Dragon Rider (Dragon Rider 1)

Maia shook her head.

“Forget it,” said Ben. “How are we going to collect dew from the flowers with Nettlebrand lurking down there in the lake?”

“I have a few drops left,” said Firedrake, “but they would hardly be enough. And who knows, we may yet need them ourselves.”

“You’re right,” murmured Ben, disappointed, and he patted the scaly backs of the stone dragons.

47. No, No, and No Again

“No, I’m not coming out, so there!” said Gravelbeard.

He was in the great cavern of his master’s belly, sitting on the golden casket that held Nettlebrand’s heart and staring crossly down at the fermenting brew of the golden dragon’s digestive juices. Acrid vapors wafted up from them, stinging his nose.

“Come on out, armor-cleaner!” bellowed the voice from above.

“No, no, and no again!” Gravelbeard shouted up the huge throat. “Not unless you promise never to swallow me again! I’m sick and tired of being swallowed. Suppose I go down the wrong pipe? Suppose I land in all the muck down there next time?” Shuddering, he stared at the bubbling, hissing, filthy liquid below him.

“Don’t talk nonsense!” came Nettlebrand’s furious voice from above. “I swallowed that treacherous Twigleg a thousand times, and he never went down the wrong pipe.”

“Oh, yes,” muttered Gravelbeard, straightening his hat. “All very well for you to talk! And I’m all shaken up from splashing around in the water, too!” he shouted up. “Did you catch that tinny hornet thing? I don’t see it swimming around down here.”

“It got away!” growled Nettlebrand. Gravelbeard felt the vast body quivering with rage. “It flew up to the mountains and landed where the silver dragon had been sitting.”

“Oh, yes?” In a thoroughly bad temper, Gravelbeard scratched his chin. “And where’s he now? Did he show you where the other dragons are hiding?”

“No!” Nettlebrand spat. “He’s disappeared. Come up out of there this minute! I want you to climb up to where the tin hornet landed. You saw who was in it, didn’t you? That spider-legged traitor! Aaarrgh! I’m going to crush him like a wood-louse, but he must lead us to his new master first.”

“Oh, yes?” Gravelbeard was still sulking. “And what do I get if I find him? Him and the tin hornet?” Putting his hand under his shirt, he felt Barnabas Greenbloom’s wedding ring.

“You dare ask that?” bellowed Nettlebrand. “Come on up, or I’ll shake myself so hard you really will fall into my guts.”

“Oh, all right.” Gravelbeard rose to his feet and climbed up his master’s throat, muttering crossly into his beard.

“I can understand why that Twigleg took off,” he grumbled. “Oh, yes, I can understand it very well indeed.”

48. The Captive Dwarf

“They’ve forgotten us!” wailed Twigleg, pacing restlessly up and down. “Talk about ingratitude!”

“Oh, come off it!” said the rat, stirring the pan on her tiny camping stove.

As the sun climbed slowly in the cloudy sky, a thick mist was clinging to the mountain slopes. Its white vapor hid everything: the flowers, the lake — and Nettlebrand, if he was still around. Lola tasted the concoction bubbling in her pan, licked her whiskers, and went on stirring. “Oh, do sit down, humpelcuss!” she said. “This is about the hundredth time I’ve told you, they’ll come back when it gets dark, if not before. I really don’t know why you’re making all this fuss. We have all we need — something to eat and a nice hot drink. I even have sleeping bags. Two, luckily.”

“But I’m so worried,” wailed Twigleg. “Who knows what those other dragons are like? Maybe they’re the sort of dragons you read about in fairy tales. Maybe they’re particularly fond of eating human boys!”

The rat chuckled. “Oh, honestly! Believe you me, that boy can look after himself. And if he doesn’t, well, Firedrake’s there. Not to mention those furry-faced brownies.”

Twigleg sighed and looked down into the mist.

“Are all hompulkisses like you?” asked Lola.

“What do you mean?” murmured Twigleg.

“Well, so pessimistic.” Lola took a spoonful of soup from the pan and tasted it. “Oh, yuck!” she muttered. “I’ve put in too much salt again.”

Suddenly she raised her pointed nose and sniffed. Her ears twitched.

Twigleg looked at her in alarm.