As the day wore on McHavering became more and more agitated. ‘The beasts shouldnae be brought tae the castle till close to the race, lad,’ said the Scotsman to Grady. ‘The team can get changed and ready doon here and then fly them up close to race time. Get ye self back to the castle and I’ll see ye with that skinny git Ruffelbane at yer stables later.’
Grady had headed home earlier than usual to help get the course and stables ready, but found everything had already been done. The course around the hillside had been laid out, torches and lighting arranged, finish lines set up outside the main castle gates with stands for the crowds, and all the supplies laid in. For a school race Grady was surprised at the amount of effort that went into the day.
Race time drew closer and the crowds started to fill up the area in front of the castle gates. Conjurers, street performers, ghoulish fancy dress costumes and children in all manner of costumes thronged around the start line. ‘Who are those people over there?’ Niamh asked Bree, pointing to a tall group of people dressed mostly in brown and green, some with light grey cloaks; Niamh had never seen them around the castle or school before.
‘They are from Titania College – mostly elves go there, as you know. You can always pick them out of a crowd. And those ones over there are the Flamville supporters.’ Bree pointed at a group of rowdy-looking children with banners chanting out ditties like ‘Flamville Racing’s Number One! All the rest of you will see is the sight of our bums!’ ‘Charming, aren’t they,’ said Bree flatly. ‘Unfortunately they also happen to be really good at dragon racing. No one has been able to beat them for the last seven years.’
‘Why not?’ said Niamh. ‘Are they really that much better than anyone else?’
‘Not really,’ said Bree. ‘But they are particularly good at cheating. Normally they get their people onto all the official judging and refereeing panels, so if things ever get tight or anyone challenges the results or the way the Flamville team were racing it, they usually get thrown out. The school was built by some of the best dragon racers hundreds of years ago. They are nearly as old as Rookwood Hall but they like to think they are better than everyone else.’
‘Are they?’ asked Niamh.
‘Only in their little dragon-filled minds. If it isn’t dragon racing then Flamville doesn’t really want to know about it. Their broomstick biathlon team is a joke and their top spell casting team could be beaten by our third years. Oooh look. Here come the teams!’ Bree pointed back down towards the city. Rising out over the plain Niamh could see four teams of dragons, all flaming as they rose. The team from Titania spiralled lazily out over the city before heading towards the castle. The Rookwood team flew in formation as it rose up, circling to gain height. The Flamville team were obviously showing off – flaming way more than any of the other teams, flying unnecessarily close to Rookwood trying to disturb their formation, and then making a beeline for the Titania team. A boo went up from the crowds that were now filling the stands, though the Flamville supporters did their best to try and drown it out with another chant.
‘Isn’t there a school missing?’ said Niamh, leaning closer to Bree to be heard over the growing crowd noise.
‘No,’ said Bree, pointing to the coast. ‘Sandune College is on the way, though late as usual. They are a bunch of surfies out there but pretty good dragon racers. They have fantastic balance and skill but they are just too laid back to be real challengers.’ Niamh looked to where Bree was pointing. A team of dragons was rising from the school grounds, but even the way they flew looked sloppy, with no formation. One of the dragons suddenly turned round and headed back down. ‘Probably forgot his rider,’ said Bree, giggling. After a few moments the dragon rose up again and the team resumed its flight to the castle. It was obvious they were going to be the last to arrive as Titania was already on its landing approach. Just as they were about to touch down the Flamville team came roaring around in a tight turn practically forcing Titania off the course. The elf team didn’t bat an eyelid though and gracefully swerved away from the landing strip, circling back around until the runway was clear again. The Flamville team touched down with their four scarlet coloured dragons. These dragons were as unlike the Rookwood or the Castle dragons as possible. Where Roland’s dragons were sleek and streamlined, the Flamville dragons were all brutish-looking with spiky brow ridges and rippling muscles sliding around under the much thicker scales. As the team landed, the dragons let out a roar and a stream of super hot blue flame which was greeted by an equally raucous cheer from the rowdy Flamville supporters.
‘Show-offs,’ sniffed Bree. ‘Oh look. Here come the others,’ she said, pointing down the row. Devin and her parents were shuffling down the row behind them while Emily and her parents were coming in from the other end. They were all sitting in the specially reserved Rookwood seats so the crowd around them was a mass of the school’s green colours. ‘Where are your mum and dad, Niamh?’ asked Bree.
‘Out the back somewhere, helping Grady. But they’ll be here soon.’ As if they had heard Niamh, her parents suddenly appeared in the seats beside her with a flash of light. Niamh let out a squeak of surprise. ‘Don’t do that! I know you like showing off, but you know I don’t like it!’
‘Sorry sweetheart,’ said her mum. ‘But don’t you think it’s interesting how just a few months ago you didn’t know anything about magic and now you just get upset when we materialise beside you?’ Even Niamh had to smile. Her mum was right. The astonishing was now almost mundane in her life. Spell casting, dragons, broomstick racing; it seemed like her storybooks had come to life. She’d even been asked to join one of the covens in school which was like a special study group made up of three witches – one from the oldest girls, one from the mid years, and one of the new entrants. The aim was to work on improving magical skills – not basic schoolwork. Only witches who were seen as especially talented were invited to join a coven, so Niamh felt flattered but secretly delighted at the invitation being extended to her.
The Titania team finally landed, touching down lightly in complete contrast to the Flamville team. Their dragons were exactly like those you would expect elves to ride – sparkling silver coats with almost transparent wings. In build they were much like the Rookwood dragons with a sleeker, less muscular appearance. Their riders were almost waiflike; a good breeze looked like it would blow them away. But there was no doubting they knew how to ride dragons judging by the control they held over their beasts. Just behind the dragons came the rest of their entourage – shooters on their broomsticks and support crew in their carriages.
Rookwood was close behind Titania. The elves had only just cleared the runway and headed off to their enclosure when Hartley Herringbone and the rest of the team swooped around the corner of the castle and touched down to thunderous applause from the Rookwood supporters. However, just as they did so the third dragon in the team let out a pained cry and thumped rather less gracefully onto the runway than the rest of his team. ‘It’s Fotheringham! Something’s wrong with his dragon!’
Niamh might not have an extensive set of dragon keeping skills but even she could see Fotheringham’s mount was dragging a wing. ‘What will they do?’ asked Niamh. ‘Can they replace him?’
‘Yes they can, but they only have ten minutes before the race starts. They’ll never get another dragon sorted out in time. If they don’t have the full team ready to go they have to forfeit the race!’
Niamh could see frantic activity going on down on the runway. McHavering was berating the rider while trying to tend to the injured dragon which was making an almost piteous mewling sound like an injured kitten. McHavering stood up for a moment and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Then, looking as if he had made a decision, he pulled out his iWand. Beside Niamh her father’s iWand fluttered out its ring tone – a silly piece of Harry Belafonte music which was once used in a ghost movie her father loved. Merritt pulled out his wand as McHavering’s face suddenly popped into view above the tip.
‘Could you come
down here, Merritt? There’s something we need to ask you. Better bring Grace with you.’
Both parents jumped up from their seats and started to edge their way down the row of seats. Grace turned to Niamh and said, ‘Stay here with Bree. We’ll be back as soon as we can.’ In a flash they were gone – running down the stairs to the barrier at the front before vaulting it and joining the dragon master in conversation. All Niamh could make out was Grace vigorously shaking her head while Merritt stood impassively to one side before nodding his head. McHavering beckoned to the gates as Grady came running out dressed in Rookwood livery. Niamh wished she had ears as big as some of the goblins so she could listen in on the conversation, but all she could do was try to lip-read which from this distance was practically impossible.
‘What are they saying?’ asked Bree.
‘No idea,’ said Niamh, ‘but Grady looks petrified! And what’s he doing in those racing robes!!’
Merritt knelt down on one knee in front of Grady, holding his shoulders. Niamh couldn’t see what was passing between them but after a moment or two he nodded his head. The rest of the crowd in the by now very full stands was as mystified as Niamh and Bree. Grady turned round and faced the castle. Merritt stood beside Grace and watched McHavering lead the injured dragon away to the Rookwood enclosure.
Grady seemed to be standing very still with his eyes closed. The crowd had gone quiet as the boy faced the castle walls, waiting for some sort of announcement as to just what was happening. Suddenly, a piercing cry echoed around the walls. A black bulky shape appeared over the castle walls before circling and landing on the parapets sending a gargoyle tumbling to the ground below. It landed with a thump and what sounded to Niamh like the gargoyle saying ,‘Uhh. Ugger. Hat hurt ….’ The crowd gasped as they realised what was sitting on the walls – it was the viper!
Down on the runway Grady looked up at the dragon perched above. ‘Are you sure this is a good idea?’ he said to McHavering.
‘Dinnae think aboot it laddie. Let’s just get on wi it. Time’s running oot. If we dinnae get another beastie on the start line in ten minutes we can kiss the race and the trophy farewell. Can ye get him doon here?’
‘I’ll try,’ said Grady uncertainly. The viper on the parapets shifted its weight, staring down at Grady. Closing his eyes Grady tried to focus his thoughts on the dragon. The task had become easier since the crowd had quietened down from its initial shock at the appearance of such a rare and dangerous dragon. Settling himself he looked back up at the dragon and sent as forcefully as he could a demand to the dragon – ‘Come down. I need you now.’ The crowd was almost silent now. But no sounds broke the quiet. The dragon simply stared at Grady, cocking its head as if listening but still waiting for something else.
‘Did ye try yet?’ said McHavering at Grady’s side.
‘Yes. But he’s not doing anything.’
‘Well try again. We need him doon here.’
Grady mustered his thoughts again and sent the message to the dragon. ‘Come down here now. I need you.’
This time the dragon responded but not in the way Grady expected. The beast gave a low growl through bared teeth and an angry voice arrived in Grady’s head – ‘Arrogance. Not like that child. Remember our last conversation, and call me when the words become clear.’ With a leap the dragon dropped off the castle walls and spread its wings. Its impossibly steep dive drew a gasp from the stands. No dragon could dive that like and pull up in time! But with one ear-cracking thump from its wings it swept in a graceful arc across the stands, the courtyard, and the heads of McHavering and Grady who had to dive for cover, so low was the dragon to the ground.
‘He’s going lad. We need him back, noo!’ yelled McHavering.
Grady looked at the disappearing dragon and sent out a last desperate thought. ‘PLEASE! I need your help … if you’ll give it.’
The dragon suddenly flamed in its flight and let out a shriek before circling back to the stands. The combination of shriek, flame, and a speeding dangerous dragon had some of the crowd running for cover.
‘That’s more like it, boy,’ came the voice of the dragon in Grady’s head. The viper lazily sculled its wings to gain some height before barrel rolling into a dive towards the ground. Opening its wings wider the dragon braked suddenly and landed with barely a thump on the ground beside the still prone Grady and McHavering who picked themselves up and dusted off their clothes as they regarded the dragon sitting on its haunches in front of them.
The crowd that had started to run in panic stopped with the dragon’s return and the realisation that the danger was past. Fascination, and a very human desire to see what would happen next, overrode the flight response. The only movement came from Merritt and Grace who were bolting across the courtyard towards Grady. As he stood up he saw his parents and held up a hand towards them. ‘I’m fine. Stay there!’ he said, turning towards them. Merritt and Grace slowed down but kept walking slowly forward, keeping a watchful eye on the dragon who sat just metres away from Grady.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Grady to the dragon. ‘I should have asked. It won’t happen again.’
‘Are you talking to it?’ said McHavering.
The dragon turned its eyes to him and let out a low rumble from deep within its chest. ‘She doesn’t like being referred to as an “it”,’ said Merritt.
‘Well what do I call the beastie then? I’ve nae had a great deal o experience with talking dragons!’
‘What should we call you?’ said Grady to the viper.
‘We don’t have names as you do,’ came the response in Grady’s head. ‘But I can show you what my name is if you like.’
‘How can you show me?’
‘How can you hear me?’ snorted the dragon in reply. ‘I am in your head as you are in mine. Close your eyes and see.’
Grady did as he was told. Seconds later visions of mountain tops and glaciers filled his mind, flowing ice, the smell of the wind off a mountain snow field, the sharpness of a cold morning in winter, the taste of a snowflake on the tongue in an early spring snowfall, and the glint of purple from a mountain flower clinging to a barren rock cleft. Grady understood it wasn’t possible to name what he had seen. The sense of place and self was linked in the dragon’s head and described who the dragon was. Grady was left with a sense of stinging cold as he opened his eyes and addressed the dragon; ‘I don’t know how to name that.’
‘I told you we don’t name ourselves as you do. It is … difficult.’
‘What was that flower on the cliff face?’
‘You would call it an Iris.’
‘Then perhaps we could call you Iris?’ said Grady hopefully. ‘It sounds a bit like ‘Icy’ which is where and what you showed me?’
‘Iris,’ said the dragon, mulling it over in its head. ‘Yes … Iris. It is ... inexact … but it will do.’
Turning back to McHavering Grady said, ‘We can call her Iris.’
‘Iris? IRIS?’ said McHavering incredulously. ‘I’m nae calling that thing Iris! It’s a girlies name!’ The dragon rumbled menacingly at McHavering, a wisp of smoke escaping from its nostrils as it did so. ‘Great name Iris. Great name. Really suits it ... Her! Really suits her. Don’t you think everyone?’ There was a general murmuring of support, and agreement that as far as dragon’s names went it was probably the best they had ever heard, really – by far the best … ever!
‘Iris says don’t lay it on so thick,’ said Grady. ‘She says it’s not becoming of any creatures to grovel – even if you are just human.’
‘Just huma…’ McHavering started to fume before reining himself in. ‘Yes, well – you’re probably right, but time is starting to run short. If we dinnae have ye on the start line in five minutes we have tae forfeit the race,’ said the Scotsman, checking his watch. ‘Is Iris able to help us out or not?’
‘I haven’t had time to ask her yet,’ said Grady. ‘I’ve been a bit preoccupied, in case you missed it.’
‘I know what you
want to ask,’ said Iris. ‘I’m not bound to help but in this case you have already ridden me so I will do this for you. Get your saddle but don’t think about halters for my head. I will not let you put them on. But you won’t need them.’
‘How will I control you though?’ said Grady.
The dragon sighed. ‘I can see I have some work to do with you. “Control” is not a word you want to use around me.’
‘Oh. Yes. Sorry,’ said Grady. ‘I expect we’ll work it out.’
‘Yes, I expect we will,’ said Iris.
‘She’ll do it,’ said Grady. ‘But no halters – only a saddle.’
‘No halter!’ said Merritt. ‘No way! How will Grady be able to manage that beast?’ Again a low rumble came from Iris. ‘I mean Iris, not beast – definitely not beast.’
‘It’ll be fine, Dad,’ said Grady. ‘Trust me on this one?’
‘I think the laddie may be on tae something, Vinnie,’ said McHavering. ‘There’s something happening here I dinnae understand but we need tae go wi it, I think.’
A castle groom came running out with a saddle and reins for Iris. Merritt looked uncertain but finally nodded as the dragon was fitted with the tack.
‘Get yerself ready lad,’ said McHavering to Grady. ‘Ye first race is always the most memorable and I think tonight may be a rare event for us all.’
Grady nodded and breathed a deep sigh as he tried to settle himself. The day was not turning out as he’d expected. Not in the slightest.
High above all of the activity in the grounds stood Murdock and Bel watching the events unfold below them. ‘I hope this works,’ said the elf. ‘This is a dangerous way to push the boy.’
‘The boy will be fine,’ said the phoenix. ‘You and I both know the dragon is one of the few ways we have of giving him some protection against Balthasar. The magic of that dragon can take him places you and everyone else will struggle to get to. I can’t be everywhere. Every piece of protection we give them is important.’
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