Azrael's Twins

by V. J. Mortimer

  McHavering went on to explain some more about the ins and outs of dragon racing – how the riders were paired against someone from the other team so they didn’t all start at the same time, and how the riders could nudge you or try a whole range of things to knock you off as you raced against them, and how if you missed a hoop you could circle back to get it BUT that meant your opponent might get ahead of you. Grady thought it all sounded unbelievably exciting but a long way away from the dragon dung he was shovelling for his detention. The only good part about the job was once a wheelbarrow was filled up the ever present faerie servants would appear and whisk it away. The downside of this was the next wheelbarrow turned up a lot faster. Grady thought the dragons looked a lot less appealing when you had to deal with this end of them.

  ‘What are the big screens for?’ asked Grady, pointing up at them.

  ‘That’s so everyone in the stands here at the finish line can see just what you lot are up to oot on the course. Dinnae ask me how it works, I just look after the beasties, but everything that happens out on that course shows up on those screens. There’s a bunch of wizards oot on the course wi special magic picture thingies which send the pictures back here. Tis a great piece of magic but a bit fancy for me. Still, stops them dirty auld cheats over at Flamville College from trying any of their nasty wee games like whipping up the poles when no one is looking and nicking the hoops.’

  Grady wanted to ask more questions but just at that moment there was a clatter and a bellow from outside the stable doors. ‘Acch!’ said McHavering. ‘Someone’s back early. Come on,’ he said to Grady. Outside one of the dragon team was dismounting a very tired-looking beast which had slumped forlornly down on the ground. One iridescent green wing was stretched out to the side and the dragon was nuzzling and licking it with a great ruby red forked tongue. It was obviously feeling sore and small tendrils of smoke drifted up from his nostrils as it lay there.

  ‘Sprained wing I’m afraid, McHavering,’ said the boy in a slightly snooty voice.

  ‘Y dinnae know how to care fer these beats doo ye Fotheringham! You dinnae know how, and ye father didnae know how and I’ll bet your son will never know how – that’s if any girl is daft enough to ever marry you!’

  ‘Calm down, McHavering,’ said the boy, undeterred. ‘It’s not my fault the mangy beasts aren’t able to handle it. Help me get the saddle off if you don’t mind,’ said the boy to Grady as he turned back to the dragon. As he stepped towards his mount the dragon’s head snapped round at him. It bared its serrated and dagger-sharp teeth, giving a low growl which stopped him in his tracks. ‘Maybe I should leave this one to you, McHavering,’ said the boy, stepping backward gingerly.

  ‘Aye. Maybe y’d better,’ said McHavering, chuckling to himself as Fotheringham headed back to the changing rooms pulling off his gauntlets. McHavering walked confidently forward to the dragon but, just like Fotheringham, was brought to a standstill by the dragon turning to him and sending a withering thin blast of flame into the pavement just in front of him.

  ‘And I think I might just stop here for a moment,’ said McHavering, with one foot stopped in mid air. The dragon kept its eyes on him and its teeth bared until McHavering put his foot back down and stepped away. Once he had done so the dragon’s head swung round to Grady. It stared at him for a moment or two before nudging his wing again and then staring back at Grady expectantly. ‘I don’t believe it,’ said McHavering quietly.

  ‘What don’t you believe?’ asked Grady.

  ‘That beast doesn’t want me to go near him but ... he very definitely wants you.’

  Grady turned round to look at the dragon. Its eyes seemed to bore into him. Suddenly he ... felt, rather than heard the dragon asking him to come take the saddle off. The feeling was like an order but said without words. Grady knew exactly what was needed. And he could feel the dragon’s hurting wing joint. McHavering was right. The dragon had sprained a wing as Fotheringham had tried an overly ambitious loop the loop. Grady could see, in his mind’s eye, the dragon’s wing as it snapped back trying to pull round the bottom of the loop and Fotheringham shouting at the dragon as it faltered under the strain. The dragon did NOT like that boy and was going to make sure he had a heck of a time next time he ended up on this dragon’s back! Grady moved closer and the dragon settled down.

  ‘It’s his wing all right,’ said Grady. ‘The first joint on the wing here took all the strain.’

  McHavering stepped closer. As he did so the dragon’s eyes slipped sideways to stare at him with teeth bared. ‘It’s okay,’ said Grady, raising a calming hand to the dragon. The dragon relaxed as McHavering stepped closer.

  ‘I didnae realise ye had the gift laddie but yer right. There’s a bulge around that joint from swelling. How did ye noo?’

  ‘I could just feel it,’ said Grady, looking a bit embarrassed. ‘It was like the dragon was inside my head almost ... like he was talking without saying anything? Sounds stupid, doesn’t it.’

  ‘No laddie it doesn’t, it doesn’t at all.’ Keeping his eyes on the dragon McHavering spoke to Grady; ‘Go into the tack room and get the large red jar wi the poison label on it on the top shelf behind the sign which says Dinnae touch unless ye want tae die from melting, and better get a set of gloves before ye try and pick it up, oh, and a face mask as well, and ahh ... one of the heavy aprons with metal links hanging on the wall beside it, and ... on second thoughts you stay here and I’ll go get it meself. Have a go at getting the saddle off the beastie. He seems tae like ye so you shouldnae have trouble from the overgrown lizard.’ As McHavering said this the dragon gave him another growl as if it had understood every word.

  As the dragon keeper headed off to the stables Grady turned back to the dragon. ‘I need to get your harness off now. So promise you’re not going to get upset when I get a bit closer?’

  The dragon simply stared back at Grady before suddenly shifting its bulk. Grady jumped back in surprise before realising the dragon was simply moving so it was easier to reach the buckles and straps. Now that McHavering was gone Grady realised he hadn’t asked him how to get the saddle fittings off but realised the setup looked just like the saddles they had on their ponies back at Avalon’s End.

  Moving closer he loosened the fine catches and buckles of the hackamore around the dragon’s snout. Unlike the ones they used back home this one was broad but fine like silk. Grady gently lifted it off the bowed head of the dragon before reaching underneath the beast’s belly and doing the same to the billets, releasing the girth. Finally he slid the whole lot off the dragon, the beast relaxing as he did so and then flomping back down on the ground.

  Grady was amazed at how light the tack felt. The saddle seemed little more than lightly padded leather in a quilted pattern while the cantle and main part of the seat looked smooth and shiny. The reins were the same fine threadlike webbing which seemed to be on all the dragons, but these were slightly thicker with some padded grips which were obviously for steering.

  He turned to take the tack back into the stables but let out a yell as a huge steely apparition with a horrid mask had come striding up behind him. Great big scalelike links of iron covered it from shoulder to foot and the head was encased in a mirrorlike steel plate with slits where the eyes should be. From around the edges of the faceplate came straggly pieces of red hair looking for all the world as if they were on an escape mission from the helmet.

  ‘Ish uld oo th rick,’ came a muffled sound from within the helmet.

  ‘What?’ said Grady, recovering his composure as he realised it was just McHavering.

  ‘Ory,’ came the voice again as a big gloved hand flipped up the faceplate like a welder’s mask. ‘I said this should do the trick.’ McHavering held up a large jar with a skull and cross bones on it and the warning he had mentioned. ‘It’s a homeopathic mix of bat bogies, saltpetre, liquid metals, and roses.’

  ‘Roses!’ said Grady

  ‘Aye. Roses,’ said McHavering. ‘Nae sure they help muc
h but it sure helps with the stench o this stuff.’ As he screwed the lid off the jar an evil vapour arose out of it. A couple of flies that were unlucky enough to get too close to the drifting fumes dropped dead instantly. ‘Sorry aboot the get-up surprising ye but ye cannae be too careful wi this stuff. I’ve seen better men than me lose a hand or worse tae this wee mixture. Now, let’s see that wing.’

  McHavering pulled a thick metal spatula out of a pocket in the apron and strode over to the dragon, flipping his visor back down as he did so. The dragon gave another evil stare but realised this time that the dragon keeper was there to help and stretched out the injured wing. McHavering crouched down beside the leathery wing and took a big dollop of the mixture out of the jar with the spatula and spread it over the joint. The dragon let out a yelp with a small hiss of flame as he did so, pulling his wing back. Flipping up the visor again McHavering said, ‘I never told you it wasn’t going to hurt, ya daft beast. Now put that wing back here!’ The dragon gave him another baleful look before moving his wing closer and letting McHavering make sure the joint was well covered.

  As the ointment was absorbed into the scales Grady could hear a faint hissing noise from the joint but in moments the ointment had disappeared and the swelling looked as though it had gone down just a fraction.

  ‘Aye. That’s the trick. He’ll be oot and aboot in no time. Right, ya ugly brute. Back into the stables and have a feed.’ The dragon seemed to appreciate the ministrations of his keeper and leaned its head over to him. McHavering leaned up and scratched him just under the jaw, the dragon leaning further into the scratch. From out of another pocket McHavering took a thin leash which he tossed over the neck of the dragon. It looped over and underneath the beast before catching itself into a knot which formed a halter around the dragon’s neck. ‘Elf magic,’ said McHavering at Grady’s look of surprise. ‘Will always tie itself into just the knot you need. Take the beastie in tae Stall 10 doon the end of the stables. He knows the way but best ye take him and make sure he’s food tae eat and paraffin or kerosene tae have a wee drinkie,’ said McHavering as he tossed Grady the leash. Grady caught it and the unresisting dragon placidly followed after him, talons clicking on the flagstones as they entered the stables.

  McHavering watched him go before walking around the side of the stables out of view of the entrance and pulled a hip flask from a back pocket. Unscrewing the lid he took a big draft of the contents before recapping it and then saying to no one in particular ‘Ye were nae joking were ye?’ The air beside McHavering shimmered as the shape of the phoenix came feebly into view, barely visible in the late afternoon sunlight.

  ‘You should know by now, McHavering, we never joke about this sort of thing – and especially not where these two are concerned. Isn’t he everything we said he might be?’

  Taking another swig from the hip flask the Scotsman thought for a moment. ‘If I hadnae seen it I would nae ha believed it. That dragon didnae need the halter to go back in wi the boy. He’d ha followed him willingly just by the boy’s say-so.’

  ‘He certainly has an affinity with the beasts, doesn’t he?’

  ‘Affinity! Is that wha ye call it? Did ye no hear what the boy said? He could feel yon beastie inside his head! And by the mother of all holy things, how did he know it was the knuckle joint? He’s had nae training nor instruction and up tae the last few months he’d never seen a dragon, let alone seen an injured beast!’ McHavering took another swig. ‘Let me tell you, ya great pigeon, what that laddie has is nae just a once-in-a-lifetime talent, it’s once in many lifetimes. You castle crood need tae keep a very close eye on him.’

  ‘That’s why we have people like you around, McHavering. With Roland at the castle and you down here we think we can keep it all in check and train him, but we are counting on you to help channel that power.’

  ‘Aye. Well Ruffelbane up in yon castle may almost know as much aboot these beasties as me – and I say almost, dinnae let him know I even suggested that nancy boy was halfway decent aroond dragons – but this wee bairn will take everything Ruffelbane has, and everything I have, and everything you know as well, and soak it all up, and before he even leaves this school he’ll be flying rings around us all.’

  ‘We have every faith in your skills, McHavering,’ said Bel, bowing to him. ‘We’d never have brought you back from those Scottish hills you like so much if we didn’t think you could handle him.’ Looking up at the sky the phoenix could see the sun heading down towards the tops of the distant mountains. ‘Time for him to head home, I think. Has he done enough for today?’

  ‘Aye. He’s a decent enough worker. Nae complaints at all aboot the jobs he was given.’ As he spoke the dragon team started to return from their training. Beast after beast dropped out of the clear sky thumping to a halt beside the stables. ‘He can help me get this lot sorted and then he can head off. Plenty more time for training yet.’

  ‘Excellent. See you again soon then,’ said Bel, before starting to shimmer and fade. As his outline disappeared from view his voice came out of the blank space he had just occupied. ‘And McHavering, please don’t call me a pigeon. You know I don’t like that ...’

  McHavering chuckled to himself as he turned to go. Muttering under his breath he said, ‘Pigeon ya are, ya great ugly beast,’ and started to stomp off round the front. As he did so a short sharp burst of fire shot out of the blue hitting him right on the bottom, making him jump up as he went. ‘Ahhh. A pigeon ye are! Dinnae think that’ll make me change!!’ Rounding the side of the stables he marched back to the stable entrance and the waiting boys while rubbing at the smoking patch on his pants. Grady came out just as he reached the front. ‘Beastie all settled then?’

  ‘Aye,’ said Grady, in a mock Scottish accent before realising what he had done. ‘I mean, yes Sir.’

  McHavering scowled at him for a moment before laughing and ruffling his hair. ‘Right. Make sure each o the stables has a supply of coal and paraffin just like ye did fer Fergal then and once y’ve done that ye can bugg... I mean ye can head home.’

  ‘No more dung tonight then, Sir?’ asked Grady.

  ‘Nae more dung tonight, laddie. Well done.’

  ‘Thanks Sir!’ said Grady, running off to finish off his last chore. McHavering watched him go before turning back to the returning team of racers. ‘And wha d’ you lot think you’re doing just standing around yakking! Get them beasts stripped o the tack and washed down, y’ daft bunch. D’ya want them tae catch their death of cold from standing around sweating! Dragon riders indeed y useless pile of ...’

  Grady couldn’t hear the last of what the dragon keeper was saying. He couldn’t believe detention had ended up being such fun. A little bit of dragon dung turned out to be worth every shovelful!

  Chapter 19

  Viper Flight

  Deep in their hearts Grady and Niamh knew detentions were meant to be drudgery. But after the first taste of spell casting and dragon tending they both knew it would be impossible to hide the glee at the time they spent doing penance. As the weeks went by they found themselves looking for reasons to head to the range or the stables and soon it crossed the line from penance to play. The lessons with Emmy and McHavering were taken back to the castle after school and worked on daily. Niamh’s spell casting became more accurate and less destructive and it wasn’t long before the detentions for her had turned to practice with the team. It didn’t seem to matter to the other girls that Niamh was younger than them by years. But it did seem to matter that Niamh’s talent at spell casting was unusual.

  ‘Normally it takes years to get the sort of control you have, Niamh,’ explained Emmy. ‘Just like running or jumping or any sport, your magic normally gets stronger as you get older. So the spells you cast when you’re ten or eleven are normally really weak compared to your strength when you are fifteen or sixteen like the rest of the girls in the team.’ Niamh was excited to learn all of that and loved her practice, but Emmy had told her that despite all of those skills she st
ill wasn’t about to have Niamh on the team. ‘These girls have been working their way up through the ranks for years now, Niamh. And they are all pretty good at what they do so they deserve their chance to shine – don’t you think?’ Niamh hated it when adults were calm and rational and used really good arguments. Just for once she wished she could find an adult who thought a bit more like she did! Sometimes an adult’s version of fair just didn’t seem ... well ... fair!

  Grady’s skill at reading the dragon’s needs and understanding their moods rapidly became a talking point. If Grady wasn’t to be found with McHavering at the school then he could almost always be found with Roland at the castle.