by D. A. Nelson
At last all four were climbing. Up the relentless rock face they rose, slipping and sliding on the crags. They were soon scraped from falls caused by ill-placed fingers, claws and paws. Still, on they went, ignoring the smash of the spray on the rocks. When Morag looked down at Bertie and Aldiss she saw how high they now were above the incisor-sharp rocks. One mistake, one slip, and the rocks would all plummet down on top of them.
At last, when every last ounce of strength seemed used, when each thought they could go on no more, they saw Shona grip the edge of the cliff face and haul herself up and over the plateau. She stood and pulled the rope taut until Morag scrambled up beside her. Together they drew up Bertie and Aldiss, then fell exhausted to the ground. They stayed there for a few minutes, enjoying the soft damp grass beneath their bodies and the soothing, earthy scent of the land. They had made it. They were alive and had a chance of saving Montgomery.
After a while, Shona sat up and looked around. It had been years since she had been on this part of the island and it had changed dramatically. When she had been a dragonlet—an infant dragon—it had been a mass of ferns and bushes. Now there was a neat patchwork of fields containing what looked like root vegetables and wheat. Each was marked into squares by stone dikes. The friends found they were sitting at the side of a neat pathway running the length of a field of raspberry bushes, their fruit long plucked and their leaves battered by the elements. Just beyond the fields was a village of peat-roofed houses. A dirt track ran to a fork in the road. To their left the track led to the fields; to their right into a large, wild forest full of ancient trees. Shona was shocked to see how much the forest had grown in the thirty years since she had last been here. It was sprawling westward, almost to the coast. Looming over it all, menacing and shrouded in the dank mist that often swallowed the island whole, was Ben Murst, the island’s only mountain.
“Glad to be home again?” Morag asked her.
The dragon smiled wanly. “It’s not the home I remember. Not now that all the dragons are gone,” she replied, then with a sigh added, “Come on, you lot, let’s get going, we’ve got a long way to go. We need to take the forest path to the castle. It’s a few hours’ walk and we have to get there before the night draws in again.”
“But it’s only morning now!” Aldiss said before anyone else could.
“Yes, but night falls early in the forest,” Shona said mysteriously, “and there’s a lot of nasty creatures in there that would like to have us all for dinner.”
Aldiss squeaked in fright. “I-isn’t there another way round?” he said, black eyes wide.
“We don’t have any choice,” Morag said, getting to her feet. “Come on, let’s go. We’ve got a friend who needs our help!”
“Stay clear of the village,” the dragon warned. “We don’t want anyone knowing we’re here; you never know who is on Mephista’s side. Surprise is the only advantage we have. So long as we can keep our presence here a secret—”
“Um, Shona,” Morag interrupted. She pointed at something behind the dragon. “I think it’s a little bit too late for that.”
Shona scowled. “What do you mean? We’ve only just arrived. No one should know we’re here.…”
She turned to see what the girl was pointing at. In the distance, carrying pitchforks and other crude weapons, villagers were streaming out of the houses and heading in their direction.
“What do we do?” squealed Aldiss, running around in circles and tying himself up in frantic knots of anxiety.
“We run from them!” said the dodo, flapping his wings.
“We fight them!” the dragon growled.
“We talk to them!” said Morag.
“Talk to them?” cried the others in unison.
Shona snapped: “Do you really think talking’s going to stop them from capturing us and handing us over to the castle?”
“Yes, talking is the best way out of this,” replied Morag. “They are only doing this because they are frightened of us.”
“The girl talks sense,” Henry interjected from the folds of Morag’s coat.
“Besides,” she continued, “they might be able to help.”
As the crowd advanced, Morag began to doubt her sensible suggestion.
What if Shona, Bertie and Aldiss were right and this wasn’t a good idea? What if the villagers were out to harm them? She swallowed hard. She could only trust her instinct and hope for the best as the large group of armed, angry villagers drew closer.
10
They were a motley crew of muddy-clothed farmhands and women in aprons and head scarves. They advanced, brandishing their weapons.
“Are you sure about this, Morag?” Bertie whispered nervously.
“I … er … think so,” she replied. “Listen, everyone, let me deal with them. Humans are not used to talking animals.”
Shona snorted. “Well, these humans will have to get used to it quickly! I’ve got a lot to say about them being here. This is a dragon homeland. They’re the ones who shouldn’t be here!”
“Please, Shona, let me do the talking.”
“Fine!” the dragon said moodily, and uttered not another word.
Morag waited until the crowd were nearly upon them before walking forward, her hand outstretched in friendship as she’d seen nice adults do. The nearest villager, a woman, jabbed a pitchfork at her.
“Who are you?” she demanded, her long wild hair billowing in the cold morning wind.
“Morag MacTavish,” replied the girl. “Pleased to meet you …?”
“And what are these?” the woman snarled at the dragon and the dodo standing behind Morag.
“These are my friends—” Morag began, but she got no further, for the woman interrupted her.
“Friends? You’ve brought vermin to our island!” She glared at Aldiss, who bristled visibly at this insult. “Who are you? And what do you want on this side of the DarkIsle?”
“If I could just explain …,” tried Morag.
“Are you spies from the castle come to check we are working? Eh? Is that what you’re here for? Are we all supposed to quake at that giant lizard?”
“No, no! We’ve come in peace,” replied Morag, feeling Shona snort a cloud of disgruntled smoke on the back of her head. “You can see we have no weapons,” she added quickly as the woman took another step forward. Her pitchfork was now almost touching Morag’s nose. “We … we …” Morag’s thoughts raced around her head furiously as she tried to come up with an excuse as to why they were there. “We’ve been shipwrecked,” she lied. “We were washed ashore on the rocks. Can you help us? We need food and dry clothing.”
The woman eyed the girl suspiciously. She turned to her fellow villagers to garner their thoughts, but they didn’t seem able to offer anything other than a few menacing grunts at the newcomers. She turned back and threatened Morag again with the pitchfork. “I don’t believe you,” she snarled.
There were shouts of “Go get her, Esmeralda!” from the crowd, which only served to strengthen the woman’s conviction that Morag and her friends were dangerous.
“I say we skin the lizard and kill the rat, roast the bird and sell the girl back to the castle! That’ll teach you to come spying on us,” she shouted.
There was cheering and clapping all round.
“No! No! You’ve got us all wrong,” protested Morag, but her cries fell on deaf ears.
“Let them go, Esmeralda,” said a thin, wavering voice that rose from the jeers and silenced the crowd.
Morag peered behind the woman with the pitchfork to see who had spoken. At first she saw no one, but then people began to move out of the way, allowing a little elderly woman wrapped in a woolen cloak to shuffle forward. She had short gray hair and wore broken glasses.
“This is no way to welcome visitors to Dragon’s End,” she said, addressing Esmeralda.
“But, Mother, they could be dangerous. Things are bad enough without us trusting complete strangers.” Esmeralda scowled. “After what hap
pened, I would have thought you of all people would know that.”
“After what happened we need all the friends we can get,” the old lady snapped. The younger woman made to say something back, but thought better of it, for she folded her arms and kept her mouth closed tight. Her mother smiled at Morag, revealing a set of yellowing teeth as she held out her hand.
“Now, dear,” she said, “you must remind me … is this what we do to welcome you to Murst? Shake hands? It’s been so long, I almost can’t remember.”
Unsure what else to do, Morag took the old lady’s hand and shook it gently. The hand was warm, but the skin was leathery, as if the woman did a lot of hard work.
“Welcome to Murst,” she said. “My name is Ivy. You’ve met my daughter, Esmeralda, and these are our neighbors and friends. Now, who might you be and how did you get here?”
Morag hastily introduced herself and her friends, and repeated her story that they were victims of a shipwreck. Ivy listened carefully and then chuckled.
“What’s so funny?” Morag asked.
“I know you haven’t been shipwrecked. I know why you’re here,” Ivy replied. She turned to the villagers and said loudly, “Friends! The Ancient One has arrived! At last!” A huge cheer went up from the villagers and they waved their weapons in the air. “Prepare some food to welcome our guests!” She turned back to Morag. “You’ll stay and eat.” It was an order, not a request.
“Ancient One?” Morag whispered to the others as they followed Ivy up the path to the village. “What does she mean?”
Aldiss looked at Bertie accusingly.
“She wasn’t referring to me!” said the dodo petulantly.
Morag smiled at this, but Shona looked worried.
“We shouldn’t go with them,” she said, covering her mouth with a claw. “If we hang around here, word will get back to the castle in no time.”
“But what can we do?” replied Morag under her breath.
“Leave!” hissed Shona.
“Your friends will be free to do as they wish once you’ve eaten,” Ivy called back. “But not before then.”
The dragon scowled.
The village of Dragon’s End consisted of a mud track lined by identical stone houses with peat roofs. Single-storied and small, they had no front garden, only a large stone step that led up to the front door. Smoke curled from the chimneys, rising white and ghostlike into the gray Murst morning. There was one shop, which looked like the houses except that it boasted a sign painted with bright red curling letters: Dragon’s End Municipal Stores. In the middle of the village, next to a stone well, was a squat roundhouse, and it was here that Ivy led them.
“Come, Ancient One,” she said, pushing open the door. “And friends. Please enter and make yourselves comfortable. The food will arrive shortly.”
Inside, the large circular room was softly lit by a ring of small windows set just beneath the roof. It was empty save for a pile of earth-colored cushions heaped in the middle. This, Ivy explained, was where the villagers held their council, where they passed laws and where the court sat.
“We used to have parties here too,” she confessed, then added sadly, “Although we’ve not had much to celebrate recently.”
As she wandered around, Morag noticed the intricate carvings on the posts that held up the roof. Someone with obvious skill had carved rabbits and deer and other animals into the wood. There were birds and berries and … Morag frowned … was that an aeroplane? A train? A rocket? How, when they were so cut off, did the Dragon’s End villagers know about life in the human world? Ivy saw her looking.
“Ah,” she said, taking a tray of bread and cheese from a young boy, “you’re admiring our posts. Adam carved those from memory. He got here two years ago, but some of us have been here much longer. He was quite a talented artist.” She sighed and looked pained.
“Was?” Bertie asked, accepting a hunk of bread from Ivy’s tray.
Tears formed in the old woman’s eyes. “The big apes took him away. Anyone who is taken away is never seen again.”
“What happened?” Morag asked. Bertie pulled a cushion nearer as Aldiss curled up beside him. Only Shona, who was a little way away, did not move.
“It was about a week ago,” Ivy explained. “We have very little food because the people in the castle take nearly everything we grow, so the men went hunting in the forest. Within half an hour they came running back, chased by a group of strange creatures.”
“What did they look like?” asked Bertie.
“They were like gorillas. Silver-haired gorillas. Only they had four arms each,” she said, leaving Morag to exchange looks with Bertie and Aldiss. “They were dressed like hunters and came right into the village. They took our strongest men.”
“Didn’t you try to put up a fight?” Shona asked.
“Yes, but they were too strong for us. They quickly captured three of our men and we had to admit defeat. Adam was among them. Then they headed back toward the castle.”
“I’m so sorry,” said Morag, who knew what it was like to be imprisoned there. “What do you think has happened to them?”
“They’re probably slaves now,” Ivy admitted. “You’d think they’d leave us alone. We produce all their food and need all our strong men because we have to do everything by hand … not like on the mainland.”
“You know about the mainland?” Morag gasped.
“Of course we do, dear,” Ivy replied. “Where else do you think we come from? None of us are from Murst originally. Esmeralda and I are from Glasgow, and the others are from all over the country.”
“And you’d never heard of the DarkIsle until you got here?” asked Shona.
“No. And if anyone had told me about it, I wouldn’t have believed them.”
“How did you get here?” said Morag.
“We were kidnapped from our homes and brought here as slaves. Most of us have been on Murst for thirty-odd years—although five more arrived recently—and most of the children were born here.”
“Haven’t you ever tried to escape?” asked Morag.
“Of course we have, but Murst is not like other islands. It’s very difficult to leave if you don’t know how,” she sobbed. “Besides, it’s impossible to get hold of a boat here. We tried making one, but they found out and destroyed it and our village as a punishment. We spent the winter in tents until we could rebuild our homes. The people of Murst Castle are evil. All they care about is having slaves to do whatever they want, whenever they want.”
There was a silence as everyone chewed over what Ivy had just told them. Then Morag remembered what Ivy had said previously.
“When you found us you mentioned something about an Ancient One.…”
“I saw it in the tea leaves,” the old woman explained. “The Ancient One will return soon to save us all.”
“Tea leaves?” Aldiss squeaked. “You’ve got tea here?”
“Tiny portions are included as part of our rations from the castle. It comes in by pirate ships.”
“But,” the rodent continued, “how can tea leaves tell you anything?”
“I read them,” Ivy responded proudly. “I’m a seer. I can look into the future and tell you what might happen. The tea leaves told me the Ancient One will free us from this horrible place forever.”
“And did the tea leaves describe this Ancient One?” asked Bertie, fanning his tail feathers in expectation. “Did they mention his wonderful plumage or impressive beak?”
“No,” said Ivy. Bertie scowled. “First of all, I saw that the Ancient One would have a strong heart and a kind manner.…”
Bertie and Aldiss immediately looked at Morag.
“And then I saw the Ancient One’s long tail.…”
“I knew it!” squealed Aldiss, jumping to his feet and whipping his tail from side to side. “It’s me, isn’t it?”
“I’m afraid not,” said Ivy. Aldiss dropped his tail to the floor with a disappointed thud. “And she would be green.…”
“It’s Shona,” whispered Morag. “You’re the Ancient One.”
Shona, sitting nearby, snorted skeptically, sending up little bellows of dark smoke. “Tea leaves!” she scolded. “No one can predict the future, no matter what the method. It’s all a load of Swamp Sprouts.”
Morag decided it would be best to change the subject. “We’d like to thank you for your hospitality,” she began.
“You’re welcome,” Ivy replied, moving toward the doorway.
“It’s been wonderful to meet you and the other villagers,” Morag continued. “Likewise.”
“But,” the girl said, “we need to get to the castle. You were right about us not being shipwrecked. We came here to get our friend back. He’s a prisoner and we must get to him before something terrible happens.”
Ivy smiled. “But I can’t let you go, my dear,” she said, her hand gripping the door handle. “Your dragon has to save us. And I can’t let you go off into the woods by yourselves. You might be killed by the wolves or the other creatures that live there.” She gave an involuntary shudder. “No, I think it is best that you all stay here until we decide what the Ancient One has to do next.”
Before the last word left her lips, Shona, as quick as lightning, got to her feet and growled at her. “You will not tell us what to do!” she snarled, making angry puffs of smoke pour from her nostrils. “We’re leaving and that’s that.”
Morag quickly placed a hand on Shona’s shoulder in a vain attempt to calm her.
“What the Ancient One means,” she told the terrified Ivy, “is that she’s probably destined to go to the castle. After all, she’s no good to you here, doing nothing, is she?”
“Um … no, I suppose not,” the woman whispered.
“And perhaps you are meant to help us get there?” Morag continued, pleased with her train of thought.
“I—I suppose we could do something for you,” Ivy said slowly. “Stay here a minute while I consult the other elders.”