Dragon Rider (Dragon Rider 1)

“Oh, there aren’t many creatures whose life you can borrow as you might a warm jacket,” said the homunculus, never taking his eyes off Nettlebrand’s muzzle.

The others looked at one another, puzzled.

“Well, don’t keep us in suspense, homplecuss,” said Lola, rising to her paws. “Is the fight over or not?”

“There!” whispered Twigleg, without looking at her. He leaned forward and pointed. “Look at that! Here comes Nettlebrand’s life.”

A toad hopped out of the half-open mouth.

It landed with a splash in the pool of gold, jumped out again in alarm, and hopped up on a snow-covered stone.

“A toad?” Sorrel leaned down from Firedrake’s back, an incredulous expression on her face. The toad looked at her with golden eyes and began croaking uneasily to itself.

“Nonsense, humplecuss,” said Lola. “You’re joking. The monster swallowed that toad at some point, that’s all it is.”

But Twigleg shook his head. “Believe me or not as you like, but the alchemist was good at making something terrible out of a tiny creature.”

“Should we catch it, Twigleg?” asked Firedrake.

“Oh, no.” The homunculus shook his head again. “The toad’s harmless. Nettlebrand’s wickedness came from our creator, not the toad itself.”

Sorrel wrinkled her forehead. “A toad! Fancy that!” Suddenly she grinned at Twigleg. “So that’s why you didn’t want the dragon-fire to touch you. You were made from a hoppity old toad like that, right?”

Twigleg looked at her with annoyance. “No,” he replied, sounding hurt. “I was probably made from something much smaller, if you must know. The alchemist preferred woodlice or spiders for beings of my size.” So saying, he turned his back on Sorrel.

Firedrake and Maia carried their riders out over the pool of liquid gold. The toad watched them go. It didn’t move, not even when Ben and the brownies climbed down from the dragons and went to the edge of the golden pond for one last look at what remained of Nettlebrand’s armor. The toad hopped away only when Lola revved the engine of her plane.

Sorrel was going to follow it, but Firedrake gently held her back with his muzzle.

“Let it go,” he said, and turned around.

Something small was scurrying through the snow toward him, something stout with a large hat and a shaggy beard. It threw itself flat on the floor in front of Firedrake and Maia, wailing pitifully. “Have mercy, silver dragons, have mercy on me. Grant me one wish. The greatest wish of my life. Grant me my wish, or my heart will be eaten away by longing for the rest of my wretched days.”

“Isn’t this Nettlebrand’s little spy?” asked Maia in surprise.

“Yes, yes, I admit it!” Gravelbeard struggled to his knees and looked timidly up at her. “I didn’t spy of my own free will. He made me do it, honest!”

“Huh! Liar!” said Twigleg, clambering out of the rat’s plane. “You sneaked off to him of your own free will in the first place. Out of pure greed for gold. If it weren’t for you, he’d never have heard of Firedrake!”

“Well, okay,” muttered Gravelbeard, tugging at his beard. “Maybe. But —”

“Look around you!” Twigleg interrupted him. “You can bathe in his gold now. How about that?”

“Is that your wish?” Firedrake stretched and looked down at the dwarf, frowning. “Come on, out with it. We’re all tired.”

But Gravelbeard shook his head so hard that his hat almost fell off.

“No, no, I’m not interested in the gold anymore,” he cried. “Not a bit. I couldn’t care less about it. What I want,” he said, spreading his stumpy arms wide, “what I want is to stay in this cave. That’s my wish.” He looked hopefully at the two dragons.

“What for?” asked Burr-Burr-Chan suspiciously.

“I’d like to make it even more beautiful,” whispered Gravelbeard. He looked around him reverently. “I’d like to bring the stones hidden here to light, very carefully, very slowly. I can see them, you know. I can hear them whispering. On the walls, inside the columns. A tiny tap here, a thin shaving taken off the rock there — and they’d be shining and sparkling in all the colors of the rainbow.” He sighed and closed his eyes. “It would be wonderful.”

“Hmm,” murmured Burr-Burr-Chan. “Doesn’t sound like a bad idea. But the dragons must decide.”

Firedrake yawned and looked at Maia. The she-dragon was so tired that she could scarcely keep on her feet. She had breathed out so much fire that for the first time in her life she felt cold.

“I don’t know,” she said, glancing at the stone dragons. “I don’t need this cave anymore, now that I don’t have to hide from the Golden One. But what about them? Won’t his hammering disturb them?”