Oonie and Zeb tore around the fairground together, laughing and chattering with Unmappers their age. Then Zeb spotted a Flyaway Tree, and before Mrs. Fickletint had time to wipe the remains of marshmallow from the mouths of her twenty-seven children, he cut down a feather, and he and Oonie flew on it, just like a broomstick, in a full loop-the-loop over the ocean (before crash-landing into a snowdrift).
Zeb looked up to see Fox grinning at him from one of the tables. She was surrounded by old friends, including the talkative parrot, Heckle—who seemed to be repeating what Fox thought, not what she said—and a golden panther called Deepglint. And Zeb felt that the fact that Fox had magical friends, and she hadn’t told him off for crashing into a snowdrift, was probably a very good sign. She was, it appeared, the complete opposite of Derek Dunce.
Zeb glanced at the table filled with Lofty Husks, rulers from all four kingdoms gathered together for the first time in their history: Crackledawn’s elves wrapped in velvet robes spoke with Rumblestar’s wizards (and one plump elf, in particular, seemed to be quizzing them regarding the whereabouts of an extremely valuable hot water bottle wrapped in an eversnug fur). Jungledrop’s golden panthers talked to Silvercrag’s eagle owls, whose feathers shone brighter than moonlight. And from the night sky, the phoenix and all the Unmapped dragons but one looked down.
A sudden hush descended over the banqueting tables as a very old elf stood up on his chair.
“That’s Greyhobble,” Mrs. Fickletint explained to Zeb. “Terribly old, terribly wise, and terribly bad at telling jokes.”
But Greyhobble had not called for quiet to tell a joke. “For almost five thousand years, Morg has plagued the Unmapped Kingdoms,” he said. “She has destroyed homes and Unmappers, Lofty Husks and magical creatures. But tonight—thanks to the finest crew Crackledawn has ever mustered—we have peace and a future filled with joy and magic to look forward to.”
The crew beamed with pride. Even the Crackledawn dragon—tucked away at the end of the beach—lifted his snout high.
“Oonie, Mrs. Fickletint, Zeb, and Snaggle: You are proof that with courage, compassion, and hope, anything is possible. And years to come, your story will still be told. The story of how, against the odds, a small but mighty crew took on a harpy—and won.”
The cliffs rang with cheers again as every Lofty Husk, Unmapper, and magical beast rose to their feet and whooped and clapped. Zeb laughed. He had set off from 56 Rightangle Row thinking that he had been running away from the world. But all the time, he had been running toward friendship and hope.
The cheers grew, then thousands of lanterns appeared in the sky, and as they drifted up toward the moon, the phoenix sent one more cry into the night before soaring off toward the horizon and the portal that could lead it home to Everdark.
The celebrations went on into the night, but the crew stayed together by the shore because they knew that one of them still had a journey to make. And from the way Snaggle was flexing his muscles and shaking the icicles from his throat, it was becoming increasingly clear who would be providing the lift.
Oonie sat in her furs on the frosted pebbles. “You have to go home, don’t you?”
Zeb plucked at his cuff but said nothing.
Mrs. Fickletint hopped down from Oonie’s shoulder and padded over the pebbles onto Zeb’s knee. “We’re going to miss you. A great deal, in fact, because you are one in a million, and Oonie and I were so very lucky to haul you out of the sea that day.”
Zeb felt a familiar lump rise in his throat. “I don’t think I’ll ever find a crew like you in the Faraway.”
Mrs. Fickletint smiled. “Oh, you will, Zeb. Because that’s the beauty of the world: It is filled with extraordinary people—and the more living you do, the more wonders you find.” She spread her little arms as far as they would go around Zeb’s waist. “Just promise me you’ll wear an undershirt in the winter months; I’ve heard it can get quite chilly in New York. And don’t forget to get an early night every now and again; it works a treat for your sanity and your skin.”
Zeb held the little chameleon close, then he set her down on the ground. She hurried into the warmth of Oonie’s coat pocket.
Zeb turned to Oonie. “I used to think that being strong was all about having big biceps, but with you as the captain of our crew, I learned about hope. You taught me that if hope grows, miracles happen. Monsters get beaten and worlds get saved.”
Oonie’s voice was choked. “I’ll never forget you, Zeb. And though I might not see as other people do, I know your heart, and it’s brighter than sunlight, stronger than diamonds, and bigger than both our worlds put together.”
Zeb tried his best not to cry, then he gave up and let the tears fall. “I won’t forget you, either, Oonie.” He sniffed. “Every time the sun rises back in the Faraway, I’ll think of you out on the Kerfuffle hauling in sunchatter with Mrs. Fickletint.” He was quiet for a moment. “What do beginnings smell like?”
Oonie thought about this, and then she said: “Peppercorns. They’re spice and bite and full of promise.”
Zeb threw his arms around her and Mrs. Fickletint, then the Crackledawn dragon wrapped his wings around everyone and purred. And Oonie and Mrs. Fickletint clung on to the dragon then, whispering thanks into his ears, because they didn’t know, any more than Zeb, where Snaggle would end up.
Fox walked over to the crew, and while the Unmapped dragons wheeled in the sky and the celebrations ran on all down the beach, she turned to Zeb.
“Are you ready,” she asked, “for a new beginning?”
Zeb squared his shoulders and nodded as they climbed up onto Snaggle’s back.
“Peppercorns,” he said, sniffing the air. “Definitely peppercorns.”
Oonie and Mrs. Fickletint laughed. Then Snaggle lowered himself into a crouch and, just as he was about to launch off into the sky, the chameleon climbed onto Oonie’s head and unleashed a torrent of secrets into the dragon’s ear to fuel him on to the Faraway.
“Sometimes I find looking after twenty-seven children so draining, I lock myself inside my wibblebough sapling with a cup of tea while they tear around Wildhorn completely unsupervised. Once I used a nimblewisk to conjure up a birthday cake, then I passed it off as a home-baked treat. A few months ago, when I was feeling particularly vengeful after a night of Mr. Fickletint’s snoring, I told the children to jump on him at sunrise.”
Snaggle snorted, Oonie and Zeb laughed together one last time, then Snaggle burst into the sky and sailed out over the sea. Even as the sound of the celebrations faded, Zeb could still see Oonie on the shore waving up at the sky as Mrs. Fickletint hopped up and down on her shoulder. Then Zeb turned round again, and instead of holding on to Snaggle’s spikes, he wrapped his arms around Fox, and they flew on until the only sound that could be heard were the waves rolling and heaving down below.
Zeb and Fox hadn’t told Snaggle where to go; he had proved he had a knack for finding things, and he flew on now without a flicker of hesitation. After a while, Zeb felt a familiar tingling sensation—like electricity rushing through his bones—and though the ocean below them looked just the same as it had a moment before, he knew they had passed through an enchantment and out of the Unmapped Kingdoms.
Some time later, land came into sight—a clutter of high-rise buildings jutting into the sea and glinting in the breaking dawn.
“New York!” Zeb gasped. “There’s the Statue of Liberty! And Central Park!”
“And Brooklyn!” Fox smiled. She knew there would plenty of paperwork and tricky conversations ahead, but she knew that she and the boy would be happy here. Together, they would build a brilliant future. She looked over her shoulder. “We’ve come home, Zeb. And it looks as if only a few hours have passed since we left!”
Zeb held Fox tight as Snaggle plunged down through the sky. There were people on the streets now, more and more of them spilling out into Times Square. But they were not looking up at the dragon that morning. They were glued to the billboards fl
ashing breaking news: Sea levels had, rather extraordinarily, dropped overnight; temperatures had plunged back to what they should have been on a crisp October morning; bushfires further afield had fizzled out in seconds; and reports were flooding back from the Arctic with sightings of polar bears, narwhals, and beluga whales. The city rang with cheers, and nobody noticed the boy who had been responsible for all this riding a Crackledawn dragon over their heads.
Snaggle slipped down into a quiet, unvisited sort of street, and landed with a crunch before an abandoned theater. Zeb looked at the broken window he’d climbed through during his getaway and thought of all that had happened since. He had left this world wanting to destroy it, but he was returning now having done everything in his power to keep its people, animals, and wild places safe.
Zeb and Fox slid off Snaggle’s back, then the Crackledawn dragon turned to them. He held his head down level with Zeb’s, and Zeb looked into his amber eyes.
“Oh, Snaggle,” Zeb said. “You’re meant to be wild and secretive and always alone, but you came when I called you. You stuck around through all sorts of dangers. And you broke the one dragon rule to protect me and my crew.”
Snaggle’s eyes filled with tears, and Zeb’s did the same.
“Whatever the phoenix and the other Unmapped dragons have decided about your future,” Zeb said, “I think you’re the most brilliant dragon there ever was.”
He arched his arms around Snaggle’s neck, and the dragon nuzzled into him and purred. Snaggle was still wild, but a little part of him belonged to the boy now. The Crackledawn dragon pulled back and opened his mouth, and as he did so, the most astonishing thing happened.
Words came out.
“Well, well, well,” Snaggle chuckled in a deep, soft voice. “Magic must work differently in the Faraway. I have carried sun scrolls here for as long as I can remember, but never once have I been seen, tried to speak, or indeed had anyone to speak to.” He drew himself up. “I broke the dragon rule, and that rule was made at the beginning of time, so it cannot be undone and I must face the consequences.”
Zeb’s face fell.
“But”—and here Snaggle’s eyes twinkled—“sometimes consequences are less disastrous than they sound. You see, the rest of the Unmapped dragons understood why I killed the bone dragon, and though they knew things couldn’t go back to the way they were, they pleaded with the phoenix to create a new role for me.”
Zeb and Fox frowned.
“Every night, hundreds of Crackledawn dragons arrive in the Faraway,” Snaggle said, “and they leave sun scrolls in hidden places. The scrolls vanish at sunrise, giving you your sunlight for the day, but the problem is: Children from the Faraway can get up rather early—often when it’s still dark—and they are far too inquisitive to leave secret things alone. They go poking and prodding and investigating. And for a while now, we Unmapped dragons have been worrying that sooner or later a Faraway child will discover a sun scroll and expose the Unmapped dragons. And we cannot have that, because dragons, as you well know, thrive on secrets.”
Zeb could have listened to the dragon talking all day. His warm voice meandered like a slow-flowing river.
“What have they asked you to do?” Fox asked.
“Up until now I have mostly been delivering sun scrolls to Scotland—pretty country but ghastly weather, so I’ve been trying to brighten their days—but as of last night”—Snaggle winked—“I have been asked to patrol the Faraway when the sun scrolls arrive and distract children who might be snooping nearby. There won’t be any roaring, of course, but I’ll be rustling branches and growling nearby. I might even stretch to some misleading footsteps, if that’s what it takes, or possibly a spot of whispering now that I know I can talk here.…”
Zeb couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “So, you’re staying? You’re going to live in the Faraway?”
Snaggle burrowed his head into Zeb’s shoulder. “Yes, dear boy. I’m staying. And though I’m wild, and terribly fierce when push comes to shove, you might just see me now and again.” He drew back and looked at Fox. “Perhaps if the two of you were to go walking in Yosemite National Park or biking through Yellowstone, I might just happen to be there.… So long as you keep returning to your world’s wild places, where I am less likely to be seen, then I will be waiting for you.”
Fox grinned. “Oh, we’ll keep returning; you can be sure of that.”
“But how will you know where we are?” Zeb asked. “And won’t you be sad not to go back to the Unmapped Kingdoms?”
Snaggle wrapped his tail around the boy. “You summoned me, Zeb. You forged a bond between us that can never be broken. That’s how I will know where you are. I give you my word—a Crackledawn dragon’s promise—that I will always show up for you.” He cocked his head. “I may miss the Unmapped Kingdoms from time to time, but there is magic here, too, if you know where to look. And there are mountains, oceans, and jungles to explore. In fact, there are so many adventures ahead, I must remember to pace myself.”
Snaggle folded his mighty wings around Zeb, who felt a rush of warmth spread out inside him. He had left the Faraway with nothing. But he had returned with a woman and a dragon who both knew the power of keeping promises. Zeb hugged Snaggle for a moment longer, then loosened his arms and stepped back.
Fox was there, her arm outstretched. Zeb slipped his hand into hers, then he took a deep breath in through his nose and smiled, because there was a distinct smell of peppercorns in the air. He threw one last look over his shoulder at the Crackledawn dragon, then, hand in hand with Fox Petty-Squabble, Zeb walked on into the sunrise.
Acknowledgments
Zebedee Bolt’s list of people worth trusting in the Faraway:
Fox Petty-Squabble (obvs)
Snaggle (obvs)
The wonderful team at Simon & Schuster: Eve Wersocki-Morris, Louisa Danquah, Sarah Macmillan, Dan Fricker, Laura Hough, Rachel Denwood, Ali Dougal, Stephanie Purcell, Sarah McCabe, and the endlessly wise and kind Lucy Pearse
Inclusive Minds and Joanna Sholem, for her enthusiasm and insight
George Ermos for his brilliant cover artwork and map
Agent Hannah Sheppard for her ongoing loyalty
All the teachers, librarians, booksellers, parents, and carers who have introduced kids to the Unmapped Kingdoms
Authors Lauren St. John, Piers Torday, and Katherine Rundell whose wise counsel and friendship brought light and comfort during the pandemic. And gold-hearted writers Katie Webber, Kiran Millwood Hargrave, Ross Montgomery, Emma Carroll, Cerrie Burnell, Robin Stevens, Michelle Harrison, Mel Taylor, Perdita Cargill, MG Leonard, Maz Evans, and Amy Wilson, whose encouragement and kindness are an anchor in these times
Abi’s family for their unequaled love and support. Bring on the adventures in Scotland…
More from this Series
Casper Tock and the…
Book 1
The Bickery Twins and…
Book 2
More from the Author
Sky Song
About the Author
Author photograph by Pui Shan Chan Jones
ABI ELPHINSTONE grew up in Scotland, where she spent most of her childhood running wild across the moors, hiding in tree houses, and building dens in the woods. After being coaxed out of her tree houses, she studied English at Bristol University and then worked as an English teacher in Tanzania before returning to the United Kingdom to teach there. She is the bestselling and award-shortlisted author of Casper Tock and the Everdark Wings (the first book in the Unmapped Chronicles series), Sky Song, and the Dreamsnatcher trilogy. When she’s not writing, Abi volunteers for the Coram Beanstalk charity, speaks in schools, and travels the world looking for her next story. Her latest adventures include living with the Kazakh eagle hunters in Mongolia and dogsledding across the Arctic.
Aladdin
Simon & Schuster, New York
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Elphinstone
Also by Abi Elphinstone
The Unmapped Chronicles
#1: Casper Tock and the Everdark Wings
#2: The Bickery Twins and the Phoenix Tear
Sky Song
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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First Aladdin hardcover edition August 2021
Text copyright © 2021 by Abi Elphinstone
Originally published in Great Britain in 2021 by Simon & Schuster UK Ltd.
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Zeb Bolt and the Ember Scroll Page 19