“W-what’s happened?” Palustric said pathetically.
“The illusion’s gone, Palustric,” Adam said gently. “We’ve seen through it, that’s what! Come on, my friend, get dressed. Mount Ember awaits us, along with the quest which we have set aside for so long.”
Palustric looked back over his shoulder, where Spinney-hall should have been. His expression was unhappy, and he hesitated. The little pixy broke the spell: “The horse can die of hunger waiting for the grass to grow, is it not so, Master?” Lar’s wrinkled face spread into a broad grin.
“Ay!” Adam and Palustric said in the same instant, and laughing, Palustric pulled off his pyjama jacket and pulled on his leather jerkin. Soon, the three of them were on their travels again.
The days that followed seemed never-ending—forest, more forest and more forest. At last, four days out of Spinney-hall, they came to the farthest edge of the forest. They were glad to see open plain before them, but a brooding peak beyond the grasslands tempered their joy: Mount Ember. Even from a distance, it looked a forbidding place. Sombre and sullen, its grey form peaking icily into clouds of the same colour.
“It’s an evil place,” Palustric shuddered, “wrapped in legend and superstition and none of it pleasant. Its other name is Mount of the Dead, you know, because—”
“Shut up, Palustric!” Adam snapped. He didn’t want to go there one bit. Every step seemed to be heavier than his last as he drew nearer to the sinister mountain. Palustric was making matters worse. He didn’t have to go there and become a dragon’s dinner. Adam didn’t know why he was going through with this. The dwarves had said that he would have to go back to the Land of Poverty if he didn’t make this effort. Then again, there didn’t seem much to choose between the Dragon and the Hag. What a mess! Adam sighed heavily; noticing this, Lar was about to come out with another of his wise sayings. Adam’s silver eyes flashed fiercely, and Lar thought better of it.
They marched on in heavy silence, Adam thinking about Emily or the dangers ahead; Palustric thinking about Spinney-hall which had been snatched from him; Lar wondering whether he’d be able to slip in his wise saying later on.
By the end of the fourth day, they had crossed the rough grasslands, where the blades of grass towered overhead and silent snakes slithered sneakily out of sight. They stood at the foot of Mount Ember.
“Well, this is where we part.”
He handed Adam a smaller backpack. “I’ve put you two jars of honey and bread in there.” He smiled sadly. “You’ll need to keep your energy levels up!”
Palustric looked ashamed at Adam's words and in a low voice said, “I have sworn to stay at the foot of the mountain. Good luck though.” He took Adam’s arm and pointed to a cave a long way up the mountainside. “See, there dwells Lentor the Dragon. Mind that you never gaze into his eyes. Even the slightest glance is fatal. They say that looking in a dragon’s eye numbs the spirit and steals the will to live. Take care, Adam!”
“Thanks, Palustric, you're a true friend. In any case, I wouldn’t have let you come with me—this is my affair.”
He turned to Lar and held out his hand. “See you later, Lar,” but his thoughts were far less certain than his words.
“Master, I shall come with you!”
Adam looked into Lar's faithful, squinting yellow eyes and put his hand on the pixy’s shoulder. “No, Lar, I'm going alone. If I don’t come back, I want you to find Emily and help her to get back home.” Adam turned quickly; his voice felt thick and he fought back the tears prickling in his eyes. He set off up the mountain track. As he climbed, he felt better. He decided to turn and wave to his friends. When he did so, he found Lar right behind him. “What…? Lar! I told you! Go back at once!” Adam had to be firm and insist for Emily’s sake before Lar unwillingly rejoined Palustric.
Lar stood for a long time and watched his Master go up the mountainside. Slowly and sadly, he returned to Palustric who was waiting and also watching below.
“Adam will be back,” Lar said to Palustric, but his eyes begged the dwarf to agree with him.
Palustric shook his head; his eyes were shining too much. “I fear not, dear friend.” Then in a booming voice, he called up the mountainside: “We’ll wait here two full days, Adam…” his voice dying away at the shameful thought of the unspoken part: then we’ll go home and tell them you died bravely…
“Troubles and burdens are like shadows that follow you everywhere, is it not so, Palustric?” Lar muttered, his eyes never leaving Adam’s back as the boy disappeared up the mountain.
Palustric stiffened. Lar sensed his friend’s tension. The pixy’s squinting eyes followed the dwarf’s gaze. Wheeling high, near the craggy summit, were five black dots in the sky.
“Kites!” Palustric spat out the word.
“The Hag!” Lar trembled.
“It’s a bad omen for all our people,” Palustric muttered. “With the Key, there’s no danger of dwarves ever falling into Poverty, without it…is another matter. Much is riding on Adam’s success.”
The two friends anxiously scanned the sky until their eyes hurt and their necks ached with the effort.
Adam's legs felt as if they had been hollowed out and the space filled with lead. They were on fire with the effort of climbing. The path was steep and winding with the constant danger of loose rocks, and he was soon tired with the effort of concentration. If his legs had ruled his mind, Adam would have been back in the forest, his mission unfulfilled. For that matter, if his mind had ruled his legs, he would be going downwards not upwards. He paused to catch his breath and wondered, so if his legs and his mind weren’t in charge, what was? Heart! Heart, he decided was in charge. So that’s what it means to be heartened. Adam set off again. This thought drove him on. He felt as brave as he did in the Land of Poverty—well, at least until he looked the Hag in the face. He must remember not to look the dragon in the eye, he told himself.
Lost in thought, Adam failed to hear the screeching kites’ approach. So, he wasn’t prepared for the swooping attack. The first he knew of it was a black streak which flashed past his face and the talon which ripped his shirt at the shoulder. He wasn’t hurt, but the power of the predator pulled him off balance. The other black kites swooped at his face, wicked talons lunging towards him. The path was narrow and full of loose stones. Just as the Hag wished, trying to escape from the onslaught of the great hawks, Adam lost his balance and fell down the mountainside.
It would have finished him, but luck was on his side. A solitary mountain shrub broke his tumbling, bruising fall. Adam lay stunned, caught in the thorny bush. Dazed, a screech brought him round. A kite had settled on a crag not far away, its head turned sideways so the yellow eye could consider the state of its prey. Adam could hear the others screeching and wheeling above him, and he was sure that they had been sent to ensure his death on this mountain. The hunter raised its wings slowly. Painfully, Adam reached into his pocket, gratefully realising that no bones were broken. He pulled Cari from his pocket, and a fiery spear of energy from the orb left the kite a smouldering bundle of black feathers on the mountainside. The boy didn't see the other kites arrow away. He realised that they had gone by the lack of screeching. He lost consciousness again.
When he came around, his body was cold and he shivered uncontrollably. He raised himself with an elbow into a sitting position, and it seemed that every bone in his body hurt. Slowly, head spinning, his body full of aches, bruises and grazes, Adam got to his feet. He thanked his luck and hoped that the elven orb would continue to save him, but he wondered what it could do against a dragon. Dragons were more ancient creatures than elves, and elfin magic would not affect them.
As he dragged his body up Mount Ember, Adam reflected. He should always be on guard against the Hag, who wanted his life. His mission must be even more important than he had thought if the witch wanted to stop him. This Key must be more valuable than he imagined. Rubbing a badly bruised arm, he struggled on.
He spent a starles
s night on the mountainside, aching and unable to sleep, chilled more by fear than the coldness of the night. He felt doomed. What chance did he have of getting the Key? He would not be allowed back without it, and the Dragon wasn’t going to hand it over with a friendly wink. Even with Cari, he didn’t fancy his chances. For a dragon, he needed a bazooka. He reckoned that his young life had come to an end here in this desolate place. Well, what did he care in the end? It was no life without his mother and father and his sister. The only consolation was that he wouldn’t have to put up with his sister’s bossiness and her pesky cat; he smiled wryly. Jasmine had the habit of jumping up behind his head when he was sitting on the sofa and massaging his scalp with her paws when he was trying to watch his favourite TV series. Emily said she did it as a sign of affection, but Adam hated having his scalp massaged by a feline.
He shrugged his shoulders, managing to doze fitfully after he’d given up hope of sleeping. He was awakened at dawn by the loud shrieking of a circling hawk, which was not a black kite. Nevertheless, he took it to be a bad sign. Adam opened the pack and spooned honey onto his bread. Back to bread and honey again after all the delicious food with the elves, he sighed and munched without appetite.
He stood up shakily and set off. His body felt even worse than the evening before, but he groaned and gritted his teeth. The cave mouth gaped above him. He hoped for a moment that the dragon would not be at home. He would sneak in, silent as the slithering snakes below, then help himself to the Key. Adam took a last look at the rubble-strewn mountain below and knew that there was no such thing as good luck in this place: only doom. He took a deep breath and, murmuring a prayer, climbed up into the gaping entry.
He didn’t have to go into a deep, dark hole in the mountain. Lentor was right there in the opening, sprawled upon a pile of treasure. The dragon was huge. Its dull, purple-grey scales, heavy as armour, contrasted with the diamonds, rubies, sapphires and gold which sparkled and winked under its belly. Adam’s amazement at seeing a legendary creature almost betrayed him. He stared at the dragon, his mouth agape. The creature seemed to be asleep. Just in time, he remembered Palustric’s advice. It was as well. The oldest trick a dragon knows is to feign sleep and then to flick open an eyelid, catching the victim checking on whether one is asleep. This time Lentor was disappointed. His eyelid sprang open, baring a huge reptilian eye, but Adam was staring at the floor in front of the dragon’s nose.
The dragon spoke in a low, hissing voice and a strange tongue, but stranger still, Adam could understand it: “I thought I could smell a human. I’m never wrong, you know. But to tell the truth, I prefer the aroma of roast human!” He flicked out a tongue of flame, which on purpose, fell just short of Adam. The dragon chuckled. He chuckled again as he watched Adam pull out Cari. “An elven pin-prick for dragon armour, tch, tch! I thought humans were more intelligent.”
Adam thrust the orb back into his pocket. “You’re right, Lentor, it doesn’t help.”
“Come, come, it’s not polite to talk like this. You should always look someone in the eye when you speak, you know.”
“Oh no, you won’t catch me like that,” Adam said bravely, hardly believing that he was having a conversation with a real dragon.
“Plucky little fellow, aren’t you?” Smoke poured out of Lentor’s nostrils as he hissed. “First you come in here, bold as dwarf brass, then draw your orblet; next, bandy words with me! You know I could finish you with a flick of my tail, don’t you?”
“Yes, but you won’t,” Adam said boldly, forcing his quaking voice not to betray his terror. Since he had given up hope the day before, desperation had taken the place of fear.
“Oh, why not, eh?”
“Because you’re curious…” Adam said, holding his breath and hoping.
The dragon looked at the boy slyly and, with a great creaking and groaning of armour plating, sat upright, towering above Adam, his head almost touching the high cave roof. His hind leg slipped on his pile of gems and pieces of gold, starting a dazzling cascade.
“You’re dead…right, of course!” Lentor laughed wickedly. A trail of smoke was snatched from his mouth by the gentle breeze passing the cave mouth. “It’s not every day, no, not every four or five centuries even, that I have the pleasure of eating…er…I mean, meeting…a human. Especially a young, juicy one like you.” Lentor lingered lovingly over the word juicy.
Adam shuddered and waited.
“So, what do you want, eh?”
“Just one thing,” Adam said quietly.
“Oh, oh, just one thing, eh?”
“Ay, if you give it to me, I’ll go and never bother you again.”
“Oh, you will, will you? And what makes you think you can go, a juicy morsel like you? Why should I give you anything? Things have to be earned or bought. Why should they be given?”
“They shouldn’t, I agree,” Adam said, “things ought to be earned or bought. That’s why I've come to ask for the Key of Ingenuity. It was not earned or bought. It was stolen by an unknown thief. You ate that thief and took the Key. Now I’ve come to ask for it back.”
“Nothing less!” Lentor roared, sending a cloud of acrid smoke from his nostrils down over Adam, who coughed and spluttered. His voice revealed that he was angry for the first time.
“Clever with words, aren’t you, boy! Twisting what Old Lentor says in that way…but no match for a dragon, I’ll bet! We shall have a little sport, you and I. Everyone knows that the dragon is the cleverest creature in Creation. Let’s see, then! We’ll have a contest. Yes, a contest—a battle of wits! Your puny wits against my massive ones. Quite unfair, I know, but I’ll make it worth your while. First prize for you will be the Key of Ingenuity, and for me…” Lentor’s voice dropped to a menacing hiss, “…dinner. You! Roast boy! What do you say, boy? D’you agree, eh?”
Adam cringed against the wall. What should he say? He could only agree. There was nothing to stop Lentor roasting him there and then if he so desired. So, he spoke up bravely, “It’s a deal, Lentor. My wits against yours, it is!”
“Ho, ho! Wonderful! I love a little sport before dinner,” the dragon rumbled. “Riddles! That's it! Riddles.” Lentor announced this as if working out riddles was a sudden, brilliant inspiration. But, of course, all dragons love riddling and cannot resist any opportunity to pit their wits. “I love a riddle, don’t you?” he chuckled, a little flame licking from the corner of his mouth.
“Good, well we’ll start,” he hissed. “Listen carefully, boy, because you have to solve this riddle.” Lentor's voice took on the pompous ritual tone that dragons use when riddling:
A moth ate words.
Strange that such a creature
Should swallow a man’s song.
A thief fed in the darkness
On a great man's speech.
The thief was none the wiser
For having swallowed the words.”
“There,” Lentor chuckled smokily, “got you straight away. Admit it, boy; so that I can roast you without delay! Go on!”
“How long have I got to solve it?” Adam asked nervously, looking fixedly at the floor.
“Five minutes, even if five centuries aren’t enough for a human brain,” the dragon sneered. “Shall I repeat it?”
“Not really.” Adam smiled because he’d heard that one before: “The answer is a bookworm!” He grinned and stopped himself, just in time, from staring triumphantly in the dragon’s eye.
“You’ve heard it before!” Lentor accused menacingly.
“So what?” Adam shrugged.
“It doesn’t count,” Lentor snorted, sending twin plumes of smoke coiling out of the cave. “Right, see if you can get this one…!”
“Hey, just a minute, isn’t it my turn?”
“All in good time, all in good time. I can see I didn’t take you seriously enough. It’s always a mistake to underestimate the opposition!” Lentor was enjoying himself at his favourite pastime, and he wasn’t going to let a little matter of fairne
ss spoil his fun or his appetite. Dragons rarely get the opportunity to riddle; there are so few of them. Whenever they meet, they riddle. It might be by chance, out on a foray, or officially, at the Septennial Dragon Reunion. Six years and six months had passed since the last reunion, so it was due soon. That was why Lentor was delighted to get in a little practice. “What about this one then?”
My breast puffed up and my neck swollen,
I've a fine head and a high waving tail,
Also, eyes and ears, but only one leg.
Long-necked, strong-beaked,
With a back and two sides
A rod through my middle,
My home is high above men.
Whipped by the lash of rain I stand alone;
Bruised by hailstones, attacked by frost,
Half-hidden by snow, I put up with all this
Without a word.”
“There, you can’t have heard this one. I’ve just made it up! Got you this time! Want to hear it again?” Lentor was happy and repeated the riddle without being asked.
Adam closed his eyes and thought feverishly. What had a puffed-up chest and only one leg? He couldn't think of anything with only one leg. Lentor’s chuckling didn’t help, nor did his taunts: “Go on, admit it, I've got you this time! Yummy-yum, roast boy!”
Suddenly, Adam thought of the rod right through the middle and the home high above men.
“I know!” he yelled triumphantly. “A weathercock!”
“Harrumph!” Lentor snorted. “Nearly had you, try this one then.”
“That's not fair! It's my turn now. I've solved two of your riddles, after all.”
“Whose cave is this?” The dragon stared stonily at the boy whose eyes were firmly fixed on the floor. “I could always roast you now.” The dragon’s voice lowered to a menacing hiss: “We play to my rules! Now, pay attention…
The breeze carries little creatures
High over the hill slopes.
They are very dark, dressed in black coats.
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