly the undoing of me.”
Perpetual Faff took a deep breath and then she did, fortunately, bring out the key she was looking for. She slotted it into the padlock and it clicked open. Then Snaggle hauled the grate away and Zeb, Oonie, and Mrs. Fickletint clambered out.
“Thank you,” Oonie said. “But now we need your help again. Morg is back in Crackledawn, and as you can see, her Midnights are everywhere. But Zeb here has the Stargold Wings, and they gave us a message to find the Ember Scroll, which—”
Perpetual Faff cut in. “Is that right, Faraway boy? Are you really in possession of the Stargold Wings?”
Zeb opened the pouch around his neck, and under the merglimmer’s gaze, the Stargold Wings gave a weak shimmer.
Perpetual Faff smiled. “We merglimmers have been waiting for you for a long time, Zeb. We swore to the very first phoenix that when the Faraway boy came with the Stargold Wings, we would show him the way on to the Ember Scroll.”
Zeb frowned. “But how could the very first phoenix know I would end up here? I didn’t even know about the Unmapped Kingdoms until a few days ago!”
“When it comes to choosing someone to save the world,” Perpetual Faff replied, “magic likes to think ahead.”
Zeb swayed. The phoenix magic really had known about him all along! And it had singled him out to save the world!
Zeb Bolt and the Ember Scroll Page 14