Lola Graytail wrenched the plane around.
She caught up with the dwarf on the shoreline, where Gravelbeard was still running as fast as his short legs would carry him.
“Grab hold of him, humpusklumpus!” shouted Lola.
Opening the cockpit, she flew so low that the undercarriage of the plane brushed the flowers. Twigleg summoned up all his courage, leaned right out of the plane, and tried to seize Gravelbeard by the collar. But the waters of the lake suddenly erupted, foaming. A mighty muzzle emerged from the waves — and snapped at the fleeing dwarf.
One gulp and he was gone.
Lola turned the plane with a sudden jolt, and Twigleg dropped back into his seat.
“He ate him!” cried the rat incredulously. “He just ate him!”
“Get out of here!” moaned Twigleg. “Get out of here, quick!”
“Easier said than done,” cried Lola, struggling desperately to control the little aircraft with her joystick as it staggered and spun in the air. Surely it couldn’t escape Nettlebrand’s gnashing teeth as he snapped and snapped again. He was crawling farther and farther out of the water, driven by his fury at the whirring little nuisance.
With a hunted expression on his face, Twigleg looked out of the back window. What had happened to Firedrake? Was he flying away?
“You didn’t loop the loop!” he wailed. “That was the signal.”
“They could hardly miss seeing the monster down here,” Lola shouted back. “They’ll have noticed him without our signal!”
The plane shuddered as the engine coughed and spluttered.
Twigleg was shaking all over. Once again he glanced through the back window and saw a gleam of silver on the black mountainside.
“Fly away!” cried Twigleg as if the dragon could hear him. “Fly away before he sees you!”
And Firedrake flew, spreading his wings wide — but instead of escaping he came diving down toward the lake.
“No!” shrieked the terrified Twigleg. “Lola, Lola — Firedrake is flying this way!”
“Oh, bother it all!” said the rat crossly as she narrowly avoided another swipe of Nettlebrand’s claw. “He thinks he has to help us! Hold on tight, Twigleg!”
Wrenching the nose of the plane upward, Lola looped the loop right above Nettlebrand’s open jaws. Then she rose higher and looped the loop again and yet again, until Twigleg felt his stomach was in his throat. The homunculus stared down at his old master flailing around in the water. Then he looked the other way — and saw Firedrake hovering motionless in the air.
“Fly, oh, please, please fly to the cave!” whispered Twigleg, although his heart was racing with his fear of Nettlebrand, and his eardrums ached with the monster’s roaring.
“What’s going on? Has he seen our signal? Is he turning away?” shouted Lola, flying in a spiral around Nettlebrand’s neck with death-defying daring.
Now Firedrake did turn in the air.
He shot off like an arrow, while the golden dragon had eyes for nothing but the little aircraft, the silly little thing that had the impertinence to pester him.
“Yes, he’s flying away,” cried Twigleg, his voice almost breaking with delight. “He’s flying back toward the mountains.”
“Excellent,” replied Lola, stepping on the gas and whizzing right between Nettlebrand’s legs. He struck out at the plane with both forepaws, but the weight of his armor made him drop back into the water, snorting.
Twigleg saw Firedrake rise higher and higher until he landed on a snowy slope — and then suddenly disappeared! As if he had simply been wiped off the face of the earth.
“Rat!” cried the homunculus. “We’ve done it. Firedrake’s gone. He must be in the cave.” He dropped back into his seat with a sigh. “You can fly away now!”
“Fly away?” cried Lola. “Just when we’re having such fun? Not likely! Here goes!” And she brought the plane around in a wide arc and made for Nettlebrand’s horns.
“What on earth are you doing?” cried the horrified Twigleg.
Disbelievingly, Nettlebrand raised his head, narrowed his eyes, and stared at the whirring widget coming back toward him like an angry hornet.