The Trap (The Magnificent 12 2)

“My father’s books and poems,” Xiao said with a wave of her hand.

“Has Harry Potter been translated into Dragon?” Mack asked.

“My father reads all languages,” Xiao said a little snippily. “But he only writes in Chinese characters. Those are all books that he has written. Poems, pl

ays, stories, history books, observations of nature. His specialty is songbirds. He knows everything about songbirds.”

As if on cue, two bright yellow birds went fluttering past, circled, and landed on one of the dragon’s hands. The birds, at least, were normal size.

Finally Xiao came to a stop. They were still maybe fifty feet from the closest coil of the great dragon’s tail. His giant head was far above.

Xiao said, “Father, I would like to make a proper introduction. May I present Mack, Stefan, and Jarrah.”

Then she turned politely to Mack and said, “This is my honored father, Huang Long, King of Dragons.”

Mack stared. It was hard not to. He was being stared at, so he pretty much had to either stare back or curl up in a fetal position on the floor and whimper like a baby.

“What do I call him?” Mack whispered.

“You don’t,” Xiao whispered back. “He talks. You answer.”

“Right.”

Huang Long, the Dragon King, spoke. This time his voice was a bit quieter—he was using his inside voice—so it was only as loud as a rock band, not as loud as standing next to a jet engine.

“Two of you possess the enlightened puissance,” Huang Long said. “Do not be alarmed that I see this: I see most things.”

It wasn’t a question, so Mack and his friends kept quiet. He wanted to make a joke about how, with eyes that big, the dragon probably did see things pretty well. But Mack suspected this wasn’t the time for teasing.

“You are of the Magnifica,” Huang Long said.

He sighed. It was a deep sigh that seemed to first suck a blimpload of air in, and then let a blimpload of air out in what would be a strong gale or a moderate hurricane.

“So,” the Dragon King said slowly, “it is time. The Pale Queen rises again. And who will stop her now? Long has she waited and plotted and prepared. Her allies are many. Her powers great. Her evil without limit. And her foul daughter has come fully into her own.”

Still no question. But Mack was amazed to hear all this. Because it was kind of convincing when you heard it from a spectral bathroom apparition. But it was really, really convincing when you heard it from the King of Dragons.

“You have come to find the third of your number,” Huang Long said. “And alas, you have found the one.”

“You’re one of the Magnificent Twelve?” It was Jarrah, sounding both amazed and hopeful. “I mean, with you along, I like our chances a lot better.”

The Dragon King blinked. Blinked again.

Mack held his breath. But Huang Long decided not to take offense at being interrupted.

“No, little fool, not me,” he said. And then, he laughed.

You know what an earthquake feels like? (Probably not.) That’s what the dragon’s laugh was like. The ground shook, the walls vibrated, Mack’s insides were shaken and stirred.

Huang Long wiped tears of laughter away with the tip of his tail. “I am five thousand years old,” he explained. “It’s not the Magnificent Five Thousand, it’s the Magnificent Twelve. And I am not a warrior or a hero. I am a scholar. In my own humble way.”

Now he focused only on his daughter, looking at her with giant, suddenly sad eyes. “We have sensed that this day might come, Daughter. Twelve short but joyful years have passed since your mother and I had the joy of seeing you break from the egg.”

Xiao bowed her head. “I am ready, Father.”

The Dragon King shook his head slowly. “No, Daughter, you are not. No one is ready to face the Mother of All Monsters. When I was young, she was already old. But if ever one could be ready, you are.”

Mack saw tears in Xiao’s eyes. “Thank you, Father,” she whispered.